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YORKVILLE ENQUIRER. ISSUED SEMI-WEEKLY. t. m. grist & sons, publishers. } % Jjamilg gk'iospaper: 4or |romotion of the political, Social, ^jrirulfural, and ?ommei[?ial Jnt^sls of the |eoplf. {T8RM?s&*opt!'nra ce!? 08' established 1855. YORKVILLE. S. C., 8ATUBDAY, JANUARY 19, 1901. ~ ISTO. 6. THE IYSTI AGA By ANNA KATH, Author of "The Leavenworth Ca ana King, s Copyright, 1900, by Anna Katharine < CHAPTER XXIV. FATHER AND SOX, But Frederick's day of trial was not yet over. There was a closed door to open, a father to see (as in his heart he still called Mr. Sutherland). Then there were friends to face, and foes, under couditious he. better than any one else, knew were In some regards made worse rather than better by the admissions and revelations of this eventful day?Agnes, for Instance. How could he meet her pure gaze? But It was his father he must first confront. his father to whom he would have to repeat In private the tale which robbed the best of men of a past and took from him a son, almost a wife, without leaving him one memory calculated to console him. Frederick was so absorbed in this anticipation that he scarcelv noticed the two or three timid hands stretched out in encouragement toward him and was moving slowly toward the door, behind which his father had disappeared so many hours before, when he was re called to the Interests of the moment by a single word, uttered not very far from him. It was simply, "Well?" But It was uttered by Knapp and repeated by Mr. Courtney. Frederick shuddered and was hurrying on when he found himself stopped by a piteous figure that, with appealing eyes and timid gestures, stepped up before him. It was Amabel. 1 "Forgive!" she murmured, looking like a pleading saint. "I did not know, I never dreamed you were so much of a man, Frederick; that you bore such a heart, cherished such griefs, was so worthy of love and a woman's admiration. If I bad"Her expression was eloquent, more eloquent than he had ever seen it, for it had real feeling in it, but he put her coldly by. "When my father's white hairs become black again, and the story of my shame is forgotten in this never forgetting world, then come back and I will forgive you." And he was passing on when another touch detained him. lie turned, this time in some impatience, only to meet the frank eyes of Sweetwater. As he knew very little of this young man save that he was the amateur detective who had by some folly of his own been carried off on the Hesper and who was probably the only man saved from its wreck he was about to greet him with some commonplace phrase of congratulation when Sweetwater interrupted him with the following words: "I only wanted to say that it may be easier for you to approach your father with the revelations you are about to make if you knew that in his present frame of mind he is much more likely to be relieved by such proofs of innocence as you can give him than overwhelmed by such as show the lack of kinship between you. For two weeks Mr. Sutherland has been bending under the belief of your personal criminality in this matter of Mrs. Webb's death. This was his secret, which was shared by me." "By you V" "Yes. by me. 1 am more closely linked to this affair than you can readily Imagine. Pome day 1 may be able to explain myself, but not now. Only remember what I have said about your father?pardon me. Mr. Sutherlandand act accordingly. Perhaps it was to tell you this I was forced back here against my will and best interest by the strongest series of events that ever s happened to a man. But." he added. with a sidelong look at the group of men still hovering about the coroner's table. "I had rather think It was for some more important office still. But this the future will show, the future which I seem to see lowering in the faces over there." And. waiting for uo reply, he melted Into the crowd. Frederick passed at once to his father. No one Interrupted Frederick after he had shut-that door behind him. but It., 11.. ?, n.1 lUr lilljtV viu? u uiti i in uir iiiiuo uum on the steps of the building awaited his reappearance showed that the public interest was still warm in a matter affecting so deeply the heart and Interests of their best citizen. When, therefore, that lone closed door finally opened and Frederick was seen escorting Mr. Sutherland on his arm. the tide of feeling which had not yet subsided since Agatha's letters were read vented itself in one great sob of relief, for Mr. Sutherland's face was calmer than when they had last seen It and his step more assured, and he leaned or made himself lean on Frederick's arui. as if to impress upon all who saw them that the ties of years v. cannot be shaken off so easily and that he still looked upou Frederick as his sou. But he was not contented with this dumb show, eloquent as it was. As the crowd parted and these two imposing figures took their way down the steps to the carriage which had been sent for them Mr. Sutherland cast one deep and long glance about him on faces he knew and faces he did not know, on those who were near and those who were far. and, raising his voice, which did not tremble as much as might have been expected, said deliberately: !RY OF THA WEBB. ARINE GREENE, ise," "Lost Man's Lane," "Hand ' Etc., Etc. Green. "My son accompanies me to his home. If he should afterward be wanted, he "My son accompanies me to his home." will be found at his own fireside. Good day, nay friends. I thank you for the good will you have this day shown us both." Then he entered the carriage. The solemn way In which Frederick bared his head in acknowledgment of this public recognition of the hold he still retained on this one faithful heart struck awe into the hearts of all who saw it. So that the carriage rolled off in silence, closing one of the most thrilling and impressive scenes ever witnessed in that time worn village. CHATTER XXV. FREDERICK ARRESTED. But. alas, all tides have their ebb as well as flow, and before Mr. Sutherland and Frederick were well out of the main street the latter became aware that notwithstanding the respect with which his explanations had been received by the jury there were many of his fellow townsmen who were ready to show dissatisfaction at his being allowed to return in freedom to that home where he had still every prospect of being called the young master. Doubt, that seed of ramifying growth, had been planted in more than one breast, and while it failed as yet to break out into any open manifestation there were evidences enough in the very restraint visible in such groups of people as they passed that suspicion had not been suppressed or his innocence established by the overfavorable Af fliA A/kfiAnnit'o VClUlVb VI UiC V.VIUUCI O JU&JT. To Mr. Sutherland, suffering now from the reaction following all great efforts, much, if not all, of this quiet but significant display of public feeling passed unnoticed. But to Frederick, alive to the least look, the least sign that his story had uot been accepted unquestioned, this passage through the town was the occasion of the most poignant suffering. For uot only did these marks of public suspicion bespeak possible arraignment in the future, but through them it became evident that even if lie escaped open condemnation in the courts he could never hope for complete reinstatement before the world, nor, what was to him a still deeper source of despair, anticipate a day when Agnes' love and domestic happiness should make amends to him for the grief and errors of his more than wayward youth, lie could never marry so pure a being while the shadow of crime separated him from the mass of human beings. Her belief iu his innocence and the exact truth of his story (and he was confident she did believe him) could make no difference In this conclusion. While he was regarded openly or iu dark corners or beside the humblest fireside as a possible criminal neither Mr. Sutherland nor her father nor his own heart even would allow him to offer her anything but a friend's gratitude or win from her anything but a neighbor's sympathy, yet in bidding goodby to larger hopes and more impor<ant desires lie parted with the better part of his heart and the only solace remaining in tuis worm ror uie uouuuless griefs and tragic experiences of ids still young life. He bad learned to love through suffering, only to realize that the very nature of his suffering forbade biui to indulge in love. And this seemed, even in this hour of public justification, a final Judgment, lie had told his story and been for the moment believed, but what was there in his life, what was there in the facts as witnessed by others, what was there in his mother's letters and the revelation of their secret relationship to corroborate his assertions or to prove that her hand and not his had held the weapon when the life blood gushed from her devoted breast? Nothing, nothing; only his word to stand against all human probabilities and natural inference. only his word and the generous nature of the great hearted woman who had thus perished. Though a dozen of his fellow citizens had by their verdict professed their belief In his word and given him the benefit of a doubt involving his life as well as his honor, lie as well as they knew that neither the police nor the general public were given to sentimentality and that the question of his guilt still ray open and must remain so till his dying day, for from the nature of things no proof of the truth was probable. Batsy being dead, only God and his own heart could know that the facts of that awful half hour were as be had told them. Had God In his justice removed In this striking way his only witness as a punishment for his sins and bis mad indulgence in acts so little short of crime as to partake of Its guilt and merit its obloquy? He was asking himself this question as he bent to fasten the gate. His father had passed in. The carriage had driven off, and the road was almost solitary, but not quite. As be leaned his arm over the eate and turned to take a final glance down the hillside he saw with what feelings no one will ever know the light figure of Agnes advancing on the arm of her father. He would have drawn back, but a better impulse intervened, and he stood his ground. Mr. Halliday, who walked very close to Agnes, cast her an admonitory glance, which Frederick was not slow in interpreting, then stopped reluctantly, perhaps because he saw her falter, perhaps because he knew that an iutervlew between these two was unavoidable and had best be quickly over. Frederick found his voice first "Agnes," said be, "I am glad of this opportunity for expressing my gratitude. You have acted like a friend and have earned my eternal consideration, even if we never speak again." There was a momentary silence. Her heart, which had drooped under his greeting, rose again. Her eyes, humid with feeling, sought his face. "Why do you speak like that?" said she. "Why shouldn't we meet? Does not every one recognize your Innocence. and will not the whole world soon see, as 1 have, that you have left tlie old life behind and have only to be your new self to win every one's regard?" "Agnes," returned Frederick, smiling sadly as he observed the sudden alarm visible in her father's face at these enthusiastic words, "you know me perhaps better than others do and are prepared to believe my words and my more than unhappy story. But there are few Agneses In the world. People in general will not acquit me, and if there was only one person who doubted"?Mr. Halliday began to look relieved?"I would fall to give any promise of the new life you hope to see me lead If I allowed the shadow under which I undoubtedly rest to fall In the remotest way across yours. You and I have been friends and will continue such, but we will hold little intercourse in future, bard as 1 find it to say so. Does not Mr. Halliday consider this right? As your father he must." Agues' eyes, leaving Frederick's for a moment, sought her father's. Alas, there was no mistaking their language. Sighing deeply, she again hung her head. "Too much care for people's opinion," she murmured, "and too little for what is best and noblest In us. I do not recognize the necessity of a farewell between us any more than I recognize that any one who saw and beard you toaay can Deueve in your guui."But there are so many who did not hear and see me. Besides," here he turned a little and pointed to the garden in his rear, "for the past week a man?I need not state who or under what authority he acts?has been in hiding under that arbor watching my every movement and almost counting my sighs. Yesterday he left for a short space, but today he is back. What does that argue, dear friend? Innocence completely recognized does not call for such guardianship." The slight frame of the young girl bending so Innocently toward him shuddered involuntarily at this, and her eyes, frightened and flashing, swept over the arbor before returning to his face. "If there is a watcher there and if such a fact proves you to be in danger of arrest for a crime you never committed, then it behooves your friends to show where they stand in this matter and by lending their sympathy give you courage and power to meet the trials before you." "Not when they are young girls," murmured Frederick, and, casting a glance at Mr. Halliday, he stepped softly back. Agnes flushed and yielded to her father's gentle pressure. "Gocdby, my friend," she said, the quiver in her tones sinking deep into Frederick's heart. "Some day it will be good morrow," and her head, turned back over her shoulder, took on a beautiful radiance that fixed itself forever in the hungry heart of him who watched it disappear. When she was quite gone, a man, not the one whom Frederick had described as lying in hiding In the arbor, but a different one?in fact, no other than our old friend the constable?advanced around the corner of the house and presented a paper to him. It was the warrant for his arrest on a charge of murder. CHAPTER XXVI. SAVED. Frederick's arrest had been conducted so quietly that uo hint of the matter reached the village before the next morning. Then the whole town broke Into uproar, and business was not only suspended, but the streets and docks overflowed with gesticulating men and excited women, carrying on in every corner and across innumerable doorsteps the endless debate which such an action on the part of the police necessarily opened. But the most agitated face, though the stillest tongue, was not to be seen In town that morning, but in a little cottage on an arid hill slope overlooking the sea. Here Sweetwater sat and communed with his great monitor, the ocean, and only from his flashing eye and the flrm set of his lips could the mother of Sweetwater see that the crisis of her son's life was rapidly approaching and that on the outcome of ( this long brooding rested not only his : own self satisfaction, but the Interests of the man most dear to them. Suddenly from that far horizon upon which Sweetwater's eye rested with a t look that was almost a demand came an answer that flushed him with a hope as great as it was unexpected. Bounding to his feet, he confronted 1 his mother with eager eyes and outstretched hand, t "Give me money; all the money we \ have In the house^ 1 have an Idea that t Here Sweetwater sat and communed with his ureal monitor. may be worth all-;I cbd ever make 01 can ever hope to have. If It succeeds, we save Frederick Sutherland; If It fails, I have only to meet another of Kuapp's scornful looks. But It won't fail. The inspiration came from the sea. and the sea. you know, is my second mother." What this inspiration was he did not say. but It carried him presently Into town and landed him in the telegraph office. ******* The scene later In the day. when Frederick entered the village under the guardianship of the police, was indescribable. Mr. Sutherland had insisted upon accompanying him. and when that well loved figure and white head were recognized the throng which had rapidly collected In the thoroughfare leading to the dep0t succumbed to the feelings occasioned by this devotion and fell into a wondering silence. - - - - a Frederick bad never looked Deuer. There Is something In the extremity of c{ fate which brings out a man's best ^ characteristics, and this man, having { much that was good in him, showed it ^ at that moment as never before in his short but overeventful life. As the car- <= riage stopped before the courthouse on i its way to the tratfrfc. glimpse was glv- i en of his baudsome head to those who f had followed him closest, and as there t became visible for the first time In his ( face, so altered under his troubles, a ' likeness to their beautiful and com- e manding Agatha a murmur broke out e around him that was half a wail and I half a groan and which affected him so 1 that he turned from his father, whose! ^ hand he was secretly holding, and, tak- ^ iug the whole scene in with one flash c of bis eye, was about to speak, when a suddeu hubbub broke out in the di- J rectlon of the telegraph office, and a man was seen rushing down the street ^ holding a paper high over his head. It . was Sweetwater. "News!" he cried. "News! A cable- j gram from the Azores! A Swedish sail- rj or"? v But here a man with more authority r + nniotnnr /lotuntivo rmaho/1 hlQ v luuu me uumivui uvtvvinw ^/u^uvu ? ?- L way to the carriage and took off his hat <] to Mr. Sutherland. a "I beg your pardon," said he, "but the f prisoner will not leave town today. Im c portant evidence has Just reached us." t Mr. Sutherland sav/ that it was in t Frederick's favor and fainted on his ^ son's neck. As the people beheld his e head fall forward and observed the 1 look with which Frederick received * him in his arms they broke into a great ' shout "News!" they shrieked. "News! Frederick Sutherlaud is Innocent! See, t the old man has fainted from joy!" And caps went up and tears feil before j a mother's son of them knew what a grounds they had for their enthusiasm, f Later they found they were good and t substantial ones. Sweetwater had re- c ineinbered the group of sailors who c had passed by the corner of Agatha's d house Just f s Batsy fell forward on the C window sill and cabling to the captain of the vessel at the first port at which c they were likely to put in was fortu- d nate enough to receive in reply u com- " munioation from one of the men who c remembered the words she* shouted. 0 They were In Swedish, and none of nis r mates had understood them, but he re- , called them well. They were: "Hjelp! Hjelp! Frun bailer pa alb doda sig. Hon har en kuif. Hjelp! j Hjelp!" f In English: v "Help! Help! My mistress kills her- r self! She has a knife! Help! Help!" v The Impossible had occurred. Batsy a was not dead, or at least her testimony n still remained and had come at Sweet- r water's beck from the other side of the sea to save her mistress' son. c t Sweetwater was a made man. And c Frederick? In a week be was the Idol r of the town. In a year?but let Agnes' contented face and happy smile show c what he was then. Sweet Agnes, who t first despised, then encouraged, then v loved him, and who next to Agatha j commanded the open worship of his I heart. I Agatha is first, must be first, as any r one can see who beholds him on a cer- r tain anniversary of each year bury his face In the long grass which covers the 1 snddest and most passionate heart c that ever yielded to the pressure of h life's deepest tragedy. THE END. a The Enquirer's next serial, "Arms Iand the Woman," will appear in the r issue of next Wednesday, the 23d. It ^ is a most charming and fascinating story of a most daring and charming woman. Be sure to read it. e Scraps cf ^oral pisfomj. ?? I REMINISCENCES OP YORK. i i Valuable Bits of Local History Preserved by a Septuagenarian. i Dr. Maurice Moore In The Enquirer of 1870. | COLONEL WILLIAM HILL. The first iron works erected in the i ipper part of the state stood on Alii- i ion's creek, the present site, I underitand, of nourishing flour mills and a 1 warding factory. They were owned by ' William Hill. These works were a most 1 mportant enterprise, and an incalcuable benefit to the whole vicinity. The oss of them, when burnt by the tories )f Ferguson's command, was felt by ;he farmers and soldiers of the sur-ounding country, to be the bitterest >low the enemy could have inflicted, rhe farmers knew not where to obtain :he implements necessary to till the 10II, and feared they might be forced :o return to the wooden plow. The later missed the ordnance obtained 'rom the forge to visit vengeance on he foe, who was daily harrasslng heir friends and country. So more han one good Presbyterian echoed 'Amen" to Elder John Miller, who, vhen sometime after the event, being lesired to pray, with all solemn ferror said "Good Lord, our God who art n heaven, we have reason to thank rhee for the many favors received at rhy hands, the many battles that has >een won. There is one great and gloious battle of King's Mountain, where ve kill the great Glneral Ferguson and ook his whole army; and the great >attles of Ramseur's and Williamson's, md the ever memorable and glorious >attle of the Coopens, [Cowpens] where ve made the proud Gineral Tarleton un doon [down] the road helter skeler; and Good Lord, if ye had na' sufered the cruel tories to burn Belly Jell's [Billy Hill] iron works, we would ia' have asked ony mair favors at thy land. Amen." Hill was a staunch Whig from the leginning of the contest. He and 'Jeal were elected the colonels of a regment from York. (It was then reluired of each regiment to have two ifflcers of that grade). He was Hrrmcrhmif- tVio war an anHva nntrlnt Ie fought at Williamson's, where iouck was defeated and killed; bore i most conspicuous part In our effort it Rocky Mount, and the gallant in:ident I now relate, had it been perormed by Putnam or some other Yankee hero, would have been chronicled n every common-school reader in the Jnited States. Our men had, after three attempts, Iriven the garrison of Colonel Trummll's New York tories into some log louses which served them as a fort, rom which our men could not dislodge hem by assault for want of artillery. 5eneral Sumter conceived the idea of 'fighting the devil with fire," and callid for two men, as a forlorn hope, to ixecute it. The volunteers for this des>era'te service were Colonel William 1111 and Adjutant Jemmy Johnson, ["he duty was to run to a large rock O+aa/1 nrl + Vtlm tViA oHoHa aaoh 1 YIUU1I OLUVU ?V A blllll iiiw Uk/uviMt vmv?* :arrying an armful of light-wood. iVhen they reached this rock, they ;ould screen themselves behind It safey, and from thence throw the lighted vood on the roof of a building adjolnng the log fort. One hundred yards lid these men run in the face of the rnemy, the guns of the latter bearing Urectly on them the whole distance. They gained the shelter unhurt. Hill vatched the enemy while Johnson Igilted the pine and threw the burning trands on top of the nearest house. The torles soon perceiving their design, i detail sallied forth and drove them rom their position. They ran back to tur lines, not under the fire of the port loles only, but also that of the deachment that came out against them, t merciful providence surely protectd 'them; for their clothes were riddled vlth bullet holes, and even locks of lair cut from their heads, yet they vere unscathed. A heavy rain fallng extinguished the flames thus haz irdously kindled, and sumier oraerea he firing to cease, gave up the at- ! empt and fell back to Landsford. 1 At the hard fought battle of "Hangng Rock," Colonel Hill bore a part 1 ind received a wound in the wrist. In 1 act, he and his regiment were under ? ieneral Sumter to the end of the rev- 1 ilutlon, and shared in all his stirring 1 ampaigns, always enjoying the confi- ? lence and affection of the "Game < :ock." f History still owes to the memory of 1 Colonel William Hill an important I lebt, for though named in her records, 1 lis sacrifices and efforts in the great i ause of freedom have never yet re- < eived their due meed of praise. Well 1 nay the shades of our partisan leaders c ry? 1 'He that doth good to the multitude i Finds that few are truly grateful." i I hope a biography of this valuable tevolutionary hero may yet be written, i or surely the incident at Rocky Mount \ yould constitute him oqe, without the nany other deeds of valor which ] wreathe the laurel for his brow. I am j ?- -< O moocrfl niltline. MV I ,uie IU gnc uui u U>._D. naterials are too imperfect and faulty? ny memory too treacherous to touch iut lightly the theme. Neither does it ome within the scope of these "Remiliscences" to undertake so arduous a ask. I therefore leave it to those who ome after me to do the 'noh'e Ronan justice." After the act of 1785, establishing the ounty courts, he was elected one of he seven judges. By the act of 1791, ^hen the number of county court ustices was reduced to three, William 1111, Alexander Moore and John Mc..anhan 'were elected by Joint nomiiation by the senate and house of repesentatives," and administered the aw for years, and I do not remember o have ever heard, in after days, a omplaint of wrong received at their lands while occupying this position. In 1799 the county court system was bolished and the people showed their fTection for and confidence in Colonel lill, by sending him as one of their epresentatives to the general assem- p ly. t He was a man of strong native tal- e nt, with few early advantages, shrewd |b acuteness and a firm Integrity of purpose. He was a man of wealth, amassed mostly by his own energy. The much lamented Iron works were rebuilt by him after the war, and were a source of considerable revenue. I remember "in the sere and yellow leafwhen he was above 70 years of age?a thin old man of medium height. He was then in Yorkville on a visit of either pleasure or business. He left four sons and two daughters. General D. H. Hill is a descendant, on whom the mantle of his grandsire has happiiy fallen. In his old age Colonel Hill wrote a history of Sumter's campaigns, but it was never published. I have seen the MS. The events are well told, and if prejudices ran too high toward some parties, in some pages, perhaps he knew better than others of what he wrote. In consequence of some of the illusions contained in the manuscript, his heirs considerately prevented its publication. He died on the plantaii/\M r, 4 Vi <-i (mam ii'Aulf ft am/1 nrno Vvii **l A/1 null dl iuc iiuu-wui iva auu >vao uuucu In Bethel graveyard. ALEXANDER MOORE. Alexander Moore, of whom I have spoken as one of the colleagues of Hill In 1791, was the son of James Moore md Rachel Black, his wife. They were among the original Scotch-Irish settlers of York. Alexander was born In Pennsylvania, being a child several years of age when his father removed to this state. He was the eldest of a large family of girls and boys. His parents, though poor, determined, as was quite common with the early Presbyterians, to educate one of their sons for the ministry. Naturally, the election fell on the first-born for these advantages. He was early sent to the 'larnln," and had all the opportunities if education that early period afforded. A. natural taste for literature, united with a good mind, made him a hard 3tudent, and, for his time, a very finished scholar. He graduated at the College at Charlotte, North Carolina, ibout the beginning of the Revolutionary war, felt no calling to preach, ind the contest waging between the colonies and the mother country seem?d to indicate to him the line of present duty. His father, too, being a good Whig, as were all the Scotch-Irish, saw bis country's need, and was reconciled to the abortion of his long cherished desire, by his son's volunteering to 3erve his country. Young Moore joinid Colonel Lacy's partisans, and became the intimate friend of that gallant officer, the length and strength of whose attachment, an anecdote, which [ nave often heard, will show: "Years after the war. on one occa 3lon, Moore was a candidate for the legislature from the Pinckney district. Lacy, at the polls in Chester, would station himself at a convenient spot, and is men approached, would enquire for whom tney Intended to vote. If for the opponent of Moore, Lacy would try his power of persuasion; and being a man of pleasant address, and personal popularity, often, by this means, would turn the ticket. But not succeeding in this wise, he would roundly swear, he'd whip any man that didn't vote for "Alec Moore." His bravery and vigor were so well known, rew carea to test tnem ana ne carried his point, and his friend's election at that precinct. Mr. Moore was one of the brave little band of patriots who attacked Houck at Williamson's, where our men killed the Philadelphia lawyer and routed his command completely, with bardly one man to his three. In the division of the'spoils, a very fine grey mare fell to the share of Alexander Moore, which he rode many a day in the rounds of Lacy's "rangers." In L781 (I think) he was elected a lieutenant, and was in command of the company that guarded the bridge at the battle?near Biggins' church?of Jumby's Bridge. About 1783 he was elected 3heriff of Camden district, (under the constitution of 1778), by the senate and bouse of representatives, to serve for two years. He was re-elected to this afflce more than once. In 1789 he declined a renominatlon, and was succeeded by Joseph Brevard, (afterward Judge Brevard), of Camden. In 1784 be married a Miss Dorcas Ervin, and settled on "Big Fishing creek," on a plantation now owned by his grandson, William S. Moore. By this marriage ne had four sons and four daughters. His wife died early and left him with i young and helpless family on his widowed hands. She was a beautiful woman, and I remember being told by in old citizen, that in those days it was ( customary for ladies to accompany their husbands and brothers to the busting; and at {he election she attended, she was always sure to win, ny her popularity of manner, many a ote for her husband. After the death ( )f his first wife he bought a plantation from Edward Lacy, father of the coi- , >nel Lacy already alluded to, 12 miles | from Yorkville, (now owned by a ! jrandson, (Alfred Moore), to which he 'emoved. Soon after he intermarried , ,vith Miss Catherine Marion. By this ! narriage there was no issue. She sur- . :ived him many years. In 1789 he was a candidate from Pinckney district for the general aslembly, but was beaten. The cause of us defeat shows the devotion of our ] iarly people to their pastors. While \ i candidate, Mr. Moore had on some , iccaslon that required it, expressed j 'reely his opposition to the Rev. Mc- j 2anna, remaining in charge of the Be- ( :hesda church, of which congregation le was a member, from the habitual ndugence of the preacher in drunkenless. Relations and friends and neigh- ' iors, held up their hands in pious horor. To speak evil of the Lord's anoint- ' ;d was a heresy beyond their ken, and * vere Alec Moore twice as near and 1 lear, they could not send such a man 1 o represent them in the legislature, 1 Thus, his own section of Chester and i fork failed him, and he was left out. { 3efore the election of new members ( ame, the minister had too evidently i alien from grace for his flock to be j >lind to his faults; for one day, when ntoxicated, he had ascended the pulpit ( o try and perform his sacred offices. 1 n the revulsion of feeling "that Moore 1 ras right and they were wrong," to re- ( >air tnat wrong, to a man, they came ' orward and voted for him on the next ' lection. This, united with the forci- ' le style of his friend, General Lacy, 11 secured him a seat by a large majority. In 1792, he, with Hill and McLanahan, were elected the three county court justices for York county?afterward called "district." They continued in office until 1799, when these courts were abolished. He was sent again that year to the legislature, and in 1800 was elected Ordinary, that office being tnen established. This position he held till his death, keeping his office at his plantation, wheie he lived, 12 miles from the village; but for the convenience of the people, always spending court week and salesdays at the court house. He was often called upon to perform the marriage ceremony, and I recall a scene that I witnessed at his house 65 years ago, and relate it to show how a "big wedding," was managed in those days: Between 10 and 11 o'clock in the morning, some of the party descried a cavalcade of apparently 35 or 40 persons coming up the road which ran past Mr. Moore's residence. In front rode two men and then behind them two and two, a gentleman and a lady; the entire crowd paired off, and thus strung out, magnified their appearance and presented as an imposing a spectacle as possible. As they drew near enough to distinguish faces, the Moores recognized in the first gentleman and lady, a couple who were to be married that day, and though no warning had been given, knew the meaning of the escort. About 100 yards from the house, the procession halted. The foremost riders who were the "bottle carriers," turned their horses and rode back the whole length of the line, (one on the left and the other to the right), stopping at each couple, beginning of course with the bridal pair, presenting simultaneously to each lady and her escort the bottle of whiskey; this everyone kissed in turn, all remaining quiet, reining in their respective steeds till the "creature comforts" were partaken of by all, and the carriers resumed their places in front. This evolution accomplished, the 'goodly company" moved on. When tney were in front of the house, they entered the large gate and rode around the house three times, the men firing off pistols, loaded with powder, at which the horses of the ladies, as well as those of the gentlemen, would rear and pitch; but female equestrians of that day were not easily thrown, and no accident occurred to mar the pleasures of the occasion. After completing the circle of the house, each time there would be a pause, for the "bottle carriers" to make their rounds. The third time they dismounted, hitched their horses, formed and came Into the house. Squire Moore went forward to the piazza to receive them. They announced their desire for him to marry their candidates for the holy state. He Invited them in and performed the ceremony with due solemnity. After which? the bridal party, being almost all of them acquaintances and neighbors? the tables and chairs were cleared out of the hall. Some one among them, being a musician, had brought his instrument, and they commenced what would be literally "the light fantastic toe" to the present generation. The "pigeon wing" and the "flying shuffles'* tramped to the merry measures of the fiddler's highland fling and Irish Jig "Nae cotillion brent frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, reels, Put life and mettle In their heels;" till dinner hour approached. Then they began their arrangements for leaving. Of course the Squire must accompany them to the feast at the residence of the gloom's mother. At first he declined; but as it was about two miles to go, with this and some other accessions to their numbers, they remounted and fell into line. The "bottle carriers," with flask replenished, again handed the exhilarating beverage to all, three cheers were given for the new married folks, and away they cantered with merry hearts and good appetite to partake of the abundant cheer prepared by old Mrs. Brown. "How ridiculous!" does some young maiden exclaim? In three generations from now, will not our fashions be as "outre?" What think you would your granddame feel were they to glance in at a modern party and see you whirling by, with some gay cavalier, In one of the favorite round dances? I hope the girls in a good time coming, will not only cry, at the description of them, "how absurd; but how disgusting!" Squire Moore was a man always Before the people, and filled the various offices of trust reposed in him, with ability to his state, and satisfaction to his community. His manners were urbane and his hospitality unbounded. He had a fine person, commanding, almost stern in appearance, and was one of the few men in his day, who always wore a black broadcloth suit, ruffled shirt and high-top beaver hat. He had some peculiar religious notions, but was orthodox In his faith, and diea a triumphant death in the 53d year of his age. He was buried in the Bethel graveyard, of which church he for years had been a member. [to be continued next saturday.] The Czar's Dream op Peace.?I believe the Czar of Russia is sincere in his wish for disarment, writes Gen. Joe Wheeler, in Success. He sees that It is by peace, and not by war, that his empire will progress. But the Jream came uj naugm, ul t-uuiac. Why? Because it would be in the lature of things impossible for men md nations to abruptly cast aside a labit that was acquired before history aegan, and is, after all, an instinct. \11 animals fight, and will continue to, [ think. The better the animals, the lercer and more fatal the conflict. In :he Napoleonic wars, and in our Civil A'ar, the highest types of men were enraged. This is why history has no rec)rd of any other such battlefields as Waterloo, Gettysburg and Shiloh. We .'ought the Mexicans and Spaniards and Irove them before us with compara:ively little effort. But when men of lorthern blood meet in battle, it is a contest to the death. This is especialy true when the indomitable AngloSaxon spirit is on each side. Even 'Romans, in Rome's quarrels," fought ess fiercely. r /' *