Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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jh~<xi. miller &co.,proprietor*.j An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. |lbwisu.mist. VOL. 3. ~7 YOBKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, NOYEMBEB 12,1857. NO. 45. Cjwkc jaeirg. Mr DEAR OLD HOME. I came again to my dear old borne, Bat years long since had sped, And 'mid the raven locks of yoath ? , Lay many . nlvery thread ; The bounding .teps was slow aud sad, The sparkling eye grew dim, And the bird-notes, once so blithesome, fell Like the chimes of a funeral hymn. I looked for the roof that sheltered once The loved of childhood's hours ; I sought for the hearth-stones?upon it lay A mound of grass and flowers? The broad-armed oak whose sheltering shade Was the scene of our merry play, A moss grown stump marked out the spot That told of its sad decay. I wandered down to the poplar spring, And drank from its gushing stream, Bat the draaght bad lost its magic cliarm, The waves their golden gleam; For the ripling wave seemed to speak With the tones of long ago? Oh, many a tuneful voice is still, ' -' That mingled with their flow. ' I turned to seek with lingering step, And spi rit bowed and sad, For those who blessed that lowly roof, And made the hearthstone glad ; And I found them all where the willow drooped Its long green boughs around? Some cherished form was resting there, 'Neath each quiet grassy mound. , I am forth again in the wide, cold world, But where'er my footsteps tread, ' The dearest spot will be to me The home of the lov'd ones dead. The sunshine steals through the hanging boughs With a softened holy light, And silent stars gleam purest there *' In hush of the summer night. rx Gfi c$L_ $. terming From Peterson's National Magazine. THE MYSTERIOUS SOX. BY CLARA AUGUSTA. Horace Flintwood sat alone in bis scantily furnished apartment. Outside the meagre window the rough storm .beat clamorously for admittance, and the wind whistling and moaning down the great black-throated chimney, made bright, waving phantoms of the red flames which leaped over the few bits of wood upon the handtrons. There was but a little fire?yet that little lighted up the handsome face of young Flintwood with a pale, ghostly gleam. And in that face, by the light, you could read the fearful tale of utter poverty, and near starvation ! There was hunger in the wild expression of the hollow eyes, and upon the broad, white forehead, where the transparent skin failed to conceal the delicate veintracemfat there. Two veare before, Horace Flintwood had ? - J left his pleasant home in a country section of Massachusetts, and his aged parents, to seek his fortune in the great city of the West, C?; where we find him at the commencement of our story. The old homestead, the blessed old place where his childhood had been passed was mortgaged, and it was to obtain money to save the home of his parents from stranger hands, that young Flintwood had bid farewell to those he loved and joined the great stream of Western emigration. His trade ?that of a bricklayer?at first procured him ready money in flattering quantities; but as people were unsatisfied with settling so-far east as 0?, the young mechanic soon found himself deprived of employment. vHe would have followed the current on I ?-even to the shores of the Pacific, but an attack of fever brought hiin to his bed, and he at length arose to find himself deprived of every dollar which he could once call his own. On the very verge of starvation!? He thought of begging his way back to his parents, but his pride revolted. They wore poor, and looked to him for the restoration of their dissipated fortune ! Should they see him come back to them penniless and starving? No, not even if he died in that great city alone and for the want of bread! He could not go back to them only to increase their cares, aud be but an additional burden upon their scanty means. Horace Flintwood was tbiukingof all this, while sitting there by the waning fire that vni.amK<ir nicrhf.. and as he thouuht, CI1111 VUi wvi despair crept into his heart. Out on the muffled air boomed, shrill and clear, the bell upon a neighboring tower pealing eleven! As the last echoing ring ceased, there came a short, quick rap at Horace's door.? He answered the summons and a figure, closely Wrapped in a black cloak, strode into the room, and without a word sat down on the chair which Horace had vacated. 'A wild evening, friend,' Horace remarked, to break the awkward silence. 'Very. Arc you engaged for this evening V The stranger's tones were quick and imperative. " 'Engaged?' Horace-started at the question, 'certainly not at this time of night.' 'Are you in want of money?' The unknown bent a searching glance of inquiry upon Horace, from a pair of black, flashing eyes, set far back under cliff-like brows. 'Sir, -I am not accustomed to answer questions concerning my private affairs.'? Horace drew himself up proudly, and something like a frown passed ovcrhis pale brow. ~ * - ? 1 '1 require a job of work done?done uy a good, faithful baud?a discreet workman, I mean, and such is your reputation among those who best know you.' Horace bowed. 'It is a small job, but I wish it fiuishcd tonight?to-night!' repeating the words with startling emphasis, 'and you must doit!' 'Well, sir, work would be very acceptable to me?I need the money bad enough, but midnight is rather a singular time to call upon the services of a biicklayer.' 'Granted?but I ask it nevertheless?and still farther; you must be blindfolded and conveyed to the place where you are to labor in a close carriage, and return to your lodg iDgs in the same way. Moreover, you mus swear never to reveal a single thing whio may occur to you this night, to any livin; creature!' The unknown had risen to his feet, am stood silently and haughtly awaiting Horace' reply. The young bricklayer seemed much strucl by the mysterious proposition of his Strang visitor. 'Could I but know there was nothinj criminal, nothing?' 'It is enough that you have nothing to di but follow my directions. All will be wel with you, and the psy shall be yours in ad vance, if you require it. He flung down i purse, well filled with gold, on the table.? Horace's eyes glistened,but he was silent. 'There are one hundred dollars?they ari yours, if yon consent.' - - - - - ' " M 1. I 'One hundred dollars: impossmie i . cannot accept?it looks too much like i bribe for committing some horrid crimesome?' 'Hush! my friend, I know your circum stances, and your services to-night will full; compensate me for the trifling sum. Do yoi consent?' Horace threw on his well-worn overcoat and taking with him some small implement of his trade, he followed the unknown t< the waiting carriage. Once within the ve hide a handkerchief was bound tightly ovei his eyes, and the the night of blindness set tied over every object. On, and on rolled the phaeton, over Boyn ton's Bridge, and past the canal toll-gate over the brick pavements, out upon thi plank road, until at last the wheels revolvet upon the hard gravel of a turnpike. Byi and bye, the way became rough and stony and Horace knew that they had left thi city and its envirous far behind them. No a word had been exchanged between Horac< and the unknown, and the man who helc the reins and euided the horses was sijen as the grave. At lengtVthe carriage stopped, and Hor ace was assisted to alight. He was con ducted up a grassy path, and into some sor of a building?he knew it by the confinec air and the heavy clans of doors behinc him. With the unknown holding fast t< his arm, he ascended two flights of stairsthen passed through sevtral -mouldy damj rooms; then down a flight of steps; througl a long, empty corridor; and then succes sively descended four winding staircases? th? last of unhewn stone. The air grev moist and dense, the odor oppressive. 'Where are you leading me ?' Flintwooc ventured to ask of his mysterious guide. 'It matters not!' was the brief, stern re ply. They stopped before a massive, iron door strongly secured by bolts, fastening in groove; cut far into the sollG rock of the casing.? Down into their niches fell the ponderou bars as the twain passed through the en trance, and the door closed to with a dull heavy bang. The unknown paused, and drew off" th< bandage from Horace's eyes. They stood in a long, low apartment, thi sides of which were of black brick, and th< arched roof of dingy grey stone. The din light which the unknown carried in hi; hand only served to make more hideous th< dismal gloom of the place. In the centre of the room there was at oblong box, of unpolished oak, screwed to gether by heavy iron screws, and in genera appearance not unlike a coffin. A thrill o 1 * ' " ?ikwAitrrk WAMnp' I superstitious liurrur pusacu unuugu aav?mw frame; he started back a few paces, still re garding with distended eyes the object befori him. 'Well V bespoke inquiringly. 'That box,' returned the unknown, 'con tains a treasure?of what form it matters no to you ; suffice it that I wish it placed, hen ?he pointed to a recess in an angle of thi wall?'and then you arc to build across th< aperture a solid line of masonry?solid mind you ! two tiers of brick, breastwise aud a coat of strong plaster over the whole You will find all the materials necessary U your work here; and at precisely four o'clocl I shall expect to have the job complete.? Until that hour you "will be alone?then j will couic for you ! Ilorace drew back. 'I cannot, unless ' kuow the contents of that casket! It raaj be that 1 am emyloyed?made the instru mcut of some dreadful villanny! indeed indeed, I cannot go to work in this blind un certainty!' 'Choose between it and death!' cami through the clenched teeth of the unknowt and drawing a revolver from his breast, In held it in frightful proximity to the younj mans forehead. 'Your decision!' His voice was low, bu I awfully clear and distinct. 'I consent!' Ilorace spoke the words with out a shadow of quivering. 'Enough !' and now I leave you to your coif Tf vnur work is done to rnv satisfac | """ " j?; ; -! tion, an additional hundred shall rewan I you for the fright I have given you!' Hi lighted an iron lamp which hung suspende< I from the roof of the cellar, and with i courteous 'good night,' the unknown with drew, bolting the door behind him. Horace was left alone in the silent an< mysterious chamber. A strange awe stole over him, and min gled with the overmastering curiosity he fel to examine the sealed box. Come wha would he determined to have a glimpse o the 'treasure' concealed there, and Ilorac j Flintwood, when once resolved upon any j thing, however perilous, was as immovabl j as the eternal rock of Gibraltar ! Securing the door upon the inside, witl j a couple of rusty bars which had probabl i been unused from time immemorial, he dre\ from his pocket a mason's small chisel, am applied it to the screws upon the box. The yielded, one after another and in a shor space of time Fliotwood drew off the oakei cover. A sight met his eyes which wcl nigh paralized him. it The body of a girl, young and surpassingh ly fair, robed in white linen, lay before him ! g There was death upon her brow, and eternal slumber upon her lips! Her long chestnut d hair swept bright and glistening on her waxs white neck, and the lids over her*half-closed blue eyes seemed but drooping before the k fixed gaze of him who bent over her. Ene tranced, enraptured, fascinated, Horace gazed upon the corpse ! ? Speech, motion, everything seemed gone out from him?all his faculties were concen0 trated into one sense?that of seeing ! ' The striking of a distant clock, the hour 1 ' of one, aroused him to a sense of his condia tion. His thoughts came back, and rushed 1 " through us brain with the rapidity of lightning. * TXT,.11 ,.n ?V>ia kflonfifnl nrotiftiro in a nflllar. ' TT ail Util 10 MVttUVllUt VkVMOMav ? vJ amid the dampness and everlasting gloom ! ' f Who knew what iearful secret might be bu- 1 1 ried with her ? Who could tell the story of J - her death ? What might not those lips? unsealed from their cold silence?reveal of 1 * foul crime and base villainy ? ( 7 Could he bury her up from sight forever 1 with that dreadful mystery hanging around ' her? Would he do the deed ? Never!? > God helping him, never! ' 8 Immediately he set about an examination ' 5 of the walls of the cellar, and by careful 1 sounding he was enabled to detect the outer r wall! He brought some of his tools to the 1 * side of the masonry, and in fifteen minutes 1 he made an aperture the size of a man's ' - body through the brick work. Fresh air, ( , from heaven's outer courts, fanned his brow, 1 9 and the heavy plunge of rushing water could 1 1 be distinctly heard. Evidently the building { 2 into which he had been so strangely convey, ed, was situated in the vicinity of some river, 1 ? if not upon its very banks. ' t A wild, romantic plan?possible from its 1 5 very impossibility?swept through his mind. ' 1 Why not remove the body to the shore of ' t the river, from whence he could, he felt con- I vinced, subsequently discover and take it 1 1 TT- 1J I - away to, at least, unrisuan Duriai. xieuouiu - brick up the recess, as his employer required, 1 t and who would be the wiser ? 1 ' This plan once conceived, was carried into 1 1 effect without hesitation. By diligent labor 1 } he soon enlarge^ the cavity in the wall suffi' ciently for his purpose, and letting himself ' 5 carefully out he reconnoitered the premises. < 1 The night was black as Erebus and he could ' ' ascertain but little beyond the fact that he ' " stood in a deep drain which surrounded the 1 1 mansion. The ascent from this drain wa9 1 steep and precipitous, but Horace felt within 1 himself the power to do great things,, and ' he returned at once to the cellar. ' Replacing the cover upon?the box, and 1 lightly fastening the screws, he sprang 1 j through the aperture and drew it after him. s With the greatest difficulty he succeeded in _ raising the heavy oaken box to the surface ' B of the ground, for the sides of the drain ] . were wet and slippery. The gush of water ' could be very plainly distinguished at but a i little distance off, and close upon the man- ] , sion, evidently between him and the river, rose a black copsewood of low alders. Into 3 these he at once dashed, bearing his load, 1 3 and in fifteen minutes he stood upon the i borders of a great river?a river which he 1 3 felt assured was none other than the Des 3 P . 1 He deposited his burden for he had not a l moment's time to lose, in a dense thicket ! - close to the river's edge, and marking the 1 spot by suspending his white pocket handf kerchief from an overhanging branch, he s hastily retraced his way and arrived in safety , - at the vault. Drawing forth his watch?the j little silver watch which had been his dead sister's, and which no earthly need could induce him to part with?he saw that it was - near two o'clock.' But a brief period remain- ' f oft for ftio norfnrmanfiR of his task, and nev V v,? .v,. r 2 er did mortal man labor with greater assidu2 ity than did Horace Flintwood. At the end e of eighteen minutes, the torn wall was mend- j , ed in so skilful a manner that it would have , , defied the scrutiny of the closest observer, j ! This done, he commenced upon the recess. d Tier after tier of brick rose up, and at length c the aperture was closed. It only remained 1 to add another tier of brick, and over all 1 t the thick coat of plaster, as the unknown 1 had intimated. Flintwood was just putting t the finishing touch to the plastering, when j the great door (which he had previously un- 1 - fastened) swung slowly open, and his mys, teriou3 employer entered the room. I A sardonic smile gleamed from his black, 1 fiery eyes, for no other feature of his face 1 2 was visible. 1 ?Sp you arc punctual to the time., my ] 2 friend.' He approached and layed his hand < I upon Flintwood's shoulder, 'Well, I admire punctuality. And now, as we arc about to i t go forth from hence, I require you to swear i eternal silence on the events of this night? . ' silence as unbroken as the darkness of the i tomb!' 1 The wild eyes flashed savagely dowD into ] . Horace's face, and though his voice did not I 1 tremble, his cheek became paler as he spoke, # 'I swear!' 1 'Enough ! a man like you will keep an ( i oath! Your work is done well.' I 'I am happy to have pleased you! It , was thoughtful in you to select such a place ( 1 for your gold?the most cunning burglar ( would never guess it!' J 'You will lose nothing by your exceeding , t cleverness,' he said^as he was fixing the ] t bandage over Horace's eyes, 'here, my friend, j f is a little present for you,' and he placed a , e parcel in the young mechanic's hand. ( The same road was driven over, the name < e unearthly silence preserved in the phaeton, i and near daybreak Horace was left blind- : a folded at the door of his lodgings. , He tore : y off the handkerchief and looked wildly a- i v round him, but he saw only great crazy hou- < 1 ses and smoky manufactories. The carriage i y and its mysterious occupants had vanished, t He bethought himself of the parcel given ( a him by the unknown, and breaking it open, i 1 he found simply a one hundred dollar note < enveloped in brown paper. < Early on the morning subsequent to the events chronicled above, a boat containing two persons might have been seen proceeding at good speed up the Des P river. Arrived within half a mile of Woodstock the way lay through or between high banks, which were covered with a thick growth of scrubby maples and tangled witch hazel.? From the overhanging bough of a low tree a white handkerchief fluttered in the breeze, and the signal did not long escape the anxious eye of the taller of the two boatmen. <'Tis the very place ! I knew it!' he exclaimed, triumphantly. In a few minutes the boat was resting in a little cove, directly beneath the signal. Flintwood, for the reader has probably recognized our old friend, sprang upon the shore,, followed closely by his companion; and after a brief search, the box containing the mysterious corpse was discovered. Immediately it was placed in the boat, the handkerchief was removed from the tree bough, and the light craft shot off like an arrow down the stream. They drew up the boat, after a good two hours' sail, at an obscure wharf in the little rillage of N , and a carriage which was evidently waiting their arrival, took them md their freight to a large, old house situated a little out of the village. Flintwood had the box conveyed to an upper chamber of this building, and when left ilone with it, he unscrewed the cover and looked upon the face sleeping within its shad3W. As he gazed, he saw there was a warm perspiration upon the forehead of the seeming corpse, and a tinge of life-like redness jn the slightly parted lips ! The young man sprang from the room, and in fifteen minutes he returned accompanied t>y a physician. The man of science, after \ brief examination of the body, reported temporary suspension of animation, influenced by some drug administered while in a *reat bodily prostration.' Furthermore, the physician asserted that the body was that of Grertrude Winchester, the belle and heiress, tvhose disappearance had caused so great a jensation of grief and wonder in the fashionlble circles of C , some three months previous ! Dr. Wellman suggested the most rigid se3recy concerning the mysterious discovery )f the body, and in the meantime, exerted bimself to the utmost to restore the lady to life and consciousness. His efforts were suc:essful, and by sundown of that day Gertrude was able to converse. So soon as deemed practicable by the medical attendant, the story of her abduction from the dismal vault af the old country house was told to her, and it her request Flintwood was called in and she gave succinctly the following account: 'Fifteen months ago, my father, Norton Winchester, died, and I, by his will as well is by right, was made sole heir to his great property. I had neither brothers nor sisters, and ray mother being deceased some four years, I had no nearer relative than a maternal cousin?Richard Glines, of Woodstock Downs. This man nursed against me the bitterest rancor. Probably this was increased by my refusal to form a matrimonial alliance with his son, whom I could regard with no other sentiment than the most sincere pity. 'I have ever been fond of equestrian sports, and was in the habit of riding out every pleasant morning. On the last of August, as I was taking my accustomed ride?as it happened entirely unattended?in passing through a strip of forest near W Moor, I was seized by a violent hand, and drawn from my horse into a close carriage which bad driven hurriedly up. Half dead with terror, yet I recognized in the countenance of the man who held me firmly in my seat, the hated features of Richard Glines! To all my cries and agonized inquiries as to what he intended to do with me, he made but one reply?a low, almostinfernp' jgh.' Gertrude Winchester fully recovered her health beneath the hospitable roof of the boatman, and in due time appeared again to her astonished household, who had mourned her as dead. Richard Glines had applied for legal possession of her property, but owing to some delay in the city courts he had not been able to assume formal occupancy. Immediately on Gertrude's reappearance he fled with his son, and no subsequent tidings of them ever reached C . Gertrude Winchester naturally felt very grateful to Horace for rescuing her from a dread fate and. she displayed her gratitude in i somewhat singular manner. It was quite a little romance, the newspapers of the day said, and now it had all ended in that common-place affair?a wedding ?with eight bridesmaids, and a corresponding number of groomsmen. With the full approbation of his bride, Horace Flintwood went'East, and returned accompanied by his worthy ..parents, who henceforth, through their lives, found a pleasant home in the luxurious residence of their son and his affectionate young wife. A Good Word for tiik Ladies.?Some af the papers are lecturing women upon extravagance in dress,rand advising them' to retrench, especially during the presentfinan3ial difficulty. Doubtless there are many Bases of unwarrantable extravagance in this way , but do people ever consider that two ar three glasses of brandy and half a dozen regalias, indulged in daily by a man, to say QOthinc of five and ten dollar dinners, a mount to more in a year than would be required to dress a woman up to the full requirements of fashion! Much of this talk ibout the extravagance of women is nonsense. They are almost universally careful, md many a trader would to day have been safe and sound if he had listened to the prudent counsels of his wife, rather than the reckless promptings of his own ambition.? It is natural for mean men to endeavor to shift the reponsibility of their folly to other shoulders; but it is rather too much to charge a commercial revulsion like this upon Dne's wife and daughter.?Tribune. likcIIaneoits^Uabing j i THE RED PETTICOAT AND THE WHITE. g BY CHARLES MACKAT. ^ 0, the red, the flaunting petticoat, r That courts the eye of day, That lOYes to flare and bo ndmired, s And blinks from faraway,? a It may delight the roving sight, And charm the fancy free: But if it's wearer's half as bold, c I'll pass, and let her be; C With her red, her flaunting petticoat, . ^ She's not the girl for me ! 2 But the white, the modest petticoat, a Aigrarc as drifted snow, g That shuns the gaze in crowded ways, Where follies come and go; * It stirs the primrose on its path, i Or daisy on the lea ; j And if the wearer's like the garb, , How beautiful is she! 1 With her white, her modest petticoat, C 0, sho's the girl for me! j From the Edgefield Advertiser. fi ? 8 THE MANAGERS OP ELECTIONS. c The undersigned Committee on the part i of the Managers of Edgefield beg leave to 1 call the attention of the Managers through- a out the State tt> the accompanying resolu- a tion passed by them at Edgefield C. H , on the 15th day of October. 1856. \ Whereas, The Managers of Elections find r\ it onerous and expensive in discharging the a duty assigned to them, and believing that t some compensation should be allowed as an \ incentive to a faithful discharge of duty? past experience having proved that incompetency and-neglect of Managers in several instances has caused elections to be contested and thereby run the State to needless ex-pense. And Whereas, We believe that if some compensation were allowed, willing and ? competent persons will be found to conduct t the elections and guard the purity of the i ballot box so necessary in a Republican e Gevernmcnt. Be it therefore? i Resolved, That a Committee of three be ? appointed by the Chair to memorialize the Legislature on the subject?asking that Managers of Elections be exempt from patrol and militia duty, and that they open the polls but one day and count the votes at their respective precincts. Whereupon Messrs. E. W. Seibels, Thos. Crafton and Patrick Coleman, were appointed by the Chair. Resolved, That we respectively invite the Managers of Elections throughout the State to join us by making a similar petition, v Resolved, That the Secretary of this meeting send a copy of these proceedings to the Chairmen of the Managers in each District. In compliance with these resolutions we drew up a petition to the Legislature which, we are pleased to learn, met with a very favorable consideration by the Committee on Privileges and Elections, and is to bo reported on at the next meeting of the Legislature. The Committee will doubtless be influenced in their report by the interest manifested by Managers in other Districts, and although we know there is no general election which will call the managers together 1 before the next session, still if the Chairman of the Managers at each Court House would draw up a petition, a portion if not a majority, of the Managers could sign and have their petitions before the Committee by the 4th Monday in November next. This would greatly strengthen our position and insure a ^ favorable report, which is very desirable, for unless some law is passed then, no change * can be effected under four years; for the J changes, asked for in our petition, requires 1 an alteration of the Constitution, which' can * only be done by two Legislatures of differ- 1 ent Sessions. * s Any one that will examine the Records of the Legislature for the last thirty years, and J see the thousands of dollars expended on contested elections (most if not all of which c may be attributed to the negligence, and ' perhaps ignorance of Managers) will be ea- c sily convinced, that, some change in our sys- r tern of conducting elections is needed. No ^ reason con be found, or invented, why Man- j agera of Elections should not be compensated j in some way for their services which are required by law to be rendered on certain days * however inconvenient or expensive it may \ be to them. There are among fifteen hun- 2 dred managers in the State, many poor men, whose absence from home two or three days j is an item of importance. When he has to ride from twenty to sixty miles and pay the 2 attendant expenses on such a trip, it be-' comes a burden which few are willing to | bear. It is needless to expeot the purity of the c ballot box to be rigidly preserved until some t law is passed that holds out an inducement t for men to become managers. Under the j present system, A. requests that B, be ap- t pointed in his place, which is accordingly j done, however incompetent he is, or incon- g venient it map he for %liim to serve; he has never seen the laws defining the duties and powers of managers, and (we think it very t doubtful whether one-tenth of the managers s have ever seen them,) it is not probable that s he can repeat the oath required to be taken 8 li- ? J rj? ?? Deiore me pons art) upcucu. uc jnutstvu, Y therefore, in an irregular, illegal manner in a this most important business?serves one term has Mr. *C. appointed in his place; and the l, thing goes on almost in regular rotation ; y every one anxious to get out of an office d that brings neither honor nor profit, but on t: the contrary attended invariably with trouble fc, and expense. . ii There are also many objections to the man- h ner of counting votes; it opens the door to d fraud and corruption in the most enticing d manner, We do not speak, of course, for all o the Districts; but generally one manager 8 takes charge of the box or bag when the* p polls close, and he thus has every opportuni- r ty, without the possibility of detection, of o changing the votes before he reaches the n Court House; and no means is left of ascer- c taining whether the true result is given or T not. Perhaps, too, he may be assisted in e :ounting the ballots by some unscrupulous Dersons, for instead of the counting of the jallots being exclusively confined to the nanagers, which is the intention of the law itrictly interpreted; and (to perform their luty correctly, it appears to us that, all the nanagers who assemble to count the votes hould meet in the Court House and then ind there count the votes and declare the ilection,) it is the cnBtom for each manager in arriving at the Court House, to get any me he can to assist him to count the ballots vhich he has brought up, and they retire to iny convenient place, and in this loose way l most important duty is discharged. Under uch circumstances, it is Dot impossible for a lishonest partisan, who may be pecuniarily nterested, to change the result of the elecion. We think it would be hest for the mllots to be counted at each precinct imme* liately after the polls close, when persons in* erested on both sides would probably be pre* ;ent, and let their managers certify the re;ult, and sign their names and appoint one >f their number to take the votes and the esult so certified to the Court House, where le should be compelled, under penalty, to tppear with the satne on the day following it 2 o'clock, P. M. Having set forth our views in our petition, ve refrain from saying more at present.? rhe subject is'one of great interest and we Lsk our brother managers of the other Disricts to show some interest in this important natter which will result benefioially to all, E. W. SEIBLES, ) PATRICK COLEMAN, V Com. THOMAS CRAFTON, J . * HOW TO PREVENT COLDS. If people were blessed with common lense, and a little wholesome self-denial, hey might often escape severe colds and 'evers by resolute measures adopted in seaion. A correspondent of the Evangelitt tends the following communication, giving in infallible recipe for a bad cold if it is landled in time. Perhaps some of ourread;rs may have courage to make the experinent. "There is probably not a man, woman, >r child, who is not as often as once a year ifflicted with a severe cold, whioh ends in a ;ougb or catarrh; and thousands there are vbo die every yearof consumption, brought m my taking cold. He, then, who should liscover a certain and effectual remedy for his complaint, would be justly regarded as me of the greatest benefactors of the age. rhe writer does not profess to "have discovered such a remedy, but be wishes to attest the truth of the following certain and effectual expedient for preventinga cold. A cold cannot be easily cured, but if it tan be presented, it is of no importance to know how t may be cured. " A bad cold, like measles or mumps, or )ther similar ailments, will run its course in ibout ten days, in spite of what may be lone for it unless remedial means are employed for it within forty-eight hours of its nception. Many a useful life might be ipared to be increasingly useful, by cutting i cold short off in the following safe, but timple manner. On the first day of taking i cold, there is a very unpleasant sensation )f chilliness. The moment you observe his, go to your room and stay there. ,Keep t at such a temerature as will entirely present this chilly feeling, even if it requires LOO degrees of Fahrenheit. " In addition to this, put your feet in waer half leg deep, as hot as you can bear it, iddine hot water from time to time for a juarter of an hour, so that the water shall >e hotter when you take your feet out than vben you put them in. Then dry them horoughly, and put on thiok, warm woollen itockings, even if it be summer?for sumner colds are more dangerous?and for wenty hours eat not an atom of food, but irink as largely as you desire of any kind of varm teas, and at the end of that time the sold will be entirely broken without any nedicine whatever. Efficient as the above neans are, not one in a thousand attends to hem ; led on as the most men are by' the lope that a cold1 will pass away of itself.? Nevertheless, this article will now and~th,en >ass under the eye of a wise man who does iot choose to run the risk of trying physio tnd dying too."?Medical Journal. The above expedient is a severe one for spicures and gluttons, but most persons will ind it easier to fast one day than to be sick i fortnight. The writer has usually found hat fasting for three or four meals is suffisient, but doubtless the whole remedy is letter than a part. Let those who are often affiieted with lolds?ministers, students, and consumpives generally?cut out the above direcions and preserve them ; if faithfully folowed, they will do you more good than all. he pulmouaries, cold cordials and other inrtful nostrums, which now load your helves. In Luck.?Shortly after we commenced ; I i_i* Ai c it: ne pUDHCailOU UI lUlfl pitptli, uur uwuc naa et od fire, and the greater portion of oar took of paper, consumed. Some time ince, we employed a printer named Thomas, rho robbed as of between $25 and 830, nd left for parts unknown. Shortly after bis, we took a young man into the. office, to sarn the printing basiness. He left, and ie mined ten dollars. Week before last, a rove of hogs got into onr garden, and desroyed all our potatoes, some thirty or forty ushels. Didn'tjeave enough to ask a blessQg over. The forepart of last week, some alf a dozen cows got into on; garden, and emolished 150 heads of cabbage. Wednesday night, of last week, some scamp entered ur domioil, and abstracted therefrom, some 35 or $40 in bank bills, and the principal >art of our wearing apparel. In fact, the ascal left us "nothing to wear/' but a couple f well worn coats, and two pair of nnlentionables, minus the portion which onfes in contact with the seat of a chair.? Veil, as we are distantly related to old fathr Job, and haye inherited considerable of ?V; r Tt his patience, we suppose we must do as he did, under similar circumstances, grin and, bear it.?Coffee vtlle (Mist) Intelligencer. '% Logan, thi Indian.?Logan, the celebrated Indian chief, who ! had long been a: zealous partisan of the English, and had often distinguished himself in their service, was taken prisoner and brought before the.' * General Assembly of yirginia, whohesita-,, ted whether he should be tried by a^'couit-,,. martial as a soldier,-or at the criminal bar for high treason. Logan interrdpbsid.ttiietr 7 deliberations, and . stated to the aSsembJ^', that they had no jurisdiction to try him j "that he owed no ailegionoe to the King of England, being an Indian chief, independent of every nation."'; In answer their inquiries as to his motives for te&ingaphnf? against the English, he thus addressed the* assembly: r ?I appeal to any white man to say if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, "and I ' . gave him not meat; if ever he came cold or naked, and I gave him not clothing.? Daring the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his tent, an advooate for : peace; nay, such was my lore for the wbitee, that those of my own country pointed at me as they passed by, and said, Logan is the friend of the white men. 1 had wet' thought to live with you, bat for the injuries of one man. Col. Cressay, the last spring, in cold blood and anprovoked, oat off the relations of Logan, not sparing even my women and children. There rans not a drop of my blood in the veins of any httmap creature. The white man hates me. This called on me for revenge. I have soughtTt.?( I have killed many. I have frilly glutted " ^ my vengence. For country, I rejoice ? at the beams of peace. .Bat do not harbor the thought that mine ia the joy of fear'.--* \ Logan never felt fear. He will not tarn his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan ? Not one." v' #> This pathetic and affecting speech touched the sensibility of all who heard him. The General Assembly applauded his nobis sen-" timents, and immediately set him at liberty; * Every house in Virginia vied with each > other which should entertain him the best at show him the most respect; and he return*-' . ed to his native country loaded with presents and honors. ' ;;* " > r i ? ?x J? Tzcumseh.?The Indian warrior Teeu% m i seh, who fell in the late Amerioan war, not only an accomplished military commas* < der, bat also a great natural statesman and orator. Among the many strange, and seme strongly characteristic?, events in his life, the council which the Amerioan General Harrison held with the Indians at Vineennes, in 1811, affords an admirableinstance of the sublimity which sometimes distinguished his eloquence. The chiefs of some tribes had come to complaiu of a purchase of lands which had been made from the Kiok#poee. This council effected nothing, but broke up in confusion, in consequence of Tecturseh having called General Harrison "a liar." 1$ was in the progress of the long toUci that . took plaoe in the conference that Tecumseh, having finished one of his speeches, looked. arouna, ana seeing every one seated^ while no seat was prepared for him, a momentary frowg passed over his countenance. Instantly General Harrison ordered that a chair should he given him, .Some person present ed one, and,)bowing, said to him, 'Warrior, your father, General Harrison, offers you a seat.' Tecumseh's dark eye flashed. "'My father!' he exclaimed, indignantly, extending his arm towards the heavens ; 'the sun' is my father, and the earth is my mother-; she gives me nourishment, and I repose npr'.'f on her bosom.' .As he ended he sat dowms suddenly onjhe ground. And ..theftTh* sat, looking the model of a man?a man . worthy of the name. -< * * ' ' j/r \ 1IBI" A Young Husband ?A correspondent' of the Philadelphia Press says : "On making a call at the house of the American missionary in Jerusalem, Dr. Tf J. Barclay, I saw a little boy in the Turkish costume sitting on a sofa. My fint thong^ v was, 'what an enormous turban that boy fcljhh* on;' and my second, 'how veiy small he is/ # Judge my surprise when-1 found he waja husband?being about ten yeaia oldand.hj^ wife not quite niue! Truly this is beginning life young, and reminds me of a friend who saw an American* lady in Alexandria, Egypt, who, though only twfinty-six year of age, was a grand-mother. this boy bad bat reoently consummated the nuptial ties at the'tomb of David, where the parents of the bride resided. These ceremonies art' always attended with great pageantry. The bride and bridegroom are borne along on a tahter duan, or bier, concealed by ft rich silken canopy, and ornamented with tinsel of gingerbread work, which is brilliantly illuminated by the flambeanz carried aloft in the hands of the friends of the parties.-^' Swordsmen, mosioians, and merry-andrews accompany them to a public fountain, where they shake their nuptial robes olean of the 9ins of their youth, as the final to the drama." A Rat Stoey.?Two boys playing in m Darn at Detroit found a rat in a tub of water, into which he had fallen while trying to Irink, and after poking him under several ames, left the tub?when a new' aotor appeared on the stage in the person of an enormous rat, and a sagacious one, for, after mndry frantic efforts to reach down and claw the sutterer out/ he fairly turned tail, and setting his claws firmly into the board, ex* gnded his caudal appendage down iintothe rater, thus forming a means ofefcape, which he rat in the water quickly nsaOad himself >? He set his clews and teeth into it, and leld ou like grim death, while the old fellow started down the hoard by which he had isoended the tub, and tagged like a dray horse, until he brought his oompanion to the bop, when the two scampered off, seemingly lighly pleased with the remit of the expert* nent.