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** y : '< ? --r i> ' - - ' ' - g " __ .- '' ... '-. - * ppP pjp I ? j lewis m. grist. proprietor. | An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. j $2 pee abutou ik advance. VOL. 6. YORKVILLB, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 4, I860. N"Q, 40. Original JjflefrS. For the Yorkville Enquirer. TO THE ENO RIVER.'-BY H. M. C. DEDICATED TO MIS8 H. Flow on thou gentle stream?thou soft Eno : Along thy peaceful vales still sweetly flow; Roll on forever from thy ceaseless rills ; Reflect the verdure of the thousand hills That 'round thee in majestic grandeur rise, Lifting their lofty summits to the skies. Soft are the flowers that by thy banks repose? Soft all the scene. Thy wild, thy native rose. Now modest peeping from its mossy bed, Lifts to the falling dew its little head ; . And, here and there, on some neglected spot Blooms slenderly the coy Forget-mcNot. The yellow Jasmin climbs the verdant Bay, And fills with fragrance all the leafy way; Here, 'round the branching Elm the Ivy-vine Entwines itself, and, there, the Eglantine Perfumes the dewy breath of evening hour Sweet briar of beauty?"the Poet's flower." When weary of the World?listless of Life, I long for Lethe?for surcease of strife, Mingling with thy murmuring music, low, Fond Memory turns to tbee, beloved Eno. Then heaves my breast with many a soul-felt sigh, And thoughts unbidden come, that cannot die. I think of one, who oft has roamed along Thy shores to list thy laughing, liquid song ; I think of one?sweet daughter of thy clime, Who oft has led me in the olden time Along thy velvet paths?as fair a guide As ever walked thy banks at Eventide. Stream of her native land!?beside her home ! Thy shores, since hers, I could forever roam ; Tho' otherspots more sweet, more soft may seem, Tho' otherspots with brighter beauties beam T ??U till tV,r, rootage nanoatr. dnm A ICit LUVt, Uil mj " (HVl .7 VVUOO 4U 44 VI' | I'll love thee ever, gentle, soft Eno. The Retbeat, Richland, S. C., Sept. 19th. *A stream of North Carolina. Sit Original jitorg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. ST. PIERRE, THE MOUNTEBANK; OR, THE PREDICTION. A Romance of the Empire, under Catharine, II. BY R. B. RUSSELL. CHAPTER VI. THE MURDER. "One step I have advanced thee; if thou dost As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way To noble fortune. ? * * Thy great employment Will not bear question." * * * * 'Til tell thee what, Thou art damn'd as black?nay, nothing is so black ; Thou art more deep damn'd than prince Lucifer." Shakspeaue. 'And so, my lord, we failed.' 'Failed !' repeated the count. 'Heaven ha' mercy, man, but you should not have failed. That first blow should have been in the heart, not in the arm. Perdition ! a child would have known better.' Thus spoke Count de Moner to Pietro, as the latter gave him a brief account of the attack on the grand-duke and its result. The attendant was deeply mortified, not only at his ill success, but at the thought that he had thereby lost all chances of possessing the lands of Kaysvitch. He attempted to excuse himself to his master; but it was with an ill grace and a scarce suppressed impatience that the latter listened to him. 'What!' he exclaimed, as his servitor concluded, 'you say that a person resembling the mountebank addressed the Duke a few moments before your attack V 'I do, my lord.' 'But art sure it was the mountebank ?' 'Not at all. I merely suspect You forget, my lord, that when I saw you with him to day, it was for the first time, and I had but a hasty glimpse of his features.? This, however, I will say and swear to, that he resembled him in many respects, although he wore a mask and cloak, and'?j 'Yon say he addressed Paul and then \ crossed the street?' said the count impatiently. 'I do, my lord. We waited for the duke near the hotel, and this man, who came soon after us, as I have said before, also waited. When Paul came out he followed behind him, as did we; and at length he crossed over, passed him, and then again crossing, accosted him. I don't know what! he said, seeing that we were all hid in a; doorway; but he soon left him, and again crossed the street. Another man then came up; and the grand-duke being near i? ??? i i : : er 10 us man ueiore, we uearu nun luijuue his way to the Palace de Rosenburg. It was given?the stranger left him, and then'? 'And then ?' 'And then we rushed upon him. I stuck him in the arm with ray knife. Felix hit him in the breast with his club, and Giacomo aimed at him with his dagger, but missed. The grand-duke sprang to the wall, Felix dropped his club and drew his I knife; but before the poor fellow could use it, Paul passed his sword through him.? Giacomo then caught him by the throat, and was about to sheath his dagger into his heart, when alas! the stranger of whom Paul had inquired bis way came up, and nearly severed his head from his body with his sword.' 'But you told me that the man who accosted the duke first, fired at Giacomo from across the street.' 'He did; but whether the ball struck him or not is more than I can say; fori fled, but when I got near the corner I stopped and looked back. The two stood talking together for a little while, and at length moved away. I followed at a proper distance, keeping in the shadow as much as possible, and so did the man that fired the pistol. On reaching the hotel San Carlo, the duke and the other had a long conversation ; and I heard Paul say that he intended to return home immediately. They shook hands at length and parted, Paul going into the hotel, and the other moving up the street. After some time, Dot more than three or four minutes, at the most, the i other man entered the house; and being 1 determined to see the end, I waited till he came out, followed him to the Palace de I Rosenburg; and then hastened hitherto 1 inform you of the result.' 1 You did your best,' said the Count, af- i tera short pause, 'and though you failed, it I was not your fault. At any rate, the Duke ond hie fufbor arill nnf moof. an fhprp is nne object gained. But, curse it! the man who < addressed the Duke and fired the pistol, must have been the mountebank. Yes, seeing that he went to the palace I am sure of i it. By heavens !' he exclaimed, 'I'll be ' avenged on him before the night is over.' i 'Are you sure, my lord,' inquired Pietro, i 'that this man is what he seems?' 1 'Certainly,' said the Count in a tone of surprise. 'I don't think so.' i ' You ! Pshaw! He takes the part too well for it to be an assumed one. Besides, i did not my old and faithful servant Gustave i request me to engage him in preference to another! Oh, he is a mountebank! Of i that you may rest assured.' 'But, my lord?' i 'Nay, no more of your doubts,' said the Count impatiently. 'Are my pistols in good order ?' ' 'They are, my lord.' 'Get them and see that they are properly 1 loaded. A grain of powder more or less makes a vast difference, but few are able to perceive it.' 'They are already charged, my lord.' 'Draw them out and load them again ? Look well to the flints.' Pietro did as he desired. 'Lay them on the table,' said the Count. T 1 11 A. _ . . .1. ... 1. '1 snail not require your services runner tonight, Pietro. 'Doubtless,' l^^fc^ered, 'the mountebank will return J^^Jnfter seeing the Duke, and visit mdQBBirds, that is, if he means to come at all. What's that, Pietro ? Did aDy one knock ?' 'I'll see,' replied the attendant; and walking to the door he opened it. 'What! Henri Saint Pierre !' exclaimed the Count, as the lad entered. 'In heaven's name ! who sent you here ?' he enquired, as < soon as he had somewhat recovered from i bis astonishment. 'Not your father, surely ?' I 'No, my lord,' replied the lad. 'I came of my own accord.' 'Art sure?' i 'Why should I seek to deceive you ?' in- ] quired the lad earnestly. 'I am tired of living with my father, aod wish to take ser- ] vice with Duke Alexander.' I 'Indeed ! Did not your father intend 1 that you should go to him to morrow ?' , i 'He did my lord ; and preached me a long 1 sermon as to how I should conduct myself, i which I little heeded.' And so the lad 1 told h'm word for word what, the rnnnnte- t bank had said, except that part relating tcJ 1 his wealth, which he was wise enough to [ t conceal. 'So the roouutebank?I mean your father! i has been deceiving me*in regard to your- jl self?' said the Count, with a sinister smile, s 'In that only,' replied the lad 'As to the part relating to the prediction, I am : t sure that that will be carried out to the j? very letter. He intends to let you go on 11 with it until you reach the point of successU and then to discover all to the grand-duke.';' 'Do you know his reason for it. < 'Yes, my lord. lie said that from your ? earliest years you have been plotting against your superiors?that it was your nature? and he preferred to have you engaged in ? some scheme in which he himself could ; take a part, and know everything connected j therewith, rather than in a secret one which ! he might know nothing of.' 'He is very kind, is your father, to take 1 so great an interest in my welfare,' said the ) I nobleman, his brow darkening. 'But what [ s brought you to me, my boy ?' he added sud-1 denly, and gazing somewhat suspiciously at, Henri, who met his glance unmoved.? 1 'What brought you to me?' 'Why,' replied the boy, hesitatingly, 'I overheard your conversation with my father, i aud knowing you to be a bold mao, and feeling inwardly that you would succeed in < your object, I?I?' 1 Well?' ."aid the Count kindly. : 'I came to offer my services to you to act I as a spy on the Duke.' . ' The Count smiled. It was the very thing he wished. 'Aud what reward do you expect for this j i service ?' he inquired. 'A title, if you should succeed,' replied the boy boldly. <A title!' repeated the Count slowly.? i 'You want a title ?' i 'Yes, my lord. It is the height of my ' ambition.' 'And you will serve me faithfully, if I promise it?' i 'I will, my lord.' 'Enough. As soon as our efforts are 1 crowned with success, you shall have it;', and the Count rubbed his hands gleefully. !i jit is so easy to make?a promise. 'But h jharkyou,not a word of this to any one,' ! he added. 'By the way, I expect my sou i i here every hour. He is a lad of your age, | Henri; and I hope you will become good , friends.' 'I trust we shall, my lord.' I have not seen him for five years myself,' continued the Count. 'I sent hiui to England in his ninth year to get an education ; aud he wrote to me last week stating that he would be here to-day or to-morrow. As I said before, I am expecting him every ! hour.' 'I hope he will come soon, my lord.' TU/\ P/Minf r? rvTTT Eimonlf ? X UC vuuu u uun otoitu luujotii, auu UJU- ' Ised deeply for many moments. At length,! 'turning to the boy, he asked, 'Is the mountebank?I mean your father; ; ?at home now V 'He is my lord. He came just as I left j the house ; and as I passed beneath the j window, I heard hiin tell the servant that; he would go out again in about an hour.? j O O But I trust you do not intend to take me to him.' Not I,' replied the Count, with a grim smile. 'You will remain here to-night as my guest ; and to-morrow you shall see the Duke. If your father should leave the city to-night, Henri, you must not wonder at it; for he will have gone on some private business which you and I know nothing of. Should he do so, you must go alone to Alexander to-morrow.' 'As you think best, my lord.' 'Ana never let him know by word or deed that we are friends? 'Never, my lord.' Thanks my boy Your rise to fame and rank will be most rapid, I am sure of it.? Show him into a private room, Pietro; and mind.' he added in a whisner. 'that he does ' r ' not leave the house. Is it not your usual hour for retiring, Henri ?' 'It is ?' 'Well, Pietro will take care of you till I return. Good night, ray boy!' 'Good night, my lord !' replied Henri; ind as the two retired by one door, the Count disappeared by the other. Have patience, good reader. One scene more, and we are done with the Eternal City. It was the hour of midnight, and all was silent in the streets of Rome. In the same room of the hotel de Dieu where we saw him before, was seated the mountebank.? His face had lost that sort of devil-may-care expression which, at a first glance, or to a casual observer, seemed habitual to it, and was displaced by a troubled look, while his eyes were cast down in sorrow; for Henri ?his darling Henri?had disappeared, and was not to be found. And as he mused, his mind almost unconsciously wandered slowly backward from the present, far, far away into the misty regions of the past; and other thoughts and thick-coming fancies of boyhood days and boyhood friends, and childhood sports and tasks?those bright spots?oases in Memory's waste, which the young man forgets in his struggle with the world, and remembers again only when he is old?the bright dreams of youth, when life seems but one long summer's day, and no cloud darkens the horizon of life's happy moon ; these?all these unrolled themselves like a panorama to his view; and everything pertaining to the actual present and the ever-coming future, was now forgotten ' Minutes roll on. The clock is striking half past twelve, and the mountebank is yet musing. But soon a footstep is heard approaching, the door is flung open, and Count WaukofTappears. In one hand he bears a pistol; in the other a pointed torch, which he dashes into the floor with a loud noise. Even this fails to arouse the other; and it s only when the count speaks that he raises iis head. On seeing his visitor he spring-* lp with a cry, not of alarm, but of surprise ; DUt recovering in a moment, he places the able between him and the other; and then jointing to a chair, politely requests of him ,o be seated. 'What is your pleasure with me?' hesaid rery slowly, placing his hand upon his leart, and gazing at the count with a cold, item look. 'What is your pleasure with me V 'To receive an answer to a simple ques;ion,' replied the count, raising his bloodshot eyes toward the face of the other, as if le would read his very soul. 'Yes, an aniwer to a simnle ouestion.' he continued. r i 7 such as ODe gentleman would ask of another. You see'it is not much ; merely a word, ind then?well then I shall leave you.' 'But if I should refuse to answer it ?' lOh !you will not,' said the count, with i ghastly smile. 'And why ?' 'Because you dare not. ?Yet if I should refuse ??' Then you die,' replied the count sternly. Saint Pierre started, but in a moment bis feature resumed the same cold expression, and he replied slowly, 'You would force it from me then ?' 'Ay, if there is no other way. Come, let us waste no more words. Who are you ? Your name ?' and he raised the pistol. 'I am a mountebank,' said the other; ind my name is Jean Saint Pierre.' _ r i__ t i__ll !? j *1 1 lis raise ; raise as nen ; crieu ine exsited count. 'You have another name behind it, and I have come to learn it. Answer m> quickly, or I will tear the secret from your heart!' and he again raised the weapon. 'Who are you?' 'Your enemy!' 'Ah! I knew it?I felt it!' exclaimed the Count. 'And now, for the last time, who are you?' 'Rather let me ask who you are V said the mountebank, stepping out from behind the table and boldly confronting him. 'Put down your toy, man ; and think not that I would lift a hand against you. No, it is with other weapons I strike, such as a woman would laugh at and men scorn?words, simple words !' 'You ask me who I am ?' said the other. 'I am the Count Waukoff.' 'Ay, the Count Waukoff,' said the moun tebauk, tauntingly. 'A pretty name and hitlr? ia if rinf ? TiOf iiq qpo hnur if. r^iinQ and how it was wou. Thomas Gotschoff, Count de Wuukoff, the murderer of his father, the assassin of the Duke of Leipsic, and the jailer of the Princess Maria!' The pistol dropped from the outstretched hand of the Count, and he staggered back against the wall. 'Ah ! the murderer of your father !' cried the mountebank, moving toward him with folded arms, his pale face yet paler, and his bosom heaving with contending emotion. 'Glorious title ! nobly won ! Let us look back a little. Twenty years ago your father, while lying ill of a fever, uuder the care of his faithful Greek servant, whose name for the moment has slipped my memory, was stabbed in his bed, and his body flung from a high cliff into the Neva. In vain, the servant Demetrius, such was his uauie, on his bended knees, implored you not to do the bloody deed ; you and another disregarded his entreaties; and soou the poor fellow followed his master. This done, all traces of the double murder were carefully removed; and the next day it was whispered that your father and servant had fallen under the displeasure of the empress, and were doomed to eternal exile in the _ icy regions of Siberia. Answer me, sir ~~ Count, was it not so?' Waukoff made no reply, but his pale faoe and trembling form showed that the accusation was not an unjust one. I, 'So,' continued the mountebank, by your father's death the elder gained the title, p( while you received the available wealth.? g, But a simple name contented you not; you j wanted rank, and through your brother, ^ who was then all powerful with Catharine, <j<] though a few years afterward he fell into g( disgrace, you offered your services to the r empress. You came to her in good time, r for she wanted a person?with whom the a Count was unacquainted, to act as a spy Fi upon the Princess Maria; and you accep- a ted the base trust. You followed her like a a bloodhound, step by step, nothing escaped your scent; and at length from what you heard, vou susDeeted that the Princess and , J ? r ^ -J the Duke de Leipsic were married. Too communicated your suspicions to the Empress, offering at the same time your advice and assistance. She accepted both. But a for you, one at least of these unfortunates al would perhaps be living still. One was doomed, for from an early age she had been ^ marked out by the fell destroyer as his vie- ,? tira. Fate, or rather you, decreed it other- Cl wise with regard to the Duke. The Princess was placed in your care, and the next morning she died. Three days afterward a,' the Duke was slain, and by you. For this 'J you were likely ennobled ; and to those who knew not the blackness of your heart, you ^ appeared worthy of your sudden elevation " to rank and wealth. Years have passed C( since then, and how many more crimes you S! have committed, heaven only knows. An- " swer me! Is not all I have said true?' Waukoff pressed his hand upon his heart ^ as if to still its beatings j but made no reply. 'Answer me, man !' continued the nioun- e tebank, grasping him roughly by the arm t! 'Is not all I have said true ? You dare not, u cannot deny it!' 'I can,' said the Count, recovering from his stupor, and drawing himself proudly up. 'Jean Saint Pierre, know this, that ^ there lives not another man on earth who w would dare speak to me as you have done! s< Who and what are you ? Where are your n proors r ana tairng up tne pistol, ne piacea the barrel against his temple. 'Answer quickly, as you value your life !' ' What! would you add another murder to your long list of crimes ?' said the mountebank. 'Do you Dot fear?' r< 'I fear nothing,' exclaimed the Count, as c' his hand touched the trigger. 'Quick! . Your name and the proofs ?' 'Proofs! ha! You want proofs? Well, 01 you shall havethem and bending his head, Cl he whispered a single word in his ear. The effect was electrical. The Count staggered u back, let fall the pistol, and raised his hand to his brow, which grew red and pale by turns; and moaning piteously, moved slow- s< ly backward toward the door. Still gazed the mountebank, his dark eyes gleaming w like burning coals ; but not a word did he ai utter, as with one hand pointing upward to ^ the sky, he followed him through the open ft door ; and only paused when he had reached ei the landing. Then, and then only, did the w Count stop, as if about to speak, but though ei his lips moved, naught but the same moan- ai inn enn nrJ m n n li nn rrl A n/] nlnm 1 n Kn t.l iup, cuuuu naa ticuiu, auu oivwijr otcp uj ? step he descended the stairs; and Saint h Pierre had nearly reached the room again, h when the street door was thrown open; a d yell and a pistol shot heard at one and the e same moment?a gasp for breath?a cry of ft despair?and Count Waukoff, bleeding pro- h fusely from a wound in his neck, staggered g into the room and fell dead upon the floor. u It is the vengeance of God !' exclaimed Saint Pierre, as soon as he had somewhat w recovered from the horror into which this & fearful deed had thrown him. 'In His name!' c< he cried, rising to his feet, after assuring ? himself that the Count was no more?'In g1 His name, who has done this ?' P 'I!' thundered CouDt de Moner, as he ft sprang into the room. On seeing the it mountebank standing erect and apparently uninjured, he uttered a loud cry and started w back. ai 'Living !' he cried; 'and I not apt to miss 01 my aim !' T 'Gracious heaven ! cried burnt rierre. it 'You?was it you that did this deed ? Oh! w man ! man ! henceforth the gates of Heaven is are forever closed against you ! See?see ti here !' and seizing the torch with one hand, tl he grasped the Count by the arm, and tl dragged him toward the body. 'Look, man! k see what you have done !' and he held the m torch in such a position that the light fell t? directly upon the face of the corpse. 'See, l! Count de Moner, see whom you have slain!' gi 'Who is it ?' cried the Count, startled at d the other's violence. ti 'Your brother !' exclaimed Saint Pierre ; tl and as the horror-stricken nobleman knelt it down beside the body, he rushed from the p: house. For a moment the Count remained tc motionless as though paralyzed; and then is nsiup fiUUUUUiy, lie cpiuu^ tu cue wiuuuw 01 aDd dashed it open. lie saw the mounte- ta bank coursiDg the street, flying od the wings tc of speed to escape him ; and at the very h: moment he disappeared into the shadow, he bi raised his arm and fired. A thrilling si scream, so wild and piercing that it rang di upon the Count's ear forever, was heard, tc and then all was still. G 'My poor brother!' he exclaimed; and di kneeling, he gazed upon the body for a mo- li ment, and then fell back insensible. tl [to be continued.] ei More Slaves Captured.?Norfolk, al September 26.?On Wednesday, a brig, supposed to bo the Storm King, arrived w here in charge of Lieut. Hughes, from Mon- d< rovia. The brig was captured by the San t! Jacinto, on the 8th of August, with 619 1J Africans on board, which were landed in ai Monrovia. The prize ship Erie was also re- st captured on the 8th, by the Mohican, and sc arrived at Monrovia with 860 Africans, in F charge of Lieut. Donegan. p Original jjajere. j For the Yorkvllle Enquirer. 80NNET. BT PRISTON DAVIS SILL. thank thee, lady ! for thy words of cheer? ' tie kind outpourings of thy woman's heart ir one its goodness pities?they impart rength to the soul, and check the childish tear, ' feel, bedewing my homeward-turning eye ; nd as wi' the gently-dropping genial rain, he trampled flower, refreshed, blooms again, ^ i my bruised spirit, 'neatb thy charity, evircs, if not with gladness, yet with hope? ' ope of high aims and duty purchased peace, 2 nd after these, perchance, a full release < rom carking cares with which I now must cope? ' nd blesses thee, my more than sister-friend, I nd aye will bless thee till my breath and being end ! St. James* College, 10d., 2mo., 1860. < EUROPEAN CORRESPONDENCE. \ Paris, September 18, 1860. , Dear Enquirer: I hoped to have been ( ble to announce to you in this letter the , rrival of Garibaldi in Naples, but that event as not yet occurred. To-day we have a ispatch stating that the King has at length sft the capital, but instead of leaving the , Duntry as was generally expected he would, e has retired to Gaeta, where it is feared iat he will undertake to make a defence, nd thus delay the settlement of the queson. That he is no longer able to oppose ie powers of Garibaldi alone, is certain, and e at present has no prospects of assistance om any source. Austria would willingly , ome to his assistance, but while Napoleon lys no, she dares not. Gen. Lamoriciere ould no doubt willingly join his torces to ie few which yet remain true to king Vancis, and thus attempt to ward off the anger which threaten^ him arid his adoptd cause, while he could have some assisince. But his 30,000 troops, consisting of ltramantane Catholics, scraped up from be four quarters of Europe, are scarcely uffieieDt to quell the insurrections which reak out rapidly one after the other in the 'ope's dominions. Thus this chivalric 'arrior of the cross must stand idle and =e the danger, which approaches him very lpidly. The last news from Garibaldi, states that e was but a few hours distant from Naples; nd when he arrives, it seems that he will e received in triumph, instead of having rst to capture. The arrangements were jady made before the King leff, to re eive Garibaldi in a grand way, and to have le city illuminated three nights in succeson. The revolutionary committee in the ity had sent an invitation to their hero to ome on; and that lie would have nothing ) do but take possession. Almost the enre kingdom has now declared in favor of le national movement. The army has rapidly dwindled by de;rtion, until not more than 20,000 remain ue to the Royal cause; and even these ill probably lay down their arms at the pproach of the Italians. None who are talians can now be depended on to fight ir the king. But he has about 8,000 for ign troops who may fight; and in Gueta, hich is strongly fortified, and well preparI for a siege, they may hold out some time, Dd thus baffle those who are anxious to see le Italian question settled very early. It as been Austrian influence which has rought the young king to his present conition, and it seems to be that same influnce still governing him, which keeps him om leaving the country entirely. Austria as the hope that by paralyzing the strug le as much as possible, something may turn p that will change all. It is the fear of ]is also, which makes Sardinia and the estern powers anxious for a speedy eettlelent. Austria and Russia seem daily beaming more friendly, and if they succeed 1 settling their disputes, the Czar may aain come forward as in '48, to uphold the riaciple of absolutism, and rescue Austria ora what now looks like almost certain ru1. Sardinia has sent troops down to Naples, hich will land as soon as the king leaves, ad take command for the preservation of rder until the government is settled.? his is to be done because a certain dark ltriguiDg character, already known to the orld by his intrigues?I mean Mazzini? i now known to be very busy; and if much me is allowed to elapse, he may stand in le way of annexation. No one suspicions ie purity of Garibaldi's motives, and he is nown now to desire only annexation to the orthern kingdom. He seems to be devoid heart and hand to Victor Emmanuel and ialian unity; but unfortunately, he is a reat enemy to Count Cavour, and their issentions may cause considerable difficules to arise. It is a very grave misfortune lat Garibaldi and Cavour cannot walk hand 1 hand. These are the two great charu- , ions of Italian Liberty, and it is difficult , > say to which Italy is most indebted. It certain that Sardinia is indebted to Cavnr for what she now is; but it is also cerlin that, had Cavour's advice been listened ( i, the expedition against Sicily would not ( ave been undertaken when it was. Thi9 aid move of Garibaldi, and his brilliant lccess in what seemed to be a hopeless un- , ertaking, have caused him for the present, | (eclipse in popularity the wise statesman, j aribaldi is the man to bead an army in | esperate undertakings, and either gain hrii- , ant victories, or lose all. But Cavour is | ie far-seeing, prudent statesman, suited for ( ther war or peace; but more sure to be ] ppreciated as he merits, during peace. | Many are troubling themselves to know i hat Garibaldi will undertake when he is I one with Naples. It is considered sure 1 lat he will not stop at the boundary of the ope's territories, but from present appear- i aces, it will take only a few days to de- 1 ,roy Lamoriciere's army. Then will he be < ) rfish as to attack the city of Rome, where i rench troops stand pledged to defend the i erson of the Holy Father? This is a i question, but bold as Garibaldi is, it is Dot q ixpected that he will be so rash as 10 rush j nto a struggle against France?a country to v vhich he, as well as all Italians, must feel I jreatly indebted, and against which tbey i ;ould have no hope of success. s This would be so rash that few suppose r ;hat Garibaldi will undertake it. But Sar- t linia, France and England, all are very ud- s ;asy for fear that he will attack Venice, aod a ,hus briDg on another struggle with Austria, i [n case Austria is attacked, Sardinia can f lope for no assistance from Napoleon; t ieDce she has reason to be uneasy. Though a Italy united would be able to stand ugaiost s Austria, after she had had time for formiog ? ind training an army; at present, the un- t iisciplioed thousands which would flock to i the standard of Garibaldi, would be far ] From a match for the mighty and well train- ( ?d army of the Austrian Empire. 1 A friend of Garibaldi has said that the 1 jonquest of Venice would be undertaken t from Hungary and not from Italy. Pru- < dent Italians would certainly much prefer j this. The present extremely unquiet state i of Hungary, and Kossuth's sudden appear ance in Italy, and holding continual commu i nication with Garibadi, are events attract- l ing considerable attention. When the Ital- ] ian question is settled, if Austria has not t satisfied Hungary by liberal concessions, she i will have much to fear from that quarter. 1 If Kossuth and Garibaldi once get in ] Hungary, at the head of a determined army, the Austrian Empire will be worse shaken than in 1848. Yet, in spite of all these s dangers and all the attempts made to bring about reforms, the Austrian government seems as obstinate as ever. Yours, &c. B. For the Yorkville Enquirer. Awxtuju JLiruxiAJL) rain. The fourth annual Fair of the Mecklenburg Agricultural Society, will take place on the 31st of October, nod continue three day9. This is not a State institution, but all are invited to become members from the neighboring States. The Committee have procured beautiful and commodious grounds The Society is permanently established ; its premium list liberal and on an extended scale?every arrangement in the way of accommodation to exhibitors has been made in the most ample manner.? Our last Fair was a decided success The exhibition of fine horses at our last Fair has hardly ever been surpassed anywhere. We look to the people of York, Chester and Lancaster, to aid us as they have doue heretofore, in making this the most successful of our Fairs Especially, we would invite the ladies of York, not only to attend the fair in person, but to contribute of their handy work, and take up the fabrics of their hands which cannot be estimated or rewarded by silver premiums alone. Copies of the premium list, with the Rules and Regulations, may be had by application to Gen. J. A. Youug, or Mr. Yates, at the office of the Western Democrat, Charlotte, N. C. S. For the YorkvIUe Enquirer. PERSEVERANCE. BY CHARLJB witnwoon. "Perseverance keeps honor bright."? Such is the motto which the toiling heart and trusting soul should ever wear. If any one there be, who doubts the truth which this time-honored maxim would inculcate, and can only see its triteness, let him but play the Sluggard in the Drama of Life, and as the autumnal blast strips the Pride of India tree of its foliage, flowers and berries, so will he soon be bereft of friends, fortune and honor ; and in loneliness of heart and utter nakedness of condition, will he be compelled to acknowledge the entire truthfulness of the proverb, however trite it mav be. */ No barrier, however strong, no obstacle however great, can impede the progress of Perseverance, for it "Is a Roman virtue, That wins each god like act, and plucks success E'en from the spear-proof crest of rugged dan ger." Yea, all must and will succumb to the mighty power of the stalwart arm of Perseverance, which hurls opposing obstacles aside, while steadily pursuing with a firm foot and unshaken step, the paths that lead to the enviable glory of the brilliant achievement of success It wakes the mental faculties to energy and action; and thus, the mind is kept pure, and clear and bright as the silver ' winding brooklet in the dark-green, and i deep-tangled wild wood. It begets pros- < perity ; and thereby, the heart becomes as I light and bappy as a May-day dawo, and < the conscience is made to assume and wear i the form of a mirror, whose clearness but reflects the brightness of the mind and the f pure happiness of the heart. While the s fair escutcheon of honor, is, by the sturdy I arm of valiant Perseverance, shielded and defeuded from harm?kept ever free from 1 cankering stain or caroding rust?ever i untarnished and bright as burnished gold, i To illustrate as fully as possible, the ina- t portance of little things and the necessity i of perseverance to insure success, allow me, ? deur friend, to recall to mind, how brave Robert Bruce, the famed Scotish chieftain who achieved so much for his own loved, 1 down trodden and bleeding Culedonia, the 1 land which has given birth to Smith the ' philosopher and Burns the poet, was de- ? featcd six times; and, while the English * were crushing to the very earth and mang- f ling the flowers of Scotia beneath the iron tread of despotic power; and the blazing t homesteads of the yeomanry served as bon- s 5res to illuminate the path of the ruthless ( invaders, who were tracking like blood- t hounds her hero sons through the countrv, 1 leaving in their wake, huge black piles of ( jmoking embers, like the smouldering rem- j ants of a country's funeral pyre, and the \ winds sweeping from hill unto vale, scatter- 1 2d the ashes, and in loud moans went sigh- 1 ing through the forest trees, bewailing the 1 unhappy condition of poor, lacerated, bleed- t ing Scotland, and breathing a low, sad re. 1 |uiem over her expiring greatness?that b aded and fatigued with travel and worn t vith care and grief, and almost desponding, 8 3ruce chanced to espy a spider endeavor- ii ng to fasten its web; and as a small thing b ometimes, insignificant in itself, will ar- g est the attention, and draw away our f houghts from surrounding cares and the o nares of trouble, so did the spider arrest c nd rivet Bruce's attention. He observed a t narrowly. It made six unsuccessful ef- a orts ; six times did it leap and fail to reach r he desired point, and then gathering up s il! its strength, its energy and courage for s mother trial, the seventh leap was taken, I md lc!?success achieved! Six times did c he spider fail only to come out triumphant t n the seventh trial! From that moment, 1 Bruce banished despondency, and the hero < )f Bannockburn was ''himself again."? t Be seized the trusty claymore?gathered up < lis scattered clans?sounded anew the i :ocsin of- war, and went forth with a firm i ietermination to free Scotland from the poke of her merciless invaders, or to perish ' n the attempt. ; A short time after, the two armies met ' vith a terrible shock ; success smiled upon ;he arms of Bruce, and he gained a com- i slete victory over Edward's forces. Sco- ' ;ia's thistle waved in triumph over England's ' rose, and from mountain highland glen to 1 sonny lowland dale, the glad-voieed pibrochs 1 sealed forth merry notes of joy. 1 Behold the force of example ! Admire the perseverance of the spider, ' ind follow her example. ifkteii piscdlm "the public safety. On Saturday last, a negro man was taken up in our town, with various orders on merchants residing here, and with passes to be used in travelling on the Railroad? nnc of ther/ as far as Wilmington. One of ? - rj I the orders was for a Rifle Pistol, and was signed "William Mayes." This especially excited suspicion, and inasmuch as he said he was to carry the pistol to the Canip Ground, Dear Lynchburg, he was subjected to a rigid examination. In the course of his examination, he said that the various papers in his possession were written by two white persons, one residing Dear Bish opville, and one near Lynchburg. A gen tleman who was present at the examination, said that he thought that the writing attributed to the citizen of Lynchburg, was written by him. These papers were evidently, ar.d by the negroe's own statement, forgeries. He further stated that there was a plan for some insurrectionary movement on Saturdy night, atthe Camp Ground, and erave the Dames of some fiftv nesrroes who were in the plot, besides saying that there were many whose names he did oot know. He said that four white men were in the plot, and were the leaders of it.? These parties were entirely unknown here, except the man whose hand-wiiting was supposed to he identified. His statement was so circumstantial, as to lead to the conclusion, that at least prompt measures of prevention and safety were necessary.? Warrants were promptly issued for the ap prehension of two of the white men, who reside in Sumter District, and expresses sent to the camp ground and to Bishopville, where most of the negroes and one of the white men implicated, reside. One of the white men whose name was connected with the plot, was arrested for forgery and brought to the iail. Maj. R M. English, whose mother owns the negro, was in town, Monday, and said that he could write. Numbers of persons testify as to the entire respectability and integrity of the white men charged, and in various particulars the statement of the negro is now ascertained to be false. The white man who was arrested has been duly discharged, with many regrets that so good and true a man should have been subjected to so unpleasant a predicament. It is now conceded that the plot which the negro disclosed, was a fabrication of his own; but it is very evident he knows how such things are to be gotten up and carried out. With the experience of some of our neighbors before us, it is but natural to expect that such declarations from a negro woulcl produce some excitement, and induce those measures of precaution which could alone be relied on in times of actual danger. The negro may have had some intention rv rtfF ?a Vm QonmQ fn nn^orvifnn.1] to It pro IAJ ?1,1, "V, .W he could tlud freedom, and to know a very < clever financial operation, by which be could be sold by a white mau, receive the purchase money, in part, and then be stoleD again. He is now in jail, awaiting such trial and punishment as his conduct may dejerve, at the hands of the proper authori- 1 ;ies. I This statement may be relied on as stricty accurate. There is no cause for uneasi- i less. In fact, even with the short notice i ivhice was given, the community supposed | ;o be threatened, was in a condition to en- ] ihle them to nrotect themselves amnlv. in t r i * / iny event.?Sumter Watchman. i ( A Pen and Ink Sketch of Garibal31.?The Italian correspondent of the Lonlon Times writes an interesting letter in J vhich he describes a voyage undertaken in iompauy with Garibaldi, from Palermo to Vlessioa, on the 17th ult. We make the J bllowing extract: I almost fancy I have made out a few of ] he peculiar charms by which Garibaldi ] leems to exercise so great an ascendency j >ver all who approach him. We were yes- . erday en famille, and, although Captain ( Weeks had placed his private cabin at the s :xclusive disposal of his illustrious guest, < ?et Garibaldi came forth familiarly among j is, and made himself for a day perfectly j lappy, and even heartily merry with his 1 'riends. The previous day had been tre- s nendously hot?extraordinarily hot, I was ;old, even for Palermo; and yesterday, al;hough we were at sea, there was not a i reath of air, and no freshness enlivened he close furnace into which the sky and ea were converted. Panting and swelter g, all of as were idle and listless enongh j mt the General moved among the various ;ronps upon deck with a kind and apt word or each of them, evincing that readiness f recognition, that perfect accuracy of reollection, that memory of men and things nd circumstances, however trifling, which re ranked among the innate privileges o??* oyalty. He had on his usual dictatorial^ ait, consisting of the un&iJjmf flanuJfcl?C+> hirt, with a silk bandana kerchief thrown oosely and widely round the neck by way >f a scarf, light grey trowsers, and the" nodern wide-awake hat with the turn-up )rim. The prodigious breadth of the Gen*^ :rals' shoulders, his colossal chest, and the natural dignity and lion-like majesty of his muntenance again and again inoline a beholder to overrate his real stature, which ^ iu norhiinlff nnf gKnno fha a\va You mast go near him, and measure him by the standard of common men, before you recover from the error into which awe for that commanding figure leads you ? The hair, on a nearer inspection, is dark hazel, almost black, darker by far than the beard, which is tawny or reddish. He wears the hair rather long. The heard is full, and relieves the length of the .oval face, which might otherwise be thooght excessive. The temples are somewhat compressed about the region of the eye, and a very strong oblique compression is observable about the eyebrows. The obeek bones are high, and the nose comes down between them in a perfectly straight, long line, even with the slightly slanting forehead. The complexion of that small part of the face which is not hidden by the beard is not merely bronzed or sunburnt, it has a peculiar sanguine hue, thickly studded with endless freckles. This remarkable tint, the features, the color of the beard, joined to the calm, but deep expression of the eve. all contribute to eive his countenance J 7 v it' - " that unmatched character which woo for Garibaldi the appellatioa:of the 'Lionface.' "Muscular Strength "?The mustyilar strength of the human body is wonderful. A Turkish porter will trotfaba rapidpace, and carry a weight of six hupdre'tfl pounds. Milo, a celebrated athlete'^Urt-' , tona, in Italy, accustomed himself to carry the greatest burdens, and by degrees became a monster in strength. It^is said that he carried on his shoulder an ox four years old, and weighiug upward />f one thousand pounds, and afterward killed him with one blow of his fist. He was seven times crowned at the Pythian games, and six at the Olympic. He presented him^slf the seventh time, but no one bad the'courage to enter the list against him. He was one of the disciples of Pythagoras, and^to bis uncommon strength that preceptor and his pupils owed their lives. The pillar which supported the roof of the house'fcuddenly gave way, but Milo supported the roof of the building, aDd gave the philosopher time to escape. In old age he attempt ted to pull up a tree by the roots and break^M*. it. He partially effected it, but bis strgngthflPr being gradually exhausted, the trep wherfcfflpi *cleft re-united and left his hand ^pinched in the body of it. He was then alone, and unable to disengage himself, died in that position. ^ Haller mentions that he saw a* mm, whose finger caught in a chain ^tbe bottom of the mine, by beepin^it forcibto bent, support by that means the wholes weight of his body, one hundred and fifty pounds, until he was drawn up to the surface, a distance of six hnndrethfeq^ Ad- irj*gustus II, King of Poland, could* rblf "up ' a silver plate like a sbeet ot paper, and twist the strongest hore-sboe asunder. A lion is said to have left-.,the impression of his teeth upon a piece of solid iron. The most prodigious power of muscle is exhibited by the fish. The whale moves witlf a velocity through a deuse medium?water? that would carry him around the world in less than a fortnight. A sword-fish has been known to strike his weapon through the thick plank of a ship; a specimen of such a plank, with the sword of the fish sticking in it, may be seen in the British Museum. Home Industry?Southern Poroe; lain Company.? It is not generally knowu, perhaps, that we have, within the borders of our State, every convenience, and facility for producing an excellent and exquisite article of porcelain ware. At Kaolin, the Southern Porcelain Company have been established on a firm basis for some years, and now produce upwards of 850,000 worth of ware yearly. This Company are ilar> mnrmfuntiirinff nornnlain wfttpr-ninps. n i ? r*r?J md have now contracts on band for 850,000 worth of these, a large portion of which is for the water works of the city of Augusta. The Porcelain Building is one hundred md twenty feet long by forty feet wide, ind the establishment gives constant employment to about sixty hands. The fire jroof bricks made by this company are said :o excel any others in the country, and they ire shipping clay in large quantities to seviral potteries in Europe. It is now the determination of the Comjany, having, from experience, learned that he business can be conducted profitably, to mlarge their field of operations, and to jlace their ware more extensively in mar^ iet for the Southern trade. With this view, ;he Superintendent of the works, Mr. W. H. Farrar, and the Augusta Agent, Mr. F. dolman, are now in Charleston for the parpose of establishing a permanent agency, ind we are pleased to say, that arrangements i tr. O-i?J 1..J?J ,0 mis eueut were uu uniur^rajr uuuuiuucu, ind that henceforth the interests of the !>Southern Porcelain Company" will be represented in this city by the well known Porcelain and Crockery House of Messrs. Webb and Sage, where samples of various ityles may at all times be seen.?Mercury. Practice flows from pjjpciple, for as t man thinks so will he afit.