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w t . IiKWiSJW. GRM'T,. ^n fnkjpltnt Jkiralj Uehrspaptr: Jor % fromotion of % political, Sfldal, ^jricitltaral airtr Commtrtial |ittmsis of ifrt ?otrtjj. ^^Mrlc'il^^Ai^iP1^ ' VOL. 13. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, AUGrXJST" 1, 1867. ," ' NO. ,14^ ?be Jhwg-lrilw. AN APE'S REVENGE.~ Captain Lanseer was in temporary command of the military post at Pudser, and had in his detachment a large body of native troops. He paraded his soldiers for inspection, and pnt them through a thorough drilL The evolutions of the battalion were performed with promptness and precision; and the manual of arms was nearly equal to that of the best drilled European troops. I had heard that these Sepoys were not so well disciplined as the English soldiers; but Lanseer assured me that their discipline was well nigh perfect In size they are smaller than the English; but they readily adapt themselves to the light uniform, and are very hardy. Our second evening at Pudser was spent at Captain Lanseer's quarters, and after supper we worked our way into story telling. "Gentlemen,'* said Lanseer, as we filled our pipes the second time, "I can tell you a very curious story of circumstances that have transpired in this place within a month. If you can think of nothing Better, I will give it to you." Of course we could think of nothing better, and the vote was unanimous that he should proceed. . About four weeks ago, commenced the Oaptain, a wealthy zemindar, named Hoosian Kahn? "Zemindar," interrupted Gilroy, "what's that?" A zemindar is simply a land owner, replied Lanseer. As I was saying, the zemindar Hoosian Kahn was found one morning dead in his bed, with his throat cut in a most shocking manner. It was not cut clean across, as a suicide would have done it, but it was hacked frightfully. Upon the floor, close by the bedside, was found a razor covered with blood, its stout horn handle broken, and the shank bent The aftnindar had been an excellent man, respected by the people, both high and low, and his shocking death was the cause of much excitement And first it was thought that the murder had been committed for the purpose of robbery ; bat not an article had been stolen from the house. The English watch, the jewels, the purse, the leather pocket-book, which, with the clothing in the room, were undisturbed. I was called to the scene of the murder as soon as it was discovered, and, with other officers, did my best to unravel the mystery. There had been some struggling on the part of Hoosian, as was evident from the condition of the bed; but he had not struggled much. We found a large bunch of hair upon the pillow, where the murderer had held the head ' back while the fatal work was being done; and this,; together with the broken handle and bent shank' of the razor, signaled to us that the assassin must! have been a fellow of immense physical power. While I was gathering up his hair, one of my companions called attention to some mar!:s upon the floor. A quantity of blood had run down upon a grass mat by the aide of the bed, and not far from this upon the floor, were several bloody prints which appeared to me to have been made by a man's hand They were certainly not the print of a human foot I could only account for them upon the supposition that the murderer had either ^slipped and fallen or had been pushed over by the strtTggft?g*iaemindar, and that here was when his bloody hands had struck. The window was open, and we found stains of blood upon the stool very much in the shape of those upon the floor. This sleeping room was all ^>ur chamber, and the murderer had made his exit by the window into the tree, the limbs of which drooped toward the honse. The first person whom we called as witness was an old woman who had been employed for some years in the family. The zemindar's wife was just then too deeply affected to give us any coherent information. ^ The old woman, whose name, I think, was Zaloa, recognized the razor as having * belonged to her master, and she also showed us the little closet where it had been kept The closet door had been opened, and the razor had been taken from the dressing case, and that, too, in the dark, from all which it appeared that the deed had been done by some one familiar with the premises. There had been no robbery, so we were led to the further conclusion that the murder had been an act of vengeance. And who could have entertained such feelings toward Hoosian Kahn ? We had questioned Zaloa, but she shook her head. She did not reply with that promptness which might have been expected from one who had no suspicions ; but she seemed rather to avoid the subject I questioned her closely, but she .was not inclined to speak. ' T ****** aP cavTTQnfc UO you UlUWi KUU Xj 11 auj vi tav oMfauw in the house had any feelings of ill-will against your master?" She begged me to ask her mistress. The mistress had just then entered the room, and, as she heard this remark, she spoke. She said there was a servant who had such enmity against her husband ; and she named the khidmutcher, Gholam. "Khidmutchcr," interrupted Ben Gilroy, taking his pipe from his mouth, "what's that?" ^ "A khidmutger is a table servant," exclaimed fc the Captain. "This hidmutger's name was Gho' lam, and he was the most powerful fellow on the place. I knew him well He was high tempered and bold, but I had never thought him vindictive. It seems that two or three days before, the zemindar had punished Gholam for some slight misde> meanor, and the latter hkd declared that he would have vengeance. Finally the woman, Zaloa, confessed that she heard the man make such a threat; and she had hesitated telling it because Gholam ^vas a good hearted man, and had been kind to P' Gholam seemed utterly astonished when he was accused of the murder. At first he pretended to think we were not in. earnest; but when he found that we meant what we said, he protested his innocence in the most vehement manner. We knew the superstitious nature of the caste to which he belonged, and we expected that he would betraj his guilt when he beheld the bloody corpse of hh victim?but it was not so. He was horror-stricken at the sight, but quickly recovering himself he walked directly to the bed, and placing his hanc upnnthe cold brow of his master, he called on the aw^^lng God to witness that he was innocent ol n'mo Afrr helipf in thfi CTlilt of Gholam was ^ sTggered, and yet circumstances were strongly a gainst him. We knew that the murderer musl have been not only well acquainted in the house, but also acquainted with the zemindar's private > affairs; and we were furthermore confident thai | the deed had been one of revenge. Gholam was arrested and confined, and two day.' afterward he was tried and condemned. Still he was not immediately executed, as is generally the manner in capital cases in this country. His pro testations of innocence were so strong and consist ent, and his previous character was so well known that the Judge sent him back to prison, there te i remain awhile previous to his execution. Hoosian Kahn had furnished considerable pro visions and forage for our regiment, and after hi funeral I went to his house to look over his account which he had kept with his own hand. I was ac companied by Mr. Cranston, one of my lieutenants It was in the evening when we reached the house and as all zemindar's papers and books were in th room where he had slept, we were conducted thith , er, the woman Zaloa leading the way, and bearinj candles. The bed was still in its old place; bu the clothing had been exchanged, and the blood stains had been washed from the floor. Zaloa set the candles upon the table, and then withdrew; and shortly afterward we were joined by Hoosian's clerk, an intelligent Mohammedan, named Ben Abbas. As there was quite a current of air coming in at the open window, we moved the table up into one oorner, opposite the foot of the bed, to take the light from the flickering draft, after which Ben Abbas produced the books and papers. We had been engaged over the account half an hour, when a noise out of doors arrested our attention. It was a chattering sound, accompanied by a sort of hoarse grunt "Abba," cried the clerk, "that is surely Kaka." "And who is Kaka ?" "He was my master's baboon," replied Ben Abbas. "He ran away more than a week ago." "Why did he run away ?" ' "Because Hoosian Kahn whipped him. He came into this very room while his master was out, and ransacked the closet, and pulled the qjothes from the bed. Hoosian caught him in the very act, and beat him without mercy. iVaka leaped from the window and ran away into the woods, and has not been seen since." As the plerk ceased speaking, I heard the baboon mounting the tree, and I at once extinguished the lights and bade my companions draw back with me into the extreme corner behind the table; for I had a great curiosity to see what his baboonship would do. I remembered the animal very well, as I had frequently seen him about the premises. . The zemindar had captured him when young and reared him for a pet. Up the tree the fellow came, and presently he swung himself upon the stool, and thence to the room. The mopn was shining brightly, and as the rays shone in through the window, leaving us in the shade, we could observe the movement of the interloper without being ourselves detected, and you will remember, furthermore, that we had thq table as a screen. Kaka was one of the lungoor species, standing five and a half feet high when erect, and presenting a pretty good specimen of physical development As I saw him enter the room, looking so ugly and dangerous, I instinctively clapped my hand to my pistol. ? Perhaps you will imagine the suspicion- which had already dashed upon meP? This brute and not the khidmutger had killed the zemindar. Crouching behind the table, and remaining perfectly still, we watched the fellow's movements. As he entered the room he stood erect upon his legs and gazed upon the bed; then he went to the closet and opened the door and took ^Kwoin/r wico flia mntpnk nf wlliVll TlP overhauled almost as systematically as a man would have done. Presently he uttered a loud cry, and hashed the case upon the floor, and., then sprang toward the bed. He* seized the clothing and tore it o$ chattering and gnashing his teeth in a most frightful manner. Coverlete, sheets, pillows and mattresses come off in quick suoo&sion, and when the brute found that he was only spending his rage upon inanimate substances, he caught one of the pillows and tore it into fragments, scattering the feathers over the room. ^ I could bear the scene ho longer. As the lungoor moved bock, after having rent the pillow, he stood directly in the moonlight and I think I never beheld a more savage andrepulsive looking monster. I carefully raised my pistol above the table and aimed it at his head. I am not apt to miss my mark, and I did not do so in this instance. As I fired, the fellow reeled and clapped both his hands to his ears. In an instant I was soon upon my feet, with my sword drawn, and before the brute could recover himself, I had run him through the heart By this time the family was aroused, and in a little while we were investigating the subject or the murder under the light of these new and wonderful circumstances. One loolc at the feet of the lungoor enabled me to account for the curious blood prints which I had attributed to the hand of a man. There were the very outlines and proportions which bad been stamped "upon -the floor.? And now, too, I could account for the breaking of the shank, and for the mass of hair that had been pulled from the head of the murdered man. Hoosian's widow, as soon as she saw the body of Kaka, and heard our story, cried out that the lungoor had killed her husband. She informed us that Kaka had been in the habit of seeing his master shave, and that several times he had been found with the razor in hand standing before the mirror. Then she told us what Ben Abbas had already communicated?how that Hoosian had whipped the lungoor severely, and that the brute thereupon ran into the woods. On the following morning the native officers were called in, and after a veiy short consultation it was decided that Gholam was innocent, and that the lungoor had done the murderous deed. There could be no mistake about it One experiment which had not been thought of at the time of the trial was now tried. It had been evident that the murderer had gained entrance to the zemindar's chamber from the tree; but when we came to experiment, we could not find a man able to perform that feat There were several branches drooping toward the house, but they were not strong enough to ^ear a man, and we now had it demonstrated that a man of Qholam's bulk, in order to reach the window from the tree, would have to make a clean leap of at least twelve feet In short, the evidence was plain and substantial. The lungoor was the criminal Gholam was a happy man when it was announced to him that he was free; and Hoosian's widow was particularly gratified, for she prized the khidmutger as the best servant of the establishment? The only recompense which Gholam claimed in re' turn for the indignity he had suffered, was the teeth of the lungoor. They were readily given to 1 him, and he wears them about his person, as so 1 many charms against future ill. "SENT 1IY EXPRESS." r Marian Harlan was alone in the world?her moth! er just buried. r She was a beautiful, brown-haired girl with soft, - ? ' J ' shy eyes of violet gray, ana rosy lips couipressea to a firmness far beyond her years. Fof after all ! she was scarcely seventeen, and so Deacon Gray ' was telling her, as he sat by the fire spreading his ; huge hands over the tardy blaze and asked: ' "But what are you going to do to earn your J bread and butter, child ?" "I don't know?I haven't thought. Mamma had an uncle in New York, who' > "Yes yes?I've heern tell about h'm?he was 5 mad 'cause your mother didn't marry just exactly 6 to suit him wasn't he ?" Marian was silent Deacon Gray waited a few 3 minutes, hoping she would admit him into her sei cret meditations; but she did not, and the Deacon i went away home, to tell his wife that "that Harlan gal was the very queerest creetur he ever had come across?" , In the meanwhile Marian was busy packing her > few scanty things into a little carpet bag, by the weird, flickering light of the dying woodfire. "I will go to New York," she said to herself, s setting her small pearly teeth firm together, "My , mother's uncicshall hear my cause pleaded through i- my own lips. Oh, I wish my heart would nol i throb so wildly I I am no longer meek Minnie Har!, Ian, I am an ophan all alone in the world whe e mustfight life's battles with her own single hands!" Lower Broadway at seven o'clock P. M.! Whal g a Babel of crashing wheels, hurrying humanity, and t conglomerate noises it was! Minnie Harlan sal in the oorner of an Express Office under the flare of gaslights, surrounded by boxes, and wondered whether people ever went crazed in this perpetual dim and tumult, Her dress was very plain?gray poplin, with a shabby old fashioned little straw bonnet tied with black ribbons, and a blue veil, while her only article of baggage, the carpet bag, lay in her lap. She had sat there two hours, and was very tired. "Poor little thing," thought the dark-haired young clerk nearest her, whc inhabited a sort of wire cage under a circle of gaslights. And then he took up his pen, and plunged into a perfect Atlantic Ocean of accounts."Mr. Evans!" "Sir!" "The dark-haired clerk emerged from his cage with his pen behind his ear, in obedience to the beckoning finger of his superior. "I have noticed that young woman sitting'here for some time?how came she here?" "Expressed on sir, from Millington, Iowa?arrived this afternoon." As though poor Minnie Harlan were a box or a paper parcel. "Who for?" "Consigned to Walter Harrington, Esquire." "I sent up to Mr. Harrington's address to notify him some time ago ; I expect an answer every moment" "Very odd," said the gray-headed gentleman, taking up his newspaper. "Yes, sir rather." Some three quarters of an hour afterwards, Frank Evans came to the pale girl's side with an indescribable pity in his hazel eyes. "Miss Harlan, we have sent to Mr. Harrington's residence' Minnie looked up with a feverish red upon her cheek, and her hands clasped tightly on the handle of her faded carpet bag. "?And we regret to inform you that he sailed for Europe at twelve o'clock this day." K sudden blur came over Minnie's eyes?she trembledrlike a leaf. In all her calculations, she had made no allowance for an exigency like this. "Can we do anything further for you ?" questioned the young clerk, politely. "Nothing?ho one can do anything no Frank Evans had been turning away, but something in the'piteous tone of her voice appealed to eveiy manly instinct within him. "Shall I send to any other of your friends?" "Ihave no friends.".. "Perhaps I can have your things sent to some quiet family hotel ?" > % - Minnie opened her little leather purse arid showed, him two ten cent pieces, with a smile that was almost a tear. * * "This is all the money that I have in the world, sir!" So young, so beautiful and so desolate! Frank Evans had been a New Yorlcer all his life, but he had never met with' an exactly parallel case to this. t * ,1 ^ n t ? _ J! 1 ZA tie Dlt tne ena 01 nis pen in aire perplexity. "Bat what are you going to do?" "I don't know, sir. Isn't there a work house, or some such place, I could go until I could find something to do ?" "Hardly." Frank Evans could scarcely help smiling at poor ^Minnie's simplicity. "Hey are putting out the lights, and preparing to close the office, said Minnie, starting nervously to her feet. I must go?somewhere. "Miss Harlan," said Frank, quietly, "my home is a very poor one?I am only a five hundred dollar clerk?but I am sure my mother will receive you under her roof for a day or two, if you can trust me." "Trust you?" Minnie looked at him through violet eyes obscured in tears. "Oh, sir, 1 should be so thankful I" * "Howlate you are Frank! Here, give me your overcoat?it i& powdered with snow, and"? But Frank interrupted his bustling, cherrycheeked mother, as she stood on tip-toe to take off his outer wrappings. - * "Hush, mother! there is a young lady down Btaire." "A young lady, Frank?" "Yes, mother; expressed on from Iowa to old Harrington, the rich merchant He sailed for Europe this morning, and she is left entirely alone.? Mother, she looks like poor Blanche, and I knew you wouldn't refuse her a corner here until she could find something to do." Mrs. Evans went to the door and called cheerily out: "Come up stairs, my dear?you are as welcome as flowers in May 1 Frank, you did quite right; you always do." The days and weeks passed on, and still Minnie Harlan remained an inmate of Mrs. Evan's humble dwelling. "It seems just as though she had taken our dead Blanche's place," 6aid the cozy little widow; "and she is so useful about the house. I don't know how I ever managed without her." "Now, Minnie, you are not in earnest about leaving us to morrow. ?" "I must, dear Mrs. Evans, only think?I have been here two months to-morrow; and the situation of governess is very advantageous." "Very well. I shall tell Frank how obstinate you are." "Dearest Mrs. Evans, please don't I Please keep my secret." "What secret is it, to be so religiously kept?" asked Mr. Frank Evans, coolly walking into the midst of the discussion, with his dark hair tossed about by the wind, and his hazel-brown eyes sparkling archly. "Secret!" repeated Mrs. Evans, energetically wiping her dim spectacle glasses. "Why, Marian is determined to leave ns to-morrow." "Minnie?" * ^ "I must Frank. I have no right further to tresspass on your kindness." "No right, eh ? Minnie, do you know that the old house has been a different one since you came into it? Do you suppose we want to lose our little sunbeam ?" Minnie smiled sadly, but her hand felt very cold and passive in Frank's warm grasp. "You'll stay, Minnie?" "No." She shook her head determinedly."Then you must be made to stay," said Prank. "I've missed something of great value lately, and I hereby arrest you on suspicion of the theft I" "Missed something ?" Minnie rose, turning red and white. "Oh, Frank, you never can suspect mo!" "But I do suspect you. In fact I am quite sure that the article is in your possession." "The article I" "My heart, Miss Minnie I Now look hero: I know I am very young and very poor, but I love i you, Minnie Harlan, and I will be a good and true husband to you. Stay and be my little wife 1" So Minnie Harlan, instead of going out as gov1 erness, according to the programme, married the dark-haired young clerk in Ellison's Express Office. They were very quietly married, early in the t morning, and Frank took Minnie home to his ; mother, and then went calmly about his business in the wire cage, under the circlet of gas lights, i "Evans!" "Yes, sir." ; Frank, with his pen behind his ear as of yore, 1 quietly obeyed the behest of the gray-headed offi; cial. "Do you remember the young woman who was expressed on from MOlington, Iowa, two months since?" "Yes, sir?I remember her." A tall, silver-haired gentleman here interposed with earger quickness: - i "Where is she ? I am her uncle, Walter Harrington. I have just returned from Paris, when the news of her arrival reached me. I want her; i she is the only living relative left me!" "Ah! hut, sir," said Frank, youcan'thave her." j "Can'thave her! What do you mean ?" Has i anything happened?" 1 "Yes, ear, something has happened: Miss Harlan was married to me this morning." i Walter Harrington stared. "Take me to her," he said, hoarsely. "I can't i be parted from my only living relativfe for a mere whim." . "I wonder if he calls the marriage service and i wedding ring raerewhims," thought honest Frank; but he obeyed in sileiwe. ' * "Minnie," said the old man, in faltering accents, "you will come to me and be the daughter of my , old age? I am rich, Minnie, and you are all I 1 l il u ?? nave id cue wuriu. Bat Mionie stole her hand through h er husband's arm. ' i "Dearest uncle, he was kind to me when I was desolate and alone. I cannot leave my husband, Uncle Walter?I lovehim 1" "Then you must both of you come and be my children," said the old man, doggedly. "And you must come now, for the great house is as lonely as a tomb." Frank Evans is an express clerk no longer, and pretty Mi one moves in velvet and diamonds; but : they are quite as happy as they were in the old , thne and that is saying enough. Uncle Walter Harrington growB older and feebler every day, and I his two children are the sunshine of his declining ( life. fttisreltotteaus fading.; i Correspondence of the Charleston Courier. j YORK DISTRICT. Yobkville, S. C., July 11. I have been spending several days in this delight- 1 ful village, receiving the hospitalities of old friends 1 ?enjoying the pure water, mountain breeze, and 1 the many luxuries which this region affords dating 1 the summer months. . A few days ago I accompanied a gentleman of 1 this place to the Mining section of this District? ( I had read and studied the various reports of the ' Geological Surveys of the State, frequently visited 1 and rambled among the hills of York, and became intimately acquainted with the people, and familiar 1 with the topography of this part of the State, ## I declare tojou that I never dreamed that such 1 immense beds of. gold were so densely deposited beneath the soil Every stone you crush contains 1 more or less of the precious metal, and the rock- 1 ribbed sides of every kill, from its base to the sum- ' mit, forms a net-work rich with auriferous depos- ] its. Wavisited the McCaffrey mine, twelve miles 1 above Yorkville. The tract contains 279 acres of ' land, with veins of ore running in every, direction. 1 The principal lead has just been opened, and ore selected from one of the pits yielded about te ' each bushel. We had no means of assaying so that we could test fairly the exact per cent it would yield, but feel satisfied that there is gold in abundance'in that locality. It seems that this placdf has been overlooked and neglected, while contiguous mines have been carefully tested and examined. The gold is deposited in a stratum of quartz running from five to thirty feet below the surface, and from eight inches to three feet wide, enveloped in a bed of hard red clay; ' The geological formation, as well as the surface'indications, exhibit a rich field for the miner at no distant day. The relative connection with the leading auriferous ducts from tfie neighboring hills, converging in one direction and diverging in ^another, shows distinctly that just here there must be an immense deposit of gold.? The Bolyn mine is South of this. The most productive veins lead-off up the hill in the direction of the McCaffrey lot; a dry ravine running down to within a few yards of a beautiful, bold spring, whose crystal water ripples along over beds of the precious metal. A mile to the West we find the Beach Branch Mine, owned, I believe, by Mr. William Nesbit, of Georgia. Several pits have been opened, shafts sunk, and very satisfactory evidence obtained in reference to the value and quantity of gold found here. I picked up in one of the side sections of this mine, some beautiful specimens of copper. * . * ^ The celebrated Martin mine lies to the South. It was opened in 1827. Since that time, it has5 y _11? nnrl T\nrVinntl nf? Snot of DSibil CUUl/IUUlUJ^ nuiuu) uwu jjv-i earth has been a more fruitful souroe of anxiety and disappointment on the one hand, and glorious realization of high hopes on the other. For months . the miner realized only a few cents a day for his toil and wearisome labor. In 1856, an immense nugget of gold was discovered?the miners dubbed it with the millifluous title of the ' l?ee Gum.'' A piece of quartz about the size of a man's head, contained 4,400 pennyweights, or a little more than $4,000 in pure gold. This created intense excite ment throughout the gold region, and a thorough hunt was instituted for its fellow, but to this dayit never has been found. The lot contains thirty acres, and every foot of it has been turned over and over, time after time, and again, until it is well exhausted. There are only two old mountaineers at work now, and they are only washing the debris which ?as accumulated bclowthepond. Theyuse the old fashioned "Long Tom,'' and with this primitive apparatus they have, the varied success of the gambling miner. A few days ago they washed out fourteen pennyweights; the day we visited them they only collected one-half pennyweight ' I was greatly disappointed in this mine. It never was more than a surface deposit, running up West from the branch, a narrow back-bone between two ravines, encountering near the summit1 of the hill a stratum of rotten slate, and a few yards higher still, a bed of pure iron ore, with no trace of gold. The consequence has been that the Martin mine is exhausted, and will never pay to} work it again. Cropping out a few hundred yards above this bed of iron ore is a largo rich vein, running off in a Westernly direction, which, in my opinion, is more valuable than the Martin mine ever was. A few miles to the South we visit the Wylie mine which has recently been purchased by a New York Company for $17,000. They intend, I learn, having their machinery in operation in August In the same neighborhood are the Smith mines, which was bought a few days ago by a Company ofBostonians for $10,000. Both of these mines are 3aid to be rich, and with improved machinery will undoubtedly yield a handsome income. I learn that the same mineralogical formations in North Carolina are now producing large amounts of gold. The Pennsylvania and North Carolina Gold Mining Company of Tamaqua, five miles North of Charlotte; the Phoenix Mining Company of New York, six miles from Concord ; the Blakeley Mining Company, New York, fourteen miles from Concord; the Howie and Harkness, are all in successful operation. A single ten stamp mill will crush teatons of ore in twenty-four hours.? They compute the dirt at $65 per ton, making $650 per day, or $3,900 for the six working days. These mines were bought up at from $5 to $50 per acre, and the whole investment of the Pennsylvania Company did not exceed $27,000, from which they are now realizing the handsome sum, after all expenses are deducted, of $3,000 a week, or $155,000 per annum in gold. We Qannot see why investments of this kind would not pay equally as well in York District, South Carolina. In fact, it is considered that the mineral deposits become richer and more abundant as they travel Westward. All that is required is capital to develop the resources of the country.? One million of dollars would entirely revolutionize the whole mining region. The population would soon change?hundreds of the poor and destitute would find employment, the scattering shanties of quary-men and charcoal-burners would soon give place to thriving villages of robust, industrious mechanics and miners. The climate is delightful, and from every ravine there gushes forth a dozen beautiful fountains of pure water, distilled from nature's own alembic. Some of them are highly mulinatat nnmTvrmTVftin fVlO (rrpflf. mnnntaill UIVU1VUM>U) WIU|M/WUV*WV( AU vuv Q. __ _ laboratory which lies beneath these gold-clad hills. Chalybeate, sulphur and limestone springs abound, and near Mr. McCaffrey's there is a bold salt spring pouring its briny waters into the vale below. The scenery is often grand and picturesque, except when hidden by the immense bodies of heavy timber which obstructs the view. The forest has seldom echoed with the sound of the axe, and the thick undergrowth frequently blocks up the way of the pedestrian. The entire source of wealth in this region does not, however, lie in her mineral deposits, but the legitimate vegetable productions should be made also to contribute to consummate this desirable end. It is a corn region.. Wheat grows to much perfection. Peaches also is a good crop, ancteveery variety of apple tree flourishes and bears abundantly. Berries of all kinds grow wild over the woods. The grape here finds its native element, and often you see the huge rambling vine climbing amid the top-most boughs of the tall tiecs of his mountain home. With frugality, industry and enterprise, wines might, in a few years be manufactured here equal, if not to excel, the far-famed wines of France and California. The King's Mountain Railroad is being rapidly re-laid[ to Yorkville, and if the contemplated arrangements to consolidate it with the Columbia and Charlotte Road is consummated, many facilities will be afforded the public which the present Company-are unable to bestow. If the present Dwnere of the mineral lands above Yorkville can dispose of them, and capital and population increases, there will be evidently a necessity for the extension of this rood, which will, in time, make it trainable property.* Manufactories will be built, and the copper, iron dnd lead, as welf as the gold, will contribute to the wealtfeof the country. But, above all things, the people crave quiet and rest from political excitement' They are anxious Tor a uMiomanf nil nur difficulties, when Deace shall X>VWVliiVUi< v* mm f a again hold her txium phantjBway. They are willing and ready to give theneg^allthe rights and privileges of citizenship. ^The mack man, too, is anxious to learn his duty to the country, and desires to!perform it. I understand there wpre two thousand of them which met jn. procession to celebrate the Fourth of July. They had several speeches, and everything passed off in good order; far better than among their more enlightened brethren of the great cities of New York and Boston. A few days ago a notice was spread abroad that there would be a "Grand Mass Meeting in the Court House for the purpose of organizing a Union Republican party, and that the friends of freedom would be addressed by Mr. Bowen, of Charleston." During the morning a number of freedmen appeared at'the corners of the street, but alas! their champion was holding his mournful meditations within the gloomy walls of Castle Pir.ckney, and the great lights of the party having quietly withdrawn from the arena, leaving their colored brethren to mood over their disappointed hopes and aspirations. It was a great blessing to the farmers, as the labor would have become distracted, the'crops suffered serious injury, and the country, not benefitted. The people here have great reason to be thankful. Neither army overrun the District; provisions.ywere never so high or scarce'its in many places; tfffc freedmen have kept out of jpolitics, and been more attentive to their business,cultivating their crops, and endeavoring to make an honest living. Anotljpr source of gratification to the people here, especially the farmers, is that but few.okL debts are hanging jjyer t^?nij_aacL-tbcy" are7to a great ?egree, independent. The currency is silver and gold. Everything is cash, and upon a specie basis. The merchants complain of dull times, but diy goods, groceries, drugs, stationery, &c., command exorbitant prices. The principal trade is to Baltimore and New York, and the profits must be considerable in specie when the prices are realized. I judge from the columns of the Enquirer, which, by the way, is the best weekly in the State, that the merchants of this village never advertise to any extent. They seldom patronize the press, and the worthy publisher has to look to other sources for support and patronage. This should *?u not be so, as tne town paper snouiu uiw?ys reuat the liberality as well as the enterprise and prosperity of its citizens. I am told that the Male School, conducted by CoL Coward, which formerly .was so celebrated under the superintendency of the lamented Jenkins, docs not meet with the patronage and encouragement which it so richly deserves. Why is this ? is a question the stranger would naturally ask.? Every inducement and facility is offered young men to pursue their studies and acquire a sound practical education?and it would be most gratifying to we the "King's Mountain Institute" crowded with students, and laboring to perpetuate an institution conceived, organized and built up by one of Carolina's noblest, bravest sons. The Female School is more prosperous, but a number of private schools lessens the number which would attend the high school. FRANK VIVIAN. d Yoricville, S. C., July 18. A fire would be quite pleasant up here this morning. The thermometer for the past week has been standing at noon at about 90?, the weather warm and dry, and the farmers are beginning to exhibit their peculiar uneasiness about the corn crop and the possibility of -drouth. Last evening heavy banks of dark cumuli hung in grandeur along the whole Northern horizon, while the rays of the sun gilded its edges in gorg'cousness and splendor as it passed down the Western hills. This morning it is cold, the thermometer standing at 57 degrees, cloudy, with the wind Northeast, but no rain. I find there is a general apprehension that much of the wheat crop has been spoiled. It is designated as "sick wheat," the flour producing cholera morbus. Several families are reported as having suffered from this cause. I presume the excessive wet weather injured it in the fields before it was gathered into the barns, and that fermentation had taken place, and the grain became, to an extent, decayed. The Southern planter has always been a restless being. The weather was too hot or too cold, too wet or too dry, the price of cotton too low, corn too cheap, taxes exorbitant, freights extravagant, doctor's bills, store and blacksmith's accounts ruinous, and a long catalogue of vexations and troubles crowd down upon this 'unfortunate class of our people to constantly disturb their equi librium. In these times of social revolution, when labor is so uncertain, and Providence seems still to < ! frown, they look with deeper anxiety upon the ef- i fects of the seasons, and the circumstances connected with the growth of the crop. Many of them have staked their all upon this year's exertions. Their living and the support of their families depend upon the result It is a home matter, and to each one of them it is of serious personal consideration. The prosperity, I might say, the salvation of the whole country, now rests with the agriculturist? Commerce wields the products of the soil to sustain her masterly power, and with her gigantic hand grasps the garnered treasures of the farm, and scatters them abroad in wealth, to supply the necessities of mankind, and to gladden the hearts with the luxuries of life. Under these circum- < stances, we cannot condemn even an over anxious * solicitation of producer and consumer, in. regard to the present crop. A failure would he most disastrous. Bankruptcy, commercial stagnation, pan perism, starvation, and a wide-spread ruin would be the legitimate result I cannot conceive of such a condition among the Southern people. Consequently, we hear many mournful speeches on the comers of the streets, where "sweetness is wasted on the desert air." I do not think the com or cotton has suffered anywhere in this section yet for rain, and I have a firm confidence in believing they will not this season, and that the present consoling and happy prospects for a large and abundant harvest will be more than realized^ In my last letter I spoke of some of the natural resources of this District I find I have not yet enumerated half of what Divine Wisdom has concentrated here for man's pleasure, comfort and happiness. Future ages, and generations unborn, may develop hidden and unexplored streams of wealth which roll along their brambled shores unnavigated and still undiscovered. The observer can, with a prophetic vision, foretell the coming events that must eventually open up a train of operations which will concentrate here increased general intelligence with industry, and an inherent power which will force this section to a state of development and perfection unsurpassed on this cortjnent. Already the wise and good are engaged in disseminating knowledge and contributing to the elevation of human character by their honest efforts. The Miss M. 's, who are Charlestonians, have a flourishing private school, and by their active industry are exercising a most refined influence among the la-. dies ol the place, ?ney disseminate true leunuuK and general intelligence within the circle in which they move, and are inculcating principles and fapts that will bless the country in future ages. Poverty often proves a blessing to an individual, and that individual poverty a source of great wealth to a nation. Had Aloys Senefelder been able to pay his publishers, tbe uses of the Kilheim stone might to-day be a mystery, and Lithography still unborn. I am truly sorry that so many estates have been swept away by tbe cruel verdict of bloody and lamentable civil war, but I am proud, on the other hand, that there are still noble and gallant spirits unshorn of their majesty and rising triumphant above the sturdy waves of oppression and despotism, to honor their creation and benefit their race. I believe that heretofore no mention has been made of my lady acquaintances. This delinquency is attributable to home associations, partly to old age, and especially to neglect. These are the diamonds that crop out all along these mountain ridges.? They are found in all the geological systems of this region. They are of all forms and every size, some leetle tuxy ones and full grown; others (and they are in profusion) are tall, running up six feet on the side of a mountain, and filling a whole dyke. Many of them are pretty, well developed, with ruddy cheeks, pearly teeth, ruby lips, flowing curls, as accomplished, as comely, 9s lovely as Dido, the "divine maiden," as beautiful as Cleopatra, as faithful as the unfortunate Octavia, and tfith the eloquence of Hortensia.' ' These Druid ' damsels are the attraction of a beautiful mountain home. Their delicate hands prepare the sumptuous repast The arrangements of the parlor and bed chamber exhibit the elegance, taste and beauty of a palace; of Minerva, ^hey often worship at the shrine of the Muses, and entertain their guests with delightful song, and the twilight hour is filled with the inspirations of the divine goddess. The possesion of a fifty thousand dollar gold mine erabraces the value of the glittering casket They Wo tn fipnnlr nf nn?. , J-i n "Who i'ell in battling for the rights of the South.? Some of them are not yet reconstructed and have no affection for the present Government They entertain you as well upon the history of the times as when personifying the rustic Prosepine, the fairest daughter of mother earth. They seem willing and ready to contribute in any manner to relieve their suffering friends in this terrible struggle, and willingly forego pleasures to assist the poor and needy. They sometimes sacrifice their comfort of home to aid in some charitable enterprise. The Rev. Mr. Sams, the pastor of the Episcopal Church, opened a Parish School in the village last spring and invited the poor to avail themselves of j its instruction. Many of them, desirous of an education, were rejoiced at the privilege. His school wis soon crowded, and the youngladies of his congregation volunteered their services to assist him, and one of them each day appears in the schoolroom to teach the indigent boys and girls of Yorkville. What a noble example of charity and benevolence 1 I alluded ~in a former letter, to many of the natural resources of wealth in this district. ' I omitted to notice its water power, which some day may be brought into requisition, and drive millions of wheels and spindles for various manufactories.? The Broad River winds along its Western boundary. Its shores are studded with immense fields ' of gold, iron, lead, and copper. It is a stream fur- i nishing power sufficient to run machinery for manufacturing all these rich products. The interior is cut in every direction by smaller streams, but also possessing natural advantages of uncommon beauty ' and excellence rarely to be found in any country. In the Northern part we have Buffalo Creek, a large, handsome stream, heading in a bed of mica slate, in North Carolina, and pouring its crystal waters through the intercolumite series, washing the base of Whitaker's Mountain, and dashing along until it enters into the Broad. Lower down we reach Clark's Fork, a stream of more considerable dimensions, and also running off West, oyer immense lamina of talcase slate. Several large flouring mills are situated along this creek, and near Mr. Crawford's are found beautiful specimens of jasper and striped agate. Valuable whetstones are in abundance. Still traveling to the South, we soon reach the high bluffs of Bulloch's Creek. Its waters roll along down, too, to the Broad River, over rugged beds of greenstone and porphyry. We also have Dearlitde Creek, King's Creek, too, coming from its limestone home in North Carolina. In many places occur hornblends slate resting upon the sides of granite hills, intersected with milky quartz, containing gold. On the Eastern side of the Distinct we find Allison's Creek, whose head waters gush forth from a talcon slate region, and gathering strength and volumS from numberless streams that bubble up from a thousand ravines, it winds its way to the Catawba through gorges of limestone, iron ore, slate, copper and auriferous quartz. There are many good mill seats to he found along its course, and water power for immense machinery. The beautiful and romantic Catawba bounds the Northeastern borders, and rantringa* cross the Southeastern corner passes off into Lancaster, to blend its waters with the Wateree. Valuable and never failing water power is not wanting for the hand of the capitalist to engage some cunning workmen to employ its agencgHn doing the behests of improvement and ofilisstioit. York District stands upon a base of erystaline granite. It presents as many interesting geokgi- . * cal sections as any spot on earth. New beauties stand out in bold and striking array at every 3tep,' and the naturalist cap read its future history in her tall oaks, her lympid streams, her flowing beds; her rugged cliffe, her mineral deposits and vegetable productions. Oh I for a just and honest ppaee, while we develope her rich treasures and decorate and adorn her beautiful hills and lovely vales with comfortable cottages, the quiet and sacred, homes of enterprise and industry. ~FRANK VIVIAN. -HOW TO GET A HUSBAND. From an excellent communication published in the Columbus (Miss.) Index, of June 8, we oopy the following, "expressly for the giri<n"?>, , Dm"nor r?M nrwl t.TiAnrfnm. nlWtwAfj * KnmM firr teasing the girls on matrimonial subjects, I consult them aboat their future prospects often, and find that the opinion obtains with thenr, that the young men were never so slow in proposing .as in these days; which, we must admit, gives them a good,, not to say all-powerful reason far not taking a husband. Now, young ladies, the.whole secret with nine-tenths ofyou, of ndt being able to get off your parents' hands is simply this: you don't know how to work. Tou can't keep house. You can't make a pair of breeches. You can't tell, for the Efe of you, the difference between the bran and shorts, or which cow gives the buttermilk. The young men generally came out of the war "with the of their teeth," with no fortune, I might any, bat their wardrobe, of gray and their canteens, and to marry witft?om now, rest assured, relates more to making a living with the assistance of a'lovfng, industrious help-mate, than indulging in ope? music, moonshine and poetry. Do yon know what they say of one of your butterfly young ladies, , who has held them in the parlor engaged by the hour listening to "elegant nothings?" Nineteen times out of twenty it is this, - "Well, she is all right for an evening's entertainment, bat she will not make a good wile!" ^ There is no possible objection to the accomplishments of music, painting, and the like, as such, but the idea is to be able to set these parior amusements aside for the period when the stern duties of married life call for your practical knowledge. Show the young men that you can do your part of double business; that you can cook a meal's victuals on a pinch; that you can sWeep up and dust, and dam old stockings, and save a penny toward an accumulated pound; that yqp will not be a dead expense to him through lifiv Believe me, young friends, as many true^heroic, womanly hearts, beat over household duties, as flutter beneath the soft light of a parlor chandelier. Tour kiss is just as sweet, your smile just as bright, your heart as happy and tender, after a daj .. exertion in a sphere worthy of true womanhood,, as in places of dissipation, frippery aqd silly amusement Have an ambition to do your part in life; cultivate industrial habits, and let the parlor accomplishments go with the higher accompfahmertts I have roughly enumerated. It is atftbnisbing how soon a domestic young lady is found out and appreciated. It is because she is such a rare exception to the general rule. . ' DID IT EVER OCCtR TO YOUf(: That the main source of revenue of a newspaper is its advertising patronage, and that the subscription list, and sale of papers each morning, do but little more than pay for the paper used in printing ! And yet men?sharp financiers and business men?think nothing of going into a newspaper 4ffie and requesting a notice of their waxes abdrfflfer cnanaize, or or some maicernr per scneme oy ww they hope to realize something, not thinking they are asking for so much money out of the proprietor ? Such cases occur every day, and it would be just as reasonable to step into a ttpre and ask the merchant for a bag of coffee, a dress pattern, or a ham, or anything he has for sale. The netifcjiiaper is not wholly a philanthropic institution, , as veiy many persons are disposed to regard ji Tt dispenses a vast deal of charity, bat is not conducted exclusively for the benefit of the community in which it ffl toratfd . Same return may jaot unreasonnbly be expected for the goodthafc fe*opght:to be done by the labor bestowed upon, and the capital invested in, a well conducted joarnsL A large expenditure is neoeesa^ to the pubUcai&^qf, a newspaper. Every line put in type oost money, and must be paid for in cash?there is no creditun anything that goes into the printing and publishing business, and notwithstanding this feet, inconsiderate people have complained that newspaper bills are presented too promptly. A moment's reflection will convince such, that unlimited credit is unreasonable and should not be expected. Another popular error has obtained, of which the mimfeof the innocent public should be disabused, that newspapers should be thankful for something to "fill up" with! Such is frankly admitted to he the case, when that1 'something" can behadafc regular advertising rates, but in the absence of such' a consideration, there is no difficulty whateye*ih obtaining matter, both original and selected, with which to fill a newspaper's columns. . The foregoing, from the Atlanta IntdUgencer, finds au echo with us. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS' MOTHER. "Twelve or fifteen years ago," says Ex-Govern irr l.A TTT.A! i. aX - f1M. TOn nlrn or JJnggH, "1 ien ty aamugwu uuw ur iuui nroia in the Spring. While at home, I possessed myself of the' letters of Mr. Adams' mother, and read them with, exceeding interest I remember an expression in one of the letters addressed to her son, while yet a boy twelve years of age, in Europe. Said she: "I would rather see you laid in your grave, than you should grow up a profane and graceless boy." ? "After returning to Washington, I went over and said to Mr. Adams: (I have found out who made you I" "What do you mean ?" said he. "I replied, 'I have been reading the letters of your mother."' - - ? - * "Had I spoken of that dear name to some fittle boy who had been for_ weeks away from his dear mother, his eyes could not have flashed more brightly, or his free glowed more quickly than did the eye and face of that venerable old man when I pronounced the name of his mother. I????1 up in his peculiar manner, and emphatically said: 'Yes, Mr. Briggs, all that is good in ae I ovre to my mother." _ 5, "Oh, what a testimony was that from this ven- erable man to his mother, who bad, m hia remembrance, all the stages of his manhood 1 "AH that ' is good in me, I owe to my mother f Mothers, think of this when your bright eyed little boyifcabout Mothers make the first impressions upon their children, and those are last to be effaced. " t&T John Minor Botts made a speech at Cfulpeper Court House, recently, in which ho declared himself in favor of universal suffrage, universal education and universal amnesty of the rt&i&'and file of the late Confederate army. He advised the colored people to* send five of their own color to the Richmond Convention on the 1st of August. He expressed himself emphatically against confis- * oation. 4