Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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" " " " " " " "" ' ? ' mm = ? . g ^ ^ . mmm mm ^ i i jwo t mtllei; & co., proprietors, } An ludt'pendent Journal i For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. {inrn *. cons, VOf,. B. " YORKYILLE, S. O., THTJRSDAY, OCTOBEB 8, 1857. _ . NO. 4Q. < i Mif i? ?? ii?i on (Vipal |!oftu. For the V kvil!>- Enquirer. " LOOK ON aHIS PICTUiiS. THEN ON THAT." On thr pil!"W hi- gray 1" ;ks la.. Ami his brow was pair and cold For from the tenement of clay Had passed 'ho living soul. It was a large and gilded hall Quaintly and richly filled, And servants stood ready at his call? Alas! that voice wns stilled! And friends were weeping by his side? They thought he could not die? Not he who bore him in his pride, w:?i. l.n?.l ot.<w nnd hicdl ! UltU H5..U v.vv They thought upon the haughty past "When like a Lord lie bore him, And then a shuddering glance they cast To the dark world before him. The awe, the terror of his name, Was passing from each mind And tender, holier feelings came? They almost thought him kind. They tried to hush each bitter thought, To justify each deed To think each error he had wrought, Each heart he caused to bleed? Were such a? any human might With like temptation do For few alas! pursue the right Unless it suits ihem too. I passed on from that rich man's hall To a low-browed cottage door, -11 And tattered penury was an To cheer its inmates poor. A wicked curse from that hovel came Which pen nor words can tell, Invoking by Jehovah's name The avenging fires of Hell! I listeued, for a woman's tone' Invoked that awful curse, A.:d she was dying there alone Without aid, friends or hearse. No, not clone for a pallid child, Lay pulseless by her side, Firm clasped by the maniac wild? From that clasp perhaps it died. And I heard again the rich man's name In that blasphemy wild, Then I knew it was a child of shame And the rich man who beguiled! New ho within a marble tomb, That vanity iu death! Awaits the awful, awful doom Invoked by her dying breath. In one grave mother and child repose? 'T s a!' the sent n gave, it.w ... < ii?n 1 in the spring-time s >ws Sweet fl <wers above that grave. % Calf of ileal ?ife. AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A LAYYER BY WILLIAM IJ ??|.rVKR. I b'* i'-ve tha t smrte ii. .if?? under tlluspi-.-'' of m\ f?? her's -;unt D- borah?; maid ii ladv of six y-four, who. in ph"*e ol father ind uioth?r whom I never saw alter natelv potted and scolded me as long as slit was able. I escaped from both when I wa> eleven years old by running away; and al though she sent me innumerable messages when she discovered my whereabouts, to re turn to her, and be sent to school and fittec for college, T undutifully refused ever to g< near her again. I had 'hired out' with a small farmer t< do his 'chores' for my board and elothes, ant I stayed three years; at the end of whiel time my roving propensities moved me to rui off from him. I had made my arrangements and was even mounted on the top of tin Reading stage, when who should come iot the tavern yard but the farmer. * 1 - -...11 - 'Where are you going, ooy : ue wuc out iu a hard and severe tone. 'To Boston, sir.' 'To Boston !' I cannot describe the manner in which li said this ; but it woke up all the raemorie of floggings which left scar? yet, I have no time to tell you now, any more than the im mortal Fusbos had. lie was a coarse, pre faue man, and he launched out into a strai of abuse which would have made my bloo chill if 1 had been afraid of him, aud bad me get down instantly and go home. 'Thank you, sir,' I said, 'I am engaged t somebody else.' At this moment the stage started. lie 01 dered the driver to stop and let me down but he drove on, and I am almost ashame to record that I made a significant gestun with my thumb and tingcr upon my very d< cent Jloman nose, and calling out, 'Good-bj sir?you shall hear of me some day,' 1 wet off" in the exultant triumph of freedom. I was delighted with the fine pro?)>c< which T enjoyed in my elevated seat. Tli driver was very kind to me, refusing to tali my money for the whole journey, and offe ing to find me a stopping place iu the cit; At that time there was a very old horn - ? ' - -i i:.,i?a in Howard street, now uciuuu.-mh.-u, m ?uu a Mr. Jones kept boarders for a number < years. Here he stopped tb" stage to let n down. 'What shall 1 do, driver !' said I. 'Ju*t ring that bell, my lad/ and sora body will conic and lot you in ' <1 looked at the top of the door.' 'I don't see any bell, sir.' said T tinjidi The man burst into a loud laugh. Pull that knob, greeny !' he said, at lasl and straightway I pulled it again and agai until Mr. Joks, a ijiicer luokingold fed lot with one leg, and a dilapidated eye can e the door, and lucked daggers out of the r mairiing o.o of vision, upon the iuekle wight who had tu >keu his bell wire. 'Ii"t that youngst-r ?t -\ with you at Ma'am J ?n? s till I come i|> supper/ sa the still laughi?. rdriver -auu I stayed. Ma'am Jones w s a lady that would ha made a tine companion ,?r Daniel L . .ibei Sheltered bmieath her capacious wig. Icon bid delianoe to little Mr. Jones, who dart ' d t attack anything whit ': his wife might j take taticy f?*r petting. The old lady liked 1 me very much ; and this knowledge, together whh the daily sight of my friend, the ' driver, kept me eoDtented and happy through the winter. I scoured knives, and performed quite a series of similar diguified labors every morning ; but when boys of my own age were round, I sometimes thought, while lookingat their good and respectable clothing, that it would not have been a very bad plau for me to have accepted aunt Deborah's offer i of sending me to the college. I . I An opportunity offering to go to sea, I prepared to go, dc.-pite the entreaties, and even tears of the fat land lady. When she found me determined, she provided me with everything needful for the voyage, hugged me to her capacious heart, and bade me God-speed. 1 Jones, who wus so angry because l stayed there, was still more so when I went away; and in his wife's absence, taunted me with my new clothes, which he more than half j suspected came from her, rlthough they pasI sed as the stage driver's gift, j The servants all assembled to see me go j away, and their hearty, 'Good-bye, Sam ! a i s fe return to you, old fellow ?' was probably | more sincere than nine-tenths of the good i wishes that have been spoken to me since that time. I shall say but very little about my sea-liie. It did not answer my expectations at all. I j never passed a day without intolerable seasickness, and being a slight, delicate boy, I the captain advised me as a friend to stay in j future upon the land. Going on shore, the ] mate stepped forward and shook my hand, j saying: 'Well, Sam, you have killed a sailor after all.' I did not then know the meaning of this j phrase; but when I got back to the old j house in Howard street, my friend, the dri j ver, repeated it, and from him I got the exI planation of the term. | I could not go back to my kitchen work agtun arier my voyage, au x. iuuscu uuu \*mgently for some employment. An advertisej ment in the paper for a printer's boy caught ! my eye, and 1 applied and was received.? i Here I was quite happy. I made myself a | favorite in the office, and fortunately succeeded in learning the business so thrvt my J services would always command a fair re| uiuneratiou. At twenty-one I married Susan Russell, the daughter of inv employer. I am thus brief in recording this, because by no alchemy whatever could I convert old-fashioned and mittcr-of-facts liking for each other, and subsequent union, into anythinglike romance. The whole might be compressed into a single -entence. I liked her. and married her wlmti I found that she also liked uie. My description of our new home would he quite us brief. We took two rooms, furnish ed them comfortable, aud Susan kept them i shiuit lik> silver the wlmle year round.? If c- .r I enj ived tru \ real, uniueritod huppine-s without care or auxiety, or fcur for i the l v ure, it w is in those days. What peace f we enjoyed ! Out two eldest children were I > i .1 I ii >rn 11 ere. ann men our minus six-mcu iu*.> ; snt -.11; but it vas real pain to both of us to > in .ve from the snug abode which had boon - tin: scene of so many calm and peaceful , hours. We removed to a cottage in the suburbs I of Boston ; not those miniature cities which } now rise up beside the venerable Tri-iuouutain, but a small and obscure village, since 5 risen to the size and importance it deserves. 1 About the time that wc removed, and 1 were quietly settled, a very important law 1 case was on the docket, and when it came > on, we were very busy printing the reports B of the trial as it progressed. I became inu tensely absorbed in it; not so much from ] sympathy with the parties concerned, as from d 1 a feeling that, were I acquainted with the i technicalities of the law. I could seize upon ! very many points of importance which I beI lieved the prisoner's counsel had overlooked e | altogether. This idea grew stronger and s j stronger upon my mind. I had access to t j law books which were iu my employer'ssanci-1 turn, and T pored over them sometimes all i night long. " Mr. Iiusscll had been bred to the law, but I had relinquished his profession for that of e ' an editor some years before the birth of my j wife. 1 frankly stated to him my wishes in 0 j regard to fitting myself for the bar. ; He at first laughed, then seriously tried to r" ! dissuade me from attempting it. Opposition ' | only strengthened uiy purpose, aud I entcr? i ed the office of an eminent lawyer, who overi" i looked my deficiencies in some respects, in consideration, as he was pleased to term it, i of the talent and acumen which my replies ! to his questions displayed, i I now wrote for the journal which I had been accustomed to print, and with such se10 ' crecy that Mr. Russell did not find out who :c i his new contributor was. lie would often r* j wonder in my presence, who it could be, and y- | ascribed to hini a degree of talent a bril' liauey of expression such as I had hardly hoped to deserve. lie often, too imputed my articles to and then the two lead1C iug writers of the day, and expressed his opinion that they would not remain incog, a I great while. This flattery pleased me, but I e* i did not allow uiy vanity to lead me into be| tray iug myself. Through a third party. 1 j received a larger compensasiou for my labor, y* ; certainly, than I should have done had my ) wise father-in-law mistrusted who was his ; j correspondent. u> L studied hard, and at length had the hiv> expressible satisfaction of being admitted tc t0 j the Suffolk bar I took an office with ane* [ .rher young lawyer in order tn reduce nui ss expenses, and waited anxiously for the first brief that should be offered. l'o..; Susan ! My heart aches at the re mciiihraiicc of certain privations to which, with angel sweetness she submi'tcd at this ve period, in order that 1 might appear respec rt. t ble. My contributions to various literary Id j uriiuls barel\ gave us the means of su<teid uauce) and I uad nearly offended Mr. lius sell by slighting his advice, that I dared not apply to hiui for assistance. One day. in passing from our suburban residi ncc to the city, 1 met my old landlady Mrs. Jones. She looked at me hard, and I returned it. There was no mistaking that good honest countenance and expressive form even when dressed in deepest mourning.? A widow's ample veil hung on the back of her head and nearly swept the street. The recognition was mutual, and the old lady's raptures at finding me were almost too strong for out-door exhibition. She told me of poor Jones's death, and of her removing to the country when the old house in Howard street was torn down. t A %w.rrr * o\y r% T\! O 1 n f 1 X7f>l <T fl TT1 ft. *.'VUU UUTT j OHV OUIU ^/lutuuk T J ? lone in the world.' 'Come and live with mc,' were my first words. 'You gave me a home when I was a lone child.' I stopped, for the thought pressed back upon me that I was poor, and unable to support my own family. A strange smile flitted over the face of my friend, while she inquired my situation. I told her, and described my wife and children. She said : 'I will go to you. I can help your wife enough to pay for my board.' I was almost dismayed at what I had done, when I considered the immense appetite which I had inconsiderately offered to supply, and which I well remembered of old. But I clung to my bargain, and begged her to come immediately. 'You will fiud us in rather close quarters/ I said, 'but you shall come and be welcome.' We agreed that she should be there the following Monday, and I went home to Susan whom I met with rather an embarrassed air. She looked at the matter more philo J sophically than I had expected, anu prepared her best chamber for Mrs. Jones' reception, I heroically carrying in many little convenienj ces of which we had no duplicates. My relation of Mrs. Jones' former kindness to me, and my description of her present lonely and widowed state, made Susan shed tears. She promised to do everything in her power for the forlorn woman who she thought would now be thrown upon me for maintenance and upon herself for companionship. Mrs. Jones arrived on Monday morning, carpet-bag in hand, and followed by a handcart, bearing her old-fashioned and somewhat dilapidated hair trunk. We received her kindly, and she seemed pleased and happy when she sat down to Susan's simple and excellent dinner. The children were attentive, and kept passing the food near the new guest. ? A fortnight passed away, and we began to t'cel that we could scarcely do without Mrs. Jones. She was invaluable as au assistant to Susan, and in marketing for us,"her services were beyond all praise. We gave her our slender purse every moruiDg, as she thought she could do better with it than we could ; and it was perfectly amazing to see the loads of provision, aod the superior quality of the same, which she obtained. Susan and I began to think we had been previously cheated in our former purchases So, when our wardrobe imperatively called for additions, Mrs Jones would go out with the money for a sixpenny priut, and return cnmntiimcr hnriflsomc :ind valuable, for """ WlUVV.I.Ujj my wife and a Dice remnant for Kitty, and then she would sit down and make them both up with all the .skill of an experienced mantau-maker. Susan handed tue some bills, ODe day, that she said had been left there by a collector, including one for our rent, and one for the last suit of clothes which I had been unwillingly forced to buy in order to keep up a respectable appearance. My countenance fell some degrees I fancy, for I had no | money to pay them. Mrs. Jones was bustling round the dinner table, and she said, rather sadly, that she felt that she ought not to be living upon us, and perhaps she had better go away. "Never, my good friend,' said I, and Never,' echoed Susy. I assured her that I would net listen to iier leaving us?that I trusted very soon to got business, and that come what would she should share our last loaf. The good old soul hugged us oolh at once, and then set1 ting her cap and wiping her eyes, she went (juietly back to her work. After dinner, she went out, but we reiterated our injunctions that she should not seek auothor home as long as she could put up with ours, i I called round in the evening at the varil ous places from whence I received the biJls, I To my utter surprise, the answer was thai ' they had all been settled. I iuquired b) , whom, but no one could recollect. The) 1 were all cancelled on the various hooks. J ' was thoroughly amazed, for I knew no ouc 11 ?1- 1.1 .1^ :4 _ J . but 01V. HUS.iCU WHO OUUIU UU 11, 101 1110, UIHJ . hardly thought it of him. Susy was as surprised as myself, but she j rather inclined to the belief that it was het father, so 1 quietly let her indulge in het ' pleasant belief. ! We got through the summer, but wintei wascomming on, and I actually trembled al ! its approach. Industrious as I was?pru> ; dent as Susy had ever been?wc could nol ' hope to get through the cold season, with ! out both suffering and toil, and with debt: i superadded. I had been at the office all day, on one ' gloomy time in November, anxiously deba i ting whether I should not co back to printing j again. 1 considered all the whys and where toies, e< anted the costs again and again, anc by the most careful arithmetic, I could no find that change would benefit me a single ' sou. I was toiling unremittingly now, anc ; 1 should have done so if I returned to print I ing, and with scarcely even so much succes: ' as now. I became heartily discouraged with the i! prospect b'-forc me. Had I been alone ir : the world I could have borne it patiently.? ' Sufterimrnnd privatou brought no terrors t< ' iue individually, but ihe thought of thosi | who were dear to me at home, unmanned me And the darker the prospect, the more I shrunk from allowing Mrs. Jones-to feel that she was a burden upon us. No?come what might, the good old soul should not be removed from the circle in which she seemed to have placed all her happiness. She should live witty us as long as she lived at | all, and if we were reduced to beggary, why we would beg for her too. I started up and paced the office with a impatient step. It may seem strange that 1 a strong healthy man, shold bejso powerless as I was to procure a living for my family ; but so it was. It was growing dusk, and I felt it was near my time, to go home. I had intended sending some fuel to my house, but l T in antyyex trtAnfln fhof a i W as UlSappuiUbCU 1U ouuiW tuvuvj ?4JMV ? certain publisher of a daily paper was owing me, and I now dreaded that there was darkness on the hearth at home. I was just locking up, when a boy came up to me with a folded paper. I read it under the lamp post. It rau thus: 'Come to No.?,Tremont Road at six o'clock.' I saw no alternative but to do as I was asked. The boy was gone, so I could make no excuse; and I walked over the damp leaves that lay crushed upon the sidewalk, which the November blast had shaven that very hour from the trees. I went over the ground rapily, for I wanted to learn the errand, and be away. I rang at the number designated. It was a good brick house, with substantial granite steps a well-lighted vestibule with glass doors, and I could see that the whole front was well supplied with gas. I heard little feet scampering through the hall, but as the doors were of grooved glass, I could see nothing. A servant came to the door, and waited on me to a handsome drawiDg-room, with plain but new and good furniture. I waited in curious speculation for some minutes. There had been no plate upon the door, so I could not even tell the name of the person wishing to see me. I was standing before the chimney-piece, examining a picture, when a child ran into the room. It was so like little Kitty, that I would have called her so, had not the pretty embroidered robe and silk apron looked so different from our children's plain clothes. But another little head was peeping in at the open door, and that was little Charley, only for the scarlet frock and neat gaiters; and then the two made a long rush across the floor, and ran into my arms; while slowly and majestically, sweeping along in her ample crapes and bombazines, came portly Mrs. Jones, and behind her Susy, smillingand blushing like the dawn. I think I had a womanly feeling come upon me just then. I felt a sort of faintness, and I passed my hand a corss my eyes, to be sure that I was wide awake. Susy laid her hand upon my shoulder. ... 'You owe it to this kind friend, here,' whispered she. 'She has been trying you deeply.' 'Trying me V I said aloud. 'Yes, my good friend,' said Mrs. Jones herself. 'I was rich, and had no one about me but selfish and interested people, who wanted all my money. I have long owned this house, and lived in it when I met you first; but a thought suggested by your invitation to go to you induced me to try whether you would keep me if I had happened to ; be poor, and I abundantly satisfied with the result. We made money at the old house in Howard street, which no one but ourselves ever knew of, and I always intended to find you and make you my heir. I bad, however, rather that you would enjoy my property, while I can have the pleasure of seeing you; so I invite you to return my visit You will find a handsome office, well fitted up for you in Court street, when you go down to-morrow morning. The boy who roil I wait nn vmi hns the kev of the door. but here are the key9 of the desk and library.' I declare to you, reader, the generosity of this woman unmanned me more than the disconsolate thoughts which had haunted mc the whole afternoon. It seemed too good to believe, and when we walked out to 1 the dining-room, and sat down to supper at which no expenses was spared, I could only look from one to the other, and wonder if 1 was in a dream. 1 I took possession of my grand office the next day. Briefs poured in upon me; for 1 who will not require the services of a rich ' lawyer, and who wants the services of a poor one? I rose rapidly, and am still standing ' in high places. I speak it with reverence. I owe it to a woman. : We bought the cottage, with its little ' garden, and we go there in summer and ' play poverty agaiu for a few of the hottest weeks. We have four children now, and 5 Mrs. Jopes pets them all. She is now try' ing to have me seek out my old aunt Deborah, and perhaps I will. The old farmer, : too, I intend now that he shall 'hear from ' I me.' A Literal Runaway Match.?A cap ital story is told by a Texas paper of a run; away match that came off in that State. It I seems that a couple had resolved to get mar t ried, notwithstanding the opposition of pa reuts and relatives of every degree, and se31 curing the co-operation of a friendly clergyj man, they all three mounted their horses ) and set out for a friend's mansion, several - miles distant, where the rites could be solr emnized without interference. They had not gone far, however, before their flight 1 was discovered, and then there was as much t mounting, and racing, and chasing as occur} ! red on the occasion of "Young Lochinvar's," 1 celebrated elopement with the Nethcrby - maiden. The lovers and their faithful pas3 tor soon heard the noise of approaching pursuers aud gave their horses the spur. But ; alas! their enemies were better mounted i ! and gained fast upon them. It was evident -: they would soon be captured, when a felici> tous inspiration of the maiden came to their 3 aid "Can't you marry us as we run ?" she . shouted to the clergyman. The idea "took," and he at once commenced the ritual. All j parties "covered themselves with glory," and just as the bride's father-clutched her bridlerein, the clergyman pronounced the lovers man and wife. When the old gentleman first learned what had been done, he was inclined to be furious, but being a gallant old fellow, and admiring a dashing action, he soon concluded to forgive the runaways, in consideration of the handsome and novel manner in which they triumphed over him. Jpiscellaneaw^f ailing From the Marion American. THE PALMETTOES IN MEXICO. BY ONE OF THE TWO IIUNDRED. NHW SERIES?XO. IV. Io writing these chapters, I must parcn.i? :?11.. ? i:..i_ ? ? LIIUMZU UCUaMUIJill IV J H IIKIC UUIiVCIOailUU with the Palmettoes. Within the last week I have been pleased to recivemany new subscribers. Among them is Col. A. H. Gladden. He was at Buncombe Springs in North Carolina, and will soon return to New Orleans. Captain Sumterwrites mc a letter in regard to the members of his company.? I It tells a sad talc. "There are few of us here iudced; some j are dead, and some are gone to the West." lit. Secrest 3ends me an interesting letter communicating some important facts.? Speaking of the youthfuluess of his company, (co. I,) which numbered 77 men he says. "There were but four men over 30 years of age. The ages of the remainder ranged from 17 to 28, and most of them were from 20 to 22 years old." I hope all the survivor.?, privates as well as offices will wYite me a letter. I wish to hear anything they may remember, which they think worth recording. I also wish to hear how many of each company, arc now living, their place of residence, and the names of those who have died since their return. A lady writes me, "I received the twoTast Americans to-day. I am very anxious for the Palmettoes to get to fighting. My scrap book is increasing now. You remember I told you that I was preserving the sketches of the Palmettoes in Mexico." Shame od your bloody minded- j ness Miss Rebecca. Do you want the poor fellows to be killed over again, before their time? Rc patient and I will let you sup on horrors, dream of ghosts, and breakfast on blood. If you have tears prepare to shed them, then The subject will deserve it." The hardships of the Palmettdes began from the very day when they left home.? The call was sudden and unexpected, the response was immediate, and the march was hurried, and precipitate. In' the bleakmonth of December, through mud and rain, they made forced marches to the place of rendezvous. It was a commingling of men from mountain and from sea, from highland and from lowland. The city, the town, the village, the hamlet, and the country each sent its representatives who met as strangers, strangely united in a common cause, and a common fate. "Each valley, each sequestered glen Mustered its little horde of men, That met, as torrents from the height In highland dales their streams unite, Still gathering as they pour along A voice more loud, a tide more strong Till at the rendezvous they stood By hunJrcds, prompt for blows and blood." About the 20th of December all had reached Charleston. Having been mustered into service, to serve " during the war with Mexico," the regiment was ordered to strike camp about five miles from Hamburg. We received orders to march to Mobile, Alabama, which was selected as the port of emI nf Tannic uarcuiiuu. \J U uic lot uajr \JI uauuuijj 1847, the right wing of the regiment, under command of Lt. Col. Dickenson crossed the Savannah river at Augusta. "The Gov ernor accompanied them to the middle of the bridge, the limit of his jurisdiction, and having blessed them, and sent them forth to serve their country, there he stood until thi* new bright banners of the companies disappeared from the view, and he heard the booming cannon of Augusta's hearty welcome. Then silent and in tears slowly he turned his steps,?his warm and swelling heart, no doubt, oppressed by some sad presentiment of the fate of many a joyous youth sent forth never to return." The right wing was taken by railroad to Griffln, Georgia, from which point they marched on foot to Notasulga, Alabama. On the second day of January, the left wiug, under Major Gladden, was conveyed on the cars to Atlanta, Georgia. We struck our tents in the morning, and marched to Augusta, where cars were engaged to convey us to Atlanta. About four o'clocki in the evening we crossed the Savannah. We were halted upen the bridge, to take a last, lingering, and fond look upon our native State, which so many of us were never to see again. We fired a salute of musketry to "our native land," cast the last look upon its blue horizon, and wiped the involuntary tears that flowed from eyes unused to weeping Rut the strusrsrle of feelimr was soon over,?the order to "march" was giveu, and to the sound of martial music, the booming of hospitable cannon, the wavings of ladies handkerchiefs, and with every demonstration of welcome, sympathy, and admiration, we marched through Augusta. I received one act of humble hospitality which I can never forget. Near the depot was a poor and humble family, who lived in a neat little cottage. A little girl about ten years old, came to me, and begged me to go home with her. There was in her face such a genuine expression of benevolence and sympathy, that I accepted the invitation. Her mother and father who were French, gave me the warmest and kindest welcome, and soon the little table was set, and a hot supper spread before me. The mother and daughter evinced the most affectionate solicitude for me. "Had X a father?" No. "Had I a mother?" No." Poor little fellow so lonely and bereaved, and I was "going to the bloody wars to be killed !" Amid a shower of prayers and benedictions, from the kind old woman, and the tears of her little daughter, I lefttbem, under a promise that if ever i got back, 1 would call at "the little house with two chimnies" aqd sec them again. The old lady had sent her daughter with instructions to bring home " a soldier " with her. She was to make the secleotion, and I was the fortunate favorite. I wa9 then a stripling, smooth-faced boy, pale with study, and I suppose my youthfulnees excited the [ sympathy of the little girl. It was singular I good fortune to have got' a good hot supper [just before sta>ting, for it was the only meal j I r i s i? i " , i nil L _ I l naa ror nearly two aays. mis may dc thought, and doubtless is,a trifling incident, but it illustrates the kindness and patriot ism of a poor, ignorant woman. Her country wa9 at war, it's soldiers were at her door, and &he felt a patriotic wish to do an humble act of kindness to one of them. She therefore cooked a hot supper and commissioned her little daughter to go and bring home "a soldier:" About sundown on the 2d of January we left on the cars, and on the next night reached Atlanta. Then Atlanta was a little village of 300 population. The railroad had just reached there and it had just begun its magical rise to importance. It now has 10,000 population. The weather was raw, cold, and wet. The rnin foil in a constant sluice, the heavens were dark as Erebu9, and the cold chilling wind bh w fiercely upon us. We had nothing to eat, and nowhere to sleep. My supper that night was a hard sea-biscuit and a fat slice of bacon, i broiled on a sharp stick, over a pine knot fire. My bed that night was on unplainea plank sis inches wide, in a damp and foetid bos car. The next day we struck camp about a mile from Atlanta. We were poorly provided with tents, and the continuous and pelting rains kept us wet to the skin. We were detained two or three days at Atlanta, before we could cot waggons to transport our baggage aud equipage. About the Gtb of January we took up the liue of march fi r Xotarulga, Ala., a distauce of 150 miles.? Our hardships were very great. The government had not furnished tents or equipage, or given us a dollar of money. We had no government officer with us with funds or credit, to supply us even with provisions.? The ."State of South Caroliua lent us the few tents we bad, and also our arms. At our own expense, and with our private funds we supplied ourselves. It rained nearly every day, during the ten days of our march, and with clothes saturated with water, we laid down at night upon damp ground and wet blankets. Pneumonias and other diseases were thus contracted which ip a few weeks decimated the rauks of the regiment. Most of us were boys, inexperienced in hardships, tenderly raised, and not capable of making the best of our circumstances. The Georgians treated us generously, and hospitably. In every village we passed, the whole population turned out to greet and welcome us, and many gentlemen hearing of our coming had large quantities of provisions cooked which were freely given to us.? Others, of less soul, furnished it for the money. I will here digress a little to tell a romantic little incident. As we passed the village of Newnan, late in the evening, I determined to remain that night, as I had several letters to write. I told my college chum, who was with me, of my intention. He also concluded to stay. Our extreme youthfulness and handsomeness (we were handsome 1 ?nn \ArtiilJavAittAi' oanOAiql. DOyS) UUlitlUCU IUI UO pctuuai nt<ui,vaj/Uv>.. ly with the ladies. A beautiful girl was one of our company at tea. My chum was an eloquent talker, and a captivating fellow every way, and before we rose from the table he had won at least one heart. I went to my room to write?he went to the parlor, and remained there till eleven. He came up late, and told me he intended to stay "a few days." I left him next morning, and did not see him again until be overtook us at Mobile. He showed me a lock of silken, jet-black hair. He was engaged to the beautiful maiden, but death forbade the bans. He was killed at Chepultepeo. As I stepped over his body, weltering in blood, I thought of his beautiful betrothed?not to be his bride. Poor Heyward? "Green be the turf above thee Friend of my better days." After a march of ten days we reached Nutasulga, which was then the terminus of the Alabama railroad. A pleasant ride of a few hours in open cars, brought us to Montgomery about 4 o'clock in the evening, about the 17th day of January. We were drawn up in a line to receive the visits and congratulations of the citizens, and then marched to the river, where the Steamboat Will" iam Bradstreet, which had been chartered, was waiting for us. The Origin of the Isabella Grape.? General J. G. Swift, of Geneva, New York, in a letter to the National Intelligencer, gives the following account of the Isabella grape: 'It originated at Goose Creek, near Charleston, South Carolina, and is a hybrid of the native fox and the Burgundy of the Huguenots. Geo. B. Smith, of North Carolina, brought the grapevine to Smithville in 1809, and Mrs. Gibbs took a cutting from Governor Smith's garden to Brooklyn Heights in 1817. In 1819 I purchased the Gibbs place, on Brooklyn Heights, of Geo. Gibbs, Esq., who came from Bladen county, North Carolina ; Col. George Gibbs was from Newport, Rhode Island. In 1820, from the first wellgrown vine in my garden, I gave cuttings to William Prince, of Flushing, who, in compliment to Mrs. Swift, proposed to name the grape 'Louisa,' Mrs. Swift objected, saying Mrs. Gibbs's 'Isabella' was the more entitled to the name; and thus the name.? Mr. Seaton may remember that in 1822 I gave him and Mr. Calhoon, Secretary of War, plaota of the Isabella. As to the hybrid character of the plant, the two faces of the leaves show the upper to be Burgundy and the lower fox. 'The Catawba is a more delicate plant than the Isabella, and a more shy bearer. It may be judicious to cultivate the Isabella by grafting until its pulp, now 'leathery,' may become soluble, and thus yield a drier wine than it now makes.' A Heroic Woman.?In the year 178G, the Grand Master of the Knights of Malta sent as a present, a costly bracelet of rabies to Madame Frenoy, a French lady of great beauty, in token of her cxtraordinay and gallant conduct when an Algcrine corsair attacked the vessel in which she was a passenger. This lady was in a polacre, bound to Genoa, and the Algerine, coming alongside, poured in a broadside, and grnpling with her, a number of the Algerines boarded her, sword in hand. The crew were about to submit to the enemy, when Madame du Frenoy snatched a sabre from a wounded sailor, and wielded it with astonishing courage and effect. The crew, animated and inspired by such an unexpected example of female valor, fought with enthusiasm, killed several of the pirates, and drove the remainder back to their own vessel.? When this lady reached the shore, sho was everywhere greeted with acclamations by the populace. The Marquis de St. Christeaux waited upon her, and with his own hands placed a crown of laurel on her head, and a portrait of her was taken for the queen of France.?Sat. Gazette. \ Disregard of Death.?The utter con tempt, of death with which the Turkish soldier marches to meet his foe, is curious ; he knows thnt his destiny has been fixed since the day of his birth; he koows that he must die whenever his time comes, and that a whole park of artillery would miss him, if his destiny so decrees it; finally, he knows that if he fall in battle, he will go straightway to I-'aradise?and wont he be better off there than in this world of cares? The same feeling, indeed, predominates with the Turks whenever the approach of death is iclt. I have seen them dying here iu the hospitals, and the calmness of their demeanor would shame many a Christian; let them once be persuaded that they are booked for another world, and the surgeon may lock up his medicaments again?no persuasion will induce the Turk to attempt to frustrate the designs of Providence. Correspondent London Times. A New Prospect for England.?We understand, says 'Porter's Spirit,' that a movement is on foot to get up a new stable of American Horses, to contend against the racers of the English turf. It is the opinion pf our principal turfmen and breeders that the stable of Mr. Ten Broeck is not in all iespects well chosen, and that his horses have never been brought to the post in that country in a proper condition to contend for the honor of the American turf. Nicholas I. is spoken of at the head of the new lot; and it is stated that if he goes, Gilpatrick will go with him. We shall bear more of this matter after the great four-mile race on the 29th of September, over the Fashion Course. Hold your horses! Our turfmen are not going to give it up so! Tiie law of the ivail.?The (Jourt ot Appeals has recently decided that dead-heads can sue for injuries resulting from accidents. The Court holds that in all cases where a Railroad Company voluntarily undertakes to convey a passenger upon their road, whether with or without compensation, if such passenger is injured by the culpable negligence or want of skill of the agents of the company, the Court holds the latter is liable. The bodily pain and suffering of the victim of a railroad accident, as well as his medical expenses and direct pecuniary loss, are also proper subjects for compensation. A con- Vv ductor can eject a passenger for refusing to show his passage ticket, even if the conductor knows that the party has paid his fare. 16?" Gen. Haskell, a prominent politican of Tennessse, announces through the Memphis papers that he intends assuming the character of a literary lecturer, giving a portion of his receipts to the Mt. Vernon fund. If liberally encouraged, he says he means "to lecture in England, Australia, and the Sandwich Islands." The Nashville Union and American, of 24th inst., says: "A gentleman writing us from Memphis, says that Gen. Haskell is 'hopelessly insane.' This intelligence will be received with general regret throughout the State." 5^" Mr. Guillardet informs the Courier des Etats Unis that the republic of William Tell is less tolerant of the disciples of Mormonism than that of Washington. A number of the followers of Brigham Young havingiu the latter part of August last, repaired to the lake of Zurich to perform the ceremony of baptism, were set upon by the inhabitants, armed with stout cudgels, and pretty roughly handled in the melee that followed. The Mormon priest, it is stated, received quite a severe drubbing. A Beautilful Incident.?The Richmond Dispatch, a capital paper by the way ?in eivins an account of the shipwreck of ? o the ill-fated Central Ameria, mentions the following incident: The captain of the Norwegian bark, sometime previous to finding the survivors of the steamer was on his deck, and a bird flew in his face three times, when he made an alter-? ation of three points in his oourse, by which means he was made the happy instrument of saving the lives of the 49 survivors. "Have you a fellow feeling in your bo* som for the poor women of Utah ?" asked a speaker of the sister of Mrs. Partington.? "Get out, you insulting rascal !" said she, "I'll have you to know I do'nt allow fellows to be feeling ia?y bosom. Oh, dear t"