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* w? ' fe % k 1 ...... ^ v ' mmmmmmmm^mmmmmmmmtrnm i BaHBgjBggggaMgBlaa '" i . saga* 1-" . . ?_ aaa i e hbmb 1 ' ^ 1 ^ 1 . ^ ? ^r. . i'i ' 1 1 M.MgBMeaartM^ lewis m. qrist, proprietor, I ' ~ ,An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of lie South. > |$2 pebaraujijii ajwaece. ? > ' ' . l. 1 j I.. *./ '... ' .11 .'Tm..^i V']*?". VOL. 6..V V > ; \ YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JLTSTE 21, I860. ; / V " ' ^ '.I:j KQ* %S % Chilling lomaitj WRITTEN E3C.PRESSLY FOR' hum-cl j . ? o , KING'S M BY MRS. MAK - CHAPTER V. . There happen sometimes, accidents in life from which it requires a degree of madness to extricate ourselves well. , - . La Rochkfoucald. Long and lingeringly did little Bessie Craig look out into the moonlight; sadly and almost tearfully she watohed the waning moon, and felt he would not come. Yet, still she paced the little walk, and softly she would open the gate and peer anxiously out. At length, weary with hope deferred, she ran for a little distance down the road. Suddenly her eye brightens and her form grows, more erecc; surely she heard voices. Then a shade of disappointment steals over her pretty, face?it could not be Bowen?he would come alone, and she wanden on hi thoughtless dreaminess, wondering what delays him.; Ere she was aware, the voices approach; a turn of the road will bring the speakers into sight, and for the first time, she feels she has gone too far.-*The road, straight now as an arrow, and the bright moonlight, will- sorely diseover her: She hesitates but a moment, when plunging into the -bashes which line either side of tbe road, she hastily concealed herself. 'Ha !' said one, 'what is that ? I surely heard a rustling !? They stopped and listened, and Bessie feared the beating of her heart would betray her. 'It was only a squirrel/ replied the other 'I hear nothing/'There it is again,' said his ^comrade, as a craokiDg branch broke beneath her. Again tbey listened. r * * "* 'Pshaw!' replied the other, 'you would be frightened at your own shadow?it is a squirrel in the trees. 1*11 swear you expect! . to Bee the Whig cavalry burst on you as; they did this morning; come" on man and j. don't be such a coward.' " 'No!' replied the first speaker, still listening, 'let us wait a while and see what'll come of it?it'll do no harm to watch.' 'Watch away then, I'm going for water; I'm most dead with thirst. That house j ought to be abont here somewhere. Where , in the mischief has it gone to? 'Don't be in such a confounded hurry, Tom; I'll go in a minute?lets see if anything turns up. If Ferris thought we had let any one slip past us to the Whig camp, j he would think nothing of stringing us both | up* 'What's got into Ferris anyhow, lately? He was bully enough before, but he's a perfect bull dog now,' replied his comrade. Why he's got hold of some cock and bull story about the Whigs rising in the upper part of the State, beating Cornwallis with one hand and Ferguson with the other, and with one foot in Charleston and the .other j in the mountains, making a clear sweep of j the State. He's such a cursed braggart j' nobody believes him, and his temper neveri very sweet, is now worse than the devil's.' 'Well, I hope to night's work will put I him in a better humor. They say the Cup-1 tain is to pay him handsomely if they catch I the Whig trooper.' 'Yes, to the tune of five hundred, or more. | Ferris would sell his soul for gold. You know he was bought out of the Whig ranks, and if they catch him, it will go hard with him?traitor and spy both.' 'The Captain's mighty anxious about Davie. If it was Marion himself, he could not run more risk. Why, he's almost in the hornet's nest. I don't sec the use of rnnninrv Ano'c nnolf in o KolfAr fVkt* o rvolfrr? I luuuiug vuw a uwva tu u uaiui iui a patui^ Whig major.' 'You don't! I reckon ifyousawa girl with land and niggers and gold, more than you could count, in the case, and nothing between you and her but a 'paltry Whig major,' you would understand it.' 'Phew! That's the way the wind blows, ' does it? No wonder he's anxious to trap bim. Well, I reckon he's got him hard and fast to night.' 1 'Yes, Ferris has worked like seven devil's. He's got some private spite to settle in the matter, too. Ellick Bowen, the Major's Captain, has got the better of Ferris two or three times in a fight; and not only that, but he blames Bowen with takiog his girl from him, and he hates him like thunder. Now, Ferris knows it will mast kill Bowen for anything to happen to tho Major; so as : he can't reach Bowen, he'll have his veD- ' geance out of whatever will hurt him worst.' 'How did Ferris know Davie would be ! there to night ?' 'He didn't know it at all; but after we got whipped to day, he re-crossed the river and dodged after the Whigs, thinking Bow- ! en would etop to see his sweetheart, who lives about here somewhere, and I heard ! him say he would shoot him if the ball pass- ' ed through the girl's heart. But Bowen didn't stop, and while Ferris was still dodg-i1 ing for him, who should ride past but Ma-j jor Davie. Ferris says he had his finger 1 on the trigger to pull when he stopped? 1 thinking it would hurt Bowen worse to find 1 bim hung?so he won an hour or two's respite, and exchanged a bullet for a halter.' 1 'Well, come on, let's go. I don't care j' if they hang him as high as Haman. Where I- V?i.. 9 T>? i e i . ? / __ . is Lunt uuusc . jl m most iamisnea ior wa- 1 ter;' and the parties moved on. Bessie waited until after their footsteps ' had died away. Then plunging into the 1 woods, she hastily ran under their shades, and reaching the back door of this cottage, 1 found she had outrun the Tory sentinels. 1 It was the work of a moment to empty every ' drop of water from the pail, while in breath- j less haste, she detailed to her father the i1 events we have just recorded. |( tv flf % JktoMim. riTE YORKVILLE ENQUIRER. MPilLL; OUNTAIK. ' . j. ? f * t * ,Y A: EWART.. * Now, dear father,' said she, 'do not wait to expostulate?do not deny me?saddle ahorse quickly?leave him in the woods at the back of the house?make what delay you can in going to the spring for water, and leave the rest for me.' 'Bessie, lassie, what would you do? You could not go to the camp to night. Bide you here, and I'll away.' ?No! no! father, better meet a whole regiment" of Whigs unprotected, than a Tory trooper. Do not ask me, father, it will not do.' Andrew looks at his fair young child and felt it would not do. 'Let me go with you then, daughter; it'll ho do for a young thing like you to go alone.' 'Don't you see, father, you must be here to detain them. Quick ! Quick ! father; they are coming. Don't let them know I'm here.' 'Ho^r can I help it, child?they will soon kDow a woman body is about;' and the father looked with pride around his humble cottage. ? ^ . Tell them I am gone out?anything; but they must not see me,' replied the maiden in hurried excitement, as she felt the necessity of each moment. *I cannot tell a He, Bessie,' replied the! old man, sadly.^ 'Nor do I ask you father,-dear,' said the! maiden, tenderly. 'Say I am gone to see} fl fnr aK-!' cKo mnrmnrorl *io Tin nnt i "> " ? I the. dearest and-beet.' * * . 'My child'?said her father, hesitating ; ly. - . Hush, hush, dear father,' said Bessie, j interrupting him; 'did you Dot give toe toi the cause,of liberty, and oh ! think of the j loss Major Bavie would be to our country?j think how Captain Bowen would mourn for; his friend/ said she, with the rich color, mantling her oheek. Think how he would j chide us for giving him no warning. Think j of the minister's blessing, dear father/ said i Bessie, entreatingly. 'Right, my bairn, right; I will saddle the i roan mare, she is the swiftest and surest, j and I'll put her in the shade of the big oak j by the road and may God bless you, my lit-! tie lassie/ said the old man, as he tearfully i kissed her pure brow and rested his horny! hand in her golden curls. Strange,' muttered he, as he hastened < away, 'the child I dandled on my knee,' who so often toddled after me, should teach j me my duty; the little womaD ! God guard: mv Mnrtrarpf's hnirn ' Bessie had scarcely time to tie a handker- j chief over her brown curls, and running out of the back door hide in the shadow of the wood, when the shaking of the gate and the loud call of the men, told her that she had just escaped. Andrew was in no hurry to hear thein, and not till he had saddled the horse and placed the bridle in Bessie's ; hands?for he had no time to lead it farther?did he answer. Then, as if coming from the spring, he came on singiDg, in j louder tones, as he approached the house, j that beautiful Psalm, "The Lord's my shepherd." I 'You old Psalm singing puritan you, are ' you going to keep us here all night ? Con- i found you, come aloDg and give us some j i water.' I But Andrew did not hear, or did not < heed, and singing louder than ever, moved i about the house as if intending to close it. 1 'You cursed old hypocrite, if you don't I briDg us some water, I'll crack your doting t skull for you; what in the devil do you j stand gaziogthere for ?' said one, as Andrew j t peered into the moonlight. 'Are you wanting anything, gentlemen,' said Andrew, with one hand raised to hisj ear, as if for the first time hearing the com- j motion. 'Now listen to that, will you? "Wanting , anything! when we've been standing here j hollering for the last half hour. Give us some water, will you ? you deaf post, you,';( he yelled. j ] Slowly Audrew descended the steps, andj walking as slowly down to the gate, very j politely asked, 'Are you wanting anything, sirs ? Myj hearicg is no so gude as it was in langj syne, and I thought maybe you might be calling.' 'Be calling! be calling the devil ! I have stood here yelling till my throat is well nigh cracked. Give us some water, will you V he cried, at the top of his voice. 'Oh ! water ! certainly gentlemen, walk in. I'm not so deaf but I can hear that. [ would na like to be without water mysel such a night, but come in, come in, and bide a while.' 'No, we can't leave the road,' said the man, surlily, 'bring us the water.' , ?Oh ! come in audsit a bit,' said old An-j drew, opening the gate. 'Its early in the uight yet, though this good moonlight we don't light candles?come in and rest ye." 'No,' replied the other impatiently, 'we can't come in ; for heaven's sake, bring us the water.' j 'The water! oh ! yes,' replied Andrew, j as if he had just heard of it. 'Sure, yes, I'll bring ye water, aud gude fresh water it is, but will you no come in V and he stood with tho opened gate. 'No,' thundered the one called Tom, and; tvith oaths, so impressive, that Andrew j thought it would be no longer safe to wait;! o turning, he went up to the house, but! Bessie had taken care to leave do water! :here, and with the empty pail in his hand, the old man slowly returned to them. | 'Gentlemen, you'll have to oome in; there's no water, and if ye'll but just bide oa the steps a moment, Pll gie ye as cool a drink as ever ye tasted.' Now, Andrew was anxious to get them out of the road, for he feared Bessie would emerge from the wood ere she passed its |turn. ' I 'I see no help for it, Tom, let's go in and rest. I suppose we will get the water by waiting for it.' t ? Just as tbey entered a gate, a distinct sound of a horse's hoof struck upon the ear. 'Hark! what is that?' said Jones, the other sentinel; but Andrew judging correctly that Bessie had mistaken herdistanoe, cleverly clicked the gate almost at the same moment, and bawling like a deaf man sometimes does, said, 'How far is it, do you say? 'Well, a matter of some hundred yards, perhaps not so much, or perhaps more; it much depends on my own feelings; if?' . . 'Will you hush V said the excited trooper, who tried, but in vain to catch the sound. - . 'Will I bring it? Of course I'll bring it,' said Andrew, laughing, asjf highly amused. 'Do ye think I canna bring a pail of water; deed but I can, and twa of them if you like.' ^ 'The old fool! If it was anything, it's gone now; I don't hear a sound, do >ou, Tom?'" 'No, I dou})t if I heard it at all, for he banged the gate so, I thought it might be that.' c . v' . 'I believe for my part, the fellow is more knave than fool,'said Jones. .'Did you not. notice how he started ?' 'No, I did not notice anything,' replied his thirsty companion. 'I believe next thing you'll notice a leaf falling, or which way the wind blows, and argue it is a sign of-approacbing Whig cavalry. Hurry your old bones now and bring us the water, and do not stay all night.' Andrew now pretty well assured of Bessie's safety, made the trip to the spring in reasonable time. The troopers had evidently been conversing on the probability of any one passing, for thoir first question was if it were 'possible for any one to reach the Whig camp by any other road than this?' 'Not unless they strike it through the wood,' said Andrew in reply. 'And would it be possible for one on horseback to get through?' . . , 'Not unless they are willing to take the fate of Absalom,' laughed the old man. 'Where's yoor wife and ohildren ? You have got some women folks about you, ain't you?' 'My wife sleeps in the church yard,' replied old Abdrew, gravely. 'Well, where's the children ?' said they, for a moment awed by the old man's manners. 'T have but one girl,' replied old Andrew, gruffly. 'Humph ! I thought as much,' they said. 'Too many woman's knackeries about here to'deoy that; well where is she ?' 'She's gone to visit a friend.' 'A friend! what friend? How far from here ?' 'Look ye, sirs, when ye tell me who made my business yours; I'll talk to you about it,' replied the old man indignantly. 'Hi! you're up there are you? Well, I tell you, a civil question requires a civil aoswer, and I'll make the business mine if I see fit; so keep a civil tongue in your head, you old Scotch rascal, or mnybe you'll have no head to hold it,' and rising, the unwelcome visitors departed. But it is time to see how little Bessie is speeding on her journey. Giving the rein to the horse, she did not again draw it, until within the Whig camp. It was not until challenged by a sentry and demanding to be conducted into the presence of the jommanding officer, that she first felt the awkwardness of her position. As she rode through the camp, many a curious look was turned towards her, and many an exclamation of admiration fell upon her ear. 'Who is commanding officer ?' said she to ne guide. Captain Bowen,' he replied. Bessie inroluntarily checked her horse. 'Take rue to some ODe else,' said she hur- : iedly. 'I cannot go to him.' ?I guess there's no one else I can take rou to; and you need not fear him, Miss, 'or a truer gentleman never lived.' 1 'I know that,' said little Bessie, proudly i irecting her head, 'but is there no one else i t could give my information to, and let me ;o back home ?' said she timidly. The 1 rooper smiled. 'No, Miss, there is no choice now but to ;oto head-quarters. Yonder he is now.' Bessie looked and easily discovered Bow- ! ;n among the tall mountaineers by whom he vas surrounded, from his superior height. ' tie was standing with his cap in his hand, ' ;he fire light throwing a strong reflection 1 iu his handsome face, laughing lightly with iis brother officers. Bessie saw the guide 1 ipproach and give her Dame; she saw too, ' :he startled looks of pleasure, and smiled; ' saw the succeeding look of doubtful wonder, ! ind involuntarily she blushed deeply, and ' i sigh trembled from her breast. But she 1 lad no farther time for thought. Bowen itMio or\n??AOolnn/v 1 'Bessie,' said he, 'you here ! What is ' ivrong?' and he held out his hand to take ner from the saddle, but instinctively the ' conian drew back. 'Captain Bowen,' said she distantly, 1 ivhile a burning flush mantled her brow and 1 vas gradually succeeded by a death like 1 pallor, 'I come at the call of duty, bearing 1 mportant news. Major Davie is in danger; 1 jerhaps even now in- the hands of the ene- ' ny/ and she rapidly detailed the conversa,ion she had overheard, only refraining from i ,he portion which referred to herself. 1 'Ha!' replied Bowen, 'this must be seen f o; it will be necessary to detain you a few ninutcs,' and he touched his cap respect- ? ully, while Bessie thanked him in her in- nost heart for the delicacy which led him ? A treat her as a stranger. Ordering a senti neJ to take her to a retired part of the camp, he hastily communicated with his brother officers, and almost immediately the trumpet sounded to arms. The camp was now a scene of bustle and confusion, and Bessie wondered if order could ever be brought out of euch disorderly elements as the mass of busy and excited troopers presented. The tramping of steeds, the rattling of sabres and muskets, the call, of the officers, the shouts of the men, all mingled, made a din quite "novel to little Bessie's ears, and she smiled as she caught herself listening to catoh'the sound of Ellick's voice above it all. While the troop was getting in readiness, El lick snatched a moment to speak with Besfie. 'You are a brave little woman, Bessie,' said he, after assuring her there was no one by to notice them. 'If it is as you say, I have no donbl. you have saved MajoT Davie's life. I cannot tell you how proud I am of you for it.' 'Are you, Ellick ?' said she, lifting her blue, eyes to his face in innocent wonder that such a' stalwart speoimen of manhood as the brave trooper before her, should be proud of such a mite of a body as little Bessie Craig. 'Indeed, I am Bessie,' said be, laughing at h$r' wonderment; 'you are fit to be a soldiers wife.' 'Oh ! Ellick do you think so?' said she, every feature beaming with satisfaction; 'do you know I thought of that. I feared you thought me a little coward woman, and I was glad to prove that I was not afraid to do my duty ; still it was not all for that I did it. I would have done anything to save Major Davie.' 'And why Major Davie, Bessie?'said Bowen ; 'you do not know him.' 'But you do, Ellick, and the men said you loved him, and his death would hurt you. Ah ! there was the secret of it all. 'You are a very woman, Bessie,' said he warmly; 'but the men are ready and I must away. God bless you, Bessie; a guard will see you safe home after we leave,' and he sprung to his saddle. - ' Bessie watched him take his place at the head of his men, heard him shout'forward,' and in a moment, she was alone with her escort. . CHAPTER VI. Upon his hand, she laid her own, Light was the touch but itthrilled to the bone. SlEOE Or COEI.NTH. Ellen Campbell retired to her room, but Dot to sleep,?those bitter words rang in her ear. She had wounded by hercooluess, the heart she would have died to save. If she had had but the courage to have extended her hand to him?but coward that she was, she would suffer, herself, and worse, tar worse, let him suffer rather than conquer a cruel modesty. She felt weak? nervous; the task of undressing was wearisome?dismissing her attendant ere the toilet for the n ight was more than half completed, she extinguished the light and sat down at the open window. Major Davie, too, was restless. She could hear him in the room opposite to her own pacing to and fro, but at length the sound ceased and all wn<a fillipf. Sudlv And drPATnilc orqfinrr nnf n ^ j j b b on the moonlight, her attention was caught by shadowB falling upon the sward. Her first impulse was to rise and look out, but j the rattling of a sabre struck her ear, and j instantly a sense of danger entered heri mind. She remained motionless for some-; time, then hearing whispered voices she; sank on her knees and placed her ear to the! sill. 'Place a couple of men at each door, and j sentinels round the house, and we'll be sure1 to have him,' said Ferris. The voice was not familiar to Ellen, and she only gathered enough no know there was a threatened danger to Major Davie; but soon the sound of Captain Hardy's voice struck terror to her heart. 'Quick, boys! quick ! what we do must be done quickly; we have no time to lose. Force an entrance if necessary, and hang him to his own bed post rather than let Mm es- i cape.' Ellen sprang to her feet; not a moment 1 was to be lost. Hastily throwing her shawl i around her bare shoulders, and fastening 1 the dress that had been partially unloosed, < ran down stairs to her uncle's room. Jerry, his man servant, slept in an ante room ' adjoining his master's, and was the only 1 servant in the house. Hastily rousing him I and charging him to delay the opening of ? the door as long as possible, without waiting ; L ' -I I ' L . - XT T\_ I io see uer uuc-ie aue ran oaoa 10 iuajor x/a- ' vie's room and knocked lightly at the door, i There was no answer. Again she knocked more loudly and rapidly; but the sleeper was 1 sleeping the sleep of a tired man, and there ] was no response. Whatshould she do!? * Stooping to the key hole she called in a loud excited whisper, 'Major Davie! rouse! the < enemy are here.' Still no reply. Hark! i they are now knocking for entrance; an- < other moment may be too late?the brave < girl, brave in subduing her woman's modes- y ty, hesitated no loDger. With a firm band she opened the door and approached the f bed. The moonlight fell full upon the i sleeper?one stalwart arm was thrown above ( his head, the other rested upon his brawny It chest, which heaved in deep respiration.? ? The jetty black hair was thrown back from s his brow, and the long lashes threw almost ( a shade beneath the closeS lids?the mouth i was relaxed from its usual fine expression, ? and a look of softness rested on the face that ? thrilled Ellen's heart, as she thought of the tenderness that bade the expression rest ^ there a few short hours ago. But it was g ao time for gentle memories. Again, a fi basty summons at the door. t Major ! Major Davie!' cried Ellon, bend- ? ng over him. Still he slept on. Laying i ber hand lightly on the sleeper, she gently ( ihook him. 1 'Awake ! awake, Major Davie ! Henry!' i she cried iu her alarm; 'you will be taken ?the enemy are even now at the door.' He i sprang up fully roused. \ 'Ellen 1' he oried?but she was at the door, c 'Quiok! qniok! for God's sake, quick ! The Tories are foroiog an entrance?in five minutes more ft Will be too late?dress quickly, and oome to the room opposite.' It was evident that the Tories, impatient at Jerry's slow motions, were about breaking down the door, and again she called to Major Davie to hasten. Almost instantly, he came from his room, buckling his sword on as he crossed the passage. 'What do you propose for me !' his dark e^es flashing in excitement; for even as he spoke, the sound of the opening door with the immediate entrance of the Tories was distinctly heard. nsre, nere i criea jwien, catonmg nis arm, drawing him into the room and locking the door. 'There is no help for it?the tree ! the tree 1 it is your only chance.' 'Ah! I see,' said he, and glancing ont of the window to measure the distance, he discovered the sentinels below. The bright moonlight would surely disoover him if he attempted to escape, even if the noise of the yielding branches did not. 'It will not do,' said he, 'but I will not be found here ; you must not be compromised ; let me out and meet the danger like a man; it will be but an imprisonment at any rate. * ; \ 'No, no,' cried Ellen mildly, 'they will kill yen: you do not know their hate against you. Captain Hardy commands the troop.' 'And how have I exasperated him ? I do not even know the man.' 'I cannot tell you how,' cried Ellen, wringing her hands in distress. 'I can only think of saving you,' said she, as voices were heard in the opposite apartment.? She looked round the room in despair. 'Here,' she cried, opening a door into'an inner room, 'enter quick, quick! why do you delay? For God's sake, Henry,' cried Ellen, almost beside herself with terror, 'this is no time for pride.' '^By Heaven, no ! I will make my way, were they backed by a regiment. I cannot, Miss Ellen, I cannot,' replied the trooper, folding his arms calmly, though the involuntary mention of his > name quickened every pulse; 'let them take me, though I regret it should be here. I could notst&Dd being drawn like a coward from such a concealment.' Ellen buried her face in her hands in utter despair; there seemed no appeal from that proud resolve, but the knocks at her own door roused her to action. Her resolve was at once taken, and nobly did the high souled girl carry it out. There wa6 neither tremor in her voice nor flush on her check, as she fimrly said.' 'Henry, I ask this for my sake. Do not doom me to a maiden widowhood.' The warm blood mantled his olive oheeb, flushing it to a damask hue; an instant more he hesitated?not longer could he resist the sad entreaty of those eyes Clasping her hand and murmuring, 'Heaven bless you, Ellen,' he entered the room. 'What means this rude summons,' oried Ellen, in answer to repeated knocks 'Open the door,' said Ferris fiercely ; 'we have no time to bandy words.' 'This room is my chamber, sir; if you are gentlemen, you will leave a lady's privacy undisturbed.' 'We respect no privacy that conceals a rebel; open at once, or by heaven we'll break the door down.' And he shook it nearly from its hinges. Your words are as insulting as your conduct is dishonorable and cowardly. I will not open to such ruffians,' replied Ellen. 'Then, we'll not ask your leave, Madam,' replied Ferris, who seemed to be the spokesman of the party; and applying his giant strength to the door, he bnsrt the lock from its fastenings. Ellen wrapped her shawl more closely around her, and standing immediately in front of the door, seemed to forbid their entrance. 'Who are you, sir, that dares this rude entrance,' she cried. 'Whatcause is it that bids men fight against old men and helpless women, aod bids you seek the boar of midnight for your triumph ? If yoa seek booty, you must look elsewhere than in a maiden's chamber for it/ . < We seek the rebel, Davie; you've got him hid here, and we'll settle his account first md take the booty afterward, pretty miss,' cried Ferris, coarsely. 'So stand one 6ide md let us pass.' 'Do not dare to touch me,' cried Ellen, jhrinking from his rude grasp; 'you pass not this threshold but over my dead body? hut I demand to see your master. I am not j icoustomed to deal with such ruffians as you,' said the undaunted girl, who espied Captain Hardy hanging back in the distance, ishamed of the part ho was acting. 'I own no master,' replied Ferris, surlily; :and if you would save yourself from what you call insult, you had better keep a civil tongue id your head. lCapt. Hardy was not wont,' cried Ellen jontemptuously, 'to need a spokesman, and f the choice he has now made is an eviience of his general tastes, I can well un- i leretand the disposition that leads him to ivar against women and fly from his own sex.' i 'Capt. Hardy is here to answer for him- ' self,' the Captain replied, advancing toward I ier, stung by her sarcasm; 'and if Missi Jampbell cannot understand the delicacy |l ;hat would have saved her from meeting an! I icquaintance under suoh trying circum-j itances, I will not attempt to explain. I I :ome in the discharge of duty to capture a j i )oted rebel-against his kiDg and country, 1 ind I command yop in the king's name to f illow me the right of search.' < 'Miss Campbell is singularly obtuse in Derceiving the delicacy that would send 1 inch a ruffian as you into her chamber,' f laid the girl with proud contempt, pointing 1 o Ferris, who Btood in angry impatience i it this parley. 'Why you should judge a t ebel concealed in my room, I cannot un- . lerstand, and would beg you to retire, at, i east, until I can complete the toilet your "udo entrance interrupted.' i 'Your evasion will answer no purpose,' 1 eplied Captain Ilardy. 'We know that he vas in the house; nay, his room gives evi- 1 lence of being but recently vacated.' |i 'And why not seek him elsewhere ?? Whig officers are not wont to fly to women, save where they can rescue or defend,' said she mockingly. 'We. have searched the house, Miss Campbell, and painful as is the duty, I must seek the rebel here. Once more I command you in the King, my master's name, to allow me to enter.' 'I do not acknowledge your master's right over me, free born as I am. I possess no slavish instincts to answer such a call. L^t him seek among his slaves for rebels. Patriots fighting for their country's freedom, do not acknowledge the name,' replied the intrepid girl. 'You are wasting time, Captain,' cried Ferris, impatiently; 'push the girl one side and go it' Ellen turned upon Hardy a. look full of defiance. 'To men of honor, the chamber of a lady nhmild he annred ah'a RAnotnarv nh ! whprA is the generous chivalry that was once so characteristic ot the British soldier! What a degradation to your manhood! What'a strain upon yonr honor! when such brutal humanity as you dictate to gentlemen and officers. I will defend the passage though 1 perish. You may succeed and. enter if; but I defy you to make the attempt.'-' Her undaunted heroism intimidated him; he scarcely know how to act?ashamed to enter and yet unwilling to retreat. While hesitating, a happy thought struck Ellen ; she laughed lightly, 'Gentlemen,' she cried,- 'I will excuse your farther hearing. Think you a rebel would neglect such a means of escape as you,' she said, pointinsr to the tree. <1 thank you for your parley; it has given what we needed?time.'.- In an instant the room was cleared, and with muttered curses the tories dispersed themselves for the search. Ellen knew the respite was but momentary^ for as soon as they would see the guards below, they wonld be convinced of the impracticability of the escape. 'My pistols, quick, Ellen; qaick?they are under my pillow. I will Bell my life dear,' cried Major Davie, as he flung back the door?and ere he bad time to question her as to her excitement, for he had been too busily engaged in searching ways of escape to heed the parley in the* adjoining room,' and the noise of tbo.crashing door had been mingled with the confusion helow?Ellen ran quickly to biB room and snatchiDg the pistols, hastened back. 'The branches come almost into the windows of the next room,' he said, 'and I am Tain to try it. If my good steed were but below!' My brave girl! farewell.' He olasped ber in his arms and kissed her tenderly. 'Do not be too muoh alarmed on my account, dearest; even were I to fall into Hardy's hands, he is a soldier, and will know how to treat a soldier and officer.' 'You are lost! you are lost! if you fall into his hands,' she cried; 'and I, I will be the cause?but hark ! they come, fly, for God's sake, fly,' and leaving her with one of the pistols yet in her hands, the. trooper entered the inner room. The Tories were returning, though many had scattered through the bouse in search of booty, Ferris among them, who now secure of Davie, wished to secure the envied plate the possession of which had long haunted his brain. Ellen had scarcely time to regain her calmness, when Captain Hardy, with his troopers, was at the door. '' 'With this/ she murmured, grasping the weapoD, 'I may yet intimidate them ; there are but few, he may yet escape.' 'Miss Campbell, your subterfuge has not availed?it is impossible for him to escape our guards; you but force upon me harsh measures. My duty is to take the rebel, Davie; once more I ask you to let me pass.' The Captain was evidently angry and chagrined. EHen felt he was no longer to be put off. ?I have told you I would not let you pass, Capt. Hardy,' she safd. fl will defend the privacy of my room with my life.' 'You would, Miss Campbell,' he cried sarcastically.' 'You hold your life cheap? few would risk the precious gift on such an imaginary sanctity; but answer me on your honor as a lady, is there nothing more precious to preserve in this room than simply your privacy ? Answer me truthfully, and I will leave you undisturbed from farther annoyance.' He fixed his eyes keenly upon her ; she strove to meet his look unabashed, but the ; guilty blood would not be subdued?it rushed in torrents to her oheekB, bathing i her very brow with its crimson tide?her eyes fell under the searching glance and her secret stood confessed. 'I am answered,' said he calmly; 'do ; not longer detain me?let me pass.' She i did not move. 'You force me to this,' he i said, as he placed bis hand on her arm.? ShaKing it irom ner ana springing dqok, i she cried, ' 'Advance at your peril; for I solemnly swear I will shoot the first man dead who crosses that threshold.' There was no mistaking the firmness of the intrepid girl? every nerve was strung to high resolve, and her flushed cheeks and compressed lips testified to her undaunted courage. 'Then iray God forgive you, Miss Campbell,' said Hardy, standing in momentary admiration of the lovely girl; then fearlessly crossing the threshold. The next instant there was a report, and the pistol ball entered the ceiling. You may thank God you are spared the life of a human being,' said he gravely, as she covered her face and staggered back For an instant, overcome by a sense of woman fear at the possibility of sending a soul to judgment; 'but give me the pistol, [ would save you from a more successful attempt.' 'Never,' said she firmly. 'You take it From me at your risk,' and again she sprang back from his touch. 'By heaven! girl,' cried he, exasperated beyond all control, 'you'll force me to wrest it trom you. Cease this idle defiance; it i only serves to hasten yonr lover's doom, for I swear yon have taught xne never to allow him to leave this place alive.' 'Spare yonr oaths, sir, and permit me to leave it now. I would save myselfinsult and you the mortification of further anuoying, by your rode and unmannerly conduct, a helpless maiden. Let me pass/ and drawing her shawl closely around her, with a firm step and erect carriage, she swept past him, leaving him in mystified wonder that she should at laDgth. so quietly give up what she bad so recklessly contended for. With many a muttered corse at the caprice that so annoyed him, be proceeded on his fruitless search. Maddened to find bis prey escaped, he searched every nook and oomer in the mansion in vain, Sammonning the scattered tories, he sternly upbraided them with remissness in doty, and. swore if Davie was not caught, he wonld make Ferris answer with his life. Ellen who had songht refuge with Mr.. Willoughby in the parlor; in trembling dread heard the angry summons and the bitter curses of the disappointed men.? Hoping that Davie would have the prudence to remain quietly in his retreat, Ellen determined to make another effort for him.. Calling Jerry, as being the most lieliable of the servants, she instructed him to hasten with what speed "and secrecy he might to the camp, and warn Bowen of his friend's danger. ', 'But bow shall I get off, Miss Ellen? They will be sure to see me/ 'They are all too much engaged now, Jerry.. Fly if you love me, and bid Captain. Bowen come, nod qnickly,' said>he, as she followed him into the passage. 'No! by heaven!' said Hardy, as he stood before her. 'Your love would lend him wings, would . it ? Engaged-we are truly, but neither blind nor deaf; and "hark ye, you old gray haired Sinner,' said he in towering wrath to Jerry, 'if yon budge one inch from this room, I'll sever your doting head from your body. Be thankful your ears do not hnswer for your temerity now. Allow me,'Miss Campbell,' he continued, as with mocking gallantry he condaoted her back to the room"; 'and now having .proof positive the rebel is near, I thank you for the information and go to start the game.' Davie had become exceedingly restlesrf in his leafy prison, and his high spirit undervaluing the danger, he determined to descend and trust the shades of night and his own good arm for a rescue. Composedly descending, he watched his moment and dropping lightly to the ground, cast a hasty glance around, and grasping his sword more tightly, sprang fearlessly in the open moonlight. Who goes there?' cried a sentinel in the avenue. 'Stand !' he cried, as Davie endeavored to spring past him; 'stand or T fire.' Dashing the weapon up with his sword, Davie caught it again id descending, and fearing to fire lest the noise should alarm others, drove the bntt against the trooper's face with a force that laid him prostrate. But the noise bad already alarmed the sentinels who were posted near, and fighting like a tiger, the major was at length taken and carried to Hardy, who in pitiful triumph, ordered him to be led into the parlor where Ellen and Mr. Willougbby sat. Intending to give him a hasty sbriftrbe yet could not forego the-dear delight of humbling hhn before his mistress, and compelling, if possible, the high souled patriot to sue for mercy. With the bold aod careless step of undaunted courage, the young major stood before his ene *". r . * ' ? ' my. " 'A chair for the prisoner,' said Hard/in nffpp.tpd nmirtpsv "Rpndino> his hpiiH with a haughty inclination, Davie refused the offer without speaking. You are no doubt aware/ said Hardy, pompously, 'that I act under the com/ mands of my superior officer when I arraign j you here as a rebel, and condemn you to, the last degree of punishment fpryouc treason.' A low cry from Ellen interrupted, and Davie biting his lips in deep emotion said, . , . <1 must beg of you, sir, as an officer and as a gentlemen to waive this mockery, and spare the feelings of those who may be interested in' the life or death of a fellow being.' 'They have the privilege of withdrawing/ said Hardy coldly. 'In the performance of my duty, I can consult no secondary feelings.' 'I do not understand this mockery, siir/ said Davie, exasperated by the calmness of the man before him. 'I claim to be a prisoner of war, and what means this fulsome parade ? If it is simply to prove I am a rebel as you call us, I will save you further trouble. I am a patriot, and glory in the name.' I must beg your patience/ said Hardy, sneeringly. ?I am willing to grant you what mercy lies in my power. ?I ask nor accept no mercy from your 1 bands,' 6aid Davie firmly ; 'but if not deaf to every principle of honor, I do ask you J for iusfcice.' SileDce!' said Hardy, with knitted jrows, 'and hear my questions.' <1 will not/ said Davie, in a determined one; 'I will know first who and what you ire who thus arraign mc.' 'Arc you mad, Henry?' said Mr. Wiloughby in terror for his young friend, to vhom he was tenderly attached. Remem)er, you are speaking to one of his majesty's jfScers, Captain Hardy.' Davie haughtily inclined his head and laid, 'Whether I shall deem it a privilege o meet one of bis name and rank, remains o be seen.' 'Henry, Henry,' said Mr. Willoughby, n a tone between rebuke and entreaty. 'Let him alone, sir,' said Hardy, trembing in passion, 'perhaps he will have the mdacity to justify the rebellion to me.' 'I doubt if your education would allow 70U to understand the rights on which you ;rample; but I am willing you should be iware that I am prepared at any time to 1 assert my liberty >?d that of my country.' 'And maintain it at lip asord'a point, doubtless V said Hardy, contemptuously. 'Your question would aot JiavB admitted of intemigaiion, bad I theokdc iq my hand and yon before me on a fair field/ said Davie. JfW 'It is enough. Your bold and mxtel0evous language corresponds with the character I have beard of you. Soldier!* to-year dotyl' , ' /ark.* J- . n i_:_ > 11 SM w juu uicauy mpmn UHUJ ; said Mr. Willoughby, in strong exoitemeot; 'would you shed a man's blood on the very threshold of my door? For God's sake, stayP 'Make your peace with Hearsay in ire minutes/ said Hardy, without heeding him; hare you the nope, Ferrisf * 'Die as a oammon felon 1' said Daps* recoiling, sod for die first lima exhibiting any emotion. 'Let meat ieaat meet a adder's doom; it is ill task at your hands-' 'Spare his young blood, Captain Hardy; do not have him murdered, before my eyes. Ellen, where am you? Come and plead ior hie life,' said Mr. Willoagbby, ftoking . ardnod for Ellen. She who Srasmoa^interested in this dreadful decision, had at different times striven to speak; but her voice failed her. She now sprang up, and would have thrown herself at Hard/a feet, had not Davie's arm restrained her* y 'Plead with him, and for me?- Never, EUen 1' and clasping her in his anns/wbile in weakness and terror her head rested on bis shoulder, he proudly confronted his enemy. 'No! X ask nothing, from year hands: Die. as I ingy,-X will die like a man, and the ignominy will -remain-with yon as* my murderer.,? _?' . Remove him, Ferris/ said Hardy, in suffocating passion, that he could nofeintimidate the fearless rebel. <Yon will answer for this vfolenoe,' said Mr. Willoagbby, forgetting all bis timid fears in this appalling sentence. <1 have friends who will make yon answer for it.' Hardy smHed grimly. 'Look to yourself, Mr. Wifloughby; jour own peril may ere long be we waste rime. Attend the piMnjK' For God's sake, Captain HaJdy,' cried Ellen, as yielding to the vebemiff^e afjier feelings, she fell at his feet, 'spare bis woocent blood.' 'Miss Campbell forgets the modesty of her sex,' said Hardy, raising her from the floor. 'For whom is she pleading ?' he ddded bitterly. <Ellen V said Datf e, as unable to support herself, she would have fallen, had he not again thrown his arm around her. 8he would have spoken, but her tongue refused to utter, and her strength gave way. Placing the insensible form in the arms of Mr. Willoughby, he turned to Hardy, saying, .'I am ready.' And with bis noble form drawn to its full height, and his eye sparkling as proudly as it ever did on the field of battle, be awaited the movement of the guard. There was some commodes at the door. Hardy's 'silence there?attend" the prisioner,' was unheeded; sad as-be^advanced to ascertain the cause, snOtherWnd , mingles with the confusion. < Hark-In is the sound of trampling hoofs, of rushing cavalry. The oiashiag steel atrd-Jnj^pl shot mingled with savage $etl?,$tnora;hf&eoua than all, tell of-war and death. For a moment the parties hestitate. , Hardy'is the first to understand the cause, and springing at the door, mingles in the fray. * One instant Davie hesitates. Bending over the pallid face ofc^llen, hyydy * .'Ellen 1 my own Ellen,'there .is no longer cause for fear. I hear Bowen's votee? I am freR, free,' said he joyfully.: 'These are sad circumstances under which to leave you, but 1 must away. - Heaven bless you, my hravegirl,' and he pressed his li^Lto her pale,brow. 'Free! free J' she cried, starting up. 'Is it indeed so; thank jQiank God,' and with the tears roIling-d^ra.her cheeks, she sank back exhausted from the piflonged excitement.^* . 'Once more, Heaven blesa you, Ellen.? Hark ! those shouts. They miss me.;' and with his clarion voice ringing in!joyoutanswer on her ear. the trooper wasirane. [to be continued.]^ [We can supply the back numbers of the.paper from the commencement of this story.] What Dbunkard Means.?Lest I should seem to claim too much for the name or God and thus lose all, I will take a few illustrations and show that the names ofall things designate our notions of those things, and that the name enlarges in proportion as our notions enlarge.\ For example:? What is meant by the word "drunkard?" it is a name; and what is implied in this name: JLo the unthinking it means nothing more than a worthless, disreputable, despicable wretch. To the ramfceller it means a poor, ragged, thirtty customer, who brings bis pay in small sums; who is aiways profane, and always welcome when be has money. But to his family, what different meaning the name of "drunkard" bas ! It means a faithless husband, a brutal father, an everlasting shame, and a perpetual dread. And what'does this word "drunkard" mean to the thinking man, the philanthropist, and the Christian ? It means a violator of the laws of health and decency; an )ffender against the duties and charities of borne; a neglecter and despiser of morality md religion; a blot, a stain and a burden; i living libel on his race; an outcast from the decencies of life; a poor, pitiable offender, who is destroying every fair thing iu bis body and soul, and, while bringing plashes and tears to the eyes auff cheeks of ill about him, is preparing bis bed iu bell. IThere is an old maid in Babylon, L I., wbo is so accustomed to dating her ige backward that when she speaks of the atter part of December, she call* it "late n the spring." 10" Wisdom is always at home to those vrho call.