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r _ i ' ~ * ' " ~ " "" " i ?? ??? B " ' ^ gggggggggaggggaggBge^B^ Lewi's grist .^opnetor.} An' Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. | $2 pee annus is advance. VOL. 5. YOBKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JTJJSTE 23,1859. NO. 85. CjjeforkMIk^mrer .IS ISSUED EVERY THURSDAY HORNING, AT Two Dollars per year, in Advance, SIX COPIES, Sio 50, TEX COPIES, SI5 00, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. ADVERTISEMENTS Will be inserted at one Dollar per square for the first and Thirtf-SEVEN-aND-a-half CENTS for each subsequent insertion (less than three months.) A Square consists of the space occupied by 12 lines of Brevier type; 100 words or one inch and a half space. No Advertisement counted less than a square. Semi-Monthly, Monthly, or Quarterly Advertisements, will be charged One dollar per square for each insertion. For Advertising Estraye Tolled, to be paid by the Magistrate. Citations, 82; to be paid in advance by the person applying. Notices of Application to the Legislature, 85; to paid'by the person handing in the advertisement Insolvent Debtors Notice, 88; 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 be inserted at $5 per year. For each additional line, 81. ?yObituary Notices exceeding one sqnare in length, will be charged for the overplus at regular advertising rates, ry Tributes of Respect rated as advertisements, [y Announcements of Marriages or Deaths ; Notices of Religious or Temperance Meetings published GRATIS and solicited. ry All Advertisements not having the number of inser tlons marked on the margin, will be continued unm ioroia and charged accordingly. Quarterly, Semi-Annual or Yearly contract* will be made on liberal term*?the contracts, however, must to all cases be confined to the Immediate business of the firm or Individual contracting. *.* Personal Communications, when admissible; communications of limited or individual interest, or recommendations of Candidates for offices of honor, profit or trust, will be charged for at from 3 to 10 cents per line. \mt |Mr?, I CAN. "I can !" Yes sir?we know you can We read it in your eye, There is a mystic talisman Flashing all gloriously 1 Speaking it out boldly; let it ring, There is a volume there, There's meaning in the eagle's wing; Then soar,, and do and care ! "I can !" climbs to the mountain top, And blows the billowy main, And lifts the hammer in the shop, And drives the saw and plane; 'Tis fearless in the battle shock, And always leads the van Of Young America's brave sons? They never quailed nor ran. "I can !" He is a fiery youth, And ''will" a brother twin; And, arm in arm, in love and truth ; They'll either die or win. Shoulder to shoulder, ever ready, -All firmed fearless still The brothenilabor?true and steady? "I can'!",rod brave 111 will." "I can!" e'en in his pleasure trips, Travels by telegraph, He plumes the snowy wings of ships, . And never works by half! His music is the humming loom, And shuttles are his dancers ; Then clear the way and quick give room For the noble-souled "I can," sirs ! "I can!" Yes sir?we know you can ! 'Tis lithe in every limb, To your blood 'tis a busy fan, How can the flame burn dim ! It tensely draws your sturuy nerves? No bow's without a string, And when bow nor bow-strings swerves An arrow's on the wing. I've got to "sixthly" and would make A personal "Application" In four heads; listen every one Of this our Yankee nation; Banish from you every can't, And show yourself a man, And nothing will your purpose daunt, Led by the brave "I Can !" Jit (Original Jitorjr. For the Yorkville Enquirer. TRIAL AND TRIUMPH, by the acthor of "grace templeton," "the wife," and other tales. CHAPTER V. I "Mrs. Manvers, you ride with our party to-day, do you not ?" said Leslie. "Yes, if Uncle Merton goes, I expect to accompany him." "Your going does not depend upon that, does it?" said he, with a disappointed air. "Yes, the rest of our party are going in close carriages, and I preferred riding in his open buggy." "I had hoped to nave the pleasure of your company myself; can I not prevail on Mr. Merton to waive his right ?" "Scarcely," said she, smiling. "I flatter mvcplf T am of too much imDortance to be "J ----- - k lightly relinquished." ''That I will not attempt to dispute," ^ie replied, bowing gallantly, "but have I your permission to plead for the favor ?" "I think you must excuse me, Mr. Leslie, if I prefer uncle Merton's escort; you know," she continued apologetically, "he has a prior right." Knitting his brows he impatiently replied, "I had set my heart on your enjoying the ride with my new bays?do let me have the pleasure." "I cannot disappoint uncle Merton" she replied coldly, and then as she marked his evident disappointment continued more kindly, "although it would give me pleasure to ride with those magnificent horses." He remained moodily silent, and she feeling her refusal to be almost ungracious, said kindly: "Why not get one of the many pretty girls that are here for a companion ?" * ^--1 L.*. "A sneering expression resiea upon ms face, and he would have spoken impatiently, but as if recollecting himself he said? "I might meet with another refusal." "Your humility is beautiful" she replied laughing, "pity it is not rivaled by your candor. Although proof againstyour gallantry, they could scarcely resist the temptation of a ride, with such an unexceptionable equipage, and such noble animals. I must congratulate you upon your perfect taste, for if there is an extravagance I would be willing to excuse, it would be a passion for a fine horse." His countenance cleared as she spoke, and he replied : "I have no doubt they are all engaged, and if ray companionship requires a temptation I'll have none of them ; you have condemned me to solitude" and lightly laughing he turned on his heel, and left her. "Mr. Merton," said he as he met that gentleman a few moments after, "you snrely do not intend to drive Mrs. Manvers in such a turn-out as that!" "Well/' said the old gentleman, looking considerably chagrined, "it was the best I could do, every vehicle that could be got for love or money is in requisition to-day, and Clara insisted upon my giving up my own buggy (which I flatter myself is rather a neat affair) to young Dudley, who is to drive that modest, pretty girl he thinks so much of." "No wonder Mrs. Manvers looked with longing eyes upon my sparking bays. I wanted her to ride with me/' he continued, an swering the old gentleman's look of inquiry, "but although confessing her pleasure to do so, and her pride in such animals as mine, yet she disliked disappointing you, and reluctantly declined. It istoo bad ! You old gentlemen reserve a lion's share for yourselves, even when you know we young folks enjoy such pleasures with a double zest."' "Why, really," said the bind hearted old man, quite mortified that he could have been guilty of such a piece of selfishness, ."if I had the remotest idea Clara wished such a thing ! Really, I understood she preferred going with me; indeed, she requested me to drive her out, and seemed quite pleased at having secured me" he continued, with a most mystified air. "Oh, of course, that was merely a matter of form, in order to secure herself against going with those she did not care about? presuming you would be willing to relinquish her at her own request. It is a shame for you to cut us fellows out of such a privilege. I believe the old forget to be generous," said Leslie, laughing. "No, no, I assure you it gives me the greatest pleasure to see young folks enjoy themselves, and indeed I care nothing about going; it was more to give the dear child pleasure?but I will go at once and tell her." "Perhaps you had better let me go," replied Leslie, hastily. "She might think you, were offended, for she had no idea of my mentioning it to you. ' I will just say to her you do not feel very well, and would prefer staying at home." "But I'm well enough, and if Clara did not wish to go with me, why did she ask me ?" persisted the honest old man. "I thought I had explained that, but of course if you insist upon taking Mrs Manve~s, I beg you will say nothing more about it; as I told you, she did not authorize me to speak to you, rather sacrificing her own pleasure than that you should be offended. 11 am sorry I mentioned it; you will please pardon me," and he lifted his hat with a deferential, and yet an offended air. The good old man was shocked at his own want of kindness and feeling, and hastily following .Leslie who was slowly walking away, begged him to make what arrangement ho pleased, "only" said he uneasily, don't let Clara think I wanted to give her up, that is?" lie continued answering his companions enquiring look, "that is, as it is her pleasure I prefer it also." "Her pleasure, your law," said Leslie gayly, as he left him. The pleasure party were moving off, vehicle after vehicle with their happy burdens were taking their departure for the scene of the day's pleasure, when in the midst of the confusion Leslie's elegant turn out, with the fiery horses scattering the crowd right and left, drove up to the front entrance. He sprang lightly out and running up the steps of the piazza approached the place where Mrs. Manvers was standing leaning upon the arm of her uncle, and extended his hand to conduct her to her seat. She drew back in confusion and blushing deeply said : "You have misunderstood me, Mr. Leslie, I go with my uncle." Leslie turned to Mr. Merton with a look of well acted surprise. "Ah Clara," said Mr. Merton, "we have arranged all that/come on," and he drew her towards the entrance of the piazza. "But how, I do not understand ?" replied Clara, only half reassured by her uncle's manner. "Mr. Manvers could not succeed in getting a buggy as he wished," replied Leslie hastily and in a low tone, and he kindly accepted mine." "You are very kind," replied Clara, now quite atease, "but wc arc deprivingyou, have you succeeded in getting a horse ?" "All is arranged," he said hastily, "but nlonso fn uef in no miir?klT7 as nnssihln. wp are blocking the way, and my horses are too restive to remain quiet." She took her scat hastily ; in a moment he was by her side, and before she could utter an exclamation, or even cast a reproachful look upon Mr. Merton, who was only half satisfied at the arrangement, the gay horses had bounded away. For a few moments all Leslie's attention was given to control them, and in the mean time Clara subdued her excitement. She was too unsuspicious to think for a moment that this was a premeditated thing; and believing Leslie's statement, concluded her kind hearted uncle had thought to give her a pleasure by this arrangement. Still it was not satisfactory. Mr. Merton ought to have consulted her upon the subject, and she felt more than half inclined to be vexed with Leslie for being a party to the affair. However, her own sense of modesty taught her to conceal her concern, and Leslie took good care to be unable to con trol the spirit of his horses, until the last shade of annoyance left her face. Then turning, he conversed in his happiest manner. Carrying her in imagination to foreign lands, lie first spoke of the charms of English society, its christian privileges, its domestic comforts, its noble institutions. He spoke of its sacred altars, and his eye kindled with holy fervor. He spoke of its justice, its honesty, its benoficence, and proudly he claimed it as the land of his fathers. He spoke of the purity of its women, the sacredness of their homes, their beauty and their truth, and his voice took a tender tone of pathos, and his eye swam in humid softness. And, then of the Alps, he pictured in beauty the nestling villages, the placid lakes, the happy pessantry; and while catching inspiration from the lofty height, with sublime and rapt msaning gave high souled utterance. With rjady transition from the picturesque in Swisj scenery, he graphically described a carnival at Rome. His brilliant imagination and ready wit colored a glowing and laughing picture, though his excuses for the immoral tendency of the pageant Clara would willingly have dispensed with. But quick to perceive the slightest change upon her speaking features, he again led her fancy captive by the vivid delineation of a night in Venice. She listened to the melodious song of the gondolier, she floated.by soft moonlight and under softer breezes, to a pictured dwelling of such love, such beauty as a fairy might have built, and an angel might have envied. Almost unconsciously she heard him tell of one he had left in his own land with every charm but a woman's maturity; of a love that in its passionate fervor crimsoned even now his cheek, and sank his voice to a trembling whisper; heard him speak of a bitter grief when he found the one so loved, so lost to him; and with a surprise, an indignation not to be conceived, heard him cry?"my Clara, are you indeed forever lost!" For an instant her face was deadly pale. Then summoning all her self command she said slowly, for she could soarcely control her voice,? - * ' "Your pretty tale is quite pathetic, sir, but you should have had a more tragic denouement?you. might have found the lady indifferent or faithless; or eScuse me if I think a more manly one in meeting her, for instance, at the side of her husband ywhose honor and integrity would frighten bjfck the unfeeling words ere the coward lips could utter them." His eye for a moment fell un&r the steady look that rested upon him ; thfen his face grew dark in wrath, and striving to meet her look unabashed, while a sndaring smile curled his lips, he said? "You speak as if you were interested in the story?do you imagine you could ]jlay the heroine?" His unblushing bolddess abashed her for a moment; she felt as if^.he could not cope with suoh a spirit of evil; then the thought of Edward, and his love, his trust, his honor, so filled her heart that involuntarily she clasped her hand, while with tears trembling in her eyes she whispered, "my Husband!" The name was as a talisman against evil, and at once with a manner of unconscious digDity she turned and said with a sweet smile? "Excuse me, 1 have no ambition to play any other part than that of a trusting wife, and a truthful woman." Her innocence, her faith baffled him, and biting bis lip in disappointment he inwardly cursed the purity and truth that had so wounded his vanity. Recovering from his embarrassment, he again sought to enchain her attention, but not now as before with false ideas dressed in the garb of truth, the flimsey veil was cast asidf, and he seemed to wanton in his scorn of all things holy and pure. Her suspicion, too, completely aroused, now carefully analysed every expression, and trying by the test of truth the specious arguments, and the hollow sophistry of the unprincipled Sybarite, exposed the fallacy and heartlessness of his creed. If he spoke of nature, its beauties were only given to charm the seirses and delight the appetites, while of nature's God he was entirely ignorant. . If he touched upon His holy sanctuaries and sacred altars, he would make a solemn pageant answer for worship in the one, and a fonnal ritual bow the knee to the other j but for the worship of the heart and the aspirations tor a higher, holier and better nature, he knew and cared nothing. He made a mockery of truth, a jest of honor; sneered at a wife's virtue, and a virgin's purity, while he laughed to scorn every holy principle of our being. Not with coarse or unfeeling words, but with the refinement of a polished satire, his arrows were sharper from their brightness, while with soft accents and honeyed words he scattered right and left the deadly thrusts of unbelief. It was with a feeling of thanksgiving, Clara reached the scene of their pleasure. Alas! anything but a day of pleasure for her; never had she so missed her husband ; never had she so longed for him ; never had she so loved him. Under his protection was peace, in his love was truth, in his trust was safety; and as she contrasted his stern principle of right, his high toned, generous nature, his christian character, with the man before her, her whole nature went out in love towards the one, and in abhorence of the other. Clara had determined to effect some plan by which she might be freed from the pain of returning with him; but he seemed to suspect this, for as she descended he said? "Of course I shall have the privilege of taking you back," and then as he saw her hesitate, 6aid sneeringly?"You are not afraid of me, are you ? if so, I will at once state the case to some friend, aiid effect an exchange." It was what she dreaded, and he knew it: her name must not be so used and she would bear it all rather than give a moment's suspicion. She was, too, as fearless as she was truthful, and she trusted to her own power to restrain any importinence. "Ah Leslie ! just arrived ?" said Dudley. "You must have driven slowly, we have been a good half hour before you." "Possible 1" said Leslie, with a surprised /fT tito oomo nniolrlTT hnh" sinlr. (ill* "X UlUUjjUU VVUiW vjutv?<j N. n? w? ? ? ing his voice to a half whisper and glancing at Clara, "The golden hours on angel wings, flew o'er me and my"? He stopped, gave a laugh of affected confusion and said?"Mrs. Manvers makes one forget not only time, but circumstance." "Mrs. Manvers" replied she, 1 ooking steadily at him, with s. haughty air, "has neither romance to apply the quotation, nor falsehood to endorse the remark ; the drive was long, tedious, and uncomfortable, I understood, to both parties." ? +.rmt mrim** , n" iTi.'infcrtm -nWY Leslie colored crimson, while Dudley turned to conceal a laugh. "I admire a spirit of candor, even when expressed at the expense of politeness and courtesy," said Leslie,. bowing mockingly. "And I am willing fto sacrifice either to generosity and truth" she replied coldly. [conclusion next week.] pktllanews Jeabing. "EMMET AND"HIS LOVE." Now for the last sad look, The last faint cold embrace, . The latest kiss my love may print Upon her lovely face. | ***** Ay ! beer her from my sight? The bitterness is past? Bat yet one charge my spirit leaves A dying one?the last; ' Oh bid her love my-name Through-'death, infamy and shame. Robert Emmet was a celebrated lawyer and statesman of Ireland. * Daring the struggle foT independence, he stood foremost on the forum and in the field of liberty of his native country. He was the idol of Ireland. "None knew him but'to love him None named him but to praise." Naturally of a warm, ardent temperament, with a heart glowing with patriotism and a soul fired with the wrongs and wretchedness of his country; oh! is it any marvel that he stepped forth in her darkest hour and swore on the Altar of Freedom that his countrymen should have their liberty or he would pour out his heart's blood in the cause. Unfortunately, he was betrayed by his enemies?convicted of the crime of treason and sentenced to be executed. He delivered a fine speech before the court which has and will be preserved for ages yet to come.' * * * * 'Twas the evening of a'lovely day?the last day for the noble and ill-fated Emmet. A young lady stood at the castle gate and desired admittance into the dungeon. She was closely veiled and the keener could'nol imagine who she was or wh^ one of such a haughty bearing Should foe"an humble suppliant at the prison door.' However, he granted the boon?led her to the dungeon? opened the massive iron door, then closed il A * . ? ? * 1 TT again?ana tne lovers were alone, ne was leaning against the prison wall with a down cast head and his arms were folded on his breast. Gently she raised the veil from hei face and Emmet tamed to gaze upon all Earth contained for him?the girl whose sunny brow in the days of boyhood had beer his polar star?the maiden who had some times made him think "the world was all sunshine." The clanking of the chains sounded like a death-knell to her ears, and she wept like a child. Emmet said but lit tie, yet he pressed her warmly to his bosom and their feelings held a silent meetingsuch meetings methinks arc held in heaven, only?there we part no more. In a low.voice he besought her not to forget him when the cold grave received his body.. He spoke ol by-gone days?the happy hours of childhood tttVtnr? liio nroro kvi/vKf. onrl rrlnflAtlfl ? TTUUU UIO TTtlG Vil^UU AUU qIVUVUUI ADd he concluded by requesting her some' times to visit the places and scenes that were hallowed to his memory from the-days ol infancy, and though the world might pro> nounce his name with scorn and contempt, oR ! he prayed she would still cling to him with affection, and remember him when all others should forget. Hark ! The churohbell sounded and he remembered the time of execution. The turnkey entered, and after dashing a tear from his eye?he separated them from their long embrace and led the lady from the dungeon. Attheentrance she turned and their eyes met?they could not say farewell?the door swung upon its heavy hinges and they parted forever. Nc ?not forever?is there no heaven? At sunrise next morning he suffered gloriously?a martyr to his country and to liberty. * * * * "And one?o'er her the myrtle showers Its leaves by soft winds fanned, She faded amidst Italian flowers The last of that fair land." 'Twas in the land of Italy?it was the gorgeous time of sunset?sunset in Italj what a magnificent 6cene! A pale emaciated girl laid upon her bed of "death. Oh ! was it hard for her to die far from her native home in this beautiful land, where flowers bloom perennial and the balmy air come freshly to the pining soul? Oh ! no. Her star had set?the brightness of her dream had faded?her heart was broken. When ties have been formed on earth, close, burn- ? i!.. ? i.-x : ? i,??i J: lug UU3; >viiui is liiuiu ucaib-iuuuiu^ auu a^onizing to the spirit, than to find at last, the beloved one is snatched away, and we left with naught but sad, sad, memories of the dead. Enough?she died of grief?the betrothed of Robert Emmet?the lovely Sarah Curran, daughter of Counselor Curran a peer of the realm. Italy, contains her last remains ; its flowers breathe their fragrance over her grave, and the lulling tones of the shepherds lute, sounds a requiem to hei memory. Holland "without Usury Laws.? The case of Holland furnishes a striking proof of the correctness of the theory of free trade in money. The rate of interest has been, for a very long period, lower in Holland than anywhere else in Europe, and yet it is Che only country in which usury laws have been totally unknown, where capitalists are allowed to demand and borrowers to paj any rate of interest. Notwithstanding all the violent changes of the government, and the extraordinary disturbance of her financial concerns since 1790, the rate of interesl in Holland has continued comparativelj steady. During the whole of that period persons who could offer unexceptionable se curity have been able to borrow at from 2 t( 5 J per cent.; nor has the average rate of in terest charged on capital, advanced on the worst species of securer, ever exceeded ( or 7 per cent., except when the government was negotiating a forced loan. Bat in England, where the law declared that.not more than 5 per cent, should be taken, the rate of interest for money advanced on the best landed security varied, in the same period, from 5 to 16 or 17 per cent., or about five times as much as in Holland. REVOLUTIONARY INCIDENT. A correspondent of the Southern Christian Advocate relates the following interesting incident in South Carolina Revolutionary History. The heroine, Mrs. Trammel, died several years since, in Alabama. Mrs. Trammel was old enough to have been familiar with many of the bloody events which occured near the close of the Revolutionary War, in the'immediate neighborhood of her home, whioh was near King's Mountain, in South Carolina. Her husband Thorn as Trammel, bad unhesitatingly identified t his fortunes with those of the liberty Party/ as they were familiarly called, and being a good shot and of unflinching courage, he was a terror to all the friends of the King, as far as his name was known. At the time of which we write, that eec.tion of country was over run by a band of Tories, encamped in large numbers at King's , Mountain, under Gen. Ferguson. There was in this command a noted Tory, by the name of John Towns, who had long been the ? neighbor and professed friend of Trammel, i At this time, Towns was a sergeant, and coni stantly upon the scout for the purpose of capturing men, horses, etc. Young Trami mel could not feel much afraid somehow of ! Towns. ; He thought, surely he will not injure me; but in this he was mistaken, as he afterwards had occasion painfully to learn. I He had been for some time hiding and keep ing out of the way as best he could, until 1 one night he ventured to sleep in his own house. Just before day, he wa.Tarous.ed by the heavy tramp of horses, a^d^on rising he' found the house surrounded by a troop, which proved to be sergeant Towns and his M 1 band. -Trammel was at once seized and 1 ' bound, and carried out into the yard fofe'xe- ' ^ nrtn f Inn Tnrrna Vtia onflinrifr CUUUVU. J.VVTUO ^lUUUUtU UiO U|UIUUI 1V J executed invdue form, andloujishingit.over i Trammel's head pompously offered to free him if he would take the oath of allegiance to the King, and take up arms against . his own countrymen. This proposition Tram- mel met with merited scorn, and said in reply, <You can carry me hound tp the King's army, but you can never make me fight ' against my countrymen.' After some consultation, they concluded"'to try to get hold of some of Tramnfel's hor- ' ses, knowing that he owned some very fine ones which were hid out, and they knew -not how to find tfrem without using him as a guide. So very anxious were they to get them, that they proposed to relieve Trammel upon condition-that he would go and drive them up. He went and found them, but rode and drove them another way. After waiting until all hopes of his return had vanished, drinking and pillaging everyf thing they could turn to account, and feeling 1 no little ohagrin at their -disappointment, i searsreant Towns called on Mrs. Trammel for some clothing for his men, or goods out of i which to make some.- She replied. 'Sir, i you have already stripped me of all. I have i nothing more for you, except your nephew i there/ pointing to his sister's son an orphan ; boy, whom they in Charity had taken some. ; time before to keep from suffering, 'he has i a few clothes, which I made for him; you 1 can take them if you will.' But they did i not suit. i About this time, his eyes rested upon a i strong box, which sat near the fire placer, and he said, 'What have you in that box ? She ; replied,. indignantly, 'Sir, it is none of your 1 business.' 'Well/ said he, 'it is my busi- i ness, and I'll see what it contains.' .'No, < sir/ said she, 'you shall not look into that i box/ and seizing a heavy iron poker, she ] placed herself between Towns and the box, i and planted herself firmly, resolved to de- 1 fend her little treasure. The box contain- < ed a few quilts and counterpanes, the work of her own bands. Towns advanced and t drew his sword to intimidate her, but she I maintained her position without moving a I muscle. He presented his sword, and sneer- < ingly said, 'Now, would you hit a fellow?' < She said, 'Do you advance a step further, and you will see.' He looked her in the 1 eye, and saw plainly what her determination 1 was, and retired and left her in posseseion < of her little treasure. i : urn ( Breaking iiorses in South America. ? ?When we wish to ulomar' a horse?that is to conquor, or render him obedient, (what you call 'break' him,J we first place a nar- ' row band or ribbon of silk through his mouth, 1 behind all his teeth, draw it down gently, 1 apd fasten it under the chin. We are very ' careful not to have it interfere with the teeth, ? nor in any manner wound the lips, tongue, 1 or gums. The intention is not to give hrrn ^ pain, much less to overpower him by sudden exercise of great force. It is to give him first 1 feeling of constraint. This band is left in 1 its place for some time, while he is allowed ' his customary liberty of motion. He is at ^ the same time, often spoken to in tones of - gentleness, and thus gradually accustomed } ! to the sound of his master's voice, and pat- 1 i ted, and fondled, as far as his degree of 1 . timidity will allow. The band around his ; jaw, is after a time, drawn rather tighter, i and he is, afterwards gently led a little by i a short rein attached to it, while the same r practice is continued. * [ A light, simple smooth bit is afterwards [ introduced into his mouth, free from every . appendage which might wound, irritate, or t greatle compress his lips or tongue. Then r a bit, of a larger kind and different from, is I substituted; and finally the Spanish bridle, . with its powerful appendages, is applied, but ) without the exertion of its levers, or even . the intention of resorting to the use of the 5 tremendous power of which they are capable. > Only in extreme cases of need is the long k curb ever touched. That, and the parts on < vlrch it may be made to operate, are regarIcd rather as ornaments, like the large rowels >f the spurs. The horse as actuated by atachment to his master,*i n his docile and ;nergetic movements; and of this abundant ividence could be found, in facts within my snowledge, and by those known to almost ;very South American. I will give a single nstance, in confirmation of what I have laid: While I resided in Philadelphia, I trained l fine young North American horse in our South American manner, and with the comnon results. He became an object of adniration in Chesnot street; and was known )n the great routes <?f riders and drivers hrough the city and vicinity. * One day t friend offered to purchase him, and with nuch hesitation I sold him. He thought ;he horse an extraordinary one, but attribu:ed bis docilty, speed, uncommon gaits and ittachment to me, to his nature, and presumed that, by buying the horse, he should become possessod of them . all. I assured lirn that he never would take my place in ;he animal's affection, and that the process )f gentle and kind training, through which [ had brought him, had inalienably attached aim to me, so- that his early impressions :ould never be obliterated. He might be;ome fond of another master, and certainly ivould be, if treated properly, but in my opinion, the first attachment of a horse, when strong is never equalled by a second. Some, time after my friend called to me, ' in one of the streets of Philadelphia, and vith expressions of the highest satisfaction, spoke of his horse assuring me that he performed even better than he had expected, )n rides and journeys, and that ho-was obelient, trusty and grateful in an extraordinary degree. lie was confirmed in his opinion that his excellencies were the ' effects of a most uncommon na'ture, believing that not jne such horse could be found among ten thousand. <As for his attachment to you/ be added, <the animal has transferred it all to me, just as I' expected.' <Vnn nre enh'relr mistaken in f.Vlfltr' re plied I, 'and I can easily prove it to" you the first time I see him.' "'There he is.' replied ray friend, 'standing in my gig by yonder tree. Now you may try any experiment with him you please; I know he will show that he obeys me better than you/ 'Untie the rein with which you have fastened-him,' replied I. 'Why should I do that ?' inquired he. * 'Because I do not wish to see him break it,' I answered. 'I will call him, and he will surely come,"as soon a9 he hears me,_ in spite of evcty thh)g.v 'Ydtirwill see,7 "replied he; 'lie will not stir, if I stand by him, and order him to stay quiet. By this time a number of friends and strangers had stopped to hear our conversation, and to witness the result. 'Now,' said I, 'once more I request you to throw off that new rein from the tree, to prevent it being brgken, for the horse will be here in a moment.' 'I wijl risk the rein !'" replied my friend ; .'go on !' He then went to the spot, placed himself a little distance behind the gig, and spoke to the horse telling him to stand still.I then stepped into the street, where -the animal could see me, and, without approaching him, called his name, with a word or two in Spanish, in which language I had been accustomed to epeak to hinu He started,, pricked up his ears, looked at me and made a slight motion forward, as far as bis rein lljowed. 'Whoa?' cried his new master; 'stand still, you rascal!' I repeated his name in a louder voice, with, a few more Spanish expressions, aBd the rein was tightened, stretched and strained to its utmost. [ raised my arm, called him to 'Come ! come ! your mastey calls you !' clapping my hand upon my thigh, and forward he pushed, with ill his force; snap ! went the. reins and on 3ome the joyful animal, drawing thn vehicle ifter him at a dashing rate, rattling otfgr the pavement, until he reached me, when he stopped, gently extended his neck, laid his bead on my shoulder to be caressed and fondled, like an affectionate child. 'Huzza ! huzza?' rose from the crowd of spectators, who pressed around me, to learn the history of the animal, and my mode of training him. In my imperfect English I jndeavored to express what I have now fully explained in writing. Will my reader be induced to reject the ralse and cruel ideas too common in the United States, of the nature and capacities jf horses, and try the more reasonable, humane, and successful made of training and treatment of thoso noble animals, which we idopt in South America ? Preserved Meat.?A little more than three weeks ago a friend of mine was rummaging about his cellar, when he stumbled lpon a circular tin of preserved beef, which iad been given him more than twenty years igo by Sir John Ross, and bore the followng printed inscription, signed by Sir John [loss himself: <The tin case, No. 10, of preserved boiled neef, was landed from the Fury, August, L825, in latitude 72 deg. 47 min., longitude )1 deg. 50 min., and taken from thence, July, L833, by me, John Ross, Captain.' As may be imagined, such a rarity as meat vhich had been killed upwards of thirty'our years, was not to be passed over in sience; consequently my friend invited a jhosen few to partake of his hospitality at i bachelor's party. Along with the entrees ;ame the contents of the tin case, in exactly :he same state as it was turned out of the :ase, consisting of ten pounds boiled beef, surrounded with fat, and although, as I have said before, the bullock of which it formerly must have formed a part, had been killed upwards of thirty-four years, it proved to be still as sweet and fresh and containing as much nourishment as it formerly did, when carried to the Arctic regions in the unfortunate Fury, in 1825. Need I add that one it least of our party paused for a moment to slink oyer the uncertain end of those gallant jxplorers. I have been induced to narrate Jiis, as I am not certain if there has before been a chance of proving it possible to keep meat perfectly good for so long a number of years. By the kindness of the owner I became the happy possessor of the empty case, and I look upon it as a venerable antiquity. ?London Field. BLACKBERBY WINE. This wine if rightly made, is to our taste, better than any Catawba that ever came from Longworth's cellers, and wc have been -it the- trouble of procuring the following receipts for its manufacture from one who knows all about it. To Make Blackberby Witft?To one gallon of blackberries, add one pmfe-of boiling water, let it stand until it begins to ferment, then press off the Iiqunrand add a half pound of the best brown sugar, put in a cool place until fermentation W:4iearly ceased, which will be in eieht or ten davs, according to the temperature of the weather, then cork tip the vessel closely until fall, then the wine should be bottled. Be careful to cork the vessel before the wine becomes too acid, even should the fermentation be rather active^*?* The above recipe makes the best wine, but the following is more approved by some as yielding more wine and nearly as good. To a gallon of juiexpressed from the berries, add two quarts of water and three and a half pounds of - sugar, and proceed as in the firet recipe. .v - ' Any body who drinks wine &y itself stands in some danger of becoming'a ''guzzler," so here is a recipe for making something good to eat with it. To make good mock miaoe pies?mix one cap of sugar, one of jnolasses, oae and a half of bread crumbs, one of cider vinegar, one of seeded raisins, and four of water, three eggs, one ounce of oloves, one ounce of so* da?this will make material enough for three pies.?Augusta Dispatch. Cause of Frog Showers.?The actual fact that considerable spaces of ground have been suddenly covered with numerous small frogs, where there were no frogs before, has been proved beyond a doubt.- Some' have called in the aid of water spouts, whirlwinds, and similar causes, to account for their elevation into the regions of air, and some have fli Anrvlif tliof tli O Tf moro fnum A A i n Vf WU V UVWqUV iUUV VUV.J nwio IU1U1?U AM ??uw clouds, from whence they were precipitated. It has generally been in August, and often after a season of drouth, that these hordes of frogs have made their appearance, but, with Mrs. Siddons, will exclaim, "How got they Ihere?" "Simply ~as follows S ' t * The animals have been hatched, and quitted their tadpole state and their pond at the same time, days before they become visible to, or rather observed, by mortal eye. Finding it unpleasant in the hot, parched fields, and always running a great chance of being then and there dried up by the heat of the sun, they wisely retreated.Xo the coolest and dampest places they'ooald find, vizr under clods and stones, Where, on account of their dusky color, they escape ,notice. Down comes the rain, and out comes the frogs, pleased with the chance. Forthwith appears an article in the country papers; the good folks flock to see the phenomenon. There are frogs hopping about; the visitors remember the shower, and a simple countryman swears the frogs fell in the shower, and he saw them fall; frogs, visitors, countrymen, editors, are all pleased, and nobody undeceives them, nor are they willing to be undeceived.?Buckland's Curiosity of Natural History. John Randolph and J. C. Calhoun. ?An amusing reconciliation John Randolph patched up with Mr. Calhoun when the former believed that he was on his death bed. "They were rival Southern statesmen, and the former being the senior, as well as the, stronger of the two, had the most marked'position. Mr. Randolph, pending this controversy, and toward the latter part of his Congressional life, was taken ill. He was considered sick even unto death. All hope of his recovery was given up, and the friends of Mr. Calhoun, being desirous that a reconciliation should take place before Randolph died, arranged a meeting between the two. Air. Calhoun repaired to the bed side of Mr. Randolph. He found him feeble, though able to converse freely. Mutual explanations took place. Mr. Calhoun sincerely forgave his prostrate antagonist every severe, thing, he had ever uttered against him, and Mr. Randolph reciprocated. Thus were the kindest relations (ostensibly) restored. But to the astonishment of Calhoun, as he was about taking his leave, Randolph called him back, and with his shrill, sharp voice exclaimed: "Now, 0? member Mr. Calhoun?if I get well, all tfcw goes for nothing." He did get well, and true to his well settled hatred, he never spoke to Calhoun afterwards." A Negro Scared to Death.?The Ouchita, (La.,) Herald relates the following and calls it a case of "elephanticide A negro man belonging to Dr. Sanders, of Holly Springs, Dallas county, we underchnif maa fricrVifjinofl tn rlootk nna n f OVOUV*} TTMU illguwuvu WW UVUUU %J J VUV V* Mabie's elephants week before last. The circumstances, as we learned them, were these: After the performance of the company at Holly Springs, the elephants were removed a short distance from the pavillion and confined in the bushes to await the time of starting to the next place of exhibition ; the negro, not knowing that they were there, was passing near by when one of them passed his trunk around the body of the boy, drawing him gently toward his elephantship. The negro seeing the huge proportion of the animal, which the darkness of the night, no doubt, greatly magnified, made a herculean effort, and succeeded in escaping from the disagreeable embrace; he ran a short distance, arousing the whole neighborhood with his cries, and fell; being unable to rise, he was carried to a house near by, where he soon after died, the doctors say from bo other cause than fright