University of South Carolina Libraries
lewis :a. grist. Proprietor j An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. J?2 per ahnum is advahce. VOL. 6. YORKVILLE, 8. C., THTJBSDAY, AUGUST 9, I860. 3STO. 32. A Cjrrilimg lontaitr WRITTEN EXPRESSTY FOR T OF KING'S M1 BY MRS. MAR1 CHAPTER XVIII?Continued. 'Capt Hardy, this visit is unexpected. < Walk in.' 1 Ellen's cheek was blanched to deadly white, as she strove to return calmly, his greeting; she would have left the room, but fear paralysed her. She cast one look of imploring terror at Graham. He did not understand her, for wrapt in his own 1 thoughts, he interpreted it as sympathy for him, and frowningly turned away. Another look was better understood. Graham's i eyes lighted with triumph ; as he resolutely 1 turned from the pleading gaze?a shadow of hate crossed his face. It was but for a I moment?his generous soul could not enter 1 tain such passions. His face was almost as I white as Ellen's, as he rose to enter the li i brary. But he suddenly thought, if the ; door opens, the voices will be heard; he must send Ellen while he engages Hardy's 1 attention. These thoughts passed through i his mind with the rapidity of lightning, < for scarcely a moment had elapsed since I Hardy had entered the room. Rising and: standing between Ellen and Hardy, he col- I 1 ? J .l. .u, ,1011 leccea me piuuires un me lame i?viu?s>i. calmly as he could? 'Miss Ellen, I will trouble you to place 11 these with the others in the library, and j< please place the originals in safety also, or!< they will be disturbed.' He spoke with! emphasis. Giving him one hasty look of gratitude, 1 Ellen arose as fast as her trembling limbs . would permit, and hastened to the library, j A hand was already on the lock, and j ere she could reach the door, Davie step-ji ped into the room saying, j; 'Sevier is late; what can be keeping:! him ?' 11 Hardy sprang to his feet, gazed for an ; * instaut on the faces of consternation around, ' then placing his hand on Davie's shoulder, '> said with a sneering smile, 'You are my prisoner.' i 'Never!' said Davie, dashing his hand 1 froiUcium and springing to the door. < 'One step farther and you are a dead man,'thundered Hardy, drawing a pistol i< from his belt. Without heeding him, Da-1' vie sprang down the wide hall and enter-:* ed the piazza. Alas : twenty troopers were " drawn up before the door. It was useless | to struggle. Hardy was behind hira.?. 'You are my prisoner,' he again cried.?; Surrender.' i Davie turned contemptuously from him,! and drawing his sword, offered it to Col. Graham. Taking it for an instant., Gra-I ham returned it with courtly grace, saying, | It is as safe in your scabbard, Major Davie, as it is in my possession. Keep it, sir; your word is sufficient that you will not use it.' You may not be aware, Col. Graham,! that you will find some difficulty in estab-j lishing your own position before Lord Corn-: waili9. I would warn you against too much indulgence to a rebel. As my prisoner, i Major Davie must deliver his sword.' 'It is immaterial, Graham. I could not; give the promise you require, for T shall I certainly use it the first opportunity,'said J Davie, returning it to him, and completely; ignoring the presence of the other. A low- j ering frown gathered on Hardy's brow, and j calling a guard to attend the prisoner, he I requested Graham to re enter the house. Ellen was sitting in the same place they j had left her?pale, but calm and collected. I Mr. Willoughby stood near her, with marks of intense suffering and recent tears on his! face. As they entered, Ellen arose and; left the room. Hardy followed her with j his eyes till the library door closed upon j her, aod then said? 'It is necessary, Col. Graham, that you j should make immediate preparations to accompany me to Lord Cornwullis, and I must| beg you will do it with as much dispatch as! you can, as it is important for us to join j my Lord as speedily as possible.' Graham bowed haughtily. 'Did not my Lord send written instructions to that effect V he asked. 'It is sufficient that I give them to you,' replied Hardy, his ruddy face turning crimson, more at the tone than the words. 'It is not sufficient for tue to receive an ! order irotu an luienoi uuiuw-, nuuuui uuw j tioning his right to euforcc it,' replied Gra j ham ; 'and if your mission requires dispatch,! I advise you to return at once and not allow my movements to retard you, as I shall ecr-j tainly not aecompaoy you and he folded: his arms proudly, as he carelessly leant! against the mantle. 'Then yeu compel me to place you un-, der the same escort with the rebel Davie,') said Hardy, with a coarse laugh. '1 canj tell you, sir, your position is not very envi-j able just now, and if you would not be de-1 prived of your sword by other than Corn- j wall is, you had better obey my instructions,' said he significantly. Graham's eyes were literally scintillating with passion. 'What do you meau, sir?' said he fierce- j ly, involuntarily clapping his hand to his j side, but he was unarmed. 'I think I spoke plainly enough; you) are dull of cniprehension, Colonel,' said1 Hardy, with a malicious smile. Graham's voice was low and deep, and ) strangely calm as he replied, 'I understand nothing but the inoperti-1 nence of your language, sir, for which, as i sure as there is a God in Heaven, you shall j answer. The rest is as cowardly as malice j and brutal hate can make it.' e of flic IcfroMon. ? o o a|| HE YORKVILLE ENQUIRER. ^ OUNTAIN. ;! ir A. EWART. loi > ? - ^ th' 'Do you understand this then ?' said Hnr j;{ dy, in towering: wrath. 'You are accused of or disloyalty to your KiDg and sovereign?of n0 \ cowardice that will not allow you to unite se( with the rebels, and traitorism that forbids? ;,gi 'Hold!' shouted Graham. Another t|e word from your lying lips, and I will choke th, it back ere it Dollutes inv ears with its foul r dishonor.' wfc Hardy's sword flew from the scabbard. For an instant he met Graham's unflinch- |et ing gaze, then dashing it back with a rattle j8 ] lo its place, he said : <ye 'As you are unarmed, anu I responsible for your safe appearance before my Lord, I rej jannot now revenge the affront; but by heaven, your arrogance shall not go unpun- wo ished. I'll find a place to settle these scores yj; pet.' And in order that you may not forget it, va; :here is my challenge,' cried Graham, dash- j ng his glove in Hardy's face; and with a p|j ;ool and haughty contempt, he turned on ,y his heel and left the room bit Hardy's curses, low and deep, followed him, but choking his wrath as best he could, qU he said: 'It becomes my painful duty, Mr. Wil- sh, oughby. to attach your person in the name jf the King, for conniving at and otherwise S0( mcouraging this rebellion.' trc Mr. Willoughby started. 'This is sudden and strange, Capt Hardy ; \\ how is it possible that I have offended his Majesty's government?' th< Hardy smiled. ijy 'Ton will hear it more fully at the court; tbj ' ? mi. n t ? r i iL.i! martial tnac win cry uranam. i kuuw nun: pou are charged with aiding and abetting jas ;his rebellion, not only by your encourage- tar merit, and the countenance you give tol^j^ rebels, but by your means, inasmuch as you j p0 bave supplied those means to their outQtjjg ind support.' 'This is as foolish as it is malicious. It:crj is impossible to prove it/ replied Mr. Wil-j lougbby. trembling in vague terror, 'What, ;neiny could have thus maligned me?' Lf,< 'I fear, sir, it can but be too readily prov-1 ?d,' replied Hardy, in affected sympathy. at) The fact of Davie being now t wice discov- ve cred uuuer your roof?each time as an hon- jn( ored guest?would be almost sufficient. su But it is kuown from sources impossible to SC( doubt, that since the unfortunate battle ofjy0 King's Mountain, you have more boldly! encouraged the rebels, and by every means |w; in your power. And allow me to say, the; re lengthened sojourn of your proud guest here,! will work against you.' !y0 'What! Graham? Your own officer!' cried Mr. Willoughby, in consternation. 'Yes; our own officer it is true, but ODe wj whose loyalty has been of late much ques- (a] tinned.' ; he 'For God's sake, Hardy, tell me his hon-j or and loyalty is not doubted,' cried Mr Willoughby, every feature working in, strong emotion. 'If to spend months in the house of one suspected; to aspire to the hand of a lady; known to be devoted to the rebel cause; to; ? neglect the exchange effected for him, which ll" should to every soldier be not only significant r* as a recall, but a glad summons to his duty ; j is enough to create dishonorable suspicions? 00 then Col. Eward Graham stauds in a inostiDe awkward position, and one I would not like to fill for a good deal,' replied Hardy. 'It will kill him! it will kill him,' said m) Mr. Willoughby. 'His honor aspersed!,P? and I?I, wretch that I am, the cause of . it,' he groaned in anguish. j , 'Come, Mr. Willoughby, do not takeit:Q.e so hard. We will try and fix it for you. I 11 If you say the word, I can do a great deal. In fact, it rests with me pretty much, not |"e only to clear Graham, but release you/ said I Hardy significantly. 'What do you mean, Hardy? l)o but re this and I will bless you while I live,' said ico Mr. Willoughby, grasping his hand while jW( the tears gathered his eyes. j ? M ? * ? rT i n l 1 I 1 ?\ oil. replied tiaray, in a comuseu man-, nor, lI am more than willing to do what I! can for you. But to tell you the truth, it i is at some risk, and you know no man likes j ^ 0 not only to work for nothing, but to ri.-k his " all in the bargain.' He looked curiously ! with his keen gray eyes at Mr. Willonghby. j W( 'Go on,' sai<i Mr. Willoughby, impatient-, P? ly; 'name your price. Anything I have! shall be yours, if you but free Graham from j this dishonor.' j bl Graham, agaiu,' muttered Ilardy, with a j ,r curse. ^ jas 'Better think of yodr broad acres.' tb 1 do Hardy You cannot know what a'tli sorrow this is to me,' and the tears hitherto j restrained, coursed down his aged cheeks.! h< But we should think more of life and what. ^ makes life dear,' he said tremblingly, 'than of silt >r and goiu. Pledge me, Graham te shall be safe, not only from public but pri | vate revenge.' 'I pledge it, much as T hate him,' said 1 a, Hardy savagely. 'Now grant my guerdon.' ] ;t 'It is you is, Hardy,'replied Mr. Wil-i loughby; breathing more calmly, 'you have but to D.inie it.' : a.' 'Kllen CamDbell.' said Hardy, a triumph- u ant leer on his brutal face. Mr. Willoughby recoiled. 'My child ! my pure child ! never 1' said cl he in momentary defermination. . E A gathering scowl warned him. b 'Anything but this Hardy; do not ask c; this.' said he in pale horror. 'Nothing else will answer ' said Hardy, is doggedly, who had not failed to notice the repulsive manner. 'My lands are broad, my wealth even j hi jre than you imagine. Look ont onitjdj i and choose what you will, but spare my ild.' He clasped his hands in fervent en- th :aty. Hardy gave a fiendish laugh. hi 'In getting her I get all,' said he. ?I but mt her to deck my Droud wealth. By nc ive, won't she make a regal mistress.' I ht 'Do not calculate too certainly,' replied r. Willoughby, sternly. 'It is optional 0 th me whether she gets any or not. Your ht arice may overreach itself. 'You seem to have forgotten, Mr. Wil- af aghby, there is a law of confiscation, 'and h( e faithful soldier who in the zealous M icharge of his duty discovers the secret of more open abettors of this rebellion, does de t go unrewarded. We have a court of juestration, where these things arc man- wi ed without the interference of third pars. I may be nearer the rich prize of 01 jse good lands than you either expect or Si sire,' replied Hardy, unheeding the pain of lich he saw every word inflicted. no 'Graham?the home of my father's?Eli?all taken from mc! Good God, this be retribution,' cried Mr. Willoughby, stag ly ring as if under a stroke. 'A word from me will redeem them all,' en )lied Hardy. 'And if every breath were a word, Elleo as uld not listen to the base proposal,' said is r. Willoughby indignantly. wi 'What! not for the home you so much th lue ?' said Hardy. ch 'You do not know Ellen Campbell,' re- dt ed Mr. Willoughby contemptuously.? our words would be as idle as chaff )wn on summer wind. in 'The honor, perhaps the life of Graham ?' estioned Hardy, more hesitatingly. th 'Alas ! he replied, shaking his head, 'what co 3 values more than life, forbids it.' in 'If you allude to the rebel Davie, I'll G >n put him where hopes and fears will not uble him' said Hardy, coolly. dj 'You will not again attempt.'?said Mr. is illoughby in horror. 'I'll notuttempt anything that stands in 3 light of my interest,' interrupted Har- fic . 'It is useless to affect delicacy about sp is matter; give me your approbation on lei ! suit, and leave the rest to me. Ellon m my wife, and I the master of her herire, will make a home for you by the fire- as le that you love, and I pledge you my wi ssession shall be but nominal till your m ath gives me a perfect title.' as <()ut upon you for an avaracious villian,' th !ed Mr. Willoughby, in towering wrath, yc o dare to appropriate my proud heritage the wealth of a house who were lords of te ? soil when you wore in the mire from N lence you sprung. You dastardly ruffi dc ! to calculate on my death before my ry face- May my right arm perish by lil uhes from my body, ere I subscribe to m ch an unholy pledge. Out of my house, ar mndrel! ere the stones fall and crush Y ur miserly carcass.' fa 'Hark you, old man,' said Hardy, 'I was lo lling to show you uierey, and you have re fused it When vnn norno n?n heccrnr to e door you so proudly claim, I will thrust |N u from it and throw these words in your,et ?th. You may prepare to go with tne in I ui If an hour; and while I hold a parley! th the proud beauty in yonder, you mayjei ke a farewell of the place which, God j n< lp me, you will never see again.' jgi ;d. CHAPTER XIX. Yon grey lines | hi That fret the clouds, are messengers of day.; j Shakspeark. i 'Miss Ellen, it seems as if I am never to! . pear before you, except in an unfavorable j :ht,' said Hardy, as he entered the libra- ;'e fu The supposition was too true to need ntradiction; and Ellen did not think itjc' cessary to reply. U1 'I fear Davie's raiscbievious character sc 1! go much against him,' said he, deter- ^ ined to touch her on the most tender ? . n ai iui ursi. i i 'As T am not particularly anxious to hear;a< s dirge chanted by one so unable to un-jw rstand him, you will excuse me if I re-;v/ e,' said the spirited girl, rising to depart. j|'' Hardy quickly arose, and ere she could ;lt ach the door closed it, and placing hisj^1 ick against it, said with his coarse laugh, j 'Now you arc as much my prisoner as the ki st of the household, aud as such you must ot nsent to remain till you hear what you'h' )uld not allow me to tell you a day or two j bl o. It is useless to tell you I love you. \o\ ou have known that for some time.' j cc Her lips curled contemptuously. j w 'You do not believe me. By heaven, ijsp ? ?more than your favored lovers, the > lo ughty Davie, or the supercilious Graham.j m icy would relinquish you iu a love they | in juld call generous, if circumstances op-jgi ised them but; 1 swear never to relinquish j vi e hone of calling vou mine, but with mv c< I n j / ^ j c.' j st 'The thing you call hope, is too iritangi- j a e for aie to understand,' replied Ellen.'iei f I am detained to hear such rhapsodies j ui this, I must be as patient as possible, j V ough my patience will scarcely lessen i b e infliction.' | h '1'ioud girl,' said Hardy, 'you little know r; )W you stand with me, or again you would j a ; at tuy feet as a supplicant.' j '1 Kilen biushed crimson, but she undaun-'p d!y replied? o: 'I do not fear you. Oo your worst.' ? 'And tliat will be to condemn Davie ere ti lothcr day passes,' said be with a prolan- b y so habitual, it was involuntary. u She smiled scornfully. o 'lie is nut in your power; he wiil be tried ? i a soldier. Officers and gentlemen will u nderstand justice, if not mercy.' n lie started violently. u Ha! have you been contemplating his fi lances? You are keen but not cunuiug. g Ivideuce, damning evidence, can be f rought against him, and it shall be my f ire to see it forthcoming.' s You can prove the purity of his patriot- h m?the untiring zeal of a faithful soldier t -nothing else,' said Ellen. u 'By heaven, I will prove what will work 9 death if it perjure my soul,' said Har- i j, with vehemence. 'He has a friend who will protect him, ough even such friends as you would plot s ruin,' replied Ellen. 'Who? Graham?' Ha! ha! Do you >t know he will be court martialed?perips disgraced ?' said Hardy. 'Not Graham?the generous?the noble? h! do not tell me this !' and her bowed :ad was hid in her hands. ?Ha !' thought Hardy, 'is this the lover terall? But no, it cannot be. His dis)nor grieves you worse than Davie's death, iss Ellen. Can the high born English Seer have stolen the heart so lately wed id to patriotism ?' She did not notice the taunt, but said >hout heeding him, 'There is a sorrow worse than death. k I n???kn m rvi mtt qaiiI T r?lfn TTA11 ' ii* vjiuuaiuj 11 uin ujjt ouui x j\ju. lddenly tumiDgshesaid, 'what refinement cruelty is this that would sacrifice such a ible spirit ? What is his crime V 'You, Miss Ellen, I have no doubt have en the chief cause,' he replied, mocking'I,' said she increduously. 'You are ligmatical sir. I cannot understand you.' 'You cannot! Then you are not as keen I gave you credit for. Graham's offence grave and serious, and his punishment ill be what generally befalls traitors to eir king and country. How much your ?] larms may have tempted to a neglect of lty, you can best tell.' 'This is terrible,' said Ellen, pale as death, j s 'Terrible, indeed. Not much to be hoped j v that quarter.' o 'My uncle willgo. lie will plead for if e life that is so dear to him. He canjg nfute all your evidence. Let me pass this! a stant. I will entreat him to leave all, for j t raham's sake.' jc It is needless, Miss Ellen,' replied Har-js r, without moving. 'Your uncle goes, it p true, but goes as my prisoner.' v Ellen gave a startled scream. \ 'Davie?Graham?my uncle?all sacri- c ed ? Oh! dear-bought freedom, when such ( irits are martyred ! Stand aside, relent- c 38 and cruel man; let me go to those your ! alice and hate have condemned.' I 'Nay, Ellen,' said he, catching her hand 1 she would have passed him, 'it rests 1 ith you, whether such sacrifice shall be t ade. Hear me but a moment,' said he, 1 she wrested her hand from him. 'Byjl o lioiitTon nVmrr> 110 T tcill sscn t.hpm if If " ' - i iu let me.' Is She turned her flushed face to him;?Ji ais hot and burning trembled in her eye ; j c iobe herself was not a truer picture of) ispair. j 'Ellen, your hand can buy your uncle's 'e, and with that life, all that he holds ost dear. He has come under suspicion, id these broad lands must be the forfeit, ou know his devotion to the home of his thers; you kuow he cannot survive the ss of his heritage; answer me?will you deem them V "And be partaker in your perjury?? ever. Such threatsare idle. Whatpow can you have to give or with-hold my nnln'o nnaooooiAno ' UW/1C fi i ? 'The power the law gives me. The pow-1 ] right gives me. Foolish girl! they are'I at idle. I hold eveD now in my hand a ;i rant for the estate. Think well ere you j< acide.' '< '1 want no time for decision. Take the j' earls from my home and you destroy it. J i no longer value the gemless casket.? ] our ill gotten-wealth may serve you for a J; ttlc while, but a God of justice will never ' I t you enjoy it.. I do not fear your boastil threats.' i 'This is your decision is it ? Your un- 1 e turned out in his old age to a life of pen- < ry and hardships. Graham disgraced, s seking it may be, the death by his ownji ind, that honor and glory forbid him.?j< avie suffering the laws extremest penalty, ii jd ending his life on a gibbet, and each j Dom sealed by Ellen Campbell. I thought! oman was generous. Are you, fair euslajr, the only exception ?' said he with de-! berate calmness, marking every word, as! entered like an arrow, her struggling! east. 'God help me then, so let it be; and [ aow that Ellen Campbell would weep more jot a dishonor that would sacrifice every >ly principle of her nature, than over the ighted prospects and ruined hopes of her vn house. The famine?the distress, Ij juld endure ; but never the calamity and oe by which you would relieve me. You >eak of Graham. His generous love would iathe u life bought at the sacrifice of wo-. an's truth. Would to God, he had died j i a noble cause! Murder by sword orj thft nnnrftssinn and rohberv of a nri-l ite family, are aetious that must sully all ' mneeted with them, unci I mourn that one ' ) formed to defend, to enlighten, to bless 1 cause, should be the companion and broth- j< r in arms of unprincipled and profligate j: icn. But God only cau judge the heart. | our malice may condern the brave spirit,;J ut never disgrace it. Aud Henry Davie, e too!' said she, clasping her bauds audj1 ilsiug her uadimmcd eyes to heaven, while ' heavenly smile irradiated her face.? j( \now that I glory in the death of t martyr j atriot, and he is worthy of the high bon- i j r. One iu whose scale few are fit to her eighed, and when you launch him from j me to eternity, tell him that Ellen Camp-I ell gives him joy and mourns; her wojau's nature forbids her sharing his glori-| us crown. I welcome the fate that links j iy unworthy name with the pure faith, the [ ?Kn u.iirit- nfsuch a! tUl ill (UlUUliUliOj bIJU UV'UIU v > w--- | iiin. And in later times, when God spares j jy life to see this fair laod the home of j reedom, [ will bless the fortitude that: ives me strength in this trying hour to re-: use to purchase, by perjury and coward j ear, a life dearer than all the world beides, and which will enable rae to give my dvc to a memory, that will write on my omb in maiden widowhood, the unsullied amc of Ellen Campbell.' [to be continued.] iflecteii Ulisallanj). ? jQ? TO A DRUNKEN HUSBAND. rate My husband, 'twas for thee I left * j. My own. my happy home; ? For thee I left my cottage bowers, ,)WC With tbee in joy to roam ; ting And where are all thy holy vows, The truth, the love, the truBt, That won my heart??all scattered now, C " And trampled in the dust. pra^ I loved thee with a love untold, 25? And then I stood bedside The noble form, I joyed to think , cam I was thy chosen bride. (Jia, They told me ere I was thine own, , flow sad my lot would be; I thought not of the future, then? thai I ouly thought of thee. naj? I left my home, my happy home, A sunny hearted thing, rem Forgetting that my happiness that A shadowing cloud might bring. eg;a The sunny side of life is gone, . Its shadows only mine? And thorns are springing in my heart, kno Where blossoms used to twine. I do not blame thee for thy lot, ^ w I only pray for thee, our That thou mayst from the tempter's power j (Oh, joyful thought,) be free; That thou mayst bend above my grave, With penitence sincere, boa And for the broken hearted one, pari Let fall a sober tear. t Isrs From the Richmond Despatch. abo DHE JAPANESE"AND THE LOST fore TRIBES OF ISRAEL. Isrs From the day that the Japanese Embas- hab y arrived at San Francisco, to that on hab phich it left, the California papers were for iccupied with little else than matters ap- by lertaining to the personnel of the distin- can ;uished gentlemen who composed it. Their eve ppearance, their habits, their language, unt heir individual histories, formed the topic pari if endless description, gossip and discus- Noi ion. Since their arrival in New York the I pan lapers there have taken up the song, and, thai ve Dresume, thev will only relinquish it tim ITT vhen the Washington press shall have thr< aught the echo and repeated the chorus, pin )f Japan, we really know but very little; say, if these Japanese Ambassadors, we certain- Chi y know a great deal. Everybody can tell con low they eat, sleep, dress, and walk. All as e America is aware that they consume but hap ittle food at a sitting, although they eat ten 'ery often ; that the chief Ambrssador is twe ^rince of Bujen and Chamberlain to the fixe rycoou; that they all dress in a variety of i pec lolors, blue being the favorite; that they spa ihave the front part of the head, and comb as j ind tic their loDg and glossy black hair j Roi jver the part shaved ; that they have seve-j Jaj al physicians along who shave the head all | feu >ver; that the object of the Embassy is toI An jrocarean exact copy in English, of the j sub ;reaty with the United States, that whichj wh; ;hey bad having been destroyed by fire; lio< ;hat a copy of the treaty in Japanese, is of j jarried aloDg in what is called the treaty- adv jox, by four men with poles after the fash- pro on of a Sedan chair; that they have someoody with his eyes always fixed upon this dox, and that it has never been out of|j^ sight of its guardians, save on one occasion, j iud then only for about fifteen minutes; I ] that they bring with them ?80,000 to make | ton purchases in this country, all in Mexican ; half-dollars, &c. We say everybody knows; these facts, but everybody does not know our theory about the origin of the Japan- roa ?se. Why should not we have a theory, as 02 tvell as everybody else, especially since we nor never had one before, but have been fol- the lowing other people all our lives, as tamely t0( is a flock of sheep follow the bel-weather of j the the tribe ? Some of the theorists think the j riK Japanese were the progenitors of the Amer- > :can Indians, and they infer thus much 0f ( from the supposed resemblance of many jg t words in their languages. This theory was Jlj3C suggested to the Japanese Ambassadors ;hcmselves, and they pronounced it a very m0 zood theory indeed. People, when the j traj dea was once started, found abundant evi- j roa ieDce to support it; as, for instance, thatI mj, Japanese junks have been found wrecked Jj8j imong the South Sea Islands, and on the jegi joast of Russian America, proving incon- rur :estibly that the Japanese have occasional-! pag y wandered much further from home than J traj ;he Tycoon or Ziogoon, or what ever he is ! tw( jailed, at Jeddo, might be willing to be- j WQ( - iI leve. Tf 1JJ AAJajr uuiij tuuuj a nuuic ucti g^Q, )f jaaks have been wrecked, some two or ;hree thousand years ago, on the desert Qf joast of America, and why tnay not the es- js t japed mariners and passengers have contin- j t aed in the country and laid the foundation jR jf the Indian tribes? Indeed, the thorists jf the newspapers have already settled this jt s natter to their own entire satisfaction, and tQ mrely, if they are satisfied, nobody else has, |on iny right to complain. They do not, how- ] grs jver, find it easy to account for the origin Lej jf the Japanese themselves, and therefore ! ket jontent themselves with saying that their forefathers must have gotten there from the ^ jradle of the human race, in Mesopotamia, te i long time since, and that the primitive Kingdom of Japan was established 2,400 j^a years ago. . an We do not know the authority tor tnisj^, statement, but we take it for granted, be- Lte suuse it materially assists us in establishing | t^r :?ur theory, which is as follows : j / Let all the world pay attention; for we! the are about to make a remark we do not reeol- wh lect to have heard any oth r per.-on make mu in the whole course of our lives. Nineveh leg was in Mesopotamia, and the Japanese are unt the lost tribes of Israel. If proof is wanted, rai here it is: Major Noah, many years ago, itu( proved that the language of many of the J an Indian tribes, and the ancient Hebrew, \V bore a strict analogy to each other in point; ed of construction, aud besides, contained, sev- jus erally, numberless words that were strictly ha' identical. It appears that the same resem- pre blance exists between the language of the enl Indians and that of the Japanese. Now, vei if it be good mathematics to say that things in which are equal to the same thing are equal cal to one another, surely it is good logic to say that things which are like the same thing; brs are like one another. We hold, therefore, jg8 that the Japanese language is like the He-jdu w language, although we do not underid a word of either. Now, nobodj bted at the time Major Noah was broachthis theory, that he was a most accui reasoner, and therefore nobody has anj it to entertain doubts with respect to out i deductions, seeing we are but imita; Mr. Van Bureo, and "following in the steps of our illustrious predecessor."? e hope, by the way, it, is allowable tc f for a little better success than the last ted gentleman was able to command.^ ring established his premises, the Majoi ie at once to the conclusion, that the In is were the genuine representatives ol Lost Tribes, and he died iu the belie 5 he had oleared up a great histories itery, extending over twenty-five cen es of the world's progress. Let it be embered that we admit the postulate ; the primeval Kingdom of Japan wai blished 2,400 years ago?that is, aboui years before the birth of Christ. We w not the authority for this statement n ft ?WA Vi n nft ftlnnn/]n J mft n 4 m 1 < , no wc uavc aiicuujr uuaci vcu? wo aumi ithoufc examination, because, it assist! theory. t is known to everybody who ever reac Bible that during the reign of Reho m, the kingdom wa3 divided into tw< ts, called respectively the Kingdom o lei and the Kingdom of Judah, and tha ut s-.;ven hundred and twenty years be ! Cb ; ist, the King of Assyria conquerec lei (not Judah) and carried all the in itants captive to Assyria. These in itauts were the ten tribes afterwards lost the captives of Judah who were carriet Nebuchadnezzar to Babylon (598 B. C. be accounted for. But nothing wa r known of these ten tribes of Israel il Major Noah told the world where i tof them, at least, were to be found.? iv, we hold that they emigrated to Ja , and set up their tabernacles there, an< t this emigration took place between thi e when the Kingdom of Israel was over 3wn, and that when the "primitive em ; of Japan" was established?that is t< , between 720 and 540 years befori -ist. The distance, iD a strait line, i siderable?about five thousand miles? migrants would probably move, it is per is double. But a theorist who allow or twelve thousand miles to stand be en him and the establishment of hi id idea, is destitute of the intrepidit; uliar to his class. We leap over th ce with as much ease, and as much scorn Remus leaped over the embryo walls o me. We plant our colonists firmly ii jan, and thence we send them, male am lale, in innumerable junks to peopl lerica, and furnish Major Noah with iject for a lecture. Who knows bu at prince Sirame Bujen-no-Karoi may b jally descended from Jeroboam, the so Nebat, or that Bungo-no-Kaini^his sag user, may have the blood of some of th phets running in his veins. From the Cincinnati Gazette. LIL ROAD CORRESPONDENCE Charleston, June 30, 1860. f he principal road leading out of Charles is the South Carolina Railroad; am . i . .. *i .1 c . i n. . 3 is tne prominent rauroaa or tne estate e main track runs west to Augusta, 13 es, where it connects with the Georgi ds. A branch leads off at Branchville miles miles from Charleston, and run th 68 miles to Columbia, connecting wit Charlotte Railroad and with the railroa Jreenville. A branch also leads off frot Columbia branch at King9ville, an is east 38 miles to Camden, rhis is a well conducted road, as are mos the Carolina railroads; the speed of train ibout fourteen miles an hour, which i mt the average speed on the railroads c 3 section of the South, excepting th ining express train to the West:tha in uiakes nineteen miles an hour. Th d bod i3 firm, hard and clean, and train ?ht be run at a high speed, but no on n a hurry, and there is less danger an 3 expense in running slow. The train i to accommodate the passengers, but th sengers never run to accomodate th ins. People get on and off anywhere b :en stations. A man comes out of th ids, waves his handkerchief, and the trai ps, backs up and he leisurely gets aboarc ere is time enough, and what is the us getting in a sweat ? Sure enough, whs he use ? rbis is the oldest railroad of any lengt this country; it was commenced in 182S 1 was built and equipped?a portion c it least was?in 1830; it was complete Hamburg, 136 miles, and was then th gest railroad in the world. This is th t railroad that introduced steam as a pre ling power, though there is a disput ween the South Caroliua and the Livei >1 and Manchester Railroad, which is le.< in 70 miles long, about the first use ( am. At the time when the South Carolin ilroad was projected, it was considcre experiment, and a charter could uot b ained for a railroad to be worked b am ; but a charter was finally passe ough the Legislature for "A Railroad c ?anal from Charleston to Hamburg, o ! Savannah river, to be worked by mules, ich was amended by inserting "steam t lies," but not without some of the riches islative debating on record. One of th diusiastic advocates of the road said "th Iroad could be built and worked by steau i that it would carry, when couipletec average of ten passengers a day."hereupon a motion was made and secont to send him to the Insane Assylum, the it completed. A few leading men, sore If dozen in number, carried out the )ject and built the railroad, and they ai titled to the eternal gratitude of this un rsal Yankee nation, for taking the lea an enterprise that has resulted in such ii culable benefits. The South Carolina Railroad and i inches arc 242 miles long, and cost ov ,000,000, which has, however, been r ced by earnings to 86,000,000. But was built when it was not known how to ol r construct a railroad cheaply. It cost double v< what it would to build and equip it now; tf and yet this has been a paying road for the c< r last twenty years. It pays a net income of al over ten per cent, and its stock cannot be U bought for fifteen per cent premium. e ! The S. Carolina Railroad runs through rr the poorest places in the State, but it has e i some great advantages?advantages that ai i no other road in this State ever can have.? E ) It reaches the most important points, and p r connects with the mo9t important roads.? a Its charter is a liberal one. The Legisla- v f ture granted, at length, all that the company c f asked for in their charter. Ono of the pro- s 1 visions of its charter is, that no other road s . shall ever be built running parallel within h i thirty miles of it. o j The cost of constructing a railroad in the o 1. _ 1 / / iL* CT. _ A _ L.LI_ 1 fr ? ooucnern nail 01 mis oiace is prooaoiy less >< t than any place in the Union, unless it be n > Florida. The grading, ties and timber are li , items of comparatively small amount. s t The Charleston & Savannah Railroad, ' 3 connecting Charleston and Savannah, is J 113 miles long. It was completed about 1 100 miles to the Savannah river last April. ^ - It strikes the river 13 miles above Savannah, 3 and passengers over this road are, at the c f present time, conveyed between this point 1 t and Savannah by steamboat. The road will t . be fioished on the other side of the river, " i down to Savannah, in August, and the 1 - bridge in February next. This road will, . when completed, cost about $2,000,000.? * , This will be the first railroad in this State, 8 3 built exclusively by slave labor. ) A few railroad items have been furnished s me by Col. John Caldwell, President of the f South Carolina Railroad. He in as much a the Railroad King of this State as Erastus - Corning is of Now York. There are in the . State of South Carolina 879 miles of rail] road now in operation, which have been e built and equipped at a cost af $18,665,. 000. The Northeastern Railroad, running from a Charleston to Florence, was completed in a 1857. It is 108 miles long and cost 81,s 000,000. The Greenville Railroad, running from ftnlnmhin fn fJ-roonwillo 1 J.?t miloa lrifVi n g braDch from Cokesbury to Abbeville, 11 1 i. miles, and a branch from Belton to Ander- 1 g son, 9 miles. This road was completed in 1 v 1854. Capital stock, 81,429,000. Cost of e construction and equipment, 82.800,000. j i This road has never paid a dividend, but is \ f improving; much of its construction has 1 Q been from earnings. 1 j The Wilmington & Manchester Railroad, ( e running from Kiogsville to Wilmington in ; a North Carolioa, is 171 miles long, about 1 t one half of whioh is in North Carolina, was 1 e completed in 1854, and cost 82,500,000. 1 u Ihe Charlotte &bouth Carolina Railroad, e running from Columbia to Charlotte, 10b ' e miles, was completed in 1852, and cost 02,- ] 0U0,000. The Cheraw & Darlington Railroad, con- \ oecting Florence and Cheraw, is 40 miles ' , long. This road was completed in 1855, and cost ?2,000,000. 1 The King's Mountain Railroad, running from Chesterville to Yorkville, 22} miles, wascorapleted in 1852, and it cost 8221,000. '7 T. H. u. ; a BE OFF WITH YOU NOW. 1 !, BY CHARLES SWAIN. I s Be off with you now?don't I know ? h That it's only cajoling you are, ( , With 'cheeks like the rose's soft glow, And glances more bright than the star!, ' n 'Tis true that my waist is but small, d And ringlets may curl like the vine ; 1 But I'm not like an angel at all! ( Nor am I the least bit divine! it I g So be off with you now?don't. I see j g You're deluding from eve until dawn; ( My step may be bounding and free, " But I'm not in the least like a fawn ! e But 'twas ever the method we know, I Since Adam in Eden began? , That bosoms were sure to be snow, , e And necks were, of course, like the swan! is 1 e Come, be off with you now till you learn j , To woo like plain hearted youth, ^ Let your mind, if you love me, discern, iS To win you must woo me with truth, e I would rather, instead of these flowers, ( In which you are ever so rife? ( e That you promised to leave me all hours, , e As long as each other had life. q LITTLE GBAVES. I "There's many an empty cradle, There's many an empty bed, e There's many lonely bosom, ' it Whose joy and light have fled I For thick in every grave yard the little hillocks ( . lie, n And every hillock represents an angel in the t, sky." ( if The light in many houses has gone out, t d and the rustle of the Death-angel's wing , e lias been felt in many a household. Thick i e aod heavy lie the grief-shadows on maoy , >. desolate hearts. In many a household's e sunniest nook, there lies half-worn shoes j that childish feet have pressed, aod tiny | in toys, hallowed by the touch of baby-fingers ,f Many a cunningly fashioned garment remains unworn, the occasional sight of which j a produces painful emotions. Scattered o'er d earth'* sunniest, loveliest spots, there's , e many a green hillock with its marble col- , y umn pointing to the home of angel-babes, d aud beneath which arc white fingers clasped , ir o'er throbless bosoms; aud pale, buds , ,, wreathing the beautiful brow on which the " seal of the blessed is stamped.? Olive , a If US ((/((/*. it o Reciprocal Sympathy.?Nearly half e a ceDtury ago, when a coach run daily bei, tween Glasgow and Greenock, by Paisley, 1, on a forenoon when a little past Bishopton, - a lady in a coach noticed a boy walking J. barefooted, seemingly tired, and struggling n with tender feet. She desired the coachie man to take him up, give him a seat, and ir she would pay for it. When they arrived re at the inn in Greenock, she enquired of the i- boy what was his object in coming there id He said he wished to be a sailor, and hoped a- some of the captains would engage him.? She gave him half a crown, wished him ts success, and charged him to behave well, er Twenty years after this, the coach returning e- to Glasgow in the afternoon, on the same it road, when near Bishopton, a aea captain bserved an old lady on the road, walkiog ery slow, fatigued and weary. The captin ordered the coachman to put her io the aacb, and he would pay for her. I&medU tely after, wheo changing horses at Bishop) , the passengers were sauntering about, xcept the captain and old lady, who retained in the coach. The old lady thankd him for his kindly feeling towards her, a she was now unable to pay for a seat.? le said 'he had always sympathy for weary edestrians, since he was in that state when boy, twenty years ago, near this very place, rhen a tender hearted lady ordered the oachman to take him up, and paid for bis eat.' "Well do I remember that incident,' aid she, <1 am the lady, but my lot in life las changed. I was then independent; iow I am reduced to poverty by the doings f a prodigal son.' 'How happy I am,?, said he captain, that I have been successful in ay enterprises, and am returning home to ive on my fortune; and from this day I hall bind myself and heirs to supply you vith twenty-five pounds per annum till our death.' iVANTED-'EVENINGS AT HOME.' Not the interesting and instructive book mder that title, but the very secne which be book delineates and which, unless we nistake, are fast vanishing away, afid will oon be, if they are not already, among the hings that have been, but are not. An evening at home, how is it to be 'ound ? Just mark the calls for public and locial meetings, read in your church on the text Sabbath, and advertised by the various noral and literary associations of the oity? ind what evening is left for a quiet com* nunion with your owa family, or a social jail on a friend ? What room is titers'for ;horough family instruction ? Their father s always at the store or office all the day, ind the mother has her work, and the children are at school?now if there is a meetn?? tn call the familv nnt. ererv erenina. ?r? ? ^ w "? J o* what time is left for hoasebold teaching ? rhere is much truth, with perhaps a slight :oloring of exaggeration, in the anecdote ;iven in the January number of Harper's Magazine, of a gentleman who had failed n business, and, when asked what be ntended to do, replied, <1 shall remain it home awhile, and get acquainted with my family.' r We believe this constant drawing away from home, and home influence is demoralizing; and that it is time Christians should inquire, whether one reason why they do not grow more rapidly in grace and knowladge. is not, that they are ever hearing, and never meditating on what they hear-j sver running from meeting to meetin&fiahd ever at home. Is there not gi$at danger that 'home' influences will loose their charm when we come there only to eat and sleep, afiering indeed the morning and evening Draver. but never sitting down with the household in the sweet commuuioQ andjhe precious instruction that were alwayg fppnd in the olden times, when both on the Sabbath and during the week, families had some 'evenings at home.'?Mirrqt'.' Fountain op Blood in a Gavebn.? E. Gr. Squires' notes on Central America describe an effusion of a fluid resembling blood near the town of Yitud, in the State of Honduras. It appears that there is continually oozing and dropping from the roof of a cavern a red liquid, which upon falling, coagulates so as to precisely resemble blood. Like blood it corrupts, insects deposit their larvae in it, and dogs and buzzards resort bo the cavern to eat it. Attempts have several times been made to obtain some of this liquid for the purpose of analysis, but in all cases without success, iu consequence of its rapid decomposition, whereby the bottles containing it were broken. ,;jThe imall cavern or grotto during the day is visited by buzzards and hawks, and at night'? by a multitude of vampyre bats for the purpose of feeding on the unnatural blood. It is situated on the border of a rivulet, .which it keeps reddened with a small flowrpf the liquid, which has the color, tasteanansmell of blood. In approaching the grdtto, a disagreeable odor is observed, and when it is reached there may be some pools of the apparent blood in a state of coagulation. Dogs eat it eagerly. The peculiarities of this blood are considered due to the rapid generation in this grotto of some very polifice species of infusoria. The California State Journal, remarking on the above, observes that the sstero of the town of Monterey contains a species of blood red infusoria, (the larv# of water insects,) which at certain seasons of the year smells precisely like fresh fish; or jn exposure in a vessel, like putftd" J||h. fu some seasons it has been found dried in Sukes, and of the intense oolor of: Vermillion. i#-#t ; # S&" The French Scientific Journals are full of the application of the new discovery, Hypnotism. In Cosmos we find a detailed iccount of an amputation performed while the patient was under its influence in the Hotel Dieu Poitiers, on a man aged 86, _i 1 i : j i SS wuose jiiit &uee was increased oy a wane swelling to nearly double the size of the right knee, and was so painfal that the last movement produced the most intense suffering. The hypnotism was produced by placing a spatula about eight inches in front of the root of the nose. Looking at this ho soon beoame insensible, in spite of the severe pains he was in from being taken to the operation room. Insensibility was produced in ten minutes, and the amputation occupied a minute and a half. The patient made no signs of pain, and, when questioned by the doctor, said he thought he was in paradise. His features were perfectly tranquil; his eyes only seemed to be wandering in search of the brilliant object which had been before them. An Irishman went to live in Scotland for a short time, but didn't like the country. <1 was sick all the time I was there,' said he, (and if had lived there till this time I'd been dead a year ago.'