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, ' ' . _ ' ? 1 , ? ^ 1 ' ? i,i . ,i.i, .I,11' 11 ' ,n ,i a.i i, i,<g*CT ' l?wh* oti8THp^pri?etor "} ' An Independent Journal : For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. . |w pee ahitom nt abtaeoe. VOlJ 5. . .. " ? YORKVILLE,, S. P., THURSDAY, JULY 14,1859. * ;.1 V A V "lSTQ^8. ' ISSUED EVERY THURSDAY MOBBING, " * * " .AT Two Dollars per year, in Advance. , * - . '4 SIX COPIES, 910 001 TEX COPIES, SIS 00, , , ? INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. v ~ ADVERTISEMENTS Wfllbe inserted at O.ve Dollar per square for the first and THrRTY-srv*.v-ANT>-A-HALr CEVTS for each subsequent insertion (lets than three months.) A Square consists of the space occupied by 13 lines of Brevier type; 100 words or o.ve 1vch AND a. half space. No Advertisement counted lees than a square. Scmt-Monthiv, Monthly, or Quarterly Advertisements, will be charged offs Dollar per square for each Insertion. For Advertising Estrays Tolled, 92; to be paid by the Magistrate. 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V Personal Communications, when admissible; communications of limited or individual interest, or recommendations of Candidates for offices of honor, profit or tfuat. will bo charged for at from 3 to 10 cents per line. Jit Original jlfetfcjr. . \r - . > - For tiw YorkviLs Enquirer. . "TAKE MY ARM" By the author of "Love, Courtship and Marriage;" "Unrequited Love;" "The First _ . Kiss," &c., &c. [CONCLUSION.] Your father had engaged board for you in a very select private family; and, as the omnibus passed through the crowded, busy, bustling streets, you were wondering, ever so much, what kind of a personage Mrs. Dazzle would prove. You knew that she was wealthy and refined?that she was re " " i:u?i garded as a woman or taste, uueim wwwplishments and exceedingly beautiful withal. You knew, that she kept servants in livery?that she gave fashionable parties, balls, soirees and all thatkind of thing?you knew all this; but there came over your simple heart a something (was it regret ?) that made you sigh very deeply, as you thought of the snug old farm-house away off. in the woods. The omnibus halted before a magnificent residence, and the president of the Seminary politely assisted you to alight. As your little feet touohed the marble pavement, and your wondering eyes scanned the tall, elegant building, you found your teeth pressed ever so firmly'upon your quivering lips, and the tears flowing ever so freely down your flushed cheeks. What cared you about the glittering plate upon the door?the Turkish carpets and magnificent furniture in the hall ? What cared you about the courtly bow of the porter;?the kiss of Mrs. Dazzle herself? True, the polished walls were hung with paintings from the inspired pencils of the greatest masters of art?true, the marble-top tables were ladened with the products of mind?true, the vases were freighted with the most gorgeous flowers, breathing the most exquisite fragrance?true, there were evidences of taste, wealth and refinement all around you; but ah ! the poor home-sick heart yearned after the old home ?the dear voices there?the loved faces beside the hearth-stone? "The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock, that clicked behind the door." Am I not relating your real experience, and does not your heart even now feel somewhat of the chill, the loneliness and desolation of that never-to-be-forgotten hour? Don't you remember how you longed to retire to the privacy of your chamber??how little you ate at the supper table? Don't you remember how your heart sunk within you, when you learned that you were not to sleep alone? She was beautiful;?oh! so beautiful!? but, then you wanted to have a good cry when you were in your room?you wanted to read some passages from the little moroc? ??"Rikl/% wrViis?Vk rfufty nor\n Kail el i n. CO OOVCrcu rluivu uvu ? ^/i?j/w mmv* ped into your trunk. You wanted to kneel before your father's God Ijefore you closed your eyes; but, oh! my, how your tiaiid, girlish heart shrank from these obligations in the presence of a stranger. Trtfrothflr T"n nnapntnd ntnig case and entered your sleeping apartment. You seated yourself beside the window in silenco; while Lula?your companiou?prepared to write a letter. She saw you, as you bowed your head upon the window-sill?she heard that low sob, which you tried so hard to stifle ; and the human nature within her (sublime even in its ruins!) was aroused.' She knew what that sob meant?she knew why those tears were trickling down your cheeks and through your little fingers?she krvpw that kind of language very well, and her inner ear caught the sound of the unuttered cry : "7 want mother !"? Don't you remember how that little white arm glided around your waist, and how your aching head was pillowed ever so tenderly upon the beautiful bosom of that fair young girl ? Don't you remember how that little soft hand parted the curls from your brow ? ?how a pair of warm lips pressed your tearbathed cheeks ? She didn't chide you for your weakness?she knew better than to wipe away your tears and bid you weep no more. She wept too. Ah, me ! how your sad heart drank in the sweet sympathy which her tears and caresses imparted ! How much good it done you to feel her heart-throbs pulsating in unison with your own ! Thank heaven for the buoyancy of the youthful heart' The sobs were soon hushed, the tears soon dried; and the ruffled heart grew sweetly calm beneath the "Peace-bestill" of sympathy. You remember how long you both talked of the loved ones at home?the studies which were to be began on the morrow? the grave professors, and the fair classmates ? ? W???W?????WW???W wonderful being in the world, and that she told you more in one hour than you had ever known. Why you never heard such tales of balls, opera9 and soirees before, and your poor little heart fairly danoed with delight " at the prospect of attending such things.? Then, too, her dresses!?what beautiful patterns they were !?what exquisite taste was displayed in the arrangement of the laces, frills and flounces. That bonnet! What a "love of a thing" it was. Where in the world did she buy such "darling" ribbon ? Those bracelets! how they sparkled, flashed and glistened in the gas-light! Those ear. and finger rings!?those "cxtatic" cuff-pins ! ?oh ! they were absolutely magnificent! Poor, innocent girl! Away off in the pine woods an old, white haired maD was lifting his voice in prayer for you, tnat your pure heart might not becomo contaminated by the vanities and temptations of city-life. Ah! me, could he have looked over the intervening miles that separated his only daughter from his love and influence, how would his heart have trembled to notioe the effect of all this sham glitter upon your susceptible heart! You will acknowledge, as you review the past, that your Bible was read that night in any other than $ devotional frame of mind? that your prayer was a mockery! Ypu will not deny, that Lnla's conversation, and the display of her finery exerted a baneful influence upon your mind; and that you felt a spirit of discontent and dissatisfaction creeping?snake-like?into your bosom, and coiling its poisonous form around your very heart of hearts! Why should not you have such rich dresses? Why should not rubies gleam upon your fingers and diamonds-flash upon^wrbosom ? Why did not "papa" have your ears bored and hung with drops like Lula; or why was there not a necklace of pearls around your neck, and topaz bracelets around your wrists ? Didn't such thoughts as these possess youi mind that livelong night? You did not consider that Lula's father was a man of great wealth, and, that what was all right and proper for his daughter to wear would have looked quite out of place upon a poor farmJ \.L? V ?u ? er 5 aaugiuur. xuu weic uui v^uitc uiu snough to know that your father jcurlccdfor hi$ money, and that Lulu's father made money work for him. That explained it all. Morning camg?Mrs. Dazzle kissed you, and enquired very kindly after yonr health ?you breakfasted in silence?Professor Jigglemaree waited in the hall to escort you to the Seminary. How politely he received you!?how gracefully ho bowed and how delighted he was to "make the acquaintance of his old friend's daughter I" Somehow or other?you cannot exactly explain the wherefore?you thought that he looked at you rather a little too affectionately; that the tones of his voice savored too I much of the familiarity of an old acquaintance ; but you were notaware, perhaps, that Mr. Jigglemaree had taught young ladies for so many years, that he had acquired a softness and gentleness of manner, which enly such men can hope to possess. In other words you forgot, or did not know, that the flower which grows nearest the rose partakes somewhat of its fragrance. It was time to start for the Seminary? j how your heart fluttered at the thought of of meeting grave and dignified professors, and, perhaps, over one hundred young ladies whom you had never seen. You were never so much surprised, as when the professor of" ' ' * . .t 1 TTTI .. I 11. ierea you ms arm ac ine aoor. w nai; warn out into the broad day-light with a strange gentleman after a few moments acquaintance? ?shocking! "Take my arm," said the professor again ; and, scarcely knowing whether it "ought to be so" or not, you took it. As you walked beside the professor, you remembered how tenderly the old man had taken your arm, as he lead you from the stage to the depot. It was so good to close your little fingers around his arm !?so good to feel him draw you closer to his side, and call you "My daughter!" Then you thought of the President of the Seminary, as he escorted you to the omnibus after your arrival in the city. His manner was dignified, courteous and respectful, and evinced the thorough-bred gentleman. But this man?this professional gentleman, if you please?was rather too familiar, you thought; and the warm life-blood came rushing through your was, ofr yum ham] TOuChelf his arm. From happy girlhood you had been unaccustomed to the society of the other sex. Father and brother alone had ever taken your hand and kissed your lips; and now you are comparatively alone with an entire stranger. No wonder you felt as you did. You did not consider, that Mr. Jigglemaree was quite right in offering you his arm, as you were a stranger, and had never been in the bustle and confusion of a crowded city; nor did you recollect that there would have been no impropriety .committed if you had politely assured him of your ability to walk alone. But you had been so long accustomed to the quiet routine of country life, that, what with the fatigue of travel, the splendor of Mrs. Dazzle's house, new faces, and all that kind of thing, your poor little head become so bewildered, and your young heart so restless, that you could think of nothing at all but "Home?sweet home !" * * * * Months had passed away?vacation was drawing near. You had gradually become used to city life; made rapid progress in all j your studies; become quite a proficient in wax and embroidery work, and deserved praise for the manner in which you played the harp. Your girlish timidity and bashfulness had pretty much worn off by contact with sooiety. lrou loved the girls very, very dearly, and respected the faculty very highly; but ever an anon you would seek out some quiet place, where you could be alone, so as to think of "the old folks at home" and have a good, hearty cry. One flower-perfumed afternooa in the balmy month of June, Lula met you at the ing with the most exquisite delight. "Oh ! such delightful news 1"?brother was coming to take her home next week ! and she clapped her tiny hands, and danced about the room, as if her heart could not contain its happiness Delightful news indeed to a warm hearted and affectionate sister! But how could she expect-yo? to be interested about it??what in tho world did the girl mean by intruding so unceremoniously upon your piivacy and telling you about her brother ??-pshaw! you didn't care a Btraw! You didn't care ? What, then, meant that bright light that gleaned from those pretty blue eyes ? What meant that crimson blush upon your cheeks, face and neck? It meant something, surely! Don't you remember how you kept somebody's ambrotype in that pink bordered waist-apron for two whole weeks before you gave it back to Lula? Don't you remember how you used to slip it between the leaves of your French reader in recitation hours, so as to get a nice, long look at it??and wasn't it reported ATm TAouulo onfnollr ULUUUg IUU iuuu uxto? x/utj/iiv uwwM..j saw you kiss it, aod then slily slip it in your bosom? Aha ! you sly girl!?don't tell me, that you didn't care a straw whether Lula's brother came or not! He did come?he was introduced to you; but somehow or other, his manner seemed cold, haughty and reserved ; and the heart within you, which had been full of hope, sunk into painful misgivings. You should have known that a oertain degree of reserve is characteristic of the real gentleman when first made acquainted with a young lady.? You should have known, that a man of common sense and self-respect never allows himself to be familiar until he is well satisfied, that, that familiarity will not be productive of contempt. He was polite and respectful ?that is all that any stranger can claim; but you had hoped that he would have taken your hand, and let down his dignity a little, seeing that you and his sister were such devoted friends. Now, you should have tcmembered, that Lula's brother was very far above you. He was an educated, polished and wealthy man, while poor little you, were simply a school-girl; and he had seen too I much of life, and valued its opportunities too highly, to waste its precious moments among giggling girls and pert misses. How did he know, that i/ou were different in your mental and moral organizations from the one thousand and one young ladies of your age, who spend more time upon the reading of trashy novels and silly poetry, than they do in the cultivation of those virtues and graces which dignify the sex, and make theta only a little lower than the angels ? Confess to me, that notwithstanding his air of cold and dignified reserve, you loved him?loved him for that very air of calm, uncompromising dignity. Don'fc you remember how the whole expression of his countenance changed as he fondly embraced his sister??how the stern voice sunk into a lower key, and the dark brow brightened into the beautiful lovelight of affection ? For five days you were much in his society, and you could not have failed to notice a marked change in his manner towards you. He appeared to take so much interest in your studies?sat boside you for hours while you were painting?assisted you in your French translations?purchased a musicstand for you and placed upon it the latest and most popular pieces of music. Ah ! the man of strong intellect felt the power of your influence far more than you dreamed of ! The soft, sweet voice repeating the sublime productions of classic literature?the little white fingers upon the harp strings?the beautiful head bowed over the embroidery work?the sweet blue eyes beamincr with delight uDon the creations of the o "* ~~ O 4T . pencil and easel?all these little things gave birth to an influence, the measure of whose potency was co-equal with the power of death! There was a concert to he given one evening, and ho, of course, invited you and Lula to accompany him. For some reason, known best by herself, Lula declined the invitation on the plea of a sick-headache. Iler brother did not seem more than above anxious about her society; and you could not help thinking that they had planned things to suit their own purposes. "Take my arm," were the very first words he uttered, as you stepped out: upon the sidewalk. They were simple, common-place words?you had heard them made use of very often before?but your bosom was stirred by them even to its innermost recesses, and your heart bounded with a new emotion as he thus addressed you. "Wasn't it so 1? There was something about the manner of expression?something so tenderly sweet? that your poor little heart, pulsated wildly, your lips quivered under the influence of some mysterious power, and a warm, bright light came upon your soul, making it all a place of flowers, sunlight and singing of birds. "Take my arm," as said by your father, did not make you feel thus?did not uncap the very fountains of your nature and let out a flood of fraerranceover vour throbbing heart. ~ ? w "Take my arm," when Raid by the President of the Seminary, did not thus affect you?did not kindle afire within the heart and send the hot, boiling blood, like a stream of volcanic lava, rushing through every vein. "Take my arm," as eaid by the Professor, carried no each influence with it?satisfied, not the sweet yearnings of your soul?lulled the sensitive heart iato no such beautiful dream?lighted up the future with no such visions of loveliness. Shall I tell you why ? ?shall I solve the problem ??unravel the mystery? Before I do so, let me ask you why it was, that among all the young gentlemen that you knew?that you conversed and walked with, you should love but one. Why was it, that Edgar, William, Julian, Eugene, and as many more, failed to touch the heart and win it? They were young?they are all handsome, educated and wealthy. They were amiable, social; virtuous and engaging; Uhil^ula^ro^^sjaeaM^^j^^jL stern, proud and haughty. Why did you love him ??why did you li.y your warm heart at his feet at the first sight of him ?? Ah ! you do not know?you cannot tell!? From the moment that you beheld his ambrotype, you felt that, in a great measure, your destiny was in his hands?that your happiness was inseparably connected with his. From the first moment that you looked upon him, the whole aspect of life seemed to change, and the timid, bashful girl bounded in an instant into the woman, and realized the great heart-experience which only she can understand. No woman can tell uahy she loves!?no woman can help loving whom she loves! The language of her heart is this: "I know not, I care not if gnilt's in tliy heart? I know that I love thee whoever thou art!" , Ah ! was it not because you loved Charles, that bis "Take my arm" iell upon your ear so sweetly; and was it not because you hoped that he loved you, that your heart felt so sweet a serae of satisfaction as he walked beside you f I think that I know something ?perhaps, not much?about the heart (the great, enduring, gentle heart 1) of woman. I think that I have shown this in all of my simple, off-hand sketches; and I will tell you how you felt when Charles said, "Take my arm." You felt (it was not thought?it was feeling) that the time would come, when that voice would fall into a lowe:: key?when it would sink into sweet whisperings of love. YoTl felt?(the spirit of prophesy was upon you)?that at no very distant period, the arm that you leaned upon, would glide, ever so gently, around your waist, and draw you sweetly to his side?that his hand would pass, as tenderly as a mother's, over your soft brown curls, and close in fond pressure around your dainty little hand. You felt that the proud man beside you would be melted down into the gentleness of & little child, and that the erect form would bend over you yet, to kiss, ever so lovingly, your rosy lips. You felt, that the "Take-myarm" was a life act?an eternal covenant ! That, that arm would be around you all through the sunny season of youth?around you when the "dark days" should come? around you when the shadows were upon your heart, or when the song and the sunshine were there?around you when the nrnoTt? foof xrnnlH fifrimhlp in the jrreat life "V"V 'vuv -- c journey?around you when the soft bine eyes were dim with age, a nd the little white hand tremulous by the weight of years! Around you when your "father's" coffin was being lowered into the grave?around yon when the bell was tolling for "mother"?around you when the lips are mute, that call you "dear sister" now?around you in the battle of life, the hour of sickness, the day of death! Am I not right? Was it not this that filled your heart with such indefinable sensations, that beautiful night, when Charles said "Take my arm May your sweet expectations be abundantly realized?your budding hopes burst into flowers; the influence-of whose fragrance shall linger about your heart away down to the closing scene of life, until the voice of the Omripotent shall fall upon your ear like the blessedness of "news from a far country," and the low gurgle of waters on the parched desert! ? PisceHaneotis lifting. Prom the Charleston Courier. BATTLE OF KING'S MOUNTAIN. Who that has a memory to look back over the distant past, a mind to comprehend the present, or an imagination to embody the dim visions of the far off future,, as be stands on some imaginary eminence, and scans with the mind's eye, the ever-increasing power and glory of bis country, but feels his heart swell with gratitude towards the brave men who gave so rich an inheritance! We, at this day and generation, cannot honor our country with an affection too pure and fervent; we cannot serve her with an energy of purpose or a faithfulness of zeal too steadfast or ardent; and "sooner would- the right hand forget its cunning" than we forget those who made us a free, a happy people, and bestowed upon us, their children, this mighty republic?this great country ! It is not the East, with all her hills aud lovely valleys, with her countless sails, and the rocky ramparts of her shores. It is not the icy North, with her thousand villages and her giant works, with her frontiers of the lake and the ocean. It is not the distant West, with her forest sea and her inland isles, with her luxuriant expanses clothed in the verdant corn, with her beautiful Ohio, majestic Missouri, and mighty Mississippi. Nor is it yet the sunny South, clothed in mimic snow wreaths of cotton, the plantations of rich and juicy cane, and the golden robed fields of rice. These, all of chese, are but sisters of one great cnofederacy, one mighty family, our country, and such our L ? ? ? ? ??AAefAi?o mon Iai? sic on mnnu OTiiVU, UUt UUUIC auwoiuio nuu IUI uo uu ? J a hard fought Rattle field. Of such was King's Mountain, 7th of October, 1780.? This great enterprise did not originate on the battle field of Cowpens, as has been stated. To the contrary, there was no preliminary arrangements, nc preconcerted action. It was purely accidental. It is well known that all the officers engaged therein belonged to .that independent order or class of men known as partisans, who, on this occasion, as was usual with them, moved off immediately after the battle of Cowpens, each in his own direction, to scour the country and strike the enemy wherever he should be found.? They were, therefore, rapidly wheeling through the country in every direction.? Ferguson like themselves, was a partisan, and as constantly on the go, moving from point to point. In these marches and counter marches some of the patriot parties met with each other, and learning of Ferguson's others that might be met with of the fact, " and ask their co-operation. In this way the troops that fought this battle were brought together, and when so united, pressed forward to do that which has rendered the spot, and the names of those that were engaged therein, sacred in the memory of their coun- i trymen. Green forever be that memory! To succeed in the noble undertaking, there must be no misunderstanding; no illfeeling occasioned by jealousy. To avoid i this?each officer being independent of the other?it was resolved that the troops should be as equally divided as possible, in to three divisions, and a division given to each of the three Colonels present, holding the oldest commission, and these were to command.? The other officers taking position with either one or the other, as inclination led. Williams, Shelby and Campbell were thus the commanders. Col. Hammond united with Williams. The arrangements were few, simple and soon completed, and it was determined to ascend the mountain in as many directions as there were divisions, in order 1 the more certainty to guard against Fergu- i goo's escape, who they determined to kill or capture; for with them on that day there was to "be no such word as failand nobly i did they accomplish this high resolve. Col. Williams' line occupied the centre, Colonel Shelby's the right, and Col. Campbell's the left. The ascent wa9 commenced at once by Williams' party, whilst Campbell and Shelby moved towards the base of the line of ' their respective routes. Ferguson in the < meantime formed for action, and moved downwards to meet the Americans at their coming, and the conflict commenced about i midway of the slope. Never was harder i fighting done, or more gallantry and daring < displayed than on this occasion. i The patriots fought every inch of their 1 way up the steep and rugged aBcent, driving the enemy before them and to a more contracted position. Step after step up the rug- j ged surface was marked with blood, and the ] whole mountain side kept enveloped in flame by the constant and rapid firing of the patri- ?, ots below, and enemy above; who fell back ; towards the summit after every volley, whilst , the Americans sprang upwards and upwards ] after them, as they became more and more . heated and maddened by the fight. Balls i now flew thick and fast, and whistlecTover , and aTound in every direction, tearing , through the trees and under brushwood like the ont-pouring of the driving hail storm - cutting off limbs and leaves, and scattering them as a Fall on the ground?scaling up the roughened bark from thejarger growth, and cending the splinters like locusts flying through the air. As ball after ball would strike and enter the same time, it was peal- : ed up and made to resemble the scatching marks of the lightning bolt hurled from the thunder cloud. On and on the patriot lines , moved, mounting upwards along the slippery , slope like some huge envenomed serpent in its winding after its prev, hissing fire ] and death. Ferguson saw his fate as the lines approached faster and faster, and near- . er and nearer, and fought lite an infuriated demon. He rode here and there, urging his men to the fight in tones of angry passion, enforced by violent gestures. * - The centre line under Williams and Hammond were now within less than thirty yards of the British front, pouring in a terrible and deadly fire, before which the enemy fell back in confusion. At this moment Ferguson rushed in front of his men, sitting with bare head on his horse, his hair streaming in the wind, and his countenance bloated with rage, as he turned in his saddle towards his men; who now hesitated to adVance. Just then, Williams' horse, wounded and snorting with foam and blood at every bound, dashed forward. Ferguson turned to receive him; their swords crossed, nothing more, for at that instant a deadly volley 1 came from both sides, and the two combat- t ants fell mortally wounded. At the same l moment, the enemy broke ground and fled up the mountain, the Americans rushing af- | ter them with a yell of concentrated rage, j Col. Hammond dismounted and hastened to t the side of his wounded friend, reoeived his } commands (never to give up the hill) and j farewell, then gave orders for his safe and ^ careful removal to the cot in the valley be- ] low, and stopping just long enough to see him off, hastened after his men. As he pas- ( sed where Ferguson fell, he saw that ho waB j not dead; and stooping down, took him , gently under the arms and raised him to a j sitting posture, placing his back aganist a ^ tree, by the side of which he had fallen, re- j ceived the dying man's thanks for his atten- , tion, and hastened forward after the flying , enemy. The conflict wps soon terminated, and returning down the mountain on his way with the glorious intelligence to Williams, Col. Hammond passed where Ferguson had been left and found him fallen over on his face and dead. The ball that robbed him of life had entered the breast, directly on ^he median line, passing entirely through the body. On reaching the hamlet where Williams lay, Col. H. found him unable to speak, but conscious, and told him the battle was over and the victory won?saw his dying smile, received the pressure of his icy hand, and then departed. Soon thereafter the gallant spirit quite forever the fields of carnage and blood below, for realms of peace and life above.? The American arms had been successful, but "? ' -1 al ,,T?1 *1_ - r it naa cost tnem anouier "uoauua iu iuu ? fight." The brave Williams was gone! He was not briliant, but good and firm and true! Whenever, and as often as he took a measure in hand, his iron will and nerve allowed no relinquishment until accomplished. Such was the christian soldier and patriot, whose bones yet remain unmarked by a single stone. Col. Hammond tells us that in this affair he had a man who had fought with him in many a battle, and, until this occasion, proved as true as steel; here, however, he failed. The night preceding the battle, he had a 1 presentiment th%t if he went into action on i when at early dawn the roll llat wag oalled, he was not present to answer to his name. Col. Hammond dispatohed an Orderly after him, who found him in his tent covered op, head and ears, with his blanket. When . ordered op and made to walk out, he shook and shivered as though he had an ague-fit ' upon him; told the Orderly his dream, declaring that if forced into battle that day he would not return alive, and begged permission to remain. To this, however, the Orderly paid no attention, and forced him to his place in the ranks. The roll was again commenced, but on reaching his name it was not responded to?he waa gooe. Again be was sent for, and, as before, found covered np in his tent. He was brought out and compelled to stand bis ground. In a few moments after he reached the ranis, the tine moved up the mountain, and the firing commenced, after which no farther notice was taken^ofhim. . v/ , After the action, .he was fonnd stretched , at fall length behind a stamp, dead. Col. H. says there was no doabt that he had sought shelter behind this stomp at the commencement of the aotion, and that when the firing began to be brisk, his cariosity became too strong for his prudence, and overcoming to some extent the fear that oontrolled him, ra;sed his head above the level of the stump to see what was going on, and thas received the stray ball as it came, directly in the forehead, killing him instantly where he lay.? The circumstances in connection justify *he conclusion. Col. Hammond says if he had been apprised of the facts in the case he would certainly have not allowed him to go into batt'.e, bnt knowing nothing of the state of his m;nd, he thought he was laboring under the influence of cpwardice, and was at that moment unwilling to tolerate anything of the kind. L. 1 WHO IS GABLBALDI P . Thongh the name of Garibaldi is a familiar one to the most of our readers, the history of the man may not be so-well known. Giuseppe Garibaldi is a native of Nice, and now about forty seven years of age. His father was a mariner, and gave hfs boy Giuseppe an education that peculiarly fitted the lad for a maritime life. Tonne Garibaldi ? t ? r > * made several voyages to various parts of Italy, the Levant and the Black Sea. He was a bold sailor and a warm-hearted generous man. " . " Well read in Italian history, he could not help contrasting her former glorious eondition'with that which followed the European treaties of 1815, and at Rome, amid the monuments of ancient splendor, he conceived the hope of the resurrection of Italian liberty. When told that a society of young Italians already existed who had devoted their lives to the glorious work, he eagariy enrolled himself among their number, and when the uprising of 1834 took place, he became a prominent aotor in the eventful scenes. The movement proving a failure, Garibaldi with others was condemned to death. He succeeded, however, in escaping in disuse to Genoa, and thence to the coast of Franec, where, to place himself beyond the risk, of re-capture, he took passage in a friendly vessel for Brazil. His original intention was then to engage in trade, but finding on his arrival that the patriots of La 1 Plata were in arms, he engaged in their service 8# a naval officer, and was soon mingled in their public affairs. His deeds of valor ind the dangerous encounters which be bad with the enemy, seonred him the lasting gratitude of his companions in arms. No man who ever fought on the coast is said to have performed more wonders of naval skill : ind courage than this Italian volunteer. It was while in South America that he narried a Brazilian lady from the province < >f St. Catharine's. She accompanied him ; n most of his expeditions, sharing intrepidy all the vicissitudes to whioh he was expored daring the many years that he had bat- ! Jed for the republio of Bio Grande. j When the revolutionary troubles of 1848 1 jroke out in Europe, Garibaldi hastened 1 jack to Italy, aod arrived at Rome during i ;be formation of the Roman republic. He ! vas at once appointed a general of the body 1 mown as the Legion composed of the most 1 gallant and accomplished corps of young 1 [taly. < The incidents connected with the attack < >n Rome by the French troops, and the bom- i jardment of the city by command of Gene- < al Oudinot, are of too recent occurrence to i je recounted here. It is by his gallant de ?ence of Rome, by the frequent sallies he { ed* against the besiegers, that Garibaldi has < ichieved his greatest military reputation, and 1 endered himself so honorably known < ,nrougnout Italy, loe result ot tnat attacx ind the brave but unavailing defence is too veil known. When the-oity was forced to inrrender, Garibaldi and bis noble, spirited poung soldiers refused to lay down their irms, and resolved to force their way to a iafe place of refuge. Their leader's speech )n that occasion would have done do dishonor to Brutus or the Cracchi: "Soldiers," he laid, "in recompense of the love you may ihow your country I offer you hunger, thirst, cola, war and death; who accepts the terms et him follow me." , The enthusiactic Legion followed him to a man. Their object n quitting Rome was to reach Venice in ;ime to assist her against the bombardment )f the Austrians. Rut Italy was overrun >y the enemy's troops, and the little legion, ifter bravely passing through many dangers, vere obliged to disband and seek individlal safety. Still, a number clung to Garicaldi, gained the sea coast, and embarking it the little Adriatic port of Cesantico, steered for Venice. A storm dispersed their leet, and only a few of the adventurers succeeded in reaching land near the mouth of the Po. Here Garibaldi's devoted yife, Dvercome by the exhaustion and fatigue attendant on the perilous expedition, died, and Garibaldi himself, almost alone, made bis way to Genoa, no one knows how; and thence came to the United States. 7^. in* _lj \ .jrSrT mained in this country several yea$p, reading at Staten Island. H? subsequently went to California on tarineas, and then engaged in the mercantile marine ..flflttice da the Pacifio. At Lima and Eqnadot he was received with dietingnished honors and ot fared a high military position. *> < On the first symptoms of another European crisis, Garibaldi again returned to Eitfrope, and proceeded to Sardink was atonce appointed to an important military post He commands a number of the most ardent young patriots of Italy, and his recent brilliant exploits prove that fc;s reputation for military ability haa been bv no means exa^ gerated nor that ability exhausted. He now enters Lombard/ where be expects to incite a decided uprising of the Lombards again at the Austri&ps. This is a dangerous, qnterterprise, bat there is every prospect of its complete success, The relatives of Garibaldi reside in JEtome, the brave defender of that city being now an exile from the very place he onoe defended, and forbidden by its government to enter its gates, His two sisters belong to a wealthy and aristooratio family, bat on aocount of the Republican sentiments of their famous brother they are closely watched, and not allowed to send any of their property out of the oity. They are themselves desirous of leaving Rome, but are, fo all Intents and purposes, effectually prohibited from doing so. It is, by the way, a curious fact that this same Garibaldi, who foOght^ bravely against the French some ten years ago, should now be enlisted in the very cause to which they are so great a .support; and it proves that Garibaldi , is no ranting Red Republican, but cau lay aside all personal prejudices, and rally and patriotically devote himself to the great cause of Italian amelioration and liberty?a cause in hbhtff of which Louis Napoleon and the French seem now to be powerful instruments. .. > THE NEWSPAPER. - * There is no book so instructive- is the newspaper; no knowledge se necessary to be acquired aa that which may be gleaned from its columns. It is not only the vehicle of -the cheapest, but the most-innocent nod least cloying source of pleasure, and happiness?? A newspaper in a family, is sore to be the means of interesting, informing or pleasing almost every member.of the family, especially where they live in the country,"" and see and bear but jittle that is new. In the. coarse of a year, awplloouducfed paper eon rcjro luiutUiauuu VU MMIUD4) CfCiJf or as least excites curiosity aod enquiry on all subjects. To know what ia nearest to us in time and spcce, is almost neceesary, most pleasing and most instructive; and this kind of knowledge eau. only be obtained iron newspapers. We would venture to affirm that there never was, and never will be, in a country situation, an ignorant family who takes a newspaper, as it is inapwihle that* family should not become in .tune well informed, provided they live sumoieutly sMcluded to be throwuupon the paper as a source of amusement. The dullest child who hates a hook will, in rainy weather, steal u&ta a newspaper, read a marriage notice aiqj an advertisement or two, and pat it down. The next time probably, he will become bolder and get through "a horrfljl^inorder." Soon he will read short tales of notion; then jam before election time, he begins to peep into politics, and even to read political speeches. Last of all be attacks foreign news. By this time bis curiosity on most subjects is Melted, and he is lured oh to become a reading and weft informed man. It is strange that any family, as a measure of economy, should be without a newspaper. Children see the world cheaply at home, in a newspaper, without the danger of bad association or the expense of travel.?Printers' Neics Letter. The Sea of Galilee.?This lake is also known in the Gospels as the Sea of Tiberias and Gennesareth; and in the Old Testament us the Sea of Chennereth. It is algnt thirteen miles in length, and six in breadth; and is formed by the Jordan, which traverses it from north to sonth, and then flows on to the Dead Sea, sixty miles south. In many respects a great change has here taken place since the time of Christ. Then she shores were filled by a teeming popular sion; towns and villages crowded the banks, ind boats swarmed on the waters* Now tbe inly remaining town in Tiberias, a city in ruins, contains about two thousand iohabi;ants, and wretched and filthy to tbe last decree. Instead of a large fleet of fishing boats, inly one vessel can now be found on its .wafers. The round hills that come boldly down ;o the sea are now bare of trees; and though wvered with a delightful vendure after the vinter rains, become parched and desolate mder the summer sun. The lake lies emlosomed in a deep basin, more 'than three hnndrod feat helnw the level of the Medi ierranean, and enoloeed on all side|, except a ear the inlet and outlet of the -jdordan, by bills that rifce steeply hundred of feet in height; while in the back ground on the jast side are mountains a thousand feet high, rbe range of heights stretching around the sea itself is broken by occasional shady rafines and water-courses, and here and there is separated from the sea by a level and exseedingly fertile plain. In one of these plains Capernaum used to stand, but now it has wholly disappeared. Far away in the north Mount Hermon lifts its snow-capped urown to the sky, with the majesty of a summit, that has looked down on the coming md going of a hundred generations. The regions of this sea bears marks of rolcanic action, and hot springs still exist 3n the shore south of Tiberias. The waters still swarm with fishes as in the days of the Apostolic fishermen. A recent American traveller, while out upon the sea, encountered a tempest like those described in the Gospels; sndden, swift and violent, it swept down on the sea from the upper hilla, and threw it into commotion as in a moment.?