A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c.
-- Vol. XI. WEDNESDAY MORNING, JUNE 2, 1875. No. 22.
THE HERAL
IS PUBLISHED
EVERY WED'-ESDAY 310rXING
At Newberry) So C,
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seription.'
TWENTY YEARS AGO.
I'Te wandered to the village, Tom,
I've sat beneath the tree
Upon the school-house play-ground,
Which sheltered you and me;
But none. were there to greet me, Tom,
And few were left to know,'
That play'd with us upon the grass,
Some twenty years ago.
The grass is just as green, dear Tom;
Bare-footed boys at play
Were sporting there as we did then,
With spirits just as gay;
But the master sleeps upon the hill,
Which coated o'er with snow,
Afforded us a sliding place
Just twenty years ago.
That old school-house has altered some
The benches are replaced
By new ones very like the ones
Our pen-knives had defaced;
The same old bricks are in the wall,
The bell swings to and fro,
The music's just the same, dear Tom,
'Twas twenty years ago.
The eiver's running just as still;
..The willows on its side
Are larger than they were, dear Tom;
The stream appears less wide;
The grape-viuae swing is ruined now,
Where once we played the bedu,
Aud swung our sweet -hearts-pretty girls
Just twenty years ago.
The spring that bubbl.-d 'neath the hi!],
Close by the spreading beech,
And keelig donnt et a dirhnk
LOVE AND REVENGE.'
-0- C
A TIIIULLING EPISODE.
-0
BY PAUL PLUME.
-0- t
The town of F- was once a c
considerable trading place, but its
commerce has long ago departed. t
For a delightful situation,it was not C
excelled by any of our Southern t
ports. The blue Atlantic washed n
its beach, and many a white-wing- f
ed vessel came and went from the b
harbor; but as we have said, these i
things belong to the past.
Looking from the shore, far in- t
to the country which rises with I
low hills at the back of the town, v
one could discern pretty villas, I
surrounded with odorous shrub- o
bery, while graceful palm trees I
stood like sentinels at different n
points about. Wealthy people, a
cultivated and given to hospitali- f
ty, lived in those abodes. Some (
are now living, but the times have a
changed, and a bloody desolation o
has swept over the land, and they a
live in another style from that in I:
which they formerly indulged. A
But far the greater portion of the ,
male population sleep in soldiers' ir
graves, or else wander about o
maimed and shattered in health. b
When I was at F- I was v
deeply interested in the history c
es, of a young lady w hose melancholy s
fate was sincerely deplored by all b
who knew her. n
Constance Woodham was the o
daughter of Judge Woodham, a N1
very distinguished jurist of the f
South. Born with an ardent soul,
and an imgination which the beau- c
ty of the country contributed still o
more to exalt, nothing around had p
power sufficient to captivate her fi
heart. She was naturally dis
posed to meditatibn, and study be- p
came her favorite pursuit. Her t
mind was early adorned with those y
acquirements which were calcula- e
Led to heighten its native eleva
,tion. So deep (lid her love of 'i
books become, that wvhen her fa
ther' (as he frequently did,) visited a
,large cities, Constance would re
main at home rath'er than accom- i
pany him; happy to pore over a
the volumes on the capacious r
book shelves. This habit finally t
produced a melancholy on her s
mind, that gave her father much t
anxiety; but as he humored her
every whim, she was permitted to a
go on in her old way. Her wisheso
never seemed to wander beyond t
the beautiful house and grounds
where she resided. This calm, 3
however, was too apparent. Con- e
stance Woodhamn had too lively an r
imagination and too ardent a soul,
to long retain that tranquility a
which generally is, sooner or later, f,
disturbed by the passions. t
The first new sensation her
heart experienced was in the per- f
son of Gulian Langford, a young [
gentleman who was traveling for d
amusement, having just completed s
.bis term at college. His father and t
Judge Woodham were old friends, c
and as Gulian bore a letter of in- d
troduction to the Judge, the lat- I
ter insisted upon his remaining s
with him during his stay in F-. 5
He had not been domiciled long
with the Judge, ere he was taken I
ill with a fever which is some- t
times prevalent in the country, t
and during his long convalescence, I
the merits of Constance made a I
deep impression on his mind. So e
enchanting did he find the society t
of this amiable girl, that he looked r
forward to his complete restoration t
to health with asort of regret. Thbe 1
idea of quitting her presence made
him unhappy. He had not as yet
declared to her his passion, but he I
IE could not long postpone it. Con-i
stance, with woman's quick pene
tration, was not wholly ignorant I
of Gulian Langford's feelings, and
s, the strange sensations which often
filled her heart, caused her to ac- 1
til, knowledge a feeling akin to that
of the interesting invalid. Before
he opened his heart to her, Gu
lian determined upon a plan which 1
.is not (and was not then) custo
,mary among lovers, that of first
acquainting the parent with his
passion, before admitting in to the
lady. The Judge was a man who
de!ighted in the dignified old-time
way of doing business, and was
flattered by Gulian's mode of pro
ceeding. He gave his consent for
him to address his daughter. Con
stance heard his tale and promised
to wed him, and there were two
happy hearts beneath the Wood
ham villa. In the intoxication of
his love Guliani forgot everything
but his beloved Constance, and
when a letter from his father de-I
manding his instant ieturn home
reached him, he was filled with
~reLr. T anfend'e lette, wa
xceedingly brief and curt, an<
he absence of a word of remem
irance for the Woodham fami!y
Illed Gulian with amazement, an<
aused him some painful emotions
He bid adieu to Constance, pro
aising to write her constantly
nd saying he would soon returi
o her side. Alas! he little knew
he news that aras soon to fall up
n his cars.
Constance had a brother older
han herself, who was absent, at
ollege.. Gulian also had a bro
her in the same iustitution. Ed
iud Woodham was a hot-headed
llow, good-hearted in the main
ut as he was addicted to fast liv
ig, his impulsive character made
unsafe for even friends to in
arfere with him it all times
jeonard Langford partook some
rhat of the charater of his sister
le was amiable, studious, and
f an even temper. Between
jangford and Woodhani ther<
ever had been an angry word,
ud they were considered good
lends, though never intimate
Inc evening the students were al
public house, when a difficulty
ccurred between Woodham and
classmate named Terry. The
ttter was of Northern birth, and
Foodbam. who was abusing the
orth, was clearly in the wrong
i his attack upon Terry. Most
F the students sided with Wood.
am, and those who did not agrec
ith hini held their peace on ac
>unt of his violent temper, all
,re Leonard Langford, who re
uked Woodham for his treat.
ient of one who was guiltless of
ff e n c e. Instantly Woodbam's
-rath was transferred to Lang
>rd.
"Oh !" he sneered. "You are
nstituting yourself the champion
f Yankees. By what authority
ray, do you meddle in my af
tirs ?"
"I claim no authority at all," re
lied Langford; "I simply saw
hat Terry was not to blame, anc
ou were, and seeing it, I express
a my conviction."
"Your conviction," 1 a u g h e i
Foodham, in an instlting manner
Vat do you suppose I car<
bout your convictions ?"
"Hold," cried Terry, approach
ig Langford, and laying his hand
pon his arm. "This is my quar.
l, Leonard, and I am able t<
ike care of myself. I don't de
ire to involve my friends in my~
rouble."
Though Leonard Langford hat
quiet disposition, he was not
noe who would submit to imposi
ion.
"Very true," he replied; "bu
foodham has insulted me as wel
s yourself, and he owes me repa
ation as much as he does you."
"Take it, then," cried Woodham
t the same time slapping Lang
rd in the face, and spitting it
bat of Terry's.
.Lconard Langford was a power
lly built young man, so h(
romptiy k n o e k e d Woodhan
own. A scene of confusion.en
ad, then all present adjournec
o their rooms in the college foi
osultation, and the following
ay Langford challenged Wood
am to a duel. These things wer<
o common at that day, that thea
carcely excited comment.
The comnbatants met, and Wood
am fatally wounded Langfoi-d a
he first fire. When Terry say
hat his friend Leonard would bi
kely to die, he determined to chal
enge Woodbam himself. 'Twa:
sad mistake, for Woodbam wa
he best shot in the college. 'The2
aet upon the same ground, where
he day previous Langford hat
ien shot.
"I shall kill that Yankee," sai<
oodhamn to his friends. He kep
us word, and Terry was brough
n a corpse.
Before a week had passed Lang
'ord died. Gulian had arrived hom
nly in time to see his brothe
xpire. When he knew that hi
rother had fallen by the hand a
Sdmund Woodham, his afflicetio:
vas of tihe deepest character.
oodham had departed for part
iknown as soon as he killed Tei
-or else Gulian certainly woul
ave shot him. When, howevei
e became tranquil, he wrbte Cor
~tance, giving her an account c
hat had occurred. She was drive
Loost frantic by the news. Th
~ecolection of his expiring brothbe
acked the soul of Gulian, anc
verwhelmed as he was by dih
.ress, the image of Constance wa
~ver present to his thoughts.
Gloomy presentiments now too
ossession of the soul of Constane
Woodham, and though endowe
with a superior mind, she n'eve
ifterwards could dislodge them.
[n her answers to Gulian, sh
reigned a tranquility she did nc
fe'el, and concealed from her love
tha npntra whinh rent har bnnan
The father of Gulian sternly r
- fused to hcar the name of Con
, stance Woodham mentioned, and
told his son that if he dared wed
her, a curse would follow the act.
- "Can you forget your murdered
brother," asked the elder Langford.
"There never was a coward among
the Langford's, and, unless you
make the first, there never will
Stung to the quick by his fa
ther's w o r d s, Gulian brooded
gloornil, alternate)y making a
vow to kill Edmund Woodhamv
and to love Constance to the end
of his days.
One promise Gulian made his
father, and which he sacredly kept.
He would not visit Constance
without first informing.him of the
fiact. In the meantime the letters
between them grew more rare,
though Constance abated none of
her affection for her lover.
Nearly a year had passed since
Leonard Langford's death, and
.Edmund Woodham was still ab
sent from his home.
It was almost the Christmas
holidays when a man with cold,
gray eyes, and hairslightly streak
ed with gray, crawled under the
shadow of the wooden building
that answered for a post-office at
IF-. Presently a negro boy
from Judge Woodbam's came for
his master's letters. The man
watchod the boy with eyes that
glittered like a serpent's, and
when he had departed, he follow
ed him until he was beside some
bushes that grew thickly by the
roadside, when he whistled, and
the negro looked back. Then the
man beckoned, aad the boy walk
ed towards him.
"Be quick, sah," cried the black,
"I'se afeared dy'll see me."
"1Hush !" replied the man, at
the- same time taking a letter
from the negro's hand, and scan
ning it attentively.
"Yes, this must be the clue," he
said, speaking to himself. Then
with a thin round stick, he adroit
ly opened the letter and read it,
while a savage smile illumined his
face the while.
-'Humph ?" he ejaculated, as he
replaced it in the envelope, and
took a small bottle from his pock
et, which he shook briskly before
applying the cork to reseal the
letter. When it was completed
he gave the negro a handful of
silver, cautioning him to hold the
letter in the sun as he went his
way, that it might thoroughly
dry. An hour- after, the man was
riding at a hard gallop out of the
town.
Edmund Woodhama was sitting
in a public room in one of our sea.
board cities, awaiting a remittance
of money from his father, some
weeks after the circumstance we
have described. As he sat care
lessly looking over the papers, the
same persorn who had accosted the
- negro entered the hotel, and took
a seat near Woodhamn. Only a
close observer would have detect
- ed the expression that beamed
from the eyes of the corner. In a
careless way he addressed some
common place remark to Wood
-ham, and they wvere soon in con
versation. After a while they
took a drink, and in the evening
they visited the theatre. That
-nig'ht Mark Terry learned from
Wood ham's own lips that he
wvould leave for his home as soon
as he received money from his fa
ther.
"You need not wait for that."
isaid Terry; "I'll let you have as
much as you wish. You can send
it to me wvhen you got home."
Such generosity coused WV >od
ham to invite Mr. Parley (so the
stranger called himself) to visit
him, and, to his surprise, the invi
a tation was accepted. For a mo
ment Woodhamn regretted his
- hasty invitation, but it was too
3 late, so he contented himself by
c thinking that Mr. Parley might
s not, after all, accompany him
f home. But Mr. Farley put up
I the same hotel with Woodham,
- and never lost sight of hi m, and
s was ready in a few days after
-wards to start away with him.
"By the way," said Farley, "we
, will pass through Norfolk. 1
- would like you tarry with me a
f couple of days, as I wish to tran
1 sact somebu.siness in that city."
S~Woodham assented, and when
r they reached Norfolk they halted.
It was the day before they were
to resume their journey, that Far
s ley and Woodham rode out a short
distance in the country, and dis
c mounted to .get a drink from a
e spring. rThey had tied their
: horses, and Woodham was stoop
r ing down in the act of taking a
-- drink, when Parley struck him
e upon the head such a blow that
t he fell, and for some minutes was
r unconscious. When he recovered,
L. ha f'annd hirna1a ~lf*hnn 1and sUA
foct, and a gag in his mouth. He
made a motion for Farley to re
move the gag, as he wished to
speak. The latter shook his head.
"It's no use," he said. "I know
pretty much what you words be.
You would first wish to know
how I, professing friendship for
you, could act thus. Then you
want to know my motive, and
what I intended doing with you.
So, to save a waste of words, I'll
.tell you. I intend to leave you
bound and gagged, that you may
die. This is rather a lonely spot,
and won't attract much attention,
unless your voice is heard, which
I'll take care won't happen.
Now you wish to know why I
perpetrate ethis barbarity? Well,
I tell you this also," and lie
brought his face close to Wood
ham's, and spat in it.
"Did you ever spit in any un
fortunate man's face ?"
Woodham turned pale. The
question brought the ghost of
Terry up again.
"My name is not Farley," con
tinued the man. "That was ar
ranged to get you into my power.
My name is Terry. I am the el
der brother of the man you first
insulted and then murdered."
Woodham struggled to speak.
"Oh! yes," replied Terry. "I
know you wish to explain; but,
unfortunately, I have neither time
or inclination to listen. 1 thirst
ed for the revenge I have obtain
ed. Farewell," and he turned on
his heel, and left Woodham
struggling on the earth in his
bonds.
Weeks passed away ere the
body of Edmund Woodham was
discovered. It was identified on
ly by letters found in the pockets
of his clothing. 'By this means
his father and sister learned his
sad fate.
Constance Woodharn n e v e r
would see Gulian: Langford again,
and made him promise that he
never would seek her. She pass
ed most of her time in solitude, and
was never known to smile. No
thing appeared to afford her any in
terest, and she always went about
clad in deep mourning. At the
period I saw her she had just
heard of Gulian Langford's death,
and morning and evening she
went. and came from the little
chapel, where she prayed for the
repose of her lover's soul.
DON'T BE Too SENSITIVE.
There are some people, yes, many
people, always looking out for
slights. They cannot carry on the
daily intercourse ofthe family with
out some offense is designed.
They are as touchy as hair-trig
gers. If they meet an acquaint
ance in the street who happens to
be preoccupied with business, they
attribute his abstraction to some
mode personal to themselves, and
take umbrage accordingly. They
lay on others the fact of their
irritability. A fit of indigestion
makes them see impertinence in
every one they come in con
tact with. Innocent persons who
never dreamed of giving offense
are astonished to find some unfor
tunate word or momentary taci
turnity mistaken for an insult.
Tro say the least, the habit is un
fortunate. It is far wiser to take
a more charitable view of our fel
low beings, and not suppose a
slight intended unless the neglect
is open and direct. A.fter all, too,
life takes its hues in a great de
gree, from the color of our mind.
If we are frank and generous the
world treats us kindly. If, on the
contrary, we are suspicious. men
learn to be cold and cautious to us.
Let a person get the reputation of
being touchy, and every body is un
dci- more or less constraint, and in
this way the chances of an imagi
nary offense are vastly increased.
CAUGHT WITHOUT BAI.-An ec
centric divine has said that the
Devil bates the hook for all class
es of sianers except swearers; wh.eu
he would take the swearer he just
lets down the empty hook. If
you willirefiect a little you will be
convinced of the truth of this
statement. He offers a reward,
such as it is, for lying, stealing,
cheating, and all sorts of sinful in
dulgence, except swearing; for
this he does not even promise any
pay. This being true it is not on
ly wicked to swear, but foolish
and profitless. Don't swear my
friend. No possible good can grow
out of it but much evil, to your
self and to others. In an address
to his soldiers, General Washing
ton said, "no gentleman will
swear," and higher authority has
said "swear not at all," and again
"I will not hold him guiltless that
taketh my nq~me in vain."
~
Be great i~t as you have been
3isfllaneons.
QUEER STORY OF A RAT,
A LADY BECOMES AN INVOLUNTA
WET NURSE FOR A FASTIDIOUS ]
DENT-A CASE AL3OST SURPIA
ING BELIEF.
More than one authentic
stance is recorded where r:
have horribly mutilated corp(
cre the rites of sepulture ha
boon periormed. They have be
known to deprive more than o
now-born baby of a finger or p:
of an ear. The healthy hum
snout has not been sacred fr<
their attacks when the owner N
cared for -by Morpheus. Th
h a v e riddled brick-and-mort
walls, pierced through lead wat,
pipes, and rend.red night bidec
by their fierce gnawing of floo
Hitherto they have confined the
selves to the demoralization of t
pantry when it was reasonat
stocked-only foraging furtl
when pressed by hunger. No
however, they have develop
a new line of business, and
have to chronicle the authen
particulars of a case where a me
ber of the genus Mus actually c(
verted a member of the genus I
mo into a wet-nurse.
Mr. and Mrs. William Hanl
are both New Yorkers. Th
hav,e six children, the young
being an infant. While nursi
this boy her husband and the di
tor observed that she was mu
emaciated and v e r y weak.
Nourishing food was procur
and Dublin stout was libera
supplied. The Hanleys then oc
pied the second floor of a house
West Sixteenth street, and the
ther who is an engineer, wa4
good deal from home. One e
ning when he returned he v
shocked when his wife inform
him that she had awoke in I
early morning, when everythi
in the room was quite visible, a
found a rat at her breast nursi
as quietly and naturally as a baL
An involuntary shudder, she se
crept over her.frame, wherenl
the audacious animal ceased ope
tions, looked calmly at her, a
then leisurely trotted to the fi
of the bed, turned, looked rou
again, and upon her sharply m
ing h er foot and ejaculati
"pshew-w !" the brute jumped
the floor and entered the hole
hind the stove, where was space
a grate. That night Mr. Han:
remained at home, and about 1
same time in the morning he
held the creature repeatin.g
operation. He could scarcely
lieve his eyes, and he gazed at
as if spell-bound. He daredi
attempt to strike at the bes
lest it might inflict a danger<
wound -with its long gleami
fangs. So he was compelled
watch and impotent to succor
When the creature was gorged
quietly tottered down the I
over his feet, and when he stirr
darted into its hole. Next '.
he procured sheet iron and ba:
caded the beast. Then it cc
menced operations under the flo
and three days after, when he v
again absent, .the brute had s
ceeded in piercing a hole by wh
to emerge. The poor woman s
almost dead with terror. She e3
became so enfeebled and super;
tious by feeding the creature wv
the blood of her body, and dw
ing on the horrible thought w
her mind that she dared not
her husband, and made light of
and denied it when questioned.
was apparent, however, that
was becoming a skeleton,
therefore Mr. Ilanley resolved
leave the house. Accordingly
floor was procured on West I
tietb strcet,whither the family:
furniture were removed. It
be deemed incredible, but it
nevertheless, absolutely true, t
the. second night after they
moved the same rat again mn
its appearance. The poor lh
now believed herself under sc
demoniac spell, and gave her:
up to despair. Her husband, 1
was almost at his wit's end. T[
or three times he took a clut
bed with him, resolving to sm;
the skull of the now bloated ci
ture. But when he raised h:
self with this hostile intent,
creature would cease,still retain
its hold, and grin fiercely at hi
an-d Mrs. Hanley would beg I
to let the creature alone or wo
might b.efall. Matters were i
ting serious. The wvoman I
grown very weak, and her ci
had to be artificially nursed. 'l
famrily again moved, this time t
ing extraordinary precaution 1
the animal might migrate w
them 'among the furniture or I
ding. This time they remnovec
West Thirtv.aixthustreet. But j
cautions aud hope were alike futile.
At last it became evident that
either the rat must die or Mrs.
Hanley cert.inly would. The
husband took counsel with dis
RY ereet friends, and advised his wife
to- of his scheme. He took a horse
Ss pistol loaded with buck shot to
bed with him, and resolutely lay
awake till the brute appeared and
in- gorged itself. When it was satis
Lts fled it walked quietly to the foot
es of the bed, and sat heking its
ve mouth like a cat. The muzzle of
'n the pistol had been pointed to this
ne spot anticipating this invariable
Lrt habit of the creature. The trigger
an was pulled. There was a heavy
report, and a big rat was riddled
as to pieces and weltering in its
OY gore.
ar This, we take it, is the most
,r- extraordinarily rat story ever
us published. As .has been already
rs. stated the foregoing particulars
m- may be absolutely relied upou.
he Mr. and Mrs. Hanley are highly
7 respectable people, and are still
er residing in this city, and scienti
W, fic and other skeptics can be fur
ed nished with their address.
v e [From the N. Y. Mercury.
Lic ___
M- I ALAM ANCE.
o' A DETAILED ACCOUNT OF THE FIRST
BATTLE OF THE REVOLUTION.
ey
ey The first blood shed in a con
1st flict between the Colonists and
og the King's troops was.at battle of
)c- Alamance, in North Carolina, on
ch the 16th of May, 1771. On the 24th
- of April of that year Governor
ad, Tryon marched from the town of
ly Newbern with about three hun
au- dred men and a small train of ar
on tillery. On the 3d and 4th of May
fa- he was streuthened by detach
a ments which met him on the way
re- and by a troop of light horse, un
as til the force under his command
ed exceeded a thousand men. On
he the 15th of May he approached
Dg the camp of the Regulators at Ala.
nd mance Creek, in the county of
ng that name. The story of that bat.
y. tIe is well worth repeating. When
id, Tryon bad reached the vicinity of
on Alamance Creek the Rlegulators
ra- sent a message to him demanding
nd a redress of their grievances, and
>t giving him four hours to reply.
nd They complained of exorbitant fees
v'- exacted by officers of the crown,and
ng particularly on deeds and attes
to tations 'f sales of landed property,
be- Until these fees were reduced:
for the poll tax of two dollars abolish
ey -ed., and official embezzlement pre.
he vented and punished, they declared
be. they would pay no taxes. They
its insisted on their right to enjoy
be- the privileges and liberties oi
it their ancestors under the consti
iot tution framed by them, and their
.st, determination to maintain it onJ
>u its ancient foundation, so that it
ng might stand firm and unshaken.
to He nromised to send an answer
.by noon the following day. Ir
tit the meanwhile he sent out twc
ed persons--Ashe and Walker-te
ed, find out the position occupied by
ay the Regulators. They were cap
~ri- tured by the latter, tied to trees
mn- severely whipped, and held as
or, prisoners. When the messenger
as promised by Tryon, reached the
u- camp of the Regulators, instead o:
ich making any concession to them
ras he demanded their submission, anc
en gave them one hour to consider
iti- Their answer was, "Go back u
ith Billy Tryon,and say we defy him.'
ell- On the return of the messen
ith ge the army marched 'to withir
ell three hundred yards of the Regu
it, Ilators' camp, and there halted.
It The Regulators advanced also, it
she order of battle, to a short reacl
ud of the road, where they haltei
to waving their hats as a challengt
a to their opponents. Gov. Tryor
or- now sent a magistrate and an offi
nd cer with a proclamation command
vill ing the insurgents to disperst
is, within one hour, but they refused
dat to listen to him, crying out, "Bat
re- tIe, battle !" On the return of th<
ide magistrate, the Governor, under
dy standing that the Regulators pro
me posed to put Ashe and Walker ir
elf front of their lines, sent a messagt
oo, that as he should keep the prison
wo ers he had taken in a place of safe
to ty,be hoped the same care would b<
~sh taken of those "gentlemen. T<
ea- this they returned no direct an
n- swer, but offered to surrender the
the two prisoners if the Governo1
ing would surrender those he had ta
m; iken,seven in number. The proposi
imn tion of so unequal an exchange,
re implying a concession on the part
~et- of the Governor, was .at first re
ad jected; but afterwards, at the so
Lild licitation of his men, who were ap
~he prehensive of the treatment these
ak- two persons might receive he
est ag-reed to the exchange. The ene
ith my being tardy in their compliance,
led- and the army complaining of the
ito extreme heat of,the sunl and mani
-c etn ra ~ptec oa
wa. raatina ersat imnationee to ad,
vance, it was thought advisable
to lead them on. They marched
in profound silence till the lines
of both parties m e t, almost
breast to breast. The governor
forbade his men to fire until be
ordered them. The troops in the
first rank were almost mixed with
those of the vanguard of the one
my stationed a little before the
main body, and who now began
to retire upon it, shouting defi
ance and daring their opponents
to advance. The army kept on
till within twenty-five yards of
them, and then halted. The Regu
lators continued to call on the
governor to order his men to fire;
several :f them advancing toward
the artillery, opening their breasts
and defying them to begin. As
Tryon still hesitated, they fell
back slov;ly to a fine defensive
position, leaving the governor and
his troops open to their fire, whilst
most of them were secure from
his. Another parley ensued. An
adjutant was sent forward to say
.that if they did .not directly lay
down their arms they should be
fired on. That order the gover
nor then gave, but it was not im
mediately o b e y e d; whereupon,
rising in his stirrups and turning
to his men; he called out, "Fire
on them, or on me." The action
now began, and almost instantly,
became general.
The insurgents pursuing the
Indian mode of fighting, did con
siderable injury to the King's
troops, who would have been de
feated, but for the excellent ser
vice done by the artillery, which
the Regulators, being poorly arm
ed, were unable to capture. Never
theless, with the odds against
them, tHey fought desperately for
more than an hour, and did not
take to flight until all their amma
tion was expended.
It is our duty. to do honor to
these men. Disdaining to live
under a tyranical government,
many of those who survived the
battle of Alamance crossed the
mountains into Tennessee, opened
new settlements there, and on the
4th of October, 1780, formed part
of the gallant band that fought
the memorable battle of King's
Mountain.-Baltimnore Gazette.
F UN AT HoME.-Donl't be afraid
of a little fun at home, good peo
pie ! Don't shut up your house lest
the sun should fade your carpets;
and your hearts, lest a hearty
laugh shake down some of the
musty old cobwebs there. If you
want to ruin your son, let him
think that all mirth and social en
joyment must be left on the thresh
old without, when they come home
at night. When once a home is
regarded only as a place to eat,
drink and sleep in, the work is
begun that ends in gambling
houses and reckless degradation.
Young people must have fun and
relaxation somewhere; if they do
not find it at their own hearth
stones, it will be sought at other
and perhaps less profitable places.
Therefore let the fire burn bright
ly at night, and make the home
stead delightful with all those lit
tie arts that parents so perfectly
understand. Don't repress the buoy
ant spirit of your children. Half
an hour of merriment round the
lamp and firelight of home blots
-out the remembrance of many a
care and annoyance duringt the day;
and the best safeguard they can
take with them into the world is
the unseen influence of a bright
and domestic sanctum.
A-home with mirth and cheer
fulness is one of the dearest of
earth's possessions.
The following dispatch was
sent to New York recently:
"I len t you a year ago to-night
four dollars a n d eighty-seven
cents. If you have not had it
long enough, keep it one year
longer."
We give the answer :
"Had forgotten it, and hoped
you had. Let her run another
year."
A writer in the Druggists' Cir
cular says that in tr'eating some
cases of tapeworm he has employ
ed no preliminary provisions be
yond forbidding the patient to
take any breakfast the day on
which it is intended to remove the
worm, and giving him a large dose
of Rochelle salts the preceding
night.
An industrious Spanish hen at
San Lorenzo, Cal., has laid an egg
that is six inches in circumference,
and eight inches from end to end,
and the California newspapers are
doing her cackling for her.
Th-olytreetho----cio
inThie old trbe inet, bof ot
- Q int.i ol st ei t u o
. af it
ADVERTUSINC RATES.
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and charged accordinely.
Special Contracts made with, 1-a_* adver
tisers, with liberal dedacdious orL *I*e rates.
Done with N~eatne" and Disp"tc.
Terms Cash.
HOW TO KEEP THE CRIL
]DREN PURaE.'
"Will YOU not use youriuffuence
in trying to deter large boys from
con tami nating the minds ofasmaller
er boys ? Things which should
be told in a wholesome manner and
as solemn truths are distorted in
to vile shapes, and permadent' in-.
jury is done to- children's minds.
Would it not be better for the body
to be poisoned than the mind, that
parents migUtsee the harm..done,
abnd ther-eby be enabled to use cures
and antidotes? But I am sorry
to say that I1 think the trouble lies
deeper than with the big boys.I
have been looking around, and am
quite sure that it does. A jury
might acquit them with the ver
diet, more sin ned against than sin
ning. It is the men, that 1. am
coming at, for just so -long 'as
they* meet in groceries, on streqt
corners, and in shops, telling sto
ries unfit for the ears of their
mothers, sisters, wives anddaugh
ters,Jast so long big boys will -lis
ten and think it cunning to emu
late the filthy example., Is it not
a terrible thing to look in to a
young man's face and think of the
impurities his mind must be l6ad
No man's abilities are so remark-.