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L- V- _ j ' ' ' , ' .... ... . ' .. .. , . lewis m. oktst. proprietor. | , An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. | pee abbum ih advabce. VOL. 6. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, AUGUST 16, i860. 3STQ. S3. ??* " ' ' ~~ ~ " < . f..i- ?r. i ? I n ,t 1 11--r.: it.i. r % Cjmllmg lomnm WRITTEN' EXPRESSLY FOR ' BLLEM Gi 0 KING'S M * ^ _ )|| BY MRS. MAR CHAPTER XX. "Friendship above all ties does hind the heart, And faith in friendship is the noblest part." 'Saddle my horse and bring him round, instantly,' thundered Graham, as he entered the piazza, booted and spurred for ridincr 'And Jerry, brine mine also. It appears that I must ride with you,' said Mr. Willoughby, following him out. 'You, sir; how so V'My person is arrested. It seems that I have come under suspicion,' replied Mr. Willougbby, who seemed much more calm under the circumstances, than one would have supposed. 'And Ellen?' 'She can get Mr. Adams to remain with her a few days, till these unhappy matters are settled. I tru9t to be able to arrange them in that time. I would advise her to goto thera, but the place must not be left unprotected, and her presence may preserve it from ruin,' said he. sighing deeply. 'What a position for a young girl ! Alone and unprotected. Can nothing better be thought of V said Graham. 'At present, no said Mr. Willoughby, 'and our women are used to such trials. Mrs. Adams is as good as an army herself. She is a perfect hero, and you know Ellen is not easily intimidated. Mr. Adams, too. will be much help, though he will have to take supervision of his own place, for the same reason that mine needs protection.? But my time is limited, and I have much yet to attend to,' he said, as he left him. Davie was standing at the extreme end of the piazza, with his arras folded, leaning against a pillar, calm and collected. A guard was slowly passing to and fro, on either side of him. Graham stood for a moment, hesitating?contending emotions battling in his breast. At length, with a firm step and resolute air, he approached the place where Davie stood. 'You caa retire to a little distance/ said j he to the guard, as lie passed him. 'Well, Graham,' said Davie, without; moving. Graham stood near hiin in silence, i 'I hear you are to accompany me ; but what is this about Mr. Willoughby?' said Davie 'He, too, goes as a prisoner,' replied Graham, with loweriog brow. 'My poor Ellen/ murmured Davie ? Graham started violently. 'I told you this morning, Graham, I would remind you that the brave are ever generous. Will you let me do it now ?' Graham did not answer, but the hitherto flushed and angry face, became as pale as death. Compressing his lips firmly, he turned a full fierce look on him, as he haughtily bowed his head. Dashing the clustering hair from his high brow, and erecting his manly figure, Davie returned the defiant look, challenging with his bold, free gaze, all suspicion. 'I had hoped this morning, to give you a confidence which I considered my own honesty required me to make, and which I believe your friendship demanded. How I was interrupted, you know. The trust I have in that friendship urges me to ask a favor, which in other circumstances, I would hesitate to demand.' He waited for an answer. 'Speak,' said Graham, in a choking voice, turning his face from him. 'I am now in the power of one who will not hesitate at any crime to work my ruin, and though higher powers should decide my fate, I know too well that my partisan mode of warfare has made me peculiarly odious to those powers. T neither ask nor hope for mercy,' said he, proudly. 'But thero is one on whom this will fall with crushing power; of her I would speak? my plighted wife?Ellen Campbell." 'And to me,' said Graham, turning fiercely upon him. 'Is it not enough that I have been encouraged, been duped, led on, fool that I was, to believe a lie?but you must insult me with the tale of your love. By Heaven, I have been deceived long enough. It is time some atonement was made.' t ' ' *--? ? i '1 QO DOC KDOW Wliai y<JVl uican uy at uuc* ment ia this case, Col. Graham; but this 1 tell yoa, that ere you again couple my name with such terms as you have just used, I will, unarmed as I am, revenge the insult on the spot, if my life, the next moment, pays the forfeit,' replied Davie, speaking in the low tones habitual to him in moments of strong passion, his fiery black eyes flashing and dilating. Graham uttered a deep curse, as drawing his sword, he cried? 'Were you armed as T am, and we on yon hill side alone, I would better teach you what atonement is; but your helplessness ties my hands and saves you from?' 'Hold, Graham; another word and your own sword shall chastise you,' said Davie, springing on him, and catcbiDg his arm in his powerful grasp, he held it with the uplifted sword high in the air, while with the other iie clasped him as he would a child The commotion attracted the attention of tVio canards, who rushed to the place, and r? ' 4 had not Graham interferred, would at once havo made an end of Davie. But quieting them by declaring that he had provoked the attack, Graham again prevailed upon them to retire. The confusion incident to this gave Graham time to collect his thoughts, and always acting on the impulse of the moment, whether right or wrong, he said: <1 have been passionate and insulting, Davie. Will you forgive me? I cannot ask your hand for I do not deserve it, but I ask you to forgive me. I do not fear to :e of % E rnE YortKvrLLE enquirer. jj OUNTAIN. Y A. EWART. I ~~ fc 'ask more of your generous nattfffe. I ask !you to forget what has passed.' CJ There is cy hand without urging,' replied Davie, frankly grasping his hand.? ( No more apologies, Graham. It i3 forgot- :at ten. Let us talk of your circumstances.? lfn Do you anticipate trouble in clearing your- 'cj jp( No,' replied Graham, the veins cording; on his temple. 'My influence and position Q) alone, would clear me, apart from my inno- a< cence, which I can prove, and which will n( serve to punish the dastardly villian that j planned my disgrace. But the dishonor,; tr Davie, the dishonor, the aspersions on my gt loyalty. You cannot know how this enters ^ my soul. But never mind my troubles?the w " i ? *11 it. ! Itavor you spoite or, saiG ne, me ingenuous a blood rushing to his brow. 'What is it?' ^ 'It is unimportant, Graham j I have re- igi considered it. Iler own heart wiil teach | her all my farewell would be,' said Davie, sp sadly. a] Graham's lip quivered. V( 'You have not forgiven me.' ai Davie turned a look full of affection on jn him, as with his genial smile, he placed his g < hand on his shoulder. r 'Prove it then by claiming what you de- Q1 jsired of my friendship,' said Graham. '0| Davie hesitated j 'Nay then, I will myself indite them, and jmy own heart wiU give them a tenderness rp that even your love cannot surpass ; and I j0J will bid her be of good courage, for I will move heaven and earth before one hair oft^ vouv head be injured. And when happier; j times bless you with her love, think some-'go times of one whose passion, though not! | equaling yours in purity, surpasses it in in-w i tensity, and who has lost with hope, every- t0 .thing that makes life dear.' j j ; 'Graham,' said Davie ; but it was sonje! !moments before he could continue. 'Hadj^ I but foreseen this, I could curse myself i aj for my folly. I might have warned you,'tr but from earliest childhood, I claimed her ^ as so wholly mine, I never thought of an- ^ other disputing the right, Iler cordial and affectionate manner?has it encouraged you?' said Davie, hesitatingly. | 'God knows?no,'replied Graham, bitter- ^ jly.' Though kept from some hidden cause to betray her feelings, yet every word, eve-,^ , ry action, taught me how hopeless was my isuit, till I was fain to believe her soul was j too pure, too free, ever to mingle with its jgj (chastity the alloy of love.' I | 'My truthful Ellen,' murmured Davie, k ! with a proud smile. jfr 'Then you came,' said Graham, unheed!ing the interruption. 'Then it was T read her cherished secret, read it in her stolen i_ ! glance, tremblingly withdrawn when your j eyes met; read it in the blush that deep-1 'ened on her chauging check when your; voice addressed her; read it in the liquid! music of her words when her low tones T| would reply. But why curse myself w'th;0 jsuch memories? I learnt that even as my j Move was maddening, hers was fearful.? j { Mine might overset the brain ; hers break j the heart.' He spoke low and vehemently, j~/ as in refinement of anguish, his jealous love j ' heaped up evidence against himself. Davie's eyes sparkled like meteors, as Iu' M?raham spoke, but touched with the hope-1 less misery of the look, he said : ; 'Would that I had another Ellen for you, ist, I Graham; and now that I part from her, j P1 | uy mo ? Iso loved, 'do not give way to grief I trust t< I Davie will yet be free. God knows how it I earnestly I shall work for it.' She looked up with swimming eyes. a 'You will,' Graham V !C( 'I pledge my honor to it, Ellen.' Herj ? j eyes fell?the color deepened on her cheek, j 0 'Your reward will be in gratitude,' she tl I said. 'I know it, Ellen,' he answered bitterly, a then his tone changing to sad reproach.? i never perhaps to see her again, 1 would tain ! leave her as a dear charge to your keeping,! i and believe me when I say there is no other m jraan under Heaven, whom I think worthy :of the charge. But it would be idle. You I say truly, her brave loving heart will break s': ere it can forget.' 'There is Hardy's voice,'said Graham. I ' 'Quick, Davie, what would you have ?' 'Give this to Ellen,' said Davie, hastily tearing a leaf from his pocket book and st writing hurriedly: '1 am cast down, but tint destroyed. I cling . i to a hope that is not safe to mention, and vet I j 'l( trust 10 jour tliscrrniueui III uuuriaiuuc 11, CI... your courage my brave girl, to hope in it. Your words have been prophetic. Fate has prevented the necessity I urged, but I doubt if you will agree that it is a happy fate. My interview jV? with your uncle was painful and startling in | the extreme. I had hoped to tell you nil. He , is more to be pitied than I could conceive. Still J I am satisfied be is acting from mistaken convic i se tions of duty, and T have sworn you shall not be sacrificed. Our oaths stand opposed. I trust | , your love ; he, a miscalled duty. I do not now j fear concerning you. Heaven bless you, dearest, | H and grant we may soon meet never to part, but | in the relation love, honor and duty, my Ellen. | demands of you. Do not grieve forme. All I will yet be well. DAVIE.' Giving it to Graham, he once more re- w jsumed his calm position, and awaited the j , moment of departure. Hardy, who felt he j ^ I hud been wasting time, now hurried his 111 I movements. Graham had but a moment j to see Ellen. al 'I am commissioned to give you this, ci ! Miss Ellen/ he said, as he handed her the e< note. p She read it rapidly. The tone of cheerjful courage did not deceive her. She burst r< into tears. r< 'Ellen,' said Graham, almost unmaned| iUc cirrht nf the tears of the woman he! C )h ! Ellen, why did you not frankly tell le this before ? Do you think I would ave urged my pitiable claims against your reater happiness? Did you believe me estitute of generosity and strength, that T juld not say, 'Bless you Ellen and be hap 7?" 'How willingly I would have done this; ow I longed to say 'it is wrong in you to jeak, wrong in me to listen,' Heaven nows. But I was bound by a promise exited in a moment of trial, to keep the Heret. Oh ! if you knew how I have suf sred to keep that vow, you would pity and irgive me,' said Ellen. 'Bound by a promise ! A vowT* JSprat in you mean ? To whom ?' She did not answer. Ah ! I see; your uncle. Strange, strange, id yet thank God for this. It was the one ult in your character. I could not reconle it with your truth. My ideal is now ;rfect?too distant for one so unworthy ?er to reach, but yet the angel whose mem y will beckon me to higher hopes, nobler ipirations. God help me, Ellen; while ear you there is nothing I cannot aspire to. can welcome sacrifice, welcome, even the ial and anguish by which my soul's rength is tested. But when I leave you, iust I battle with a love stronger than life, ith a will that will not brook denial, with storm of passion that listens to no reason ! las ! why am I cut off from such aid? ich encouragement?' 'Be true to your noble nature, Graham,' j lid Ellen, gently laying her hand on his ra, with inexpressible kindness in her rice. 'Stand firm?the day of passion id fancy will perish. We are not living i a land of dreams, but of vital realities, e steadfast, plant your aims beyond the lach of disappointment, and you will yet aderstand the blessedness, the happiness " life.' 'No, Ellen ; when I lose you, I lose eve'thing. Don't talk to me of happiness, he future is a blank to me. I do not ire where I go, what becomes of me, and iw we part, forever?Ellen !' He stagjred to a seat. 'Give me one memory that | may carry into my darkness, the sweet j irrow, the bitter passion of this hour.' I Papain? around his chair with all the j oman rising in her heart, Ellen lightly! uching his brow, and gently pushing the j ustering hair from his temples, said? 'Noble, generous Graham ; let me believe j ie quick impassioned, fervent nature will j so learn to be calm, strong, tender and I ue. Dear Graham,'she whispered, 'learn j at no love but the Heavenly, can exclude! e evils of our human nature. God bless | >u, brother, and let these words prove how j sister trusts you.' He sprang to his feet, the bounding blood ! ashed warm to his face, dyeing in crimson | the very roots of his hair. His eyes, ishcd in fire. 'Go, Ellen, go now,' said he huskily, 'ere| y other nature forgets itself, and my pason wildly claims the love I have forever mounced. Leave me; this struggle must 2 alone,' said he, seeing her hesitate, j ightened at his sudden violence. And len sighing, 'Forgive me, Graham?Heaven bless you' j -another long aod lingering look, and El-j n was gone. CHAPTER XXI. Then more fierce be conflict grew; the din of arms?the yell | f savasre rage?the shriek of agony? The groan of death, commingled in one sound, j Southet. t 'To horse !' shouted Hardy. 'Where is i ol. Graham?' And hastily entering the. ause, he encountered Ellen in the passage, lo r.nirtl- otto onnrrht the nflner which she ! M "J " n -- i?r I aconsciously held in her hand. 'Some rebel communication, I'll be; yorn,' he muttered. 'Miss Ellen,' said he,' epping toward her, 'that paper looks sus-' cious?I must see it.' Her lip curled haughtily. 'You are rude, sir; this was intended for e alone.' 'Doubtless,' said he, smilingly, 'which ;rhaps makes it more necessary that I muld inspect it.' Iler eyes flashed, hut she did not answer. 'Let me see it, Miss Ellen.' She grasped the paper closer. * ' fx J ? IJ L . I ll'ou will lorce me 10 lase it, sum ue ernly. Still she did not move. He advanced wards her; the dauntless girl maintained jr position. 'Once more give me the paper,' said Harj, in smothered rase. 'What is it?' said Graham, who now adtnced through the passage. ?I demand a paper of her which I believe iat whig rascal,. Davie, has found means to nd, and with his cunning, and her?' 'Silence, sir; I brought it, and will take I the responsibility. To your troop, Capt, ardy. You delay uselessly.' 'By Jove, sir, you seem to feel quite easy i your unenviable position ; but doubtless \ le fact of your conniving at rebel schemes, ill scarcely be necessary to complete the Tn nnoc nn vnii nrc already ehartred. i vv # j - *r^ I idc, sir?I attend you,' said Hardy, with I iock humility. 'Nay. then,' said Ellen ; .'as Capt. Hardy! taches so much importance to this innojnt paper, he may be persuaded to take a ipy of the rebellious document. Jerry, en and paper for Capt. Hardy.' 'It makes not the slightest difference,' he jplied. 'Col. Graham has assumed the jsponsibility. I will not now interfere.' <1 take you to witness, Col. Graham, that 'apt. Hardy refuses to satisfy himself, and ) you I entrust a proof that may prove as tangible as the rest of his evidence.' Hardy scowled a glance of mingled hate I nd rage, and taking the paper ere Graham J auld reach it, carefully read the words.? > ris brow darkened as he read the evidence! f unshaken love and courage, but further ian, that it was enigmatical to him. 'Confound such mystery ! What does it II mean ?' he said. 'Nay, Capt. Hardy, that is too much. 1 can scarcely be coerced into expounding: for f your benefit. You see for yourself, it is a f cunning: and mischievious billet.' c He could not brook the mocking tone, and cursing the caprice that a second time had denied to the utmost, and then relin*' r quished what proved valueless, he said? < 'I wait your pleasure, Col. Graham. Let 1 us away.' * 'Col. Graham must also understand more 1 of the dangerous weapon that is to act against t him so cruelly. Will you read it for the r sake of your own defence, Colonel?' * Ho bowed low over the extended band, t as wifckjiis air of high toned breeding, he said : t 'God forbid I should so far forget myself * ?so dishonor the character of officer and 1 gentleman, Miss Campbell.' 1 He clasped her hand?he would have t again spoken words of farewell, but for the t presence of the coarser nature; his own 1 emotions choked him, and raising her hand t he pressed it to his lips, and not daring an- 1 other look, he hastened away. There was s a hurried 'Good bye,' from Mr. Willougb- \ by, who.had nerved himself to strange and f unwonted courage, and Ellen marked the almost alacrity with which he mounted, j riding by the side of Graham, as the troop 1 moved off at a gallop down the road. 'Now,' said Ellen, 'for patience?a hope t T ,*11 ?n/?arof<in<3 ' anirl TAftdinCr hfiV ? precious billet. 'Yes, I think I do; I have f acted on this judgment at all events. There c will be time enough for grief or despair when everything fails.' 1 When Ellen had so hurriedly left the < room on Hardy's entrance, she called a < young and faithful servant, more active and < shrewd than honest Jerry. Diguising his i real errand by meal bags and miller'/ clothes, ] she dispatched him to meet Sevier, if pos- i sible, or failing to find him, to press on to 1 Morgan's camp, with the tidings of Davie's { capture. Another was dispatched for her faithful friend and counseller, Mr. Adams, s with an urgent request that he would come 1 A- * J tltAOA Vio/1 Vinon ( IU IlUf lIIJllJeUlULCIjr , UliU mtot >J?U vvuu > sent under the superintendence of honest I Jerry, by routes avoiding the main road, ] and thus shunning their unwelcome guests. \ When left alone, and after she had done all that was in her power, she moved restless- 1 ly about the vacant house. Everything re- f minded her of the joy of the previous day. 1 Still she would not give way. Her brave j spirit kept back the tears. She went out in the piazza. The cool January air cheer- ? ed and refreshed her drooping heart. A f dull sound struck her ear. She listened, 1 and sighing thought, 'alas ! it is the sound s of hurrying hoot's bearing those who are 1 near to me, away?perhaps to death.' But rarnrtlo innroRHpd. arnwinf? sham and ( V , f, ? 1 ringing. She could not be mistake?it f was the sound of advancinp cavalry, borne t by a west wind, to her ear. Her heart bounded?this then was Davie's hope, the hope t she had scarcely dared to entertain, thouph 1 actinp upon it in her endeavor to detain Hardy as long as possible. Sevier had come?her messenger bad met him?his i active spirit had at once determined to res- 1 cue his commander. He had been able to i collect a force she could not tell how, and 1 was now hurrying to the rescue. Oh ! how her heart went out, that he might be sue- f cessful! She could trace them by the rap- j id beat cutting across the main road, and t following down the creek that branches from Packolet river, till lo?tin the distance, ' } the sound died upon her ears. I Her messenger had been indeed success- ( ful. Meeting Sevier advancing at full j onppn hn at. nnce communicated the un- < welcome intelligence. The young officer's t resolve was at once taken. Determining to , strike a blow for Davie, if it cost him his , life, he prevailed upon a few of the neigh- ( boring whissto arm themselves as best they s could and follow him. Taking their horses , from their plows, and mounting bare-back, j for there was no time for saddling, (even ( had they possessed such a luxury,) they \ were but a moment in preparation. As they f reached the road, what was their surprise ( to meet Bowen with half a dozen of his j men. Bowen had not been at all satisfied , that Davie should again venture aloue to \ the place chat had before proved so unfor- ( tunate. I His expostulations, however, not being 5 met very patiently, as Davie at that time t was in but little humor for thwarting, he i hnrl rtasisfed. and accented the commission f of commander, with what grace he might. ? After Davie's departure, hearing from his c scouts that Tarleton was advancing, Mor- j gan struck his camp and advanced to the I Pacolet to meet him. Bowen now became s seriously uneasy, and understanding that e instead of eoingon to Greene. Davie would t be recalled to take part in the coming strug- c gle, he determined to run all risks and ob- c tained leave to follow Sevier, who had left i for the purpose of countermanding the dis- r patches. Their little force, not amounting s to ten men, pushed on at double gallop, and t availing themselves of the short cuts, with r which their party was so familiar, bid fair t ' ? J ^ C . to overtaue me laggaru ujuuuiid m uaiuj. i 'Can't we start a bugle in our troop?' c said Sevier; 'its a wonderful help to a small 1 party?its noise is worth a dozen of men at c anytime.' i Nothingof the kind could be obtained, but t a lad of seventeen, said he had a cow horn in s his pocket, with which he would promise to raise the dead if the Captain said so. r 'The very idea, my boy,' said Sevier. ' 'The raisingof the dead, will be the dernier 1 resort; if you can inspire the living, it will ( be all we'll ask you at present. Now boys, y recollect, Davie's troop never runs, but if ? any of you should attempt such a thing, I c will show you that Selim can run as fast or ^ faster than any of you, and if he once gets c before you he'll drive you back if it kills ' him. I just mention this, not that I'm 8 afraid of aoy of you, but as a warning that British regulars are apt to scare those who t are not trained apprentices to our trade.? c But let us remember we are better riders, | better woodsmen, and better marksmen, t too, than they are, and that we are fighting 'oran officer we love, and I'll warrant you'll ollow like hound's whelps on a trail. Ride >n, my boys?rclose column. Burning eyes, jager hands, brave hearts that wins the day ' ? Bowen smiled grimly, but his encouragenent wasali action ; his voice was now sel- I lom heard, save in the din of battle, irr ligh and stern command. be Thanks to Hardy's delay at the Mansion fo louse, they were enabled to get beyond pe he erasing of the creek before his troops ns eached it. Posting his men in the thick m voods on the opposite side, Bowen waited he approach of the enemy. th Wait till you see them in the middle of pa he stream.' he whisDered. his eyes flashing st pith a terrible joy; 'let every ooo pick out. m iis man, take sure aim, fire and charge !' at Presently, unhapprehen9ive of danger, the ab roop came in sight, scattering up and down w; he stream in order to water their horses, or Mounted on a strong and fiery charger, in of he centre of the troop, Davie was riding tb jehind a Hercules of a trooper : Graham hf tnd Mr. Willoughby, on their own horses, tr vere a little apart, and were quietly waiting fa or the summons to move on. 'That fellow who has charge of the Ma- cc or, is mine,' said Bowen, his voice trem- hi ding in eagerness. D 'Are you all ready ? Sure and steady: p< hen Fire 1' he thundered ; and every crack 9t lent a death messenger. Hercules tumbled tb rora his horse?there was no time for an- fo )ther load. o< 'Charge !' shouted Bowen. A deafening fa )ray from the impromptu bugle seemed, in di '""J fn rniiia fVio rtanrl wifh itS W 4CCU J OUiUUlbU v IV twiuw Vil V V4VMV. ? discordant notes, and ere they could recov- v< ;r the panic, the surprise, and the terrible th celling of those notes had thrown them into, cc Bowen was down on them, his men snatch- sc ng the muskets that had fallen from the w lands of the slain, or clubbing their guns, 01 giving with furious strokes, the final blow, pi 'Kill the prisoner. Don't let him escape,' b< ihouted Hardy, rushing on Davie, who had ieen almost borne down by his falling sb juard, and was now striving to catch the g< iridle which the dying man still clutched, st But Graham was by his side, and dashing ci lp the descending sword, said? te 'You must not and shall not kill bim, and p< ie incapable of defence. I will save bim tb Vom murder, if my life pays the forfeit.? ? PU1. man nnrl Ioqq nf t?niir TH LUIU& Ui actviu*; JTUUl UIOU HUU ivuw v? jvw. -irivate malice. What madness is this V ar 'On them, lads, on them,' bravely shout- te id Bowen, dashing into their midst. 'Strike ni 'or the Major. Another blow and we have th lim ! God bless you, Major!' he cried, T iprincing to his side and placing in his in lands his own sword. ol 'Wev'egothim boys,' he shouted. 'Now fe iharee the red coat vidians?rein up, or I tb ire!' he cried, as those who could escape of ,be carnage bounded away. hi 'Hold Bowen. Spare him !' said Davie, rembling for the safety of the friend, who tb lad so generously interposed for his life. ra Bowen reluctantly dropped his musket, sv 'For your sake, Major; but we'll have ? i dash at their leaner.' Ana risingin nisstir- si ups, he waved his sword io fiery circles as in n his charging voice, he thundered to his ci ioys to follow. ar 'Rescue Mr. Willoughby, if you can,' V1 mid Davie, dashing after, suddenly espying pc lim borne off by a trooper who kept a de- 10 fining hand on his bridle. cc SO Bat Sevier was before them all; for Selim vas not easily distanced. His eye was on Flardy, and the chase became close and ^ ;ager. Hardy's horse though strong and lowerful, was no match for Selim, and Sevier evidently gained upon him. On hey went, clattering down the road, till idvancing in dangerous proximity to the nain army, Davie's voice was heard in re- ^ sail. Reluctantly giving out all hope of a ^ "ingle hand encounter, Sevier urged his loble horse to one more effort, and cheering ^ lim with voice and spur, he gained on Har- er ly sufficiently to plunge his bayonet in his Ci lack. The steel separated from the gun, ar 1 ?.t- *n nrtrinoto it TT ?r/t V W ma wun du hujc w ralloped iDto camp. The wouDd was Dot E *atal, and the bayonet preserved its position th nore from the sideling thrust which buried cl t in his thick military coat, than from any w 3eep wound. Sevier reluctantly turning lis horse, was soon rapidly seeking bis own b< lafety. The surprise had been so complete V( hat not a man of their little party had been #'n njured; but dreading the alarm might bring p' 'resh troops after them, they did not draw si heir reins till distance made them feel se- th jure. Davie, however, released one of his di jrisoners, in order to warn Cornwallis to C jury the men that had fallen. Sevier, alio insisted it was a point of honor to recov- M ;r his bayonet, and findingtheyoung trump- vi iter quite willing to act as messenger, he of iispatched him with a flag to Cornwallis, Si lemandiog his property, and gravely assur- m ng him if it was not returned, he would take Deans to avenge himself of the affront, and te ix of his men should answer for it with pc heir lives. He would also beg leave to fu efer him to Capt. Hardy, as one competent th o judge of the value and temper of the r'< netal. Hardy was furious at this absurd ^ iod audacious message, and would have fafen the life of the bold boy that dared to ty :arry it, but fortunately he being no favor- R te, the English officers were disposed to th reat it as a good joke, and Cornwallis him- ti< ielf, in view of the pretty trap his favorite pc Tarleton was preparing for the imputenf ce ascals, gcrcd humoredly declared it should lit )e returned. Sevier received the weapon uu without manifesting any surprise, and after er Iressing the wounds of a poor fellow, who vas unable to keep up with them, he mount- D :d him on one of the captured horses and pr tharging him with his compliments to 'my pi [iord,' and condolence to the worshipful th :aptain, he declared he would now take but hj bur of their lives, and hoped they would tu tppreciate his moderation ac They had now to exercise all their cau- th ion in order to escape Tarleton, who was th lirectly on their route. This they accom- w Wished, and on the evening of the 15th of January, they reached Morgan in safety. h< [TO BE CONTINUED.] Jcc Original papers. For the YorkviUe Enquirer. jETTER FROM~REV. "J. W. K." Messrs. Editors:?So thoroughly have ' ien under the* influence of the sun, tha r five weeks 1 have hardly put pen to pa r for any purpose at all. Let this be thi itural, rational and sufficient excuse fo y long continued silence. We have had an unusual amount o under and lightning this season, in thes< irta "Firan in tho ninntonnrln, in soma in ..-w. - --?-- - ?r j ? ances, have been the result. A gentle an told me that his wife aroused hio tout midnight, saying that she felt th iock sensibly. The children also wer aked up by the noise and the glare, am i looking out, a large pine on the verg his yard, about one hundred paces froo e bouse, was on fire, full blaze, and h id to arouse his people an dbe at som onble to extinguish the fire that had thu lien from Heaven In some sections of this Savannah rive mntry?say about ten miles square?ther is been a great deal of rain, all the season itches full of water along the roads>nds full?grass vigorous?crops in unt: tal spots, drowned. One farmer told m lat at one time he had to stop his plow >r five or six days, which had hardly eve jcurred before in all his experience as rme'r.* In other regions, however, th rought has been severe. The corn cro :il mnaf f, in Liai.uijr uc au avciut^c iu ?uw iwww * Dred sections, while in some places, on \ird of a crr.p is all that is expected. Th )tton yield will be curtailed somewhat i ime instances, but take our section as bole, and I think the crop will be a larp te. It is now opening rapidly, and th eking and prepariug for market will soo ; in full blast. The potato crop will also be considerabl lort, by reason of the inability of many t it in their slip-crop. Sweet potatoes ooe itute an integral portion of a low countr op. In my section there are several plar rs who cultivate from 40 to 75 acres, i Jtatoes alone. A considerable division c lis amount is put in in July, as slip-cro -vines pulled or clipped, and set out i iny weather, from which very fine crop e realized. The stock are frequently fal ned, in the fall, on them ; and they fui sh a substantial and welcome variety t ip diet of the darkies?old and voUnc. be denizens of the great house, also, hai ig them as an unfailing and welcome pai table supplies, one or two, aod in not w instances, all the meals daily for moi lan half the year?sometimes two third ' the year?and with care, they migl: ive them for the table all the year rounc We have a fat buck occasionally now. a le peas are ripe, and an old buck wi nge the pea field on the border of th yamp, and the stock minder, or the drive -the sub overseer?a darkey?will b ire to report 't/cer sign;' and then the wine g horn, the yelping pack, and the prat ng steed, and glistening double barrel id all the pomp and circumstance of dri Dg ! One of my neighbors being iufora: 1 by the old man that 'two buck been com i de peas field dar,' took his faithfc lachee aloog, and with gun apiece, the on had them both up in an adjoining bay id bad the luck to down them both?eac an felling a buck. So we go in the do iys I J. W. K. For the Yorkville Enquirer. PUBLIC MEETING AT KOCKHILL. A portion of the citizens of York District iving met at the Methodist Church, i is place, to take part in the proceeding ' the Indian Land Agricultural Societj ie occasion was deemed a suitable one, t lable the Delegates to the late Ricbmon onvention to give an account of their stew dship. Accordingly, Capt. John Masse as called to the Chair, and Thomas J ccles aDDointed Secretary. The object c ie meeting was briefly explained by th lairman; when the following resolution ere offered by the Hon. It. G. McCaw 1. Resolved, That the course pursue f our delegates to the late Richmond Cor ;ntion, meets our hearty approval, sustair gas they have done the platform of princ; es of the Charleston Convention, and endoi ng the nomination made at Baltimore fo ie Presidency and Vice-Presidency?thos stinguished patriots aod Statesmen, Joh . Breckinridge and Joseph Lane. 2. Resolved, That the nomination c Messrs. Breckinridge and Lane, made i ndication and defence of the vital righ ' full protection in the Territories am juthern property, demands, and has ou ost unqualified approval. 3. Resolved, That in the union of fif en Slave States, in the making and sup >rt of said nominations, on the great am ndamental principle of the equality of al e States, we recognize an invincible bar er against the sectional antagonism of th orthern States. 4. Resolved, That we hail theunanimi aod harmony which prevailed at the lat ichraond Convention, as the harbinger o nninn nnH nnnnorf. nf nr at LUU1U UUIUU uuu WMVV v. -w jn which should characterize all of th iople of the South, should it become ne ssary for her to dissolve hei preseDt po ;ical connection, and assume among thi itions of the earth, the position of a sep ate and independent Confederacy. Col. Cad. Jones, Chairman of the Yorl elegation, and Maj. R. A. Springs, beinj esent, the former responded at length in i ain, conversational style, well suited ti e theme, and to the occasion. Col. J id no fraternity with the Charleston Na inal Convention?to Richmond he wa credited, and the result of his missioi ere, with that of the entire Delegation, o is State, was due to their constituency ho he was proud to know had already en >rsed their action. It is not intendei ;re to follow the speaker throughout. II immenced by remarking that in this State there was as yet due nine excuemem uu uu the subject of the Presidential election? saw there were two reasons for this?one was, < : the appointment of Electors for this State is 1 committed to the Legislature; but he was happy to say, there was another reason why she [ we should not be excited among ourselves, alo t We are united in our principles, and united mij - in our purpose to support Breckinridge and sav 2 Lane, the nomieees of the Democratic State be; r Rights party. ' Ho next explained the action of the Rich- lau f mond Uonventton, and tbe causes wnicn in- yoi e duced the disruption of the Democratic - party at Baltimore, and coucluded by saying !- that it was a matter of no consequence where 0 the nomination was first made, or last made ^h< e ?the two States Rights Conventions, with 031 e one voice and united purpose present the ^ 1 names of Breckinridge and Lane, and if e he was not greatly mistaken the South, and mc o the whole South, would endorse the nom- Or e inations. He could not promise anything ow e for the North, but of this he felt assured, if s the distinguished names they had provi- ^ ded, could not be sustained, before the ^e( r American people, then no man could be y? e elected upon a platform of principles main- 7? i.! taining the rights and the honor ot the OM' -! South, and the principlas of the Constitu- an tioo. ? e On the subject of non-interventioD, he 80 s said, the principles of the Cincinnati plat:r form had been greatly misrepresented by 181 a the Douglas party?that platform recogni- pa e ses no such principle as 'Squatter Soverp eignft/'?all that was intented by the prin- on i- ciple of non-intervention, as agreed upon at J? ie Cincinnati, was that Congress should not 9U c interverne, either to establish or prohibit SC1 u slavery in the Territories. The duty of ki a Congress to protect the rights of slave own- X e ers, was neither denied nor agreed to be a- aQ e baodoned?when the Territories should at n come to apply for admission into the Union se( : as States, then they were to be received ov* I _:.L _i __ nw yj Willi, or wibuuui slavery, ao iuey wigm ? o! choose. t0) i. He said it could be do advantage to the y South to have Congressional intervention, hi: i. if according to the principles of Squatter o Sovereignty, we are to have territorial inif tervention in its place, p But he said this whole Territorial ques- lD! n tion, and the duty of Congress in regard to is it, is now decided by the Supreme Court, t- and decided in favor of the South. ,m r- He regretted the disruption of the Demo o cratic party?the nothem wing had stood ro' - by us in many a hard fought battle?but 10 r- the Democracy North were now against ns, Pri rt and against ns upon principles so essential a* a to oar rights, that a reunion of the party is e simply impossible. Union! we must de-, lfc< Is | mand 'Equality in it, or Independence out it I of it.' I Col/Jones was followed by the Rev. A ?r t8 Whyte, who enchained the attention of his w* II audience for some time in his usual felici- c0. e tou9 manner. Mr. Whyte analyzed the WI ii positions of each of the four parties, and eJ e showed, conclusively, that the issue is tru- aD |. ly sectional?North and South?Breckin- S'1 i- ridge and Lincoln. He read Mr. Calhoun's es1 [, resolutions of 1847, maintaining that it is i- the same doctrine the South endorses now w i- in the majority platform, and the Supreme e Court in the Bred Scott decision. Mr. ye il W. was particularly happy in his illustra- ^ y tions. r, On motion, it was. re' h Resolved, That the proceedings be pub- mi g lished in the papers of the District. m( The meeting thenadjorned, in the midst of harmony and Southern feeling. 9D JOHN MASSEY, Chair'n. an Thomas. J. Eccles, Scc'y. cr< th< t, bh n LORENZO DOW. he ;s The following taken from the 'Autobi- f0, r, ography of Dan Young,' embodies a good o description of this singular man and his d general appearance : mJ r-| 'While at Lynn the eccentric .Lorenzo egl y Dow put up with me several days; his ap- gt?| r pearaDce was grotesque, his beard long and Up >f patriarchal, and he attracted the attention jQ e of all persons, who crowded to see the won- r0] s derful preacher. His clothes were excee: dingly coarse and rough. He preached ' d several times with good effect. He was fa( i- not learned, but very intelligent. By exi tensive travelling, much preaching and close i- observation, he had acquired a fund of ' - knowledge which made bim extremely in- yfl r tercsting in conversation, and his deep piety ( e was very edifying I considered it a hap- aQ n py circumstance that I had an opportunity wj. ' " ? 01 iorming UU ULtjuaiumi.ii;c nitu uuc niiuoc if extensive labors and great singularity had ^ n excited so much public attention. I pre- ex it sume a particular descriptien of his person d would be acceptable to the reader, as such ^ r has never yet been given. In height he was nearly six feet, in form fragile and - his limbs small, and his body slender; yet ^ i- he appeared healthful, and as having a j J constitution for endurance; rather quick and 1 active in his motions ; his complexion was eV) - light with intelligent blue eyes, light brown QW e hair. no; He had a strong mind and quick appre- d|s - hension; with strangers he was cautious e and reserved, but with friends he was quite saj f affable, frank and communicative, and when qQ i- his reserve was thrown off it was a great rjg e treat to be in his company, and hisconver sation was quite interesting and edifying. - I will here relate an anecdote of him, which haj a will eive some idea of his appearance and h O v*> - disposition. Jesse Lee made an appoint- ba] meot a year beforehand for Dow to preach i at Lynn, and told Bro. Johnson, a very ch, ; wealthy and distinguished member of our n church, that be should send Bro. Dow to 0f a put up with him. When the day of his ve] . appointment had arrived, Bro Johnson was tjj, - looking down the street for him, and saw s him coming up, and waited at his door till | 3 he came opposite, and beckoned with his hai f hand, and called out, 'Hallo, Bro. Dow, die , stop here!' and stepping quickly to him, loy - gave him his hand very cordially and said, ma i ?Bro. Dow, I am very glad to see you; get wb e off and come in.' wa i 'You have the advantage of me/ said wa Yf j -i uavc uu icuuueuuuu tuaii x cvci ryou before.' 0 no, you never did, ifor I you.' How then did you know me?' ?Why, Bro. Lee told me that when I mid see the ugliest looking man oome ng that I had seen in my whole life I ght know it was you, and the moment t ryou coming up the street, I knew it must you.' Well, well,' said Dow, with a pleasant gh, 'upon that I think I will put up with _ J __J l_ . J? i.J 3 aL i, ana ne aismoumea ana went in. A WONDERFUL MIRROR. Among the curiosities to be met with in ; Paris exhibition was a huge concave rror, the instrument of a startling species optical magic. On standing olose to it, presents nothiog bat a magnificently matrons dissection of your physiognomy, i retiring a couple of feet,-it gives your n face and trne proportion, bat reversed, 3 head downwards. Bat retire still far3r, stand at the distance of five or sir ;t from the mirror, and behold yoa see arself, not a reflection?it does not strike a as a reflection?bat veritable self, i in ik A ?*II/)J1A ?\A?t AA*I KAII kuutug iu buo UJIUUIO paxu uctnccu jvu d the mirror. The effect is almost appalig, from the idea it suggests of something pernatnral; so startling in fact, that men the strongest nerves will shrink involun ily at the first view. If jou raise your nc to thrust yonr other self, you will see pass clean through your body and appear the other side; the figure thruflting'at u the same instant. The artist who first ceeded in fashioning a mirror of this deription, brought to one of the French Dgs?if we recollect aright it was Louis V ?placed his majesty on, the right spot, d bade him draw his sword and thrust it the figure he saw. The king did so, but ;ing the point of the sword directed at his m breast, threw down bis weapon aqdran 'ay. The practical joke cost the iorehr the king's patronage and favor," his iinotn Koinrv oftnrm OA aohomAp A? IJVOVJT Uliui TV >*< UO DV HOUBUtVU V* 3 cowardice that be would qetfer agfeia >k at the mirror or its owner. The World's Changes.?It is sad but structive that.we live in a world-lof anges. From the cradle to the grave, a evidences of this painful truth aw ever pressing themselves on the mind. Of all a varied objects that twine themselves and our hearts in youth, how few clifcg it in mature years!?how few of our ecious hopes are not wrecked and borne ay on the restless waves of ebangeK^j -j at, sad as are the other objects of ehaftge, aontains in its full quiver, oheai&Vuijn^ en and deadly than the rest. Whisn he iom for a many a long year we hiight apple to our soul with hooks of steel? iom we have cheerished 'as our heart's re, ay, in our heart of hearts'?meets oath acold^and averted gaze) when the e that used to beam on us with ? tender d mellow lustre, no longer return our inces?and the face of him who'wtgvdeatt to us wears 'the look of a straneer'? en has change done its work for as, and i can smile at its farther visitations. It is rd to lose our friends by separation?and t more painfal and solemn is it to lose em by death, but still we lose them as ends?we lose them while affection "is jiprocal; and, as our spirits may still eomngle, their memory id'pleasant, though jurful to the soul.' Bat when the being s love, lives and is estranged, there is, as e has truly Said, a gap between as, deep d wide, which we can neither fill upHjfc-? )ss over. Then the past is desolatiotr, e present is bitterness, the future is a ink, and the only anodyne the orashed art can hope to find, is the lethargy 'of getfalness. > 1 The Brave Man.?The truly brave in is he who is not afraid to do what he eems right, under any and all ciroum-. n nces. He acts upon principle, and; not on the impulses of the moment. Whilst the exercise of prudence, he will never a heedlessly into dangers; yet, when an ject commensurate with the probable risk to be attained, be will never hesitate to :e every contingency in its accomplish;nt. There is a great difference between V 11 ?J A. iOness ana Dravery?unaer me iuuuce of the former, the man who has but ry little real moral courage, may perform tions which will give him great reputation, d stamp him a hero among hie fellow-men,. lilst the man who is really endowed with 3 latter may pass quietly and calmly rough life without oreatingany particular citement, or even gaining the meed of lise to which his virtues really entitle n. The truly brave man will most generally found modest and retiring ; cot given to asticg or bravado, and he will always be m, self-possessed and generous; he will t hesitate to do justice to his adversary, 3n though it should militate against his n interest. He does not fear the frowns, r court the smiles of the world; in the icbarge of the duty of life, be does not : the question, 'What will the people j V but ask bis own conscience the simple ery: 'Is what I am about to attempt ht and honorable ?'?Montgomery Flag. #Sf" A literary discovery of importance 3 been made at Liverpool. A papyrus, mght from Thebes by Rev. Henry Stort, and now in Mr. Mayer's Museum of itiquities, was found to contain the 19th apter of St. Matthew written in the Greek lical character, which gives a new version the long misunderstood part of the 24th rse, relating to the passage of a camel ough the eye of a needle. Saying Grace.?A blunt-spoken, off dedold gentleman, one day, previous to iner, arose and delivered himself as folrs:?<For what are we about to receive, y the Lord make us truly thankful? at wife!a plain hash again to-day!' It s all in the some breath, and the effect s inexpressibly ludicrous.