Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, July 14, 1859, Image 1
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' 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.
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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.?