JIMEi H. NORWOOD, EDITOR.] To thine otrnself be true; And it must follow as the night the day; Tkou const not then be false to any man.—H amlkt. [NORWOOD i DE LORME, PI HL1S1IKRS.
VOL. 1.
—
DARLINGTON C. H., S. C., THURSDAY MORNING OCTOBER 9 1851.
NO. 32
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who dare turn upon the oppressor!— I
The scene which I now look upon, is !
enough to curdle the Mood of a free
man. The graves of my fathers—the !
church of mv childhood—where a
sainted mother brought me to the altar i
of her faith, insulted, desecrated, and
defiled by the presence of blasphe
mers, hirelings and assassins! Had I
you within, you may escape from the
window, (iod help you Clarence, for
I cannot think of evil to you and live.”
Olieying the suggestion of his mis
tress upon which indeel hung his only
chance of escape Welsingham hastily
descended the Hight of stairs, and
quickly disappeared in the chamber in
dicated by the maiden. Scarcely had
face of his dying victim. “ Come, j ding to the superstitious of the vulgar,
boys, let us move; the thing is done, ' tl'** of night when the uncloud
dreamed of this. Rose, when I turned ! he done so when the heavy tramp of
i r Sk advertising :
Advertisements, inserted at 75 cents a
square (fiurteen lines or less,) fir the first,
and 37^ cts. f ir each subsequent insertion.
Busin ess Cards, not exceeding ten lines,
nserted at $5, a year.
Ml SC £ LL AH 8 0 0 S.
[From die Slack River Watchman.]
RUSE OF PEE DEE.
a legend of the old cheraw.
(Concluded.)
On the evening on which we have
introduced our heroine, standing upon
the b ilcouy that overlooked tlss river,
she was momentarily expecting ffie ar-
rival of WaLingham? who had con-
trived to notify her of his coming upon
that day. In order to guard against
being massacred by a band of toiics,
whose resentment he had provoked,
and who, as he well knew, had con-
spired for his destruction, he had been
accustomed during his visits of late, to
leave his horse at the house of a well
known whig a few miles below, and
proceed in his canoe, alone and unat
tended, to a spot within a few hundred
mv feet hither this day, the sword and
the musket would now lie bristling
around yon house of (iod. I knew
we bad craven hearted foes in our
midst, whom cowardice and n desire
the soldiers was heard as they mounted
the steps leading into the house. In
another instant, they were standing in
the hall, separated from the chandler
in which he stood cancealed by only a
against us, but I knew not until this
moment that a garrison had been plantd
among us to overcome the weak, and
to drag to the gallows all who dare
i arm in the cause of freedom.”
“ Aye, and to insult the weak and
defenceless,” answered Rose. “ Their
very presence is painful, but doubly
liateml when they presume to dally
with the feelings of those whom they
have Iteen sent to reduce to slavery.”
“ They shall not long remain,” an
swered Walsingham, •* to trouble the
pence, and mar the happiness of our
old friends and associates. When we
part, and our parting must now be
sooner than I anticipated, it is but that
I may lead hither a band to scatter
and destroy those willing instruments
of a capricious tyrant. I need not
ask you of their numbers, hr of their
leader. You are a woman and have
scarcely enquired of this.”
“ Relieve it not,” answered Rose,
their lender is McArthur,
whom I have heard spoken of as a
brave and generous man, and I will
emerging into the open space, from the
dense wood below, which extended to
within two hundred paces of the dwel
ling. In an instant her quick eye de
tected the form of her lover, and wa
ving him a wdeome, in answer to his
mute hut graceful salutation, she d«s-
cended into an apartment below to
welcome her lover.
We willingly draw a veil over this
scene—the meeting of the lovers—af
ter so long and so weary an absence.
The days that had separated them were
forgotten with the dangers that might
have severed them forever,
ny sighs heaved in secret dmiug the
long tedium of absence. The mother
of Rose, a modest and still beautiful
woman, though now advancing in
years, eatue forward and greeted the
young soldier with the warmth and
cordiality belonging to their anticipa
ted relationship. Questions of an ab
sent son were to be asked and answer-
to he with the conqueror had arrayed narrow partition. Walsingham stepped
softly to the window intending to leap
from it and make Ids escape while they
were still busy with the search within
hut what his was his horror and dis
may, to discern a mounted dragoon
with his drawn sabre in his hand, guar
ding tins only avenue by which he could
hope to escajK?.
“ I am doomed” muttered Walsing
ham gloomly, and casting a glance
around the apartment in hope of find
ing some wei ' ght enable him
to sell hie life as dearly as possible. To
Ids great satisfaction his glance fell
upon a rusty old sword, hanging against
the wall of the apartment—a maiden’s
room, how strange a place for such
an instrument of warfare? Eagerly
Walsingham drew it from its scabbard
and grasped the hilt in his sinewy palm,
while n momentary smile lit up Ids
countenance.
I shall at least die with her father’s
sword in my hand,” thought he, as he
planted hiinsel*' before the bolted door,
against which his angry foes were now
heating impatiently.
He heeded not their angry curses,
and their impatient outcries, hut like a
victim doomed to sacrifice, he stondcalm
and unmoved, awaiting but the bursunu
of the door to throw himself upon the
foremost adversary.
I tell von men, he is there,” shout-
yards of the house, where he landed, q U j t .| l | v .
and on foot kept below the brow of the iv | mm ' |’
hill, which effectually screened him
from the observation of those beyond, i
, .. , , lr , * , : nave passed since thev have been amonu
observation above hall an hour, when i „„ . ‘ , 11 .l , , • . <•
, , , , I.,., us, and 1 am told that he punishes his
she observed a manly and noble figure , -.l ... „ , r , .
• T e men with promptness when complaints
are made to him of insolence
willingly iM'lieve it. Some two weeks
pi
or cru
elty. Rut, Clarence, his inferiors in
office are not thus careful of their hon
or, and of the rights of others. Your
cousin, too, is there; he is second in
command, and how it pains me that
one of a race so noble, should sell bis
country, his honor, and his very soul
for an empty title and a sbowy uniform.”
“ Accursed dog!” muttered Walsiug-
ham, lie is a dishonor to his blood.—
Rose you have known Harry Cam
pion from his boyhood, hftrjlras selfish
. . ' i and uuscraiMkMS in wickenessfrom hi*
U " 1 ‘ be very cradl“We have all pe.ished
away; of my race and Mood, save
Campion and myself. My kindred have
died where it is an honor to die—upon
the battle field, in the struggle for free
dom and the lights of man. This, my
only relative, lias conspired against me.
My blood will alone satisfy him. There
has never been any symptoms of kind-
and Campion must be attended to at
once.”
So saving, the sturdy ruffian turned
upon his heel, and followed hy his as
sociates, left the room, bearing with
them their ill-lated leader, whom they
soon discovered to be severely ami even
mortally wounded. He died that very
night in great agony, cursing his king
and his cause, and shrinking back in
terror from the insatiable and greedy
grave.
Far otherwise died the victim of his
hate. Though mortal, the wound of
Walsingham had not lieen as immedi
ately fatal as had been exacted.
That night, about the hour of twelve,
Rose and her mother sat by the bed
side of the dying soldier, the latter
deeply afflicted, hut bearing her pain
ful dispensation with a patience which
she had learned from a life of sorrow,
hut the former bowed down to the
very dust, by the bitterness of a mai
den’s first grief, that overwhelmed her
young heart that had only dreamed of
love and gladness, and of a joyous and
unclouded future. Oh! how hitter is
the first settled grief of the heart, that
I has entered npon life with joyous an
ticipations, and without dreaming of
the cares, the sufferings, and the sor-
rows, that come, ruthless and unthought
of, like the fierce tornado, or the scath-
, mg lightning upon the dreamy quiet of
I existence!
Thus thought our fair young hero
ine, as she stood by the bed-side of the
dying man, with whom she had hoped
and dreamed to journey through the
whole course of existence! In a few
brief hours—a few more tickings of the
weary pendulum, and all her young
: hopes, and her most cherished visions
, of life, would be buried with him, in
the dark and gloomy grave.
With the strong man—the man of
fortitude, and of iron nerve, who has
ed the well known voice of Campion : ^ felt the vanity of life, and knows the
“Down with the door and let the d—d uncertainty of human hopes, the strug-
traitor be seized and eibbetted on the gl« '» indeed painful, when all that he
first tree.” loves is to be laid in the dust—His
“ Rreak it down yourself then and Ik* heart may lie wrung, hut an iron will is
(I d” answered the voice of another there to support it—his bores may be
of the assailants, who shrank from fa- crushed to the earth, but reflection and
cing a man of the well known courage philoshphy, are there to mitigate his
ed moon was abroad, there might be
seen standing upon the balcony of this
deserted mansion, the proud figure of
a noble youth with a lovely maiden
leaning u|>on bis ami-
But an early acquaintance with the
facts which we have related, banished
from our mind any untoward impres
sions which may have been made upon
relate too much to external show, rath
er than to the true interest of the soul.
Earth is full of adonnents for the body,
hut meagre in polish for the mind.—
Contemplate u|H>n the scene before you,
and Ire wise for the future dream of
life is over, what then will avail all its
agitations if not one trace of utility re
mains behind?” “Devote thyself to
useful life having the good of mankind
ever in view study to learn the true laws
us by the stories of the ignorant and ' of his being, which alone can make
the su|>ersti(ious. There it was our
delight to linger, when the shades of
evening stole over the earth, to muse
u|M>n the |iast, and to dream of the fu
ture. Often have we reclined in the
balcony of this deserted mansion and
looked down upon the world, the busy
world below, with a sigh over the past
and a hope for the future. It has
taught us to think of man as an ephe
meral creature, whose days run swiftly
away like the sands of the hour-glass;
but it lias learned us to look with more
than ordinary syuqiatliv upon the suf
ferings which are incident to his lot.
Who would fill bis hand in hatred a-
gainst his brother worm of the dust, a
short lived and ephemeral being, whom
one single act of hostility may rob |
forever of all those hopes and sweet
ness of existence, which we can never
restore, and which may plunge his
whole existence into a settled sorrow,
which the sympathy of the world can-
not cure.
[From the Poughkeepsie Telegraph.]
A SABBATH IN GREENWOOD CEMETERY.”
“Who telleth a tale of unspeaking
death
Who liftuth the veil of what is to come?
Who painteth the shadows that are be
neath,
The wide winding caves of the peopled
tomb;
Or uuiteth Ihe hopes of w hat shall he,
With the fears and the love for that
which we see!"
It was autumn when the sear, yellow
and falling leaf, added solemnity to the
place and cast an air of humility and
and sorrow o’er all the surrounding
scene. A sober stillness pervaded all
the winding ways rolling mounds syl
van groves, retired nooks lonely vales,
watery |»ools, and elevated plains,
and hardihood of WaUiugham. “This giief, and perchance support him nutil gether in this inimitable habitation
is your business, and you must lead the
* »»
wav.
“Move!” shouted Campion, casting
an angry look at the last speaker, and
advancing to the front of the door with
a billet of wood, by a single well direc
ted blow, he tore the holt from its
place, and casting the door wide open
lie stood confronted with the man whom
he bad sworn to destroy.
Though a traitor to bis country, and
him happy in obedience, and forever
miserable in violation. Teach by pre
cept and example, as nature shall un-
fold her hidden truths on interrogating
her unerring oracles. Beware of hoa
ry error and time-honored falsehood,
which in every department of useful
knowledge plead strenouslv for univer
sal sway.” Prove all things and hold
fast that which is good.” “Buy the
truth and sell it not;” cast it abroad
among the children of men.
Cease not on all pro|»er occasions
to “let your light shine,” ns it shall be
increased by diligence in its pursuit.—
“Darkness covers the earth and gross
darkness the people.” The will of
God is clearly expressed in his laws of
nature. As you value health long life
and happiness, so should you estimate
the importance of a correct knowledge
of natural law and a consistent walk
therein.
To be decently buried is proper but
to be rationally living is no less impor
tant. Millions are not to find this love
ly spot for their remians to moulder
away. Rude and unbroken will be
the place of their graves. Poverty and
vice cannot adorn the tomb ; virtue,
and intelligence and wealth jmsses the
power, and often the will to show evi-
dence of honor to the dead. Temjier-
ance, industry, economy, and know
ledge form the basis of tiie glory of
God among mankind. They can ex
tend to all the blessings of life ami the
flowery place for graves.
Go forth from the tombs resolved to
live for time and eternity duly apprecia
ting that wisdom’s ways are way of
pleautnntness and all her paths are
peace.” The dead are beyond earthly
influence ; seek the welfare of the liv-
_ _ _ ing. Health is ever the companion of
which so exquisitely commingle to- , happiness; aches and pains accompa
the sunlight of to-morrow shines upon
the gloomy trials through which lie
must pass. But to what refuge can
the young heart flee, that has never
been called upon to practice philosophy
or exercise its fortitude in the trials of
life.
The dying man uttered a faint groan
and the maiden starter! and turned a
ga/.e of siteechless agony upon him.
Slowly he unclosed his eyes, and with was silent holy and and true. My
of
graves. Just far enough from the mul
titudinous city, to be lulled into snb- I
dued tenderness by the mournful tones
of its church bells, fainfly reverlierating
through these mansions of the dead.—
No aurlible voice was tiiere to divert
my silent and instructive medita
tion. No devotee of false fash
ion or senseless victim of ignoMe pride
was there, to excite pity or disgust; all
ed, and after a brief hour the matron
withdrew, leaving the lovers to their
own dreams and anticipations of the
future.
“ You will find much of change
around us, Clarence,” said Rose, a ter
a pause, “ our neighborhood is not so
quii t as when you were here last. The
soldiers of ft tyrannical king—always
odious—but more than ever when they
seek to insult those whom they have
injured, have lieen forced among us to
blot out the little remnant of peace
that our distance from the theatre of
war has left us.”
“ What mean you,” exclaimed Wal-
siugliam, quickly. “ Have the inva
ders reached you even here ?”
“ Follow me and yon shall see,” an
swered the maiden, rising and leading
the way.
Walsingham followed her as she
lightly tiipjied along the staircase, un
til they stood side by side in the bal
cony, on the rear of the house. Here,
while
ness between us, and the present trou- stained with hideous and revolting
bles of the country, and the wealth of! crimes. Gammon possessed a reckless
which I am to inherit, have milled ac- and unfaltering spirit; in an instant his
tivity to the venom of his hate; my
path is beset by assassins who have
been hired by hi u to take my li e. He
or I must perish, but I pray God that it
may l»e in battle.”
While this conversation was passing,
Walsingham and our heroine was still
standing in the balcony that overlook-
sword was drawn from its scabbard
just in time to parry tne well directed
blow of Walsingham who had leaped
into the doorway where he might be
enaMed to prolong the contest, and
fight ii|M)n less unequal terms.
The reckless brsvery of Walsing
ham completely set at defiance all the
ed the temporary lairracks of the Brit- skill of Campion, who was ns intent up.
ish Regiment. While yet speaking,
Walsingham beheld a bank of of moun
ted soldiers, amounting to about a half
score, issuing from the gate, and urging
their horses at full gallop to the dwell-
i ing where he stood. With a sudden
start our hero hastily sprang into the
interior of the dwelling hoping to es
cape observation. He well knew that
if found so neara British post, his doom
was sealed. The band of outlawry
bad gone forth agvinst him, and to fall
into the hands of the British was speedy
death. On came the band of soldiers.
on preserving his own life, as taking
that of his adversary. They had not
been engaged more than a minute in
the contest when the sword ot Cain-
a dying look, fixed them upon her.—
The sands of life were fast running
away, and the dying man seemed col
lecting himself for a last effort A
glass of water seemed for a moment
to revive him, and taking the hand of
Rose in his own, he drew her yet
nearer to his side, and calmly but sor
rowfully gazed upon her pale but beau
tiful face.
“ Poor Rose,” murmured he, at
length, “ we must soon part forever.—
A church-yard feeling is creeping over
me, and 1 will be gone from this world,
that I
sake.
heart in unuttered and sincere sponta
neously invoked the “Great Spirit” for
whilom and consolation commensurate
with its necessity in a world of folly
and deceit.
Amid such circumstances, all nature
was vocal to my mental ear. Every
tomb, vault, monument, tree, leaf hill
dale mound |>onl, and winding way
were loud in proclaiming useful lessons
ny sighs; death and health cannot com
mingle ; they have no affinity for each
other ; their properties repel and nev
er attract “Wash and be clean,” is
the voice of God ; heed it, lest you
prematurely die. The pure living
fountains cannot corrupt your blood
nor poison your life but will wash awav,
and prevent disease in many of its
thousand forms. Apply the antidote,
with a temperate life in all tilings, and
much sorrow will be dissolved and
many a pang reli >ved.
Thus the day passed until the wes
tern horizon began to receive the set
ting sun and weariness to mingle with
pleasure, when my attention was
turned toward the din of the restless
city. With feelings mellowed and sub
dued I could only exclain, “Ob for a
quiet hour to die in ; when the world
may let me go—its labors its schemes,
of sublimest instruction. By-gone hopes, its whirl and in some seclu-
with a gesture of indignation w„„e vvitll haste, and as they approac,
the blood mounted to her eloquent | ^ n “ arer the dwelling, their leader,
cheek, she directed the ri j »>
pion was dexterously twisted from his but the same bright sun will shine
grasp by an unexpected manoeuvre up- down from heaven, upon the places
on the part of Walsingham. who dealt where we have so often wandered, and
him a severe Mow over the eye that which I must revisit no more. 1 had
sent him reeling to the further side of, dreamed that many a joy was in store
the apartments. for us, but lo! I am hastening to my
“ Shoot the traitor,” shouted Cam- grave! Remember me when 1 am gone,
pion still reeling under the fierce Mow j Were our love but the idle passion of
days flitted Indore my mind and many
an anxious thought rested upon my
memory. A dear Mother was number-
have loved so much for your | ed among the distant dead perhaps
The grave must close over me, prematurely fallen thro’ the want of
attention of
Walsingham to the village church, now
profaned by the disorderly and licen
tious soldiers.
The church was not more Uimi one-
fourth of a mile distant, upon the un
broken plain in the rear of the dwell
ing, and Walsingham, from the posi
tion which he occupied, could distinct
ly recognice the scarlet uniform of the
British soldiers, as they wandered indo
lently around the enclosure of the sa
cred edifice. The blood mounted in
dignantly to the cheek of the fiery
young soldier, as his eye rested upon
the scene pointed out to him by bis fair
companion.
“ It is our doom, Rose*” said he,
“ with tlie feelings of freemen, to be
daily subjected to the insults of a wan
ton and lawless soldiery.” Our coun
trymen have drank the cop of bitter
ness to the very dregs, and will you
yet nearer the dwelling,
in whom Walsingham at once recog
nized Campion, pointed with his draw’ll
sabre to the passage into which our
hero had just retired. In an instant
the truth flashed across his mind, that
his presence Nias discovered and that
his capture was determined on.
Rose*,!! exclaimed he, turning to his
fair companion, while his cheek grew
pale with strong emoiton, “my doom is
writteifT I hnvedreamed of sunny hours
of unbroken happiness with yon, in
times of glorious peace, bought by vic
tory. Rose we must part—yes love,
|>art for ever. It is a latter won!, to
one who has loved as I have done—it
w hich he had received. “ No quarter
to the d—d rebel.”
It was a critical moment for Wal-
hnm. The five troopers who had ac
companied Campion into the house had
been unable to take part in the In-ief
common hearts, this would be an hour
too solemn to recur to it; but with us
it has been a sacred sentiment. 1 am
on the brink of the grave, but I cherish
it still. Farewell, dear Rose! my sight these solemn remembrances
is gone—the shadows of death are
strife between our hero and their lea- a rtt * ie, 1 V , K a ~« Un ^ ,? le '* ^ xr ^>
der. Hut at bis bidding, these pistols
were withdrawn from their belts and
levelled at bis bosom. With the in
stinct of sel.'-prervation, Walsingham
leaped back into the a|>artmcut in which
he had Liken refuge and hurriedly closed
the doors in the faces of his adversa
ries. But his doom had gone forth—
his destiny was sealed. The door
jarred upon its facings, the sharp re
port of a pistol rang through the apart
ment, and bursting through by the thin
door, the bullet pierced his bosom in
is hard to give up the dreams of youth, flicting a painful and a mortal wound
and to go down to the dark and dismal
grave, hut be it so; a Walsingham must
die bravely.”
“ Fly to my cnamher below! Clar
ence,” almost shrieked the lieautilul
“There is yet one hope of es-
believe it, though we are trampled u>t i ma '^ cn> “There is yet one hope of es-
the very dust, how few of us there areT ca P«- While they are searching for
With a half suppressed cry upon bis
lips, the unfortunate partisan stagger
ed for a moment, and lell to the floor.
“Thgt haiidone for him,” cried the
savage rufflan who had given him the
fatal shot, kicking open the door, and
with savage exultation gazing upon the
and dismal. Thus died the young
soldier, clinging in death to the love
which he had cherished in life.
We follow not the heroine of our
story through tho sad life of maiden
widowhood which she lived, true to the
memory of her young and brave lover.
Many a heart like her own has beaten
in silent grief, through a long life of
sorrowing tor die loved and lost that
can return no more, but none ever more
faithfully guarded its early aflection.
When long years had passed, it was
our lot frequently to visit tho scene
where our story is laid. The old dwel
ling house was deserted and tenanflees,
and it was associated with many a fear
ful tale ef nightly apparitions by the
sufierstitious who dwelt in its vicinity.
It was long known by the fearful name
of the haunted house, and often, accor-
day’s knowledge o' - the laws of health
and nature’s remedies. Might she not
have been living now had her know
ledge and practice been according to
nature’s as written in the human con
stitution by the hand of its Maker?—
I often queried as I paused to view
some monument sacred to the memory
of departed affection. Left in early
childhood without a Mother’s watchful
kindness and tender monitions, my
feelings were perhaps less sensitive to
of those
sustaining motherly relations, than
many who visit these grounds. Yet
the day the place and all the afflicting
realities of reflecting nature conspired
to overwhelm my tender sensibilities,
and call up in a panoramic view, a life
of experience printing forgotten in
incidents not always cheerful and hap-
! py.
The spirit of the departed seemed
to commune with mine in suggestive
thought “Why hast thou come hith
er!” said they ; “aeekest thou the liv
ing among the dead ?” We live not
in the external, hut in the apirit, whose
nature differ* widely from the concep
tions of mortal bodies. This chosen
spot of earth so beautifully adorned by
nature and art exhibiting so interesting
ly to the living form, affection’s last
G ’ft calls here, for other motives than
ve for the destiny of our race. These
finely wrought and costly monuments i
ded spot, where there is silliness at
night and the solemn sunlight falls
through the day as it falls at evening
where the soul may leasurely lay off
its incumbrances, and adjust itself to
i its destination ; and with peni
tential surveys of the |>ast, and humble,
but hopeful forelooking to the Culture
wait the great Teacher’s arrival; and
then with clear vidon, commending
tbespi.it to Eternal Mercy, thus to lull
asleep and pass away.”
Jan. Flagek.
New-Y’ork, September, 1851.
PAT AT ThTpOST OFFICE.
The following colloquy actually
took place at an eastern post office.
Pat—“I say Mr. Postmaster, is there
a litther for me.
P. M.—“Who are you my good
sir 1”
Pat—“I’m meself, that’s who I
am.”
P. M.—“Well, what’s your name ?”
Pat—“An’ what do ye want wid
the name? isn’t iton the litther?”
P. M.—“So that I can find the letter
if there is one.
Pat—“Well, Mary Burns, thin if ye
must have it
P. M.—“No, sir, is none for Mary
Burns.”
Pat—“Is there no way to git in there
hut through this pane of glass ?”
P. M.—“No sir.”
Pat—“Ita’a well for ye there isn’t—
I’d teach ye bitter manners than to in
sist on a ginttetuin’s name: but ye
didn’t git it after all—so I’m aven wid
ye, di*U the bit is my name Bums!”