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* -4 v *V- . 4* - ** * T i ' ^ ^ - > * 4 * ' ' %.' : ' ' ' % ' * '* ,. ~jjlE - *<* r ?1 I II * II * i if ~ j r *i -| .1 . I ? -I II III i! I" , - L11, t'"h- 'III V - 1-1 .,T iTi I I - r- ffflc Tiiii in MrmAfii ' % ? -*c v - : - - _ ^ ' " - ^ ^ ^ ^ lewis m. qrist, proprietor. | . , An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. -' |?2 perarhum nr adtakce. VOL.6.' ~ _ YOEKVILLE, S.: G., THTJESDAY, JUNE 14, I860. . ' " ' \ ' 1STO. Q4r. * * % * * , ? + . t y ^ _ .' y # % Cjjrillhtg Jfbmaiu WRITTEN*EXPRESSLY FOR ! mm m o KING'S M BY MRS. MAR CHAPTER III.?continued. 'Come, Bessie/ said Bowen, 'this is do place for you j where are you goiQg, ohild ?' as she turned weeping down the road. IT mncf rtr\ KonV to fothor ' alio ooKKail "JL uiuov gu vaua W iUVUUly OUV DVI/VVUj her face turned from him. You are Dot fit yet, Bessie; sit down and rest. Ferris is gone; don't be afraid/ And he drew her to the bank. Still she wept bitterly. * Be calm, Bessie; you have no farther cause for fear. I will see you safe home, and you must promise me not to venture out alone again.v Oh ! Ellick,' she sobbed, it is not so muoh that I'm afraid, as I'm afraid you'll think ill of me.' And still the flushed face. was hid from him. Ill of you, Bessie !- Never," said the soldier with warmth, as he took her hand. With a sudden impulse she turned, and looking up at him in mingled joy and love, threw herself into his arms. Tell me again; Ellick/ she whispered ; for, oh ! I feared you ^ould be vexed at my treatment yesterday at the Church, though it was both pride and shame made me do it, and I feared you might think my ?tit? V? r? tno/J a a ntaai trtn amy VT Ul UO lucil^ uau ujavig x guio ujggv ujv | here. And, oh! if you had'nt come/ and she shuddered. 'I was at the minister's, and felt uneasy for you, Bessie, feariDg you might be so thoughtless as to come alone ; dreading I scarcely know what, I came out to you.' 'It was God's care of me, father will say/ said the maiden reverently. 'And Ellick. will you forgive me for yesterday/ she said submissively, as she timidly raised her head. Who could look in those blue eyes, still swimming in tears, and not forgive her? Indeed, I will, dear Bessie/ he said, as he fondly kissed her, 'if you promise never to venture out alone again.' I can easily promise that/ she said smiling in perfect reassurance, 'for I doubt if father will ever trust me; and as he'll be uneasyuow, we had better be going on.' 'And what will you do with your bucket, Bessie ?' 'Oh ! you can put it in the shade of the branch there; it will beep cool in the water i and put the basket under yon thicket, and when you come back, you can carry them. r 1-- J A! .L: : j T Ki 1 promised lueui iuis evtsuiug, nuui u&c uu be as good as my word.' That's right, Bessie ! I shan't object to your beiog always as good as your"word; but what sort of a soldiers' wife will you make if you scream as loud when the British are on you, as you did this evening ?' he said, as he drew her hand through his arm and, clasping it, walked leisurely on. Oh! bat I'll do better, when I'm'? Well! When what, Bessie ?' he laughingly said. 'When I'm your wife, Ellick,' she bravely spoke, though her face was crimsoned. I'll never be ashamed of it again, and if any one asks me who I love best in all the world, I'll say Ellick Bowen ;' and though i her voice trembled as well as the hand that I rested in his, and though she could not] look at him, she persevered in finishing.? I He threw his arms around her and she went on, I'll be afraid now of nothing, Ellick, that I know you don't think ill of me; and I'll I never give you cause again. 1 would rather j meet a whole army of British, than Reuben ; Ferris. Oh ! I hate him and dread him j so; and when he looks at me,' and she shud- j dered and turned pale. 'Never mind him, Bessie, let us talk of' something else. Did you see Miss Ellen, this morning?' 'Yes; we were up at the Mansion and Miss Ellen is trying hard to get the old i gentleman to provide means for the outfit of those troopers. I know She has deprived herself of a good deal to furnish the boys that joined some time ago, and has no means of her own or she would not wait ou the old man. It's strange she can get all she wants from him hut that, and be grows so fretful and impatient, and so frightened too, that she is afraid to press it. When will Major Davie be down ?' 'I don't know, Bessie ; why do you ask ? ; Is Miss Ellen wanting to know?' She aid not ask me,'said Bessie, too' honest to betray a secret that was not heiI own, and discovered only by her woman's t intuition. 'It's hard to tell where Major Davie will j he ; he's here, there and away. We've coti a great troop, Bessie. The boys have never I been beat yet, and I don't believe would! know wheD they are whipped. If it were! not that I thought I could take twenty fel- i lows with m'e when I go, I would not be i lagging here. The most of them I have, I have only been waiting for a leader.' 'Will Ferris go, now?' 'I don't think he had ever much notion of it; if there was a Tory clan about here, I would suspect him ; but he's as cunniDg as the savage, he is.' 'Don't trust him, Ellick; father never put confidence in him, and now he'll not like him any better.' 'He'll not give us the chance I'm think-i ing ; and I want no such?well, I won't say j bad words before you, Bessie, but I'll not have him in my company. Your father would say such a wretch would bring a curse upon our arms?but here we are at the! homestead. It looks like Bessie's home,! and that says more than anything else.?; How sweet and dear it is,' he said, as his: eye sought hers. :t flf % ^kboMon. rHE YORKVILLE ENQUIRER. pUFHELL; OtJNTAIN. Y A. EWART. i? I In a few words, old Andrew was made acquainted with the evening's adventure, and as the; sat down to their frugal meal, the old man with more than usual fervor blessed God for his care, while his tones grew deeper as he prayed the Lord might take speedy vengeance on-their enemies. Such a picture of rural comfort as was Dresented in ? r that hnmble dwelling! The table wap spread in the cool passage; the evening air laden with the fragrance of the honeysuckle and flowers, passed gently through. Bessie's table with its cloth of spotless purity; was spread with the dainties (the best and choicest after all) of the farm-house.- There] was her print of golden butter, a loaf of light wheaten bread, a chicken broiled to the nicest brown, eggs poached and daintily set off with sprigs of parsely, the biscuits smoking hot, and a genuine hoe-cake of Carolipa memory. Added to this, was a bowl of sweet clabber, with its cream untouched and milk cooled by a day's repose in the spring-house; also a dish of nice fresh honey, so that one might suppose on seeing such tempting dainties, that they were literally in a land flowing with milk and honey. The patriach and father sat at the head of the board giving utterance to words of uoujeiy wioUULLi ur pruueut uuuu&ei, wmic bidding them 'mind their duty, mom and nigty.' Ever and anon, his eye would fall on Bessie, and a softer shade would pass [over the weather beaten face, and a tender tone would intonate the voice. The young trooper sat on hisxight, a picture of vigorous manhood ; his hair was pushed back from his face, and the clear white brow contrasted well with the sunburnt visage. As usual, the wisdom of age was secondary to the spell of beauty, and Ellick saw more of the glowing Hebe before him, than he heard of j the sage's counsel. And dear little Bessie, i with what pretty importance was she invest- j ed, as she discharged the duties of herj position. Her brown curls were tossed j back from her dimpled shoulders, while : smileslike cupids playing bo-beep, danced in j dimples around her laughing mouth. And \ as Bowen watched her, the meal being j over, busied about her little household du-| ties, bustling about in true house keeping a 1 Artn/1 k nr aha /)aa?>1w i n fkio notTT I stjiC) uc iuvcu uct ujv/ic ucaiij iu iuj^ ucn ; relation, than in any he had yet seen her.! Woman and home !?synonymousterms! was late when Bowen left. Andrew was noddingin his chair on the porch, and Bessie walked with her lover to the gate. 'Good bye, Bessie, dear, T may not see you soon again, for I don't know the moment I may be summoned.' 'Good bye, dear Ellick,' she said, as she raised her head in perfect confidence to j her lover, while he fondly kissed her. 'And Bessie, take good care of yourself;! no more lonely walks." 'Never fear, Ellick, for your sake.' Still j he lingered. <1 hate to part with you Bessie, you look i such a child in the moonlight with your long brown curls; and yet you are such a! woman. I loved you better to night than I ever did before; it would kill me if aught; would go wrong with you.' 'Don't fear for me,' said Bessie, laughing. What's to trouble me? It's I that should! fpar for Vnil hilt snmeKfim T nnvn. J.noJ . I I am so proud of jour strength, so proud you are such a big fellow.' He did not notice her playfulness, but! clasping bcr to his heart again and again, prayed to God to bless her, while Bessie still smiled, and with her soft hand pushed the clustering hair from his brow, till at | length, finding he would not go, she threw her white arras around his neck in all the ' innocence of her childish heart, and kissing i him again and yet'again, escaped from his j clasp, and laughingly cried 'good night,' j as she ran up the path to the house. CHAPTER IV. The arms are fair When the intent of bearing them is just. i Shakspeare. ! In a fork made by the waters of Crowder's: Creek and the Catawba river, a party ofj troopers were bivouacking on a night, in the j last quarter of the month of September.; Fires had been kindled for the preparation j of their evening meal, and though late, had not died out: and with the torches that were constantly moving about, gave life and character to the brilliant panorama. The j party consisted of about thirty men, their, tents the broad sky above them, their can-1 opy the leafy bowers. The most of the | soldiers were stretched upon the ground with their knapsacks for their pillows, the| grassy sward their bed, while saddles, bri-! dies, muskets and sabres, huug from the j 1?1 i uujutuiu? uuu^ua \ji icauvu a^uiu.^t iuc iiucn. ; The horses were picketed near, and their; occasionl neigh or fiery snort, with their; incessant tramping, added yet more to the j excitement of the scene. At the farthest extremity of the camp, and retired from the bustle by a thicker natural growth, assembled a body of officers, j A few blazing pine faggots, stuck in the j neighboring trees, served to illumine the1 countenances of the party. The most of; them were lying on the ground with the j wearied air of tired men, but the most prom- j inent Sgure, and, from the uniform, the leader of the troop, stood as if in anxious expectation. lI trust no harm has befallen Bowcn; he should be here by this time.' As he spoke, j jhe drew from his breast his watch, and ex-; [claimed, 'eleven o'clock, and not yet here!) This must be seen to. Ho! there, Darby, order out a reconnoitering party.' 'No need, sir, if you want tidings of Captain Bowen; here is Hotspur, now gallopinginto the camp.' 'How now, Hotspur, what news ?' said Major Davie, for he it was. 'Where's Bowen ?' ( .. 'The Tories are halting about twenty five miles from here, at the Catawba ford, near the Waxhaw, and will not venture the crossing before they have daylight to transport their roguery,' be said, full of the principal news. 'The captain sent me on with the intelligence; he's coming with.the rest.' .'And good news, it is; ho! here, wake op boys. Darby, sound, sound 'to saddle.' Up! boys, up. Officers to your duty!' At once, everything sleeping, started; troopers were hurrying rapidly across the ground; the clanking of their broad swords, the nrimin? of their muskets. eauiDDine r- o - ? ' i rr o their horses, made every hand busy. 'How many men has Bowen with him ?' 'About thirty; as clever a set of fellows as ever handled a broad sword?full rigged too. The man's had witches at work for him? but there he is to speak for himself.' And as he spoke, Captain Bowen, at the [head of his men, came dashing into the | camp. The soldiers could not refrain [from a huzzah of triumph at the goodly accession, but Major Davie's stern 'silence !' reduced them quickly to order ; while in more modulated tones, they welcomed their companions in arms. 'Welcome! Bowen, welcome ; you have indeed been busy,? said Major Davie, as he grasped Bowen's hand . 'Fine stalifart fellows too, and every man well mounted; but what newsis this of Hotspur?' 'The Tories have been scouring the counttry foraging for supplies for ;Cornwallis at I the Waxhaw's,orRawdon at Camden, I can| not learn which; they have been unusually j fortunate, and are encumbered with their ; provision.' 'Whatforce have they.' 'One hundred, I shall say, certainly not ! . v,.,* e <i ivSo j uut y* c ate a uiaiun tut lUt'UJ uuiu cambered as we are?do you not think so ?' said Bowen, seeing the Major heeitate. 'Certainly I do,' replied Davie. ?I was thinking if our force could manage the prisoners and supplies both. "We must have the arras. Sevier is needing them, and what plunder we cannot restore, we will use ourselves. The prisoners might go on parole, fori cannot delay my motions with them, but there is no honor in these rascally lories. Ten to one, they will fire on our backs, if they can succeed in concealing or stealing a single weapon.' 'Well, catch them first, and then dispose of them,' laughed Bowen. '1 hat's not my way, you know, Captain,'I replied the Major in high good humor at! the promised prize, 'but we must not waste! time. Form in line,'he thundered, andj springing on a spirited charger and followed ! by bis officers, gallopped to the head of his! men; by a rapid movement wheeled them j into column, and clear above the clashing of sabres, the tramping of the horses and j the impatient directions of these officers,! rontr V?ic nlorinn rrnion 'Foward!' It was before the grey of the morning | when the Whig cavalry reached the ford, j The Tories, under the command of Captain j Hardy, an officer of Lord Coruwallis, were! lazily rousing themselves after a night's! debauch, and slowly preparing to take the j road. The baggage and plunder had been j left in rear of the camp, but the horses; were near the river's edge, for the greater j convenience of watering. Suddenly, the j report of tire arms attracted attention, andj the cry of 'to horse!' resounded through; the camp j but ere they could mount, the' frightened outposts were driven iu, and; thundering quick upon them, the Whig, cavalry burst into the camp. It was a scene J of the wildest confusion; roused from their; slumbers, the Tories rushed out half naked j to be cut down by the victorious cavalry; | a few gained their arms, and posted behind: trees, kept up an irregular fire. Capta'nj Hardy succeeded in getting together about' half of his men, near the river ford, and j forming them into column, poured forth a; scattering fire of musketry, in order to gain : time to collect his terror stricken troops, aud cover such a retreat as he was able to j make. 'Down with them ! down with them !' i shouted the troopers. 'No mercy to the To ries! Cut down the robbers?give them To-! ry mercy !' they shouted, perfectly iufuriated : at the memory of their many wrongs. Ma-! jor Davie now charged the column formed' by Captain Hardy, aud in a few moments,! succeeded in routing it. Those of the Tories who could secure their horses, boldly j sprang into the river and escaped, Captain I Hardy being one of the number. Bowen, while riding over the field in hot | pursuit of the fugitives, discovered no less j a personage than lleuben Ferris in the act; of disentangling a horse from a neighbor-! mg thicket. j 'Ha ! well met,'cried Bowen; 'turn and; defend yourself, traitor!' 'I'm ready for you Kllick, Bowen I have' not seen a better sight to day than yourj whig face; blast you, couieou!' said be,' springing on his horse and spurring against j his adversary. 'Coward aod tory robber, I've a grudge against you which must be settled before we part. Take that, aod that, and that,' he said, as stroke after stroke of his broadsword fell flat upon Ferris. 'You do not deserve the cut of an honest man's saber, you cursed spy. I'd leave you for the gal- j lows, if it were safe to leave such a brute at J large,' and as he spoke, made a thrust with j his sabre that would have been fatal, had; not Ferris adroitly eluded it; and seeing he j was no match for his adversary in horseman- i ship, and springing to the ground, ere Bow-; en was aware, Ferris clasped him around: the leg and in spite of his efforts, dragged! him from his horse. The two men fell to-! getber, and for a while, it seemed as if 1 Ferris would overpower his opponent fromj real brute force. But the superior adroit ness of Bowen, as well as his invincible coolness, at lengtb gave him the advantage, and springing to his feet, he shook his adversary from him as he cried, 'Curse you, Ferris, for a dastardly villain, you've earned your doom,' and. again raised his sabre to strike; but Ferriu, with surprising agility, rolled in rapid turns from him, and ere Bowen could strike, sprank to his feetand fell against him vrith his whole weight, and while Boweu wasv yet staggering from the shock, sprang to his horse and galloping off, with a yell, cried,.;' / , 'My doom is not yet earned, and I have a score to settle with you that I'd settle if man or devil stood between usand springing into the river he soon gained the opposite bank. 'Luck served me an ill turn that time,' muttered Bowen. 'The traitorous spy! he means no good. God preserve Bessie,' he mpnfftllr Piannlaros) oa Vua minrl innnlnn. tarily turned towards her. The battle was now ended, and orders were given to remove the spoils of the vanquished. It was necessary to conduct their movements with the greatest celerity, as it was feared the enemy might be reinforced by detachments on the other side of the river. The killed were hastily buried,^the wounded cared for, and the prisoners glad to escape by promises, were put upon parole and turned loose after being deprived of their arms. The abundant stores of the enemy served to refesh the wearied soldiers, and with plentiful supplios, they onoe more took up their line of march. It was late in 1he day when they baited in the neighborhood of King's Mountain, after a loog and weary march. There they disposed themselves for a bivouac, and with light hearts and plentiful supplies, the soldiers rested for the night. In^he observance of camp duty, Major Davie was very rigid, and after attending to the discipline of it, he entrusted the command to Captain Bowen, and calling for his horse, without mentioning his destination, rode slowly from the camp. 'You've anticipated me Major/ mentally said Bowen with a smile; then with a sigh for 'little Bessie/ he devoted himself to his duties. Major Davie rode leisurely along until fairlv beyond the camn. when nuttinc sours ? * t ? i o r to his horse, he did Dot draw his rein until at the hospitable gates of the Mansion House. Checking now his speed, he slowly approached the mansion. The twilight was fast fading into night, when throwing his reins to an attendant, he sprang from his horse. 'Is Mr. Willoughby within?'he asked. 'No, massa,' grinned the negro, 'but Miss Ellen is. She be mighty glad to see you; she so proud you beat Captain Hardy this morning; you know he trouble Miss Ellen mightily, sometimes.' 'Ha! trouble her; how V ?Ki! don't you know maesa ? Reckon he tinks she make mighty good wife.' 'Curse his impudence,' muttered Davie. 'Had I knowD that he would have travelled in my company this morniDg. Never mind announcing me,' he said to the servant; 'I will find my way.' Entering into a wide hall whose walls were decorated with a few choice paintings, and many a portrait of olden times, the visitor turning to the right entered a large and lofty apartment of an oblong shape, divided by an arch which in winter was draped in crimson haagioge, but now looked fresh and cool from the charming exotics, and delicate vines which tastefully clambered on it; and the windows opening to the floor gave egress to the wide piazza of the Southern mansion, and the cool evening breeze had uow scattered many an autumn rose leaf-on the soft Turkey carpet.? The room was famished with Eastern luxuriance, yet a refined taste had preserved it troiu anytning i\Ke ostentation. rassing through this apartment, which seemed familiar to our visitor; he entered another more comfortable and less luxurious. A lady's work-table with its appurtenances stood about the center of the room; flowers graced the mantles, and biids, rocking in their cages, sang from the open windows. At the extremity of the room a bow window formed a charming little retreat, and even now, Kllen Campbell, seated on a small sofa with her cheek resting on her hand,! looked out in dreary meditation. The lady's reveries were sad and pleasant too, for she would smile and then sigh sadly as unconsciously she toyed with her Italian greyhound, who fawned upon her hand. The trooper contemplated the lovely picture for some time in silence, till the lady crying, 'Away, Zoe ! your mistress is in no mood for playing to day.' A rich manly voice fell upon her ear, starting many a slumbering pulse. 'And of what may the lady Ellen be thinkiog, if I may be so bold? Not in sadness I trust, for I claim a joyious welcome ; not in despair, for I claim the tribute of a conqueror.' She started as he spoke, and turned to him a face flooded with joyous crimson, and impulsively holding out both her hands she advanced : then as if recollectiuc herself with the flush dying from her cheek, she bowed almost coldly as she said, 'We bid you welcome as our nation's defender, aod congratulate you as victorious in Vinr armfl ' 'And you will Dot deign the humble trooper a welcome,' said Davie, reproachfully. 'If it please you, yes,' she said, more cordially. 'Then give me one of those hands you would have given mejustuow.' She blushed and hesitated, but not knowing how to refuse, she gave b, saying, This for the Continental Congress.' ?My welcome is not complete without what we soldiers call a pledge; give me the other,' and his ea?le eye rested iu softness upon her. She scarcely knew how to understand the bold trooper, and less still, how to deny him, and placing her other hand in his, she said, ?* * 'You come as a conqueror and claim what we women reserve as a privilege; with it, accept my congratulations for this day's work.' 'Ah-1 the left hand for me,' he said; 'if it is like mine, it should have the heart in it.' She blushed deeply, and extricating her hands, turned to announce Mr. Willougbby, who was advancing through the first apartment. Biting his lips at the inopporI..A : 1 >r ? TV - iL.l buuc arrival, iuajor i/avie nevereueiess politely accosted him. - 'T&sar you have had a busy day, Major,' said Mr. Willoughby, as seated in the cool piazza, after a substantial meal, thus enjoying the summer evening breeze. Busy and profitable,' replied Davie; 'we have got what we most needed, a good supply of arms. Sevier will give them a warm welcome.' 'I cannot see, Major Davie, what avails yonr continued resistance?what will it profit you? To my mind, it only brings renewed insult and misery to all who favor your cause. The whole lower part of the State is conquered, Cornwallis holds the Eastern, and Ferguson hoverS on the western. What can a handful of men do in such a crisis ?' ?I trust soon to show you, sir,' said Major Davie proudly. <A handful of men it is true, we are; but what kind of men?? Born and bred in the mountains, a stalwart race, aod sons of toil, they are strangers to fear; accustomed from earliest childhood to war against the Indians, they are inured to hardship and practised in stratagem. I do not believe the American cause, hopeless as it now appears, has reason to be discouraged or despondent. Our armies are defeated it is true; almost annihilated, but the emergency is only bringing out our purest resources, our defeats have been to us like fire to the gold, purged -us from all alloy. Those who joined our army in success, for purposes of plunder and rapine, have now left us; and we are now au indomitable band of patriots, prepared and willing to meet any emergency. We have every quality to make a perfect army but numbers, and our pradence and skill must supply the place of that.' ?I admire your sanguine spirit, sir; but your enthusiasm has blinded you. Where are your leaders ? Gates hiding his bleached head in hopeless dismay; Sumpter flying defeated from the State; Marion hunteri frnm his swnmrv fastness#"; What sadder prospect ? And-to light against an array flashed by victory, with advantage of nnmbers, of arms, of ammunition, of sapplies, I mast feel your efforts are as hopeless as your situation is critical.' 'You do your country and the cause injustice, sir; our generals are not hopeless nor despairing, only waiting the moment again to strike and rouse our countrymen to battle; but even were it so, we have yet cool heads and stout hearts who would feel it a privilege to conduct our eDemie9 to the field. Look at our Virginia Campbell, the stern patriot, the authoritative disciplinarian, the dignified commander. Look at onr frontier man, Shelby, with his taciturn deportment and determined courage.? Look at Sevier, with his Freuch vivacity, his ardent and impressive temperament, his energetic action; Cleveland, so brave and yet so gentle; and MoDowellj commanding 1 with the natural ease of one who has been 1 accustomed to fill offices of trust, inspiring j veneration for his virtues and sympathy for his wrong9. And your own Williams, I brave and firm and true, with hisiron will ! and unflinching nerve. Such are our lead| ers, and as the leaders, such are the men ; (enthusiasm we have, and strength, enter i _ *? * mi . i 1 j prise ana courage witn it. ine araor ana 1 impetuosity and rashness of youth we have, aod we need them to project and execute; but we have also the wisdom of maturer age to temper and direct them; and.with the caution of the father in our councils, and the irrepressible daring of the son in the field, what have we to fear? No, sir,' said the young soldier, rising with his subject, 'never havo wc possessed a more lofty and enlarged patriotism, never a cooler or more determined courage, and the revolutionary struggle which you conceive to be in its death throes, is approaching, an acme which will lead on our victorious arms to final conquest.' <Ah ! my young friend, if right always triumphed; but every age must have its martyrs. I would not damp your noble ispirit; but where are the funds to carry on (this struggle? Gold, you must remember, is the sinew of war, and with an empty treasury, a beggared Congress, a dishonereo currency, where will you gain means to defray expenses which are unavoidable, and J which must be met, if you would continue | your efforts ?' j 'Our treasury is in the heart of every patriot,' replied Davie, proudly. Gold and J silver wo have not, but our comrades come I with subsistence and clothing, and a horse j for the battle; and the mother comes with I heroic pride, and brings her sons; the wife j and sister come, and struggling with tears, !?r? cmilinrr onnrorvn KM farnrooll fn KncKontl Ill OlUl.iUJj WUIOgV/, UlU 1WSHSII IV/ ..Vi/^?V/V/ land brother. Such are the offerings upoD the altar of our country, such the wealth of our treasury.' 'With such spirits, I do not wonder that you know no defeat,' said Mr. Willoughby, iu involuntary surprise at the enthusiastic earnestness of the young trooper. 'Defeat, sir ! how can we know it? Even the enemy is working for us. To induce a people who have once tasted the sweets of ; independence to return to the condition of subjects, it is necessary not only to conquer their armies, but their words and affectioos must be subdued. IIow is it with our invaders ? Officers as well as privates of the royal army are so intent, the one on amassing fortunes, the other on reimbursing themselves, that no regard is paid to reunion; instead of soothing, tbey delight in injuring and insulting, and they are actually doing more for the independence of the States, than our armies ooold possibly do. were our eoemies guided by maxims of sound policy.' 'What you say never struck me so forcibly before, though certainly in former wars, dignity, honor and generosity were invariably annexed to the military oharacter, and British officers were for the most part, gentlemen eminently possessing these virtues; yet they are now certainly inferior, not only in education, but also in good breeding.' i 'Because a commission is now purchased in their army by reoruiting a given number of men. Consequently, those who possess the most low cunning, who have a natural aptitude for wheedling the vulgar, are considered the very characters to subdue rebels, and these men become our conquerors and spoilers. What are we to expect from such oppressors ?' <It certainly does appear they are guided by a mistaken policy, yet they are successful in conquering. I still see no resort but to make what terms we can, ere our conquerors, aggravated by continued opposition, crush us altogether.' 'And that will never be,' cried Davie, indignantly, >while a son of Carolina breathes. Do you suppose, sir, our high spirited oiiizens will brook these oppressions and insults? Do you suppose a Carolinian would ever submit to the odious tyranny ? No! air. The more we are crushed, the more ardent becomes our desire to rid ourselves of our insulting tyrants, and the more hopeless our cause appears, the more do we struggle for success.' <1 cannot but sympathise with you, Major Davie, and most cordially do I wish yon success; but I can do no more. There are ties which I dare not sunder, associations! connected with my very life, that would burst my heart strings to sever, yet your enthusiasm and my Ellen's pleadings, have almost overcome my reluctance to assist you And if your sanguine hopes should be realized, and you enabled to give a check to your conquerors, then will I feel as if assistance would benefit the cause and will be willing to contribute my mite. Still it must be done privately, in order to save what is so desr to me. Why, sir, the lopping of a shrub affects me; what would it be to be compelled to see all that is so dear, desecrated and despoiled by rude and profane hands.' 'There spoke my good unole,' said El len, who had been an anxious and enthusiastic listener to the foregoing conversation ; 'and I will promise you as a reward for this kindness, never to grumble at Prince Hubert's long arms again. Prince Hubert,' said she, in answer to Major Davie's look of inquiry, 'is that uoble oak you see standing so near the house. Its royal name was given in commemoration of a feat of my uncle Hubert's here, who, when quite a child climbed up to its topmost boughs, and falling asleep in its branches, was rocked so! softly in its leafy cradle, as to be totally un- j conscious of the alarm that his disappear-! ance created. He was at length discovered j by his cap falling from the branches. You i may judge the relief this discovery occa-J sioned, as well as the consternation attend-j ing his critical situation. Dreading to! awaken bim, and dreading still more his! fall from the giddy height, they were at a: loss to know how to release him from hisj perilous situatioD, when be allajed all fears: by awaking, and quietly descending, was' struck with indignant , surprise at their { anxiety. It has since been called 'Prince; Hubert's' tree, in memory of the exploit.? | Its branches sometimes making _a 6ad requiem in winter nights against the windows! of my room, I have occasionally petitioned! for the privilege of lopping them ; but uncle Hubert rejects the idea as a desecration of its royal charter, which it received in tfte moment of rejoicing over the lost found, that no 'braoh should ever be removed from" its body-' But the night is advancing, and Major Davie anticipates an early start in the morniug,' said Ellen, rising. 'And I have no doubt will enjoy an early rest, after this day's labors,' said Mr. j Willoughby. 'Ring for lights, Ellen, and j we will retire.' 'I cannot now thank you, sir,' said Davie,; 'for your promised aid. Indeed, my soldier-tongue is but little used to words of com- J pliment, but my sword at times'discourses: sharp eloquence that I trust will ere long | reach your ears in news of such moment, j as to gratify and encourage all who wish us i and our country well.' ?I trust so, indeed; I trust so,' replied1 Mr. Willoughby, shaking his head sadly. But do you not fear news of your contemplated gathering reaching Ferguson ? He| could soon scatter your little forces.' 'We have taken what precautions we: could, but being obliged to recruit, it is im possible to carry it on with entire secrecy; 1 but fortunately for us, he is either so flush j ed with success as to be intoxicated, or is; wonderfully obtuse or careless of danger.'! 'Will not your check of to-day alarm the | enemy at the Waxhaws? Is it not possi-| ble to arouse them to a sense of immediate j' danger ?' Scarcely, with me,'replied the Major,!1 laughiDg. 'They are so used to have me j1 hanging like a wasp around them, that ten | to one, they will look for me on the Pedeej to morrow; they have learnt it is useless tol' follow me up. Oh ! no, I have no idea Ii1 will alarm them, and I will be off in the [1 morning before they get their eyes open.' !( 'If your prudence is a match for your courage, and your coolness for your patriot- ' ism, I no longer wonder at your success; but here is Jerry with your light. Youj will wait for an early breakfast in the morn-| iog?' said Mr. Willoughby, courteously. <1 thank you, sir, but I must breakfast in camp. I will be off by three in the morning. I would not wish you disturbed; indeed I feel more privileges to come when I can take soldier's bours, without interfer-' ing with family arrangements.' 'Well, as you please; I wish you all success. Good night.' 'Good night,' said the trooper. 'I will Bpeak to Miss Ellen before I go.' He en tered the parlor where Ellen was standing near a table, arranging the lights. 'I shall not see you in the morning, Miss Ellen, but I want your wishes for success before I leave; and I wish also to tell you how much I thank you for your activity in our. cause. I have been so long used to the rough times of a camp, that I forget bow to modulate my speech to the gentle accents fit for a lady's ear, yet perhaps I feel your kindness more than * those who have more cunning in protestation. Will you accept a soldier's gratitude ?' She could not meet the earnest glauce of those dark eyes; and the words, simple as they were, were burdened with a tone of tenderness that thrilled -her inmost soul.? Her very excitement made her answer more coldly than she was aware. (The little I have done is deserving of no thanks; and little as it was, was done for my country/ He did cot answer, but stood in silence. At length, feeling the continued silence oppressive, she raised her eyes to bid him good night. The mingled expression she could not read, but she understood quite enough to see he was deeply wotinded. ?I understand, Miss Ellen,'he said, bitterly; <and while I thank you for your patriotism, I could curse myself for my infatuation ;' and bowing low, he left her. [TO BE CONTINUED.] Written for the Yorkvllle Enquirer. RECOBDOB REMTNISCOR ET OBLI VIS COR. VfJJ-ll-A A i . J i_ 1 miaaieiown, in uonoecucur, usea 10 oea lovely little town, and were it not situated north of Mason and Dixon's line, I should like to live there ; that is, if in sixteen years, it has not grown into a great noisy city.? As I was quite- young when there, of course I cannot recollect muoK about its trade or manufactures or. population, or "any thing like that." If you wish statistics, go to the census returns?I'm no census-taker. But I do remember the cherries. I think there were four thousand nine hundred and twenty three trees, averaging nearly two hundred and thirty-four thousand five hundred and sixty seven and eight-ninths cherries per tree; making the sum total of cherries about?a very large number. Then there was Dr. Olin, the President of the University. My recollection of him is, that he was immense. I remember looking upto his face with the same effort as it would now require to look upon the summit of a pyramid. I thought him taller than a cherry tree. Well, there was the Wesleyan University, filled with a set of thin-legged, narrow chested, abolitionists. I wish I had had ray present size then ! They would be always hunting up the little Southerner and questioning him, and poking fun at him. Well, there is one consolation, they heard some large stories. Where there were not cherries and students, and rosy cheeked helps (as they called the serving maids) and Millerites, there were currants. They were at breakfast, dinner and supper, and between times.? Cherries, currants, mutton and Irish potatoes, are the only things I remember eating while at Middletown, except perhaps a few gooseberries and some green apples?stolen, of course. I began the study of Smith's grammar, at Middletown. I bought it of Smith, the bookseller, who lived next door to Smith the tanner, two doors below Smith the silversmith, and opposite to Smith the blacksmith. After pegging away at old Lindley Murray, it was like stepping from a rough bog,' upon a smooth causeway, to get into Smith's. I think they had some sloops at Middletown, and an occasional steamboat. The persons I best remember are old Dr. Laban Clarke, a Methodist minister with whom I boarded, who used to smoke clay pipes, which I stole from him to blow soapbubbles with, and was a good, kind, old gentleman, and sometimes worked on his farm and sometimes preached. (Remarkable sentence, that last one.) Then there; was his wife, who sometimes knitted and sometimes made pies, and occasionally scolded the old Doctor, Mary and me. Mary was tbe hc/p. She did every thing. She was astonishing. She was superhuman.? Like the ignorance and credulity of tbe j preseot age, she was amazing. Mary would arrange the house, cook our meals, wash; our clothes, and then be neat and clean and ; rosy and smiling when evening came; ready! to sit down to tea with us, and then to j promenade or visit the neighbors until dark, j I used to think Ker beautiful. Such rose-j red cheeks and such plump, round arms;: and she was very kind to "the little traf- j ticker in human flesh and blood," "the lit-! tie nigger driver," as some used to call me; | "the little Southern gentleman" as s/tccall-! ed me. There was much affection between i Mary aud me, Platonic of course, for she; was nearly three times as old as I was?j Middletown went strong for Polk and Dallas I suppose, for tbe people made a great. j i ~c ..i * ?i ti.... r lital ui UUIOC UUUUt liic LLi. x UCIC UgaiUj ? . was opposed to all my acquaintances, for, though very little and very young, I knew that Hod. William C. Preston was a great! friend of Mr. Clay, and that was enough for me. I had met "Harry of the West" at Col. PrestoD's house, and he had patted me on the head and so I became an out and out whig, and knew as much what my principles were as a good many others older and wiser, whom Mr. Clay had made his partisans by (metaphorically) patting their knowledge boxes. And to this day I am? at least, not a National or Convention Democrat. On the fourth of July, "a day dear to the hearts of every American, a day" and ? ? u:~i 4 J ! 3u uu, au iiuuit'uoc uiuauijf wee was uug up by the roots and hauled into the town by a team of fifty oxen, and planted in the public square amid great rejoicings and firing of guns and crackers, in honor of "Young Hickory"?James K. Polk. True to my principles, I didn't fire a cracker ; but in a meadow, mounted on a hay cock, made an address, a fervid appeal for Clay, to an interested audience of three girls and a boy and a dog. Since then, by reason of his * ' " compromises and so on, Mr. Clay baa not been "so highly esteemed by?hia.honorabl? Court." The court now pronounces him a great Orator and skillful juggler. ? One day, soon after I went to Middletpwn, as I was strolling along past a beautifcfk e6ttage half-hidden by trees and Vines, I looked up and saw overhanging the street, the $nest and largest ox-heart cherries oyer beholden. Involuntarily, I exclaimed, "Oh 1 crikey, how I'd like to have joroft of those cher? rice." "Well,"you can have sojne, if you'll come in," said a sweet voioe. I neVer was so completely taken abaok but once, and the Senior Editor remembers that time. I had seen no one, and imagined myself entirely aloDe. Turning in the direction of the voice, I looked through the gardot paging, and there, ah! there was a sight for "sair fl'eil." Thfl mrwf. fiira.liln 1!u1a limntn that I ever saw, was%anding there with her straw hat thrown hack to let,the Banbeams play among her carls, and with the archest look, and with the sweetqsframile wreathing around her rose-bad Upftifl^waB evidently enjoying my confusion. ^Bhe haf been stooping down to plaok some violets, and the rose branches and honeysuckle vines had embraced her so lovingly and dose', as "to conceal her completely. *Heeriog ray ezolamation, she had start^jftjod answered me. Well, I went ib. Sbjwas about my age, maySe a little older, and we had a "good time. We gathered cherries and went jo the dairy down by the spr^gg and got some nice oool milk, and sitting under a willow-tree on the bright green grass, we had a glorious feast. By. the bye, it was my birth day. She told md her name was Pauline, and I informed her as to my cognomen and antecedents. She knew my name already, and where I was from and all; who, in a week dosen't know every thing abont every body in a New England village 7 And then 1 told her about my Southern home; about its flowers in Spring and fruitB in Summer. I told ber of the wind sighing mournfully among the lopg^Mf piaes, and of the breezes shaking sho$j$OT?|pldv' en bells from the jessamine ricerapMgjl3 " t?, her abont the low drooping moss ancTthe great wmte magnolia Mossoms and ^be crimson trumpet-vine. And tben I talked about * Bill and 'Manda, my African playmates at borne; and about my kind nurse, Rosin*; and Minerva, tbe cook and terror of my youth, and all the rest. Tbe boars flew swiftly by, and Maty was soon forgotten, her red-apple obeeks faded into potbing compared with tbe peach-down of Pauline'*;* and even tbe picture whioh I had^bropght*'" with me painted on my memory, of tbe little Alice I had left in Carolina, was dimmed for awhile. Well, we met ffpqnfotly afterwards; at church, at home beneath tbe cherry trees, in the meadow by the river, aDd it wasn't long before tbe daguerreotype of Alice bad entirely faded. But, us usual, in suoh cases, it was soon replaoed by another; tbe beautiful image of Titania, as I used to call .her, for I bad read some of Sbakspeare even then; and as I remember her now, jBbe.was the completest person iMator tion of my idea of tbe Queen ofthe FairiejJ,% that I have ever seen. Ah ! well, to Thackeray translating Horace says, "the -fugacious years have passed awaj^ nry.-Pbs^ tumius." Pauline may be still on earth, :(ratber, em-bon-poiqt-ish fo*?>a fairy fViia timo T anrnAOO^ aw cVio man Ka aA iiuio viuiC) x ou^yvogy v? ouc uuajr uc au aDgel in heaven, I know not. Bat passing years, weight of cares, nor silvered haira, can ever bring to me forgetfulness of that beautiful dream, (as it now seems) -that sweet love-play of boyhood. And it may bo that we wi^meet again in the Land of the Hereafter Reminiscently, yours, HCBY. ? ? | How to make 9p?uce Beer.?As the I season is at hand when pleasant sammer j drinks free from undue acolholi^influenee, | are frequently brewed by thahoulewife, or 'the well-hTe^gt-up-daug^tW^ who are taught a littfc'of everything in 'the way of household duties?we append (he following receipts, which are claimed to be 1. Take three gallons of water, offilooan warmth, three half-pints of molasse^a ta>" | ble spoonful of essence of spruce, abjiW< like quanity of ginger?mix well togffner with a gill of yeast ; let stand over night and bottle io the morning. It will be in . good condition to drink in twenty-four hours. It is a palatable, wholesome beverage. 2. Those who prefer mead have only to substitute honey for the molasses named above, and for one-third the ginger use allspice. Half the quantity of yeast,wHbbe found sufficient, and the bottling should occur the second day instead of the next morning. It will be fit to drink.in four davs after beinz bottled, and will keen for J w ' ? r many weeks. A small quantity of alcohol is formed duriogthe fermentation, and this prevents the acetous fomentation bo common to spruce beer. The essence of spruce is of course left out in the making of mead. The alcohol formed from the fermentation of honey, resembles that found in metheglin, while the alcohol from the fermentation of molasses is rum. Those who imagine that they can make either spruce beer or mead without forming any alcohol, are mistaken. 3. Prepare a five or ten gallon keg, in proportion to the size of the femily?draw a piece of coarse bobinet, or very coarse bookmuslin over the end of the faucet that is in-niMnt if ntinlrincr OCllCU lUig tUD W pviwuw aw vwv? a good tight bung, aod near to that a gimlet hole with a peg to fit it tight. * Recipe for Five Gallons.?One quart of sound corn put into the keg, with half a gallon of molasses; then fill with cold water to within two inches of the bung. Shake well, and in two or three days it will be fit for use. Bung tight. If you want spruce flavor, tfdd one teaspoonful of essence of spruce?lemon, if lemon is preferred?ginger, or any flavor you prefer. The corn will last to make five or six brewings; when it is exhausted, renew it. When the beer passes from the vinous to the acetous fermentation, it can be corrected by adding a little more molasses and water. J 4ft' r' W r