University of South Carolina Libraries
? I mi I .Hi. in .1 I _ Ill rimy- r tw n I i ~r\-r-n-?r ; -"n iinr i 'nun n - - 'im-nii ' " " ^ ^ ^ T"' ^ ?=*^*=a=g ii -?ii ' t ? =^a i ^ eg L " ? lewis^m grist^prietor-} Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. j$2peeahbttotihadvance. VOL. 5.-- * . ' YOSKVILLE, S. :C., THTJBSDAY. MAY 5,1859. ' 3STO. 18. _ p ^ 1 C|eJurkljiHe it()uirfr 13 ^ . -. - ISSUED EVE3Y THURSDAY MORNING, .. \ AT Two Dollars per year,in Advance. SIX COPIES, 910 90 t TEN COPIES, 915 00, invariably in* advance. ADVRHTISKMENTS * * I AVJI1 be inserted at ONE Dollar per square fnr tbc,first and THrnTT seven-akd a-ttai.r Cents for eafh subsequent [ insertion (less than.three months.) A Square consists of the space occupied by 12 lines of Brevier type; 100 words or onk lvch and a half spack. - No Advertisement counted less than a square. Semi-Mohthly, Mohthly, or Quarterly AdvpTtisemenf*, will be charged OKF. Dollar per squarc.for each insertion. For Advertising Estruvs Tolled, 82; to be paid by the Mag- j istrate. Citation#, Jgtf ; to On pain in nanun-a uy iu? rmu. applying. Notices of Application to the Legislature, $5; to paid by the person handing In the advertisement. Insolvent Debtors Notice, $8; payable In advance. Attachment Notices, $6- to be paid for by the Attorney in the case. Business Cards, of a half-square or less, will bo inserted at $5 per year. For each additional line, SI. Obitnary Notiees exceeding one square In length, will be charged for the overplus at regular advertising rates. Tributes of Respect rated as advertisements, f-ir Announcements of Mardagus or Deaths ; Notices of Religious or Temperance Meetings published OR AT1S and solicited. * - > 1ST All Advertisement# u.ot having the number of insertions marked on the margin, will he continued nutll forbid and charged accordingly. . * Quarterly, Semf-Annnal or Yearly contracts will be made on liberal terms?the contracts, howwer, must hi all cases be confined to the immediate business of the firm or Individual contracting. V Personal Communications, what) admissible;; communications of limited or Individual interest, orYecommendatioos of Candidates for offices of honor, profit or trust, will be charged for at from 3 to 10 cents per line. %' thrilling StonniiE sfflEs in liiiifli. BY ELLA CARLETON. There are but few of us who do not think there are incidents of romance and beauty connected with the rudely-constructed Jog cabins in the .western wild&j.and yet one would soarcely have thought the rough structure of which I aui about to speak evej held a being within its mud-chinked walls worthy the notice of the most humble pen. But I * - ?iJ ?~U fi,?n npflfooc nnrt nnw fnr nave saiu cuuu^u iv? a ??? uv? a few incidents. . - . _ It was lonpr ago, reader. Tie steam engine had not then invaded the western for. eats, nor even sent its whistle and smoke in that direction. The topmost branches of the olAoaks, with the first breeae^of the morning, bowed and nodded to each other as of yore, while their progeny climbed slowly upward, and the youiHjivy kept them company. Here and there, is some cleared spot, where nature seemed at peace, and the.birds were having one great holiday, blue smoke rose upward and wreathed off alone, for there was no other cabin's smoke within many "ffittes-to miotfi* and bear it company.- Hrewoarraed children with ruddy faces skipped and danced beneath those trees, unmindful of the noisy city that was many miles away, where the poor arc born and live and die without ever drinking in one breath of the pure air as it comes from hature's great reservoir. Hut to the minute of our tale. The large, Tough cabin of Samuel Champlin, "or Uncle Sam, as he was called by the settlers whoTtnew him, was piled together beneath the shade of one of those '"trees of which we have spoken, and around him were several rich acres of land that his own brawny arm, with the aid of his faithful wife, had cleared and got ready for the seed.? There was no other cabiu within several miles, but neither Uncle Sam nor his wife seem to mind this; for, as they said, it gave them breathing-room, and space to hunt, and the children could whoop and exercise their lungs without the neighbors interfering in their sports or remarking upon their costumes. And so time flew by?the children growing larger and the precincts of the far-off city * * L - *1""* s*AVv*rk A n rl n I advancing nearer iu me uuiu. ...? the more numerous settlers widened the Indian trail-path that led from the thick forests to the busy haunts of men, while yearly grew the intimacy between the settlers and the dwellers in the more thickly inhabited i district. Winffer came, and the glittering | snow was piled and drifted in every direction, ! save the new made road; but that was kept level, for the dwellers along its way-side now j added to their gains in winter many a dollar that they would not have obtained had the roads been impassable; for gay parties of the youth and beauty of the town now congregated in rough jumpers and rude sleighs behind their hardy Shetland and Canadian ponies, and dashed off with almost lightning speed along the smooth surface of the snow towards the same smoke-browned cabins of the scattered settlers. Among the favorite places of resort, was the home of-Unole Sam, for- his cabin was of larger size than most of the others, and contained several different apartments, and the young men said he kept the best cider and apples, and the girls whispered to each other that his good-natnrcd wife always made j her cakes of better materials titan the other j log-cabin landladies; and then everything about the premises looked so neat and nice, ! and had such an air of civilization, that they j were not afraid to partake of whatever was j offered them there. Early one morning in midwinter, I was j seated at the side window of my room in the j hotel, when I saw passing up the broad walk j in the distance, the tall and well proportion- j ed figure of Edson Pierce. Ilis step was hurried, and, to use a phrase of modern date, j I knew something was in the wind ; so I laid | bv the Daper I was glancing over, and step t' * ped to she door to meet h'm. 'Good morning; Edson,' said I. 'Yes,' said he 'it is a good morniug?just: the one for a sleigh-ride, and we have made I up a nice little party to go out to old Uncle j Sam's.' 'Who are going, Ed V inquired I with a 1 good deal of interest. 'O, Charles Swift, Albert and William Hurd, Mr. Breuton and?' 'Brenton ?' interrupted I, and I know I looked anything but atuiablc. 'Why do you j call him Mr., and all the rest of the young j men of our acquaintance by their (irst names?' J 'Well, I?I can't say unless it is?' Because you are a little stupid, Ed.' 'No, not that, Stephen, but because he is so much richer than the rest of us.' 'And how do you know heYs rich T for he has n,otbeen in the place more than "three months and mcthinks we ought not to pass judgment too quickly .when we have to ta\*e his word for everything.' /Why, haven't I seen him every day since, he.has came among us? and I have never seen bim yet without plenty of cash, ^nd then, such letters of recommendation as be has ; why mercy! he %mus|,be from almostj I the highest circles of English society.' , 'May be.' said I; /hut?' .. 'Never mirvd about your buts,' interrupted Edson, impatiently; 'he is to be one of the company to day, so do treat him as it becomes one gentleman to treat another, and he is a stranger.' 'Well, let it all pass, Ed,. Who are to be the ladies of our partv ?' kO, Luoy Atkins. Eilen Bush and'?looking archly at me,?'Angelino Knight, etc.' 1 felt a little too much blood escaping upward, but X paid him off by naming Elsey v*~wo KafMin +n nnnrprsA nhnut I L/il * ICj UUU bliwil IfV v?.cui. ?V vww.v...v - whokepttbe fattest horses that we could hire, and where we could pet ajumper that would a Httle outdo the rest injDoint of beauty and convenience. * * 'Be sure to take your accordOon", Ed,'said I, 'and if you see Albert in season, tell him to tuck his violin in among the buffalo robes for music is the life of the soul, and perhaps we can get that little woo'd-nymph of Uncle Sam's to sing to us if we play "for her/" Edson promised yes;.and then, after bnftoning up close to his chin his shaggy overcoat, he again passed down the broad sidewalk, whiU I went in anothor direction to look for a fast pony. ,c . Our company did npt all assemble until about.two or three ia the afternoon, and then such a merry set as we were never made the' woods ring so before. It seemed to be perfectly natural for every girl of the party to please. They aU had such starry eyes, spuny hair, aod beautiful expressions generally, that it was diffioult to say which one it was advisable to love the most. Brenton seemed to be the happiest of the party; but there was a recklessness aboot his muouer that I didn't like. Angelioe said with a silvery laugh, when no one was very near, that it was only because he had a handsomer pair of whiskers than I had, and because in our plays he was always adjudged to pay more forfeits.* If she hadn't looked so roguish when she said it, I know I should have been Texed at that, but lai you couldn'tget vexed with Angeline, let her say what she would, - - " * -U _ I For she had sUch a coaxing way or ?aytug | SfewWaVntrso d - *vc^?? . Early in the morning, as soon as the head ones in the company had made up their minds to go, they had sent a runner in advance to let Uncle Sam and his lady know that they might expect us in the evening; so when we arrived, which was soon after the sun bade Yankee land good-bye for the night, such a fire as was glowing in that fifteen foot fire-place, I do believe it would have' been considered a conflagration if it had occurred anywhere around here; but not so there, for it looked cheering out in that wild region, where one rough, stone chimney had to manufacture all the smoke that circulated /or many miles I was the first one to step within the wide door of the cabin, and with me Angeline Knight, and close behind us Elsy Davis and Brenton 0, what a burst of beauty met my gaze as I opened the door. There, in the corner, just where the blazipg logs lit up every feature to tie best advantage, stood Etta Champlin, Uncle Sam's eldest daughter. I had not seen her for a year and she was now just sixteen. I had always thought her beautifuT, but now, beautiful was a poor word to portray that child.of the wilds. At a glance, I could perceive that she had visited the city since I saw ber last j for she was dressed as tastetuuyas inc girls of our party, though her costume was a mixture of the fashior.8 of the Iudiati and white maidens; with bare arm9 aod shoulders, and a short frock confined at the waist with a kid belt beautifully embroidered with beads. For a moment, I 6topped and did not speak, for I was amazed at the change one year had made, but I iostantly rallied, and feeling ashamed of my silence, advanced. 'Why, Etta,' I said, 'if you grow muoh more lovely we shan't let you remain out here in the woods?you must come to the city.' Etta glided easily and gracefully out of the corner, and, as she reached me her hand, she said pleasantly, but in a half whisper : 'The forest is the best pla'ce for the deer; ft would die in the city?there is not'room.' Just at that moment I caught a glance of Brenton's eye as they were bent on the form and features of Etta, and I thought of every ; incarnate monster of which I had read from early childhood, but presently there came a counter thought?pshaw ! it is only fancy ; it is very ungentlemauly always to be imagining something against a stranger. Then came in one after another of our party; and a little while was spent in laying aside hoods, caps, cloaks, coats, and then all took seats on the smooth benches drawn up before the fire. Etta seemed to glide around like a little fairy, hauding a mug of cider to] this one and a plate of cake3 to that ooe, while her mother was busy in the square : pantry preparing more aud giving directions to two or three French girls who had been summoned from miles away, partly to Help and partly to see and enjoy, as soon as Uncle Sam knew "of our coming. All had spoken to fair Etta. Brenton had been in troduced to her, and everything promised fair fur a very pleasant time. 'You haven't passed Mr. Breoton any apples, Etta, said Edson, a3 she reached the plate to hiui. '0, I am so sorry I slighted you, sir,' she answered, innocently skipping towards him. ?0, never mind, my dear,' answered the Englishman, looking full into her face; and then, as she came nearer and held the fruit, he said something to her that made the blood leap upward till it swelled the blue veins of her forehead, and for a moment left a poach Woom hue over her face, neck and dimpled shoulder.1?; but it was spoken So low that we cctild not catch a word, while she turned and luoked towards the opposite corner of the room near where a candle (for it had "become quite dark now") illuminated the features of u large, rofrusfclookin'e young man who had just entered and placed a lantern" on the table. He was dressed in deer-skin breeches and a short hunting frock, with a strong leathern belt confining it at the waist, at\d a hunting cap, which, as T looked around, he was just in the act of placing on nn antler nailed to the logs. lie* could not have heard what .the Englishman said to Etta, | ! l2.ut_he beard his voice, ape caught herjjx-. pression as she looked up, and I never shall , forget the flash that went put from his.eyes; but he said nothing?he only bent forward as if. to make sure which of our number "had | been last helped by her., A few moments after, Uncle Sam came in, and replenishing the fire, said; . . . . . 'Now make merry, young folks; enjoy yourselves while you are young, especially in my house, for Kate and I were young, once, and we always wished the old folks the longest lives that let us .make lhe 01051 noise; so-laugh, sing, dance and play on those fiddle-de-dees to your heart's content. You will keep nothing awake here except a wolf or two, and may be a bruin that sometimes tries to make our acquaintance.' And then a little While after Uncle Sam and his wife disappeared, either by desigfi or otherwise, and we bearcTof the former being engaged ont at the frame barn seeing to the ponies,' and Katy had slipped on her ^cloak and hood and gone ont to talk with him ?to comment on the company, and tell him that as everything was ready in the pantry the! young folks would ebjoy themselves better to be alone, JFor'a while we.sat in front of the mammoth fire and joked and laughed, and then a few songfr were sung. Etta took part with the rest, and we requested her to sing alone. She complied rather bashfully, and sang a beautiful song that she had composed rn leisure hours while looking on the wild scenery that surrounded them.' How natural, how beautiful were the tones of her voice as they came up from the pure fountain of song. She did not seem to know how beautiful she was or how sweetlj she sang, but she did seem to notice how close ly the Eoplishman's eyes followed and watched her, and it appeared to annoy her; but she said nothing, and when the music commenced and all joined ib the dancing, he offered her his hand in the set. She did -Dotrefuse but l^pkijp^tQW<^rds tho upper end of the room where stood the young huDter, who had been invited to dance, and was now standiogopposite his partner a young French girl, I saw that he pave her a very peculiar look, that I interpreted as expressing a wish that she should accept, and in a moment more she was gliding with a natural grace down the centre of the long room in company with Brenton, her tiny feet scarcely touching the floor as they kept time with the music. . The Englishman appeared to oe in his glory; he chattered and laughed with the fair young creature in the pauses of the figure, and when it was ended he took a seat by her side at the back of the room. Had hie manners been that of a gentleman, nothing would have been thought of this familiarity by the dwellers in the forest, as their hearts were pure and they looked for nothing hnt-nnrifv in nthers. nnd thev Were so ~? r J -- ./ far away from the thicker haun<:s-of men that with right good will they enjoyed the society of those from the settlements 'when they came amonjr thehi; bat there was a something about the manners-of the young Knelishman that the rural beauty could not fathom, and she would like to have shunned hin, but the eyes of the hunter told hur not to, so shcditLnbt rise as he sat by her side and talked. . - - You are too pretty to be pent up in thesewoads,' said he, with a great deal of assurance. ' I like the woods better than the town,' returned Etta. 'But you wou.d not if you could reside there a little whit? ; it is just the plaec for such a beauty a9 you sre to roake^ your fortune. Why, if you were a sister of mine, I would have you fn market very quick, and marry .you off to some of the nobility.' The young hunter was leaning against the the rough mautel, and as Brenton went on, every moment getting more enthusiastic, and .speaking louder to the one beside him, 1 saw his lip curl, and he gaiVe a glance arouftS ? the company assembled but made no remark. The Englishman's bold manners seemed To disconcert us all a little, but soon another 'Take partners for a set' was spbken, and this time Etta danced with the huDterj and afterwards, when he led her to her seat, he bent his lips to her ear for a moment, when she looked up so full of confidence and love that not one of the chropany could fail to understand that he possessed her heart.? This not only seemed to astonish Brenton but to to annoy him ; so when the hunter left the side he crossed to where Etta -was sitting and commenced talking to her again, j: J V.? ?n ijiomiido tVip pnnfpmnf. hp nor UlU lie ttjr irw u.o^u.uv ?r felt for the rough-exterior lover. I exchanged glances with Edson, and I saw that he felt extremely pained, and a moment after he asked Brenton if he would not like to step out to our ponies and see if all were right. No,' said the Englishman, with a proud t dss of the head ; ?I prefer the society of the 1 idles, especially this little rustic beauty.' Up to this time the hunter had made no remark to Brenton, nor would any but a close observer have perceived that he noticed him more than any of the rest, but now approachiug the Englishman, he said, pleasantly : Will not the other girls be jealous, if you show so much mure attention to this one than lo those that came with you V And what is that to you ? If they are jealous, would you like to stand champion V Well, no,' answered. the other, in the same pleasant tone; fI shouldn't like to fight a human being if I could help it. I have ho objection to encountering a bear or a catamount once in a while.' Edson and T exchanged glances again. I felt as if the current of my blood was beginning to congeal in my veins, andhe looked as though if the girls were not present he would have said some hard things Jo the Englishman; for w'c knew the spirit and manner of the backwoodsman better than our imported companion, and we hp<i seep enough of him to know that he would grow more insolent if the young hunter continued pleasant and conciliating*' . ? ? 'Well,, then, you had better return to the corner, young man,' said Brenton, 'for it won? do for a rustic Yankee to be top Cacnilmnnflflmon ' on/1 fVton Vl O Kim. I U .I Willi ^CUllCUiCli j UUU liivu I?W w* V * utu. self nearer tbe girl as if to crown the climax of bis impudence, aod to further, provoke the young hunter whom he thought an ignorant coward, he said, 'If you knew . how . to prize your beauty* you would not waste, it on such a clown as he is,'?and he attempted to press his lips to hef soft cheek. ' M * *i i'-j* r ' p.5.W f Jl * With ? slight bound and stifled cry, Etta sprang from him, while every ana .of the oornpany seemed paralyzed, expeotmg that a denth struggle wonld follow. As Etta sprang from Brenton's oide the hunter, reaeived her in his arms, and still spoke pleasantly, saying > . 'I would oot^harm you, sir, especially before all these "girls, for probably they -are not used to fighting; hut I think it strange that yon should be one of such an -otherwise, peaceable company.' * I attempted to speak, but the sound only amounted to a whisper, while Brenton artwe to bis feet, seemingly forgetful that there was. atry one present save the hunter and himself. 4'?Curse you,' said he, 'for a coward !' I make it a point to chastise any one that "interfere with me, Tct him he where he will and no matter who is present, at the same time aiming nt the other a blow with his clenched fist The young backwoodsman's strong right hand met the arm of his'opponent a9 it was descending, and for a moment it was he'd as if in an iron voice; then giving it a fling downward as child a. toy, he said, calmly:. .. . , , 'Be.quiet, boy, or your bones may blcacb iu the western wilds.' ? In an instant, Breoton drew a pistol from beneath his coat and ainood it.at the head of the young man; but its contents remained in the.barrel, for with an easy movement the other wrenched it frantiua and threw it ictto the cavern-like fire-place among the blazing logs. Immediately the Englishman drew a large bawie-koife that he bad keptconcealed, and rushed towards the hunter with a face purpled with rage. We all leaped to our feet, while Etta, with a cry of anguish, sprang into the arms of her lover and at the same instant received the destined for the hunter. The assassin's knife stuck quivering in her fair dimpled shoulder. Her lover gave one look towards it, then turned his glance on Brenton. The loek will go with me to my grave. Gently withdrawing'tiie knife and laying her softly in" the arms of one who sprang to receive her, we heard a hissing softnd eScape through his teeth, and the n^xt moment the same knife quivered in the heart of the Englishman, while an' explosion frorti the burning weapon between tne strong Jambs told us that it. contained a deadly charge. And now the wide rude door was flung back, and in iushed Uncle Sam and hjs wife to leam the cause of the explosion; but the socn? was spread out before them I shall Dever forget. On the spot where but a litfle before we were all dancing so m.errijy, dow lay Brentoo, with eye.balls upturned, through which the light of day could not enter_pp more, and around bin*, in warm pools his own life blood. .Etta now lay ip.ber lover's arms, unconscious of the horror depicted on every face that surrounded her, or the wild cries of .her mother who bent over her. But we will no longer dwell on description, but say that the Englishman's bones bleach* - m i i ckI in tne western wuas, una smer ujuuy months, of suffering Etta Chaplin recovered^ from the flight and the wound inflicted by Breoton, and rewarded the bravo hunter by a gift of her own fair self. Some may think that our party were to blame for not interfering sooner, but events followed each other in such rapid succession at the crisis, that we were bewildered until we saw the knife, nttd then it was too late for prevention. The law administered to the young backwoodsman no punishment for the deed, for there were too many witnesses in his favor. But this event did not disturb the current of our enjoyment long, for the next winter as gay parties as ever visited Uncle Sam's, but we were more particular who ( went with us. Brenton, we afterwards learned, was an extensive forger who had fled ] from justice, and this accounted for his hav- . ing eo many letters of recommendation. 'Emma,' said Uncle Stephen, 'on the very i spot where the log cabin stood is now built a large frame house, surrounded by beauti- : ful gardens, and the smoke from neighbors' chimneys wafts up on every side; come and look out of the window and I will show it to you.'' I did as he requested, and he pointed to a beautiful dwelling but a few rods off as the ? ? ?J ? .l. J: Oue. ilS 1 lOOKCU ctuu otiw tue uiui uuuiuu of the woods away off in the distaoce, and the large mansion that intervened between, it all seemed to me like magic. 'Do you see that noble-looking old man coming up the street with a portly lady by his side, and those young children running to meet them!' 'Yes,' I replied. 'Well, that is the hunter and his Etta, and those are their children's children j they all live together in that frame house.' t?* The world is a great tread-mill, which turns all the while, and leaves no choice but to sink or climb. ? ; : piscdkiteflits leading. - . < From the Banner of Liberty. CHILDHOOD HOURS. - * 0 pive me back my childhood hourtf1, When all was bright and gay, WJien Hope displayed her fairest flowers, "And sang her sweetest lay. When life was like a pleasant dream, Or .beaming summer sky, . Smooth asthe silver flowing stream, That mth-murs softly by. , No passions roused by worldly strife, Then hnrnpd within mv breast: I'd never felt th? weight of life, * * * ? By manhood's cares oppressed. I knew not of the giant wrongs. With which the good must fight, I'd never felt the 'bitter frowns That terrify tbe Right.- ? * . I hail those halcyon days of yore? Those sunny da^s'so fair!' WhCP joyous hope, could rise and: soar ... As buoyant as the air. Sweet memories of those happy days Still fondly round me cling, Sweet are the bright nnd hopeful rays Of ^jnshme that they bring. No conquered tfophies, proudly piled, Can half the joy impart, Of these dear memories of the child, That twine about the heart. 6 give me back my childhood hours, "When all was bright and gay, < When Hopo displayed her fairest flowers, . And sang her sweetest lay. ' THE PIRATE.' Twenty-geven years ago, the ship I com-" tliabded was on a mission of mercy. Laden by gbngTous contributions of a NewBngtond city, she was bound to the Cape dff Vbrde with bread fbr the famine stricken and-dyiflg. It was th& fourteenth day out?in the first gray of the morning?rthat the mate aroused me with the startling inteHigeBcothata suspicious vessel was in sight. With the first' ray of light the vigilant officer had descried her, and she^was so near as-to be made out with a glass. I Whs on the deck in an instant. The first glance at the strangef'almost dispelled the fear that the mate's alarm had occasioned. 'Why, Mr. Larkin,' I said, laughing as T sfiolte, 'there's nothing suspicious in that lubberly looking craft. She'is a Pottugug&e brrgantine. She can't sail. 'She looks like that build,' the mate answered, 'but look now at the men on her deck.* One glance at the telescope was enough to satisfy me that the mate was rtoht.' 'It's do honest oraft* Mr. Larkin,' I said j 'but she may not be a pirate, for aTl thbt.? One need not be Tftffptised" Xa fall In "with a slaver hereabout.' 'She's no slaver, Captain.' 'Whj do you think so ?' 'Because there arc guns on her deck, instead of water casks.' As if to put ^d end to our speculations, the suspicious vessel began to spread more canvass, arfd gs she gathered awgy with the freshening breeze, they ran up to her foremast a flag, which, when it reached thp truck, uashook its fold is the wind. On a white flag ,wo saw the terrible insignia of the freebooter, Jhe death's heed and cross-bones, poiAted in diabolical black. t We made all the sail w.e couldx but escape was impossible. A gun from the pirate, and a ball whistlingover ua^ speedily brought us to. The pirate came quietly along, like a panther, which sure of its prey ,vas in no great hurry to seize it. The moiucDt she came within speaking distance, he hailed and ordered me to launoh a boat and come on boafd. We got the quarter boat, and I was about to jump i?Ko her, to pay my respects in person to the vidians, when Mr. Larkin asked leave to go. 'If-they want the captain,' saii -he 'let them send for Mm. I ll see if the mate won't answer as well.' . He descended to the boat, which began to pull back. Almost at the same instant, a launch was swuDg over the rail into which twenty savage looking rascals armed to the teeth, sprung and pulled towards us. Ten minutes afterwards they-were od board of iny ve3sel, and began clearing away the main hatoh. The leader, aswarth/fellow, whose square compact frame, and-whose eyes, black and hazy, and half eoncealed-by the lids, expressed 'cruelty and cunning, approached the cabin hatch, where I 9tood, and addressed me in very fair English. Are you the captain of this vessel ?' 'Yes,' I replied. 'What's your cargo V Flour.' 'Where from ?' 'Boston.' 'Where to ?' Cape de Verde.' 'Why, they're all starving there,' he said, opening his eyes and looking full at me. 'Yes, and the flour iu my vessel was freely given by good Christians to fee^ those starving people.' The rascal continued his deliberate gaze a moment, then turned towards his men, who by this time had broken into the main hatch, and in a rough, commanding tone, spoke a few words in Spanish, which I could not make out. The men looked up in astonishment, and then withdrew to the side, where zionti/Mioln f r\ vtj q f h nl r lliuy SlUUU g(l?iug caubiuuoijr liV nuiu buv?? captain, for such was ray interrogator. He walked tc and fro quickly for five minutes; then he said, sharply, turning to me? 'You Americans are all heretics?why should you send flour to feed Catholics?' 'Because they are our fellowmen, and their Saviour is our Saviour,' I answered astonished at the conduct of the man. 'If you lie to me,' he cried with a fierceness that startled me?'if you lie tome, I'll nail you to your deck. Is thiscargo the free gift of your countrymen to the starving?' 'I'll prove it to you by my papers,' I answered 'I don't want to see your papers,?swear it by the Saviour, whose name you have just pronounced.' As he spoke, he crossed himself devoutly. ?I swear-itby the*HolyTrinity/ [replied, solemnly. The pirate lifted his cap and bent his head devoutly, when I mentioned the Trinity.? He stood still, with his head bent over, while ODe might have moderately counted fifty. When he raised himself up, it seemed to me there was less ferocity in his countenance. His eyes were no longer half closed, but open, and dearer in their depths. I looked steadily at him. ?Captain/.fya eaid, .hSprteously, 'can you supply me with twer or three casKs of water/ I gave the order, ajid the water was lowered into the boat. A word from him sent his cut-tbfeffita.Qt^c the side j but he lingered behind, and after a moment's hesitation, approached me, with his band extended. 'God bless you/ he exclaimed, as he felt my grasp,' and send you where the starving are praying for breach* The next moment he was" 'gone.?New York Chronicle. IRREGULAR ATTENDANCE AT SCHOOL. One-of the most -serious evils connected with our common school system, arises from the thoughtlessness and negligence of parents. Wc allude to the irregular attendance of children fft school. Theschool returns of Massachusetts show that the average attendance of scholars regularly enrolled in the public schools is only about seventy-five per cent. One-fourth of the xfrhole number are habitually absent. One-quarter of the education whicb?the'children-should receive is lost by their absence. One-quarter of the privileges is liberaHy provided for all by the public, are thrown away. One quarter of the 81,474,488 raised last'year fortbe-sapptfrt of schools, wan uselessly expended.*3Ooly a small fraction of this nmvattendanoe can he regarded as unavoidable. All who are at all fdmilliar with our 'schools',-know that in the great majority of oases, it arieee from 'insufficient causes. The evil may ire ascribed mtfttfly tfl that parental Weakness which perthifs the child to rule and to tbw? thoughtlessness which robs him Of anHhestrmable boon for the sake of a little present gain or convenience. There are parents who hold up to the minds of their cMldren the privilege of absence from school as a reward for fidelity and obedience at home. It must be evicfent to any one, on a mo~ ~ a*-. ?A&ciMa f\t nooIobq UJOUt O 1 CUCUl/lUU J UJOU bUO vuuvhu v* uuviwwm absence from school must bo very torechievous, not only to the irregukr pupil, hot to bis whole class. The links that unite one (fay's teachings to another's, are Such, fhat the occasional "absence of a pupil may malre a wreck of all he might otherwise have learned during the term. But the evil stops not with one pupil, more frequently a whole class and the school are affected. The class must necessarily experience an interruption iiL their course whenever a member is absent, Those interruptions often sgotf half a term's study by their frequency. Gov. Boutwell, in one of his School Re' ports, aptly observes, that the child who never enters the school-house, is guiltless of any positive- special wrong to the school; but the occasional presence, or the occasional absence of a scholar, is an inju^ to himself and to all his associates. WbeB a pupil misces a recitation, a wrong is committed which can only be remedied by the perpetration of another wrong. In a good school on omAtinf nf ^qiIq loVini* uavu puyn uao au auvuii? ui uw*i^ ?ww* ?*w signed to him, equal to his powers, and a lost lesson mast be made up by extraordinary pbysioal and mental labor. This of eeuree is an evil. In most cases, however, the negnect is overlooked, and the pupil is retained in tbe class, daily losing his interest in what he does not understand, while the other members are kept back by one whose neglect has been a common injury. . In some towns this evil has been felt so severely that the extreme penalty of expulsion has been resorted to, and pupils who are absent a certain number of times, unless detained at home by sickness, or absent from town, forfeit their seats in the public schools. Nor can we see any injustice in this rule.? The irregular attendant not only defeats the object of the school, so far as he is himself concerned, but he infringes upon the rights of others. It is therefore just and right that he should be expelled, after-proper warning and probation. But parents should not compel school committees and teachers to apply so harsh a remedy. They can easily cure the evil themselves. Let them strive to create a sentiment which shall lead the 1 pupils of the neighborhood and town to be 1 canstant and punctual in attendance; let 1 them strictly prohibit all unnecessary absence; let them if necessary, control the I wishes of their children, or yield their own 1 convenience, in a matter of so much person- 1 al, family and public importance ; let them 1 exercise forbearance and charity towards ' teachers and committees, and never withdraw a child from school for any but the 1 most grave and imperative reasons; let parents thus fulfil their duties to their children ' and to the school, and the evil under con- 1 sideration will cease. 1 < WniTTiNGTON and His Cat?According to recent publications, the story of Sir ] Richard Whittington, (who was a very ex- , qnrl V*?q is not. t icuc.c , after all so remote from possibility as many j j have imagined. Mr. Southey, in his history ^ of the Brazils, relates that the first couple ] of cats which were carried to Cayuba, sold ^ for a pound weight of gold! There had been a plague among the cats in the settle- j ment, and the couple of cats were purchased , as a speculation, which turned out an ex- j cellent one. Their first kittens produced 30 < octaves each; the next generation sold for r 20 each, and the price gradually fell as the , inhabitants were stocked with these beauti- , ful and useful creatures. In the East also, according to a Persian MS. quoted by Sir Wm. Gore Ouseley, there is an island which 1 derived its name from a circumstances of the i same kind; and Mr Collet asserts, without ' hesitation, that the story of Whittington and I his cat is borrowed from a tale of the East. It is scarcely necessary to remark that there may have been a plague of rats, and that cats might, therefore, have been worth their weight in gold, more than onee since the flood. In the prints of Whittington, he if represented with a Grimalkin hy his side; bat Granger, the best historian of potraits, relates thafcitwaa^hstituted.&r Mkttll^whioh originally occupied^ place, as,the people did not choose to purchase the print, without their favorite traditional fenftlerm The persian story is to the effect that, 'Keish,' the soq of a poor widow in Siraf, embarked for India, having for his sole property, a cat. He fortunately arrived at its destination, when the palace was so infested with mice, that they invaded the King's food.' Keish. produced his cat, the noxious animals disappeared, the magnificent reward were bestowed on him by the delighted monarch. Kerish returned to Siraff, and fffterwards, with bis mother and brothers, settled in the Island, which has been called after his name. Sir Wm. Ousley, in his 'Travels in Persia/ also related, that the worthy Florentine, Ansaldo Degli Ortnanoi, was indebted Tor hfs Wealth and celebrity to his two cats, which being presented to the King of an Island, (Canatia) on which he bad been cast by a'violent tempesf, fdieTed the monarch from the plague of mice, an<The was rewarded<con rich e&nidom.' It is not a little singular, adds Sir William, that in countries widely fceparitted, and in various languages, the fltoiy of Whitthjgton, so long* the hero of a favorite nursery-tale, has been related of several different persons. * . Qhiok Work.?Buokfend, in hi? Vurio*. itiee cf Natural History,- says . ? When in Paris I paid a visit to the horse slaughtering place at Montifaueoo-; tbere- i saw trom nitesto to twenty horses,-tied up in row, all to Skilled that-daj. X was told that sometimes the; slay double that number. The horse being killed and the skin taken off, the carcase is cut up- with hatchets and thrown into a hogetub, big enough-to ceu tain the bodies of seven! -horses; when it is full, the top is fixed on aod steam turoediuto "it. After a time the Jid-iak-again taken off, and it ^ found that the steam has quite aep> pa rated all the flesh, from the booes, which are beautifully white. The bones are then picked out aud placed in stacks; the flesh is thrown out-by shovels, aod spread out widely on the floors, to which the- air has free access. It soon becomes quite bard aud dry and is then seat off iu sacks to the chemist, who, operating ouit, soou oonverts it into Prussian blue. The booes are ground up iu a mill for mauure; so that iu a comparatively short space of time, the horse, having worn oat bis energies in the service of man* is converted, one-half into loaves of bread through the medium of the wheat which absorbs his powdered skeleton. Thus the Frenchman practically carries out the threat of the ogre, who, when he smelt the-EBglishmaB) pronounced J he following anathema against him*- j -Pe fa fan: I smell the blood of an Englishman, Be be alive or be he dead, A I'll grind hit bones to mate my bread, \ ? ? Swearing.?<If over I wish I had no ears, it is when I hear a boy swearing. Who made yeu ? Who keeps you alive ? Who gave you a tongue ? Whe gave you speech ? Who olotbes and feeds you? Who pat a soul in your body ? Who sent bis Sou to be your Friend and Saviour? Who opens heaven for you ? Whose earth do yon live on ? Whose sky is over your head ? Wttee sun sun shines upon you ? Whose Sabbath do you rest on ? A1J the answers will be, God. Is he not great and good ? Should you qofc love him, and thank him, aud mind L.*_ ?i ; L:_ 9 mm, ana eujuy mm i Yet what does the swearer do ? He takes God's came in vain. He uses it upon a thoughtless and wicked tongue. Did God foresee there would be swearers, and did he make any law against swearing? Yes? 'Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold " him guiltless that taketh his name in vain/ that is, God will hold him guilty who takes his name in vain.' Another Failure in Cotton Cultivation.?According to the Paris correspondent of the New Orleans Picayune, the French Government has decided that hereafter the premiums paid for the cultivation of cotton in Algeria shall be abolished. Although the Moniteur boasts that while 1,014,000 pounds of cotton were grown in Algeria in 1854, and 1,560,000 pounds in 1857, and the crop in 1858 will be still larger, there seems to be little question the experiment has proved a costly failure, and the Government regards money speot on this crop as treasure thrown away. The decree hints the Government will soon cease to buy the cotton grown in that colony ; at present it is under obligations to buy all the cotton raised there. Therefore, in a year or two this experiment of the French will share the fate jf their other costly experiments. President Juarez a Pure Indtan.? [t is a fact of significance that Benito Juarez, the man recognized by our National Government as President of Mexico, is a pure Indian. Never until now, sinoe Mon:ezuma, has a pure Indian been the ruler of Mexico. The Vera Cruz correspondent of ;be New Orleans True Delta says : The blood of Beoito Juarez has run in a Dure and unmixed stream from his ancestors, vho were the masters of Mexico long before U*. A?tan MnB NVit * drrtn nf nmrn ?r ,i?c a?B.v r ? Q.w ? Spanish blood coarses through his veins.? Fhe negro has again found his level, and trill again serve a superior race. The proud ind haughty Gastilian is no longer master." Bag" Spare moments are the gold dust of lime. Of all the portions of life, spare moments are the most fruitful in good or evil. Ihey are gaps through which temptations find the easiest aooess to the soul.