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^ ^ In^ttnt ?;iin:ln Httssppfr: ?or ibf ^romolieit of % |glical, Social, ^gritnltnral anb (Tumimrtial |ntotsto of % groty. ^ |TE P^i.lf "VOL. 14. . ' YORKYILLE, 8. C., THrRSDAY, JULY 30, 1868. ^ N"0.:;3L,. JU ?tiginal ?touvelette. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. ISOLETTE, THE FEMALE SPY. A 8TORY OP GHARLE8TOH AHD THE WAS. BY J. WITHERSPOON ERVIN. r [Back numbers of the "Exqciie*," from the commencement of this Story* cen be furnished to new subscriber*. One Dollar for three months.J CHAPTER XVI. After haying been on duty for forty-eight hours, the detachment under CapL Carbeny, being relieved by fresh troops, returned to camp. Agreeably with the custom which prevailed on the island, the detachment, just called in, was relieved from all duty for the space of twenty-four hours, and those who composed it were permitted, under certain restrictions, to go whither they would. Victor glad ly availed himself of this opportunity to visit the city, for he had duties to perform there which admitted of no delay. His principal purpose was to see Isolette DeVere, if she still remained in the city, and deliver to her the package of papers, taken from the body of lieutenant Hardwyck, that he might expose to her the duplicity and falsehood of the man in whom she had so confidingly trusted, and thus mitigate the sorrow she must feel on learning that he had fallen. It was a most ungratefal office to perform; yet Victor felt so strong an interest in the fate and happiness of the unfortunate Isolette, that he deemed it his duty to restore to her the letters written by herself, and those other letters which would show her how greatly misplaced her confidence had been. Victor tarried in camp but long enough to change his dress, which had been soiled, and with scarcely a word to any one around him, hastened to the city. As much as Victor desired to say farewell to Isolette?for he knew she would not be suffered long to remain in the city?yet he felt that a visit from him at this time would be painfully intrusive. He wrote a brief note to accompany the package of letters, merely telling of the fate of JLaeutenant Hardwyck, without speaking of his own participation in the affair, and he thought it advisable to assure her that the papers which his note covered, had been seen by no eyes but his own. Having reached her residence, he rang at the door, and finding that she was at home he delivered the package to a servant with instructions to place it immediately in her hands. He would gladly have spoken with her, but how could he intrude himself at a time when the shadow of a great grief was darkening aroud her. What, though strict martial law would have declared her a spy, was she not laboring for a cause which she esteemed holy and just? And though he could but condemn her political principles, had not her oonduct in all other respects, so far as it had met his eye, been such as to claim his admiration and respect, and entitle her, in her hour of tribulation, to his kindness and sympathy? Beneath her cold and reserved exterior he had seen how warm and kind a heart beat in her bosom. Others might cry aloud against her, but her soft hand had bound up his bleeding brow, her feeble arms had borne him to a soft couch when he lay fainting and speechless, and hung over him in insensibility with almost the love of a sister. His heart had not been true to itself nor to that mysterious instinct which drew them together, if it had not bled inwardly for her woe. Bearing with him a sad heart, he called at Mrs. Vernon's; but though he found the mistress of the house as hospitable, and kind and pleasant as on his previous visit, yet his face insensibly betrayed its sadness, when he learned that on the previous day, a telegraphic message had summoned Nellie Danvers away to her home in Virginia.? Her father had fallen on the field of battle, at the head of his regiment, grievously wounded, in a desperate charge, and Nellie had been summoned 4/y liia oi/)a | VV UIO WUVl Victor made bis call much shorter than he had intended; and notwithstanding the cordial kindness of Mrs. Vernon, he left her hospitable home with a sad face and a disappointed air. Much more deeply than he had dreamed, was his heart interested in the fair and beautiful Nellie, and now separated from her by hundreds of miles, it was more than probable that they would never meet on earth again. * "She will soon forget?perhaps she has already forgotten"?thought Victor to himself?"that we ever met Better?for me at least?that we had never met She can forget, but when will ever again visit me, day-dreams so pleasant as those with which she inspired me ?" Now aimless, and almost without a purpose, the youth wended his way through the streets of the venerable city. His face, usually so full of life and animation, proclaimed the sadness of his heart He wandered listlessly from one place of amusement to another. He strolled down to the Bay, and, from the Battery, watched the clouds of dust rising from the *- shattered walls of Sumter, under the regular and heavy firing of the enemy. The flag of the gallant Stephen Elliott was still floating proudly over the crumbling fortress. Oh! heroism, worthy of Sparta's most glorious days, why could you not have won for us a home and a country of our own! Weary with his long gazing, Victor at last turned away and .directed his steps to the historic temple of old St Michael's. He patiently climbed the stair-case of its tall spire, where, day and night, a regular lookout was kept upon all the batteries in and around the city. Even the magnificent and startling panorama which met his eye, embracing the city with its buildings and streets, the islands seamed with entrenchments and bristling with batteries, the bay, the shipping, the forts and the vessels of the enemy, lying beyond the bar?all this failed to kindle him into animation. It is not the sight which one sees, but the eyes with which he sees it, that affects the heart A few hours were spent by Victor in idle and aimless wanderings about the city, and finding ?lnnnn?A tn *t/\nA oi/vhin /v? eAtinJa aw\nn/l jJICMUiU 1U UUUC \JX bUC Di^UlO VA iSVUUUO OiVUllu him, he set out on his return to camp. - Unconsciously he took the street that led by the ' mansion where Isolette sat alone with her sorrows, struggling to bear up under the accumulated evils and misfortunes that had gathered around her.? As he strolled by he mechanically glanced up at the house where he had passed so eventful a night. Isolette was sitting sadly, as in a painful reverie, at a window that opened to the street Their eyes met Isolette bowed and rose to her feet, and there was that in her air and manner that plainly evinced she both expected and desired him to call. While feeling that an interview might become both painful and embarrassing, Victor turned in through the neatly kept garden and ascended the steps. It was a kind, overruling Providence that guided the feet of Victor. Unconscious agents in the hands of the Almighty, neither one was aware of it at the time, but the happiness of two human beings, and the life of one, depended upon the meeting of Isolette and Victor now, within this very hour. Isolette met him at the door with the cordiality of an old and intimate acquaintance. Brief as was their acquaintance, it had been marked with events that were well calculated to break down the barriers that rise between strangers, with difficulty transcended when they happen to belong to a dif ferent sex. "Victor had all the frank and generous confidence that belongs to yonth; and Isolette had mingled to much with the world, that she felt at ease even among comparative strangers, especially with a youth so much her junior as Victor, whom she could treat with frankness and confidence without fear of misconstruction. She was very pale, but the old sweet winning smile came back to her lips, as she cordially extended her hand to welcome the youth who hod acted towards her with consideration so manly and delicate, and bad so generously and carefully shielded her reputation. The gratitude of a noble-minded woman?who can measure its intensity or its depth ? Victor saw not the tears of grateful feeling that suffused her eyes, as, with the warmth of an elder sister, she met him at the door-way with, an open hand. This he saw not; yet he well knew that beneath her calm, placid face, a painful and agonising struggle was veiled. He thought of the Spartan boy, standing with tearless cheek and marble brow, while beneath hi* robe, the maddened fox was tearing at his vitals. Yes, as delicate and fragile as was her frame, she possessed the fortitude of her sex, that can veil with a smile, anguish ' ' " ' T<_ 1 tnat would extort groans now uiuu. jlu uuu uci affections and confidence betrayed, herself trifled with and marked out for ruin by a base deceiver, whom she had loved with a first and only love ; and, in the same hour in which his villainy was unmasked, to learn that the grave had swallowed him up with swift destruction, surely this was e' oough to wring every sensibility and to test, to the (uttermost, her fortitude and strength. Alone in her chamber, she stood faoe to face with humilia' tion and sorrow, and drank to the dregs the cup which they pressed to her lips. Alone?alone! A sad word to one wrung by grief?a terrible word to one who faces an avenging Judge! There was no soothing voice near?not even the silent whisper of an angel?to temper its bitterness with words of consolation and sympathy. Unfriended, isolated and alone, bearing her own burden, invoking neither the sympathy of earth, not strength from heaven, Bhe tasted all the bitterness of death, without a wail or a moan, and having struggled through the storm, that would have crushed hearts that seemed more able than hei own to war with fate, she arose from the bitter trial, with the sad cold smile of a broken heart, hoping nothing, trusting nothing?fearing nothing?foi fate had done its w^ret. There was but one on earth who dreamed of the fierce trial through which she had passed?but one who suspected or shared her secret That one was the youth whose hand she pressed the more warmly because he, alone, knew aught of her heart, and in his eye alone the 'glance of sympathy was found. "I can never thank you sufficiently," said Isolette to Victor, as she conducted him into her sumptuously furnished parlor, "both for what you have done and for what you have forborne to do. Those papers you forwarded so kindly to me?it would have driven me to frenzy had they fallen into the hands of one rejoicing to heap confusion on my head?as many I fear would be prompt to do. 1 owe you a great debt of gratitude, and how can I hope ever to repay you I for even this day our paths lead us asunder." "And are you resolved to leave, to-day?" asked Victor. "Why should I remain?" replied Isolette. This is not my home, and what I have done, who would forgive ? My agent will be here in a few hours tc take charge of my dwelling and other property, and as for myself, I am to leave on a steamer this afternoon." "I hope, MissDeVere," rejoined Victor, "thai all the arrangements for your departure were made in a manner to cause you the least possible pain." "I have met with nothing but courtesy," replied Isolette. "I go in accordance with my own application for permission to do so. The reply of the authorities was accompanied with a polite note from an artillery officer, Lieutenant McGregor, proffering me on the part of the authorities permission to continue my residence here as long as 1 choose upon giving my parole <T honneur to hold no further communication with the enemy. I willingly made the pledge, but in the city of mj birth am I not a stranger and an alien ? I honoi my own countrymen for their noble traits of character, but how can 1 sympathize with them in then aims and feelings when my training and educatioi has been so different from that of all around me?" "I would that you could sympathise with us s< far as to render a home among us pleasant," re joined Victor, "It cannot surely be pleasant to yoi to return among a people who are striving to de 6troy us utterly." uAh 1 koliovo m? " w?nl?wl Tsnlette. with a flasl: of the eye, "when I am among them I feel nothing in my breast but the warm indignant blood of the Southerner. When I hear a taunting word or Northern lips, against the people among whom 1 was born, I forget the principles that separate me from one party and link me to the other. I re venge myself upon them?and with a blow thai sometimes bites deeply?by reminding them o Bull Bun and Manassas where the character anc qualities of the two sections were illustrated. "You will find the passions of the Northern peo pie greatly embittered since you left your residence among them," replied Victor. "I fear you woulc not now be allowed to express for the South?foi the Confederate States, I should say?even the sympathy of common humanity." "Where could I then claim a home on earth 1'. sighed Isolette, "I cannot be of accord with eithei party. There can be no triumph?end as the wa: may?to one who feels as I do. Freedom is gone if the North wins; the Republic of our fathers ii undone if the South is victorious 1" "We cannot save all that they bequeathed us,' replied Victor. The liberties they left us is all we now hope to save." Isolette was about to reply, when a confusee noise was heard at the outer door, the hurrying o rapid footsteps and a subdued wail of agony.? Startled by the sound, Isolctte rose to her feet, bu before she could advance a step, the. door was flunj rudely open, and Nellie Brack rushed in. As he: glance fell upon Isolette she sprang forward an( with a cry of agony fell at her feet. "Save my father I Miss Isolette," shrieked thi unfortunate girl, gasping out the words with pain as she clung to the robe of the pale beauty?"It ha all come of your doings I save him Miss Isolettefor God's sake save him." "What is the matter, child?" cried Isolette, ii alarm, shocked by the wild faco and the frenziec glance that was turned imploringly on her as sh< stooped to raise the agonized girl from the floor What does all this mean ? What has happenet to your father; and what can I do for him ?" Isolette's arms were thrown around the raggec child of poverty to raise her from the floor 01 which she had thrown herself in the wildness o her grief. Nellie gasped convulsively once or twic< as if essaying to speak, and then with a low wilt wail, overtaxed nature ceased its struggles, and he: head fell like lead upon the bosom of Isolette, wh< could scarcely suppress a cry of horror and alarn as she glanced at Nellie's face, over which a death ly pallor had come. Victor was by her side in i moment lending her his assistance. As they raiset her from the floor, the coarse and ragged dress o the child of poverty mingled its folds with that o the fastidious daughter of refinement, but then was, on her part, no shrinking from contact witl the coarse dress, so strange to her touch. The voice of pity and of the common humanity that i bound them together, was alone heard in an hour 1 like this. Raising her in her arms, while emotions of pity and tenderness were expressed on her face, i with Victor's assistance she bore the fainting form i of the insensible girl, and laid it upon a sofa, with i a face as full of concern, and as tenderly its though i her ministrations were performed to some gently i Nurtured child of wealth. Victor supported her upon the sofa, while Isolette stepped to the door to summon her servants i to her assistance. i After various remedies had been resorted to, Nellie gradually awakened from her deathly tor- i por. Her eyes wandered wildly and vacantly a- i round until her glance fell upon Isolette, and then j she found relief in a flood of tears. IsoJette knelt beside her, and fearful of bringing back her thoughts with too severe a shock, to the subject which had already agitated her so fearfully, sought, by every i soothing attention, to quiet her excitement, and without direct questioning, gradually to learn from i i her the cause of her distress. From the broken words of the girl, rendered incoherent by distress and agony of mind, Isolette i soon learned the painful truth. I Two days before, Brack had been tried and sentenced by a court-martial for acting as an informer and a spy. He was to die that very day between i the hours of two and three. The sad truth had [ been learned by his daughter but a few minutes before, and frantic with distress, she had hastened t to Isolette to entreat her to make an effort to save him. She had not stopped to weigh the question of Isolette's ability to do so, but stricken to the i heart, she had hastened to her to remedy an evil to which she more than suspected she had conI tributed unwittingly. Aghast at a result, which she might liave antio, ipated had she seriously reflected upon the nature , of Brack's crime, and the light in which military men must view it, Isolette seemed for a moment overwhelmed and thunderstruck. "This is my own terrible work I" murmured her ( self-accusing lips, as she knelt by Nellie s side and . heard the sad story. "I had not dreamed of this, | but thought the danger and risk was all my own." She turned her pale face to the clock. There wanted yet but a few minutes to twelve. Time , was pressing; yet what may not one accomplish in two hours, when every faculty of mind and body is enlisted in the work of saving a human life ? Quietly she gave orders that her carriage should be brought to the door, and having soothed Nellie ' with a few hopeful and encouraging words, she left Victor and a servant to watch by her side, and hastened to prepare herself for her errand of ( mercy. In a very few minutes she had returned to the parlor ready for her mission. She gave orders that , Nellie should be removed to a comfortable apartment and carefully attended until her return. But the feeble girl, making an effort, rose from the couch and wildly exclaimed? "No, Miss Isolette, I cannot remain. I mutt go to my father. They tell mo they will not pardon him; and if you cannot save him?I will , die with him." "I think it will be well for her to go, Miss Isolette," said Victor, in a low tone. "Her sad face will plead m^re eloquently than words; and yet, I think it right to forewarn you that I fear all pleadt ing for Brack's life will be in vain. His offence is I one which military men seldom pardon." ( "It is I who have brought him to this," said I Isolette, sadly; "and though I know it to be in vain to speak for him, yet would I plead to the last. God forgive me, if I fail; for I can never . forgive myself. Will you go with me and give [ me your aid?" "Most gladly," replied Victor. "Your carriage, I I see, is already at the door, and there is not a second to spare." Silently, yet deeply agitated by various emotions, | Isolette, Victor, and the daughter of the unfortunate man, went forth and took their places in the [ carriage. Orders were given to drive to the head quarters of the general commanding the DepartI ment, and the coachman gathering from the ex pression of Isolette's face, the urgency of the bucot off nf n ronirl mfp The Car r oiucoo ... --- . riage had hardly stopped at the door, when Victor sprang out, and forcing his way through a crowd . of officials congregated in the ante-chamber, and ( regardless of the attempt of a sentinel on duty at > the door to detain him, thrust himself in, unan) nounced to obtain an immediate interview with the military chief, in whose hands lay the power of { life and death. Victor enquired of an aid, who sat writing at a desk, if he might see the general "What business have you with the general?" t asked the official, suspending his writing for a mor ment, to eye Victor with a supercilious stare. [ "It is on a matter of life and death that admits ' of no delay," replied Victor, in a resjvectful manr ner. "You cannot see the general, to-day," replied ' the official, curtly. '-'Call when I am at leisure, and I shall attend to you." 1 "Will you be so kind, sir, as to tell me where I . may find the general?" asked Victor. The official flunkey deliberately resumed his writing and paid no attention to the earnest but civil " enquiry. Victor's face colored up at the ungra5 cious treatment. There were two or three officers, L evidently men who had seen service in the field, r standing a little apart, and Victor repeated his en5 quiry, addressing them. ( "You will find the general on James Island, and most probably near the camp of the *th regiment," r replied one of the officers, who seemed, from his r uniform, to be a major. "He left here not ten i minutes since." 5 "Thankyou, sir," responded Victor, and hastening from the anartment. he was. in another min ute, in the carriage, and urging the coachman to 2 make all speed to the island. It wanted but a few minutes to one when the carriage drew up near * the quarters of Colonel Giles. Leaving Isolette f and Nellie in the carriage, Victor hastened to ask the co-operation of his commander in the work of love and mercy. That kind hearted officer be forJ tunately found at his quarters, and to his relief and [ joy, the General whom he sought was his guest. * "I shall give you what aid I can, Victor, to save that unfortunate fellow, Brack," said Colonel Giles, 2 who had come forth from his marquee at Victor's > summons?"but I cannot give you strong hopes of s success. His offence is a very grave one, and while " the General is ever disposed to mercy, he is too thoroughly imbued with the teachings of a mili2 tary life to feel any scruple about the execution of 1 an informer and a spy. McGregor is your sheet 2 anchor; if his intercession fails, the game is up. * Miss DeVere?well she may make some impression. 1 I shall send my orderly for McGregor, and you can explain to him the condition of affairs. When 1 the general is ready to receive the lady I will notii fy you, and McGregor can introduoe her and second f her exertions. As for yourself, you can accompany ; them or not as you please." 1 Colonel Giles re-entered his marquee, and in r quite a short time, McGregor was seen approachj ing. Victor met him and promptly informed him l of the attempt which was about being made to - procure the pardon of Brack and of the desire for i his assistance. 1 Satisfied that the condemned man had gone af stray from weakness rather than from a deliberate f desire to injure the cause of the country, McGregor, s whose humane heart struggled strongly against his i convictions of duty, yielded his assent, all the more readily that on more than on one occasion, where desperate valor alone could dirty the day, Brack had stood by him at his gun, fighting like a hero i with unfaltering devotion to the last, when there seemed scarce a hope of turning the tide of battle 1 or escaping the jaws of destruction. He thought 1 on these things while Victor WW speaking to him, and the recollection softened his heart and excited i all his generous nature. "Lead me to Miss DeVere, it once," said he to Victor; "I wish a few words with her before she 1 appears in the General's presence. They were < standing but a few feet from the carriage inN which , Miss DeVere still sat, and Victor hastened to pre- ; sent him to the beautifbl woman who was suffer- ; ing an agony of mind scaroely less keen than that felt by the oondemned man, who was painfully i numbering the minutes that intervened between him and fate. '.-V" Colonel Giles soon announced that the general was ready to receive them. A scarcely perceptible Bush of excitement kindled upon the cheeks of I- 1 solette as she descended the carriage steps, and lean- : ing upon the proffered arm of McGregor, went i to plead for the life of an humble but despised out i cast, with ten fold the earnestness and strength of 1 purpose with which she wonld have plead for her own. Victor felt that his presence conld contribute nothing towards obtaining a pardon for the unfortunate man, and he did not wish to occupy, even in appearance, the position of an idle and curious auditor. He well knew that if two such advocates as Lieutenant McGregor and Isolette should be insufficient, Brack's cause could not be aided by any consideration which he might advance. Theirearnest and united efforts might fail, and it was well that the doomed man should know nothing of the exertions that were being made in his behalf. It would indeed be a torture of the most excruciating character to awaken in his heart a hope of escape frqm death, and keep his mind in an agony of suspense at this late hour, when all his thoughts should be fixed ou eternity and his heart nerved for the worst that might befalL And yet, it was desirable that he and his child should meet before it became too late. - Influenced by these considerations, Victor offered to oonduct Nellie to the tent where her father was confined. She eagerly and gladly caught at the hope of seeing him again, as though, in an hour like this, it were the one poor satisfaction left her in lift? Tbfl rarriftfe was driven aronnd to a tent somewhat apart from the others, strongly guarded, where the doomed man lay with those unutterable thoughts crowding upon him that can only be faintly conceived of by those on whom the shadow of a violent death has never fallen. Cautioning the agonized girl to let no hint escape her, that might awaken delusive hopes in the bosom of her parent, Victor conducted her to the door of the tent, where a whispered explanation procured her ready admittance. He heard her wild burst of agony as she fell woeping on the neck of her parent, and quickly withdrew to shut it out from his ears. The coachman was directed to return to his stand near the Colonel's marquee, while Victor Bought to escape his painfully oppressive thoughts by strolling away from the spot He soon encountered Harvey Haley, whom he had not met since the day he went on picket, and the two extended their walk far beyond the limits Victor had at first proposed. When they were returning and bad nearly reached the camp, the drums were beating and the troops were turning out as if for review. Forming rapidly into companies they came marching towards the spot where Victor and his companion stood. "What can this mean?" asked Victor in surprise. "See, there," rejoined Harvey Haley, pointing to a couple of workmen who had just set op a post some four feet, high fixing it firmly in the ground. This is the spot where the execution is to take place, and the troops are ordered out under arms to attend it. It's a gone case with Brack, now, I judge. It will be over with the poor fellow soon.'' Victor did not trust himself to speak. His hopes died within him, and he now doubted not that the application of Isolette had been in vain. Unwilling to rejoin her under circumstances so painful, he quietly withdrew to one ride with Harvey Haley, concluding to remain near the spot, yet reluctant to witness the sad spectacle. The troops marched on and formed on three rides of a square, the stake for the prisoner being in the middle of the fourth ride. The spot chosen for the execution was but a short distance from the camp. The troops soon reached the position assigned them, and after a short silence was heard the beat of a muffled drum approaching. Looking in the direction from which the sounds came, Victor saw a detachment of perhaps ten or twelve men conducting the unhappy man to the place appointed for the execution. The prisoner marched on foot, his head covered with a small military cap. No priest or chaplain came with him to administer words of comfort in that dread hour, but clinging to his arm with a convulsive grasp, as if resolved that not even the terrible fate which seemed so near, should separate them from one another, his terror stricken-daughter walked by his side oblivious and regardless of everything else, but the fearful scene in which she bore so conspicuous a part. Brack seemed calm, and resigned to his fate. Sympathy and compassion for the frail creature that clung to him with the desperate energy of undying affection, seemed to usurp the place of all other emotions and to absorb even those terrible and painful feelings that might be supposed to be particularly busy at his heart in an hour like this. He frequently turned to speak to her, and from the softened expression of his face one could gather that his words were not those of complaint or bitterness, but such as might tend to soothe and comfort the child who clung to him so unshrinkingly in that dark hour of shame. Even when they were placing him by the fatal stake, she hung upon his neck convulsively, and the stern soldiers who were performing their painful, but necessary duties, around him, shrank from the task of removing her from his side. The agony of his child overmastered, in his bosom, the pangs and terrors of death. He soothed her at one moment with some kindly word, and at another, in tones so low as to escape her ears, besought some of the guard around him to remove her as gently as possible. Victor's attention was so absorbed by the sad signt mat ne noteu not a nuci nuu uimc o&jiuming along at a rapid gallop towards the place of execution. A detachment of perhaps a dozen men stood some ten paces in front of Brack, at shouldered arms. The rider, without pausing, rode up to the officer commanding this detachment, and beckoning him apart, placed in his hands a slip of paper which he hastily read, and acknowledged by a significant nod to the horseman, who then dismounted and advanced towards Brack. Victor's heart, in the excitement of the moment, seemed in his throat The officer who so suddenly appeared upon the scene, was the blue-eyed lieutenant of artillery. Surely he came as a messenger of hope. His face was grave and sad, yet it wore not the dejected and sorrowful look of one who had plead for a human life in vain. Brack's glance, as it wandered around, fell upon McGregor, who was advancing toward him, and his eye lighted up. "lieutenant," said Brad:, with a gesture of his hand, indicating his daughter, "this is a thousand deaths in one. Can yon not have the poor child moved oat of sight and hearing, before the detachment fires?" "Do you heartily repent, Brack, of the offence for which you were condemned?" asked McGregor. "From my heart, Lieutenant, I regret my crime more than I do the death I am to suffer," replied Brack. "I have not misjudged you, then," replied McGregor, with emotion. "I have pledged my honor, that if spared, you would never prove false again. Ton are free, Brack; at the last moment your pardon has been granted; but remain where you are, and await the reading of the order. McGregor made a gesture of the hand to the officer in command of the detachment, who stepping forward, read in a dear voice the order remitting the penalty,* denounced against Nicholas kia iwrnnanw UIQU&) ttuu lQUimiuiug uiui bu uio wiupwuj. A wild shout arose spontaneously from the troops, testifying their joy at the reprieve which spared a father to his child. The band Btrack np its inspiriting strains, and the soldiers marched from the spot with load huzzas, rejoicing that the sod was unstained with a soldier's blood. Before the officer had ended the reading of the brief order, Brack had sunk upon his knees and vowed, with a contrite and grateful heart, to devote himself to the service of his native land. "You may swear it with a safe conscience, Lieutenant," said Brack, as with one arm he supported poor Nellie, who sobbed hysterically upon his bosom?"and here, in the presence of my Maker, I take upon me a solemn vow never again to fail my oountry, but to devote myself to her to the death." "You have been a brave and good soldier, Brack," rejoined the lieutenant "I do not forget your conduct at Sharpsburg. Many other such days lie before those of us who live to fight through this war. Be true to yourself and your country, and despite this day, you will enjoy your own respect and that of every man whose good opinion is worth having. Farewell, Brack; here is my hand-" "And your forgiveness, Lieutenant," asked the unhappy man. "Aye! and my friendship, too, if you will only be what you have been. Farewell, and may Heaven bless you and Nellie." The lieutenant sprung upon his horse, and was off in a twinkling. Victor made his way to Miss DeVere to apologize to her for his protracted absence. She was sitting in her carnage ready to set out on Her return to the city, but was delayed by the *th regiment (to which Victor belonged) which was drawn up in line across the carriage road. Let it be remembered, that up to this time, this regiment had been detained on the coast of Carolina, doing indeed noble service, yet panting to gather greener laurels on the great battle-fields of the oountiy. This was a proud day for them. Their noble general bad just reviewed them.? They were still under his eagle eye, kept drawn up in line to attend to the reading of an order. It was a tersely written and spirit-stirring order. Cheer after cheer, and shout after shout went up, when the order was read, enjoining the regiment, forthwith, to break up its camp and march to embark upon the cars for the scene of active hostilities. None among them doubted that their destination was to fight against the hordes of the enemy pressing their way through Virginia. A bloody and terrible campaign lay before them, but every spirit was aroused and animated; for now, indeed, they would find the place, which they had so ardently longed for, near the flashing of the enemy's guns, and meet the enemy foot to foot and eye to eye. A few spirit-stirring words followed from their commander, and the soldiers were dismissed to gather their baggage together, and take their way to the railroad. A couple of hours later?when the regiment was passing through the city to take its place upon the train?before one of the most fashionable residences in the city a carriage was drawn up in waiting, and on the portioo ready accoutred for the field, stood a handsome youth taking his leave of a beautiful and winning woman. Victor and Isolette were about to part, and who knows whether they shall ever meet again? Let her own heart utter her own presentiment "Farewell, my own friend, Victor," said Isolette, whose face wore a troubled look at parting. ' 'It is painful to part with you thus; yet even now, when ? .1 . 1 l destiny seems pointing us to patns tnat ieaa asunder, I feel a oonviction that we shall meet again, not casually or as strangers, but as friends who will have need one of the other. Forget all of my history that may pain you, and when your heart would accuse me, remember it was my misfortune to be trained up under other skies than those where I was born. I shall never again, even in thought, do scaith or injustice to the cause for which you are fighting. Since my interview with the General, to-day, I think I may remain here. If you are sick or wounded write to me, and I shall hasten to you, as I would to the side of a brother?had fate blessed me with one. Bemember me kindly, as a friend, and let Isolette the Spy?as men may call me?be forgotten I Victor, farewell!" Giving him no time for reply, Isolette, who was overcome with emotion, pressed his hand warmly and was gone. The carriage stood ready to convey him to the cars, and in ten minutes after the above conversation, he was entering the cars, before which the fron horse stood panting, as if it were some terrible demon, eagerto rush with the thousand human hearts that were beating behind it, to horrid fields of carnage and of death. One phase of Victor's life was past; another was to begin, amid scenes of the most startling and exciting character. If our kind and gentle readers have not grown weary of our pencillings by the way, we propose to follow and renew our acquaint ance with the chief personages of this story in their bivouacs, in the very presence of the enemy, in a theatre of action far more full of adventure and startling incident than could be found in their quarters near the city. As the cars rolled off amid the loud and loDg continued cheering of the gallant regiment which they bore to the battle-fields of Virginia, Victor looked back towards the city with a sigh. We need not say he was thinking only of Ioslette, whose heart his hand had already twice contributed to wring with the keenest sorrow; and whom he, nevtheless, would gladly have shielded with a brother's tenderness from every shaft of fate. Otheis might see only cause for censure and blame and detraction, yet he could only pity and forgive the fair and kind woman, though the censorious who knew not her many graces of life and charactei and her training among a hostile people, might scornfully and opprobriously designate her as "The Female Spy." the end. t&* In the issue of the Enquirer for next week, will be commenced the publication of a story, by Mr. J. Witherspoon Ervin, entitled "Victor: a Sequel to Tsolette.' " The Candidates.?General Grant has retired to his farm near St Louis. Governor Seymour has retired to his farm in Western New York.? General Frank Blair, the Democratic candidate for Vice-President, has taken himself off to the Rocky Mountains, and Speaker Colfax will follow the example as soon as the adjournment of Congress permits him to leave Washington. ^HisctUajjcous fading. SENATOR DOOLITTLE'8 LETTER. As soon as the nominations by the National Democratic Convention were announced, disappointed politicians and others, in various localities, set to work with the view of organizing a third party, upon the ground that the nominees of the Convention were not acceptable. These mal-contents immediately recognized the necessity of securing the co-operation of some of the leading men of the country, in order to give the movement headway. With this purpose in view, 0. H. Ostrander, of Danville, Penn., addressed a letter to Senator Doolittle, of Wisconsin. The Senator's a v n 1 n . . J .1 LI ~ reply is Dnmiui 01 painousm ana stampa uua on a > man to be trusted. Here it is: Washington, July 13,1868. 0. H. Ostrander, Esq., DanvUlt, Bauu : Dear Sie: I am iu receipt of your letter of the 10th instant, in which, speaking for yourself and < forty-eight other Conservative Republicans of your town, you express a "sense of disappointment and regret, that no better names had been offered by the ] Democratic party to lead the Conservative and pa- 1 triotic masses of the people to victory, and the ] Radical Republican party to deserving and merited 1 defeat. As a genticman and a statesman Mr. Sey- 1 mour holds our respect, but as a Peace Democrat we are indisposed to vote for him and you are 1 pleased to say, that if my name, among others, had * been placed at the head of the ticket, "all would 1 have goue well, and victory would have been cer- < tain." You desire my opinion upon the situation 1 and "the prospects of a third party." 1 I thank you for the confidence thus reposed in 1 me, and shall not shrink from the responsibility of ' stating frankly my opinion. ' I do not think the organization of any third par- 1 ty is wise, or can work any practical good to the 1 great cause in which we are engaged. In the very 1 nature of things, when great principles are at stake, there are, and there can be, but two effective po- 1 litical parties. "He that is not for me is against 1 me," in politics as well as in religion, is a truth upon which every wise man is compelled to act 1 What, then, is the great and paramount issue? ( What is that great and unpardonable wrong for 1 which the Radical party is now arraigned and . should be overthrown ? It is substantially this: * 1 In violation of the Constitution?in violation of 1 pledges made and often repeated, from the first < battle of Ball Baa to the end of the war; pledges 1 to the North to get men and money; pledges es- ' pecially made to the Democracy to get their sapport in the field and in the elections; pledges made to the Sonth to indace them to lay down their 1 arms and to renew their allegiance; and pledges to < foreign powers to prevent intervention?in viola- I tion of all these solemn pledges, npon wliich we i invoked the blessings of Almighty God upon our ] cause, and by which alone we gained strength to j master the rebellion?in violation of the natural < and inalienable right of the civilized men of every I State to govern themselves, and in violation of the 1 clear provisions of the Constitution, which leaves i to each State for itself the right to regulate suffrage, this party has, without trial, by expostfac- 1 to laws, disfranchised hundreds of thousands of the most intelligent of their citizens, and has forced upon ten States and six millions of our own Anglo 1 Saxon race the universal and unqualified suffrage of seven hundred thousand ignorant, and, in the main, half-civilized negroes. This is the great wrong for which that party is arraigned at the bar of public judgment, and for which it should be overthrown. To consummate that great wrong, they have abolished all civil government, and civil liberty, in these ten States; They have established five absolute military despotisms, wherein all rights to life, liberty, and property are subject to the will of one man; They have kept the Union divided; They have prevented the restoration of industry; They have kept down the credit of the Government, during three years of peace, to a point so low that, to the shame of every American, the six per cent bonds of the United States sell for only 73 in gold, while the bonds of Brazil, bearing only four per cent interest bring over 90 in gold; They have encroached upon the just rights of the Executive; They have threatened the Independence of the Supreme Court; They have unjustly, and without cause, impeached and put upon trial the President himself, and by every species of denunciation, and even by threats of assassination, have endeavored to force the Senate to convict him, in order to place in the Executive chair one who will use all its power to consum- 1 mate that gigantic wrong against the Constitution, * ? ? A A.*. J against our piigntea iaitn, against civuizauon, ami against our own race and kindred. The Convention in New York met for the pur- i pose of organizing to overthrow the party in power i for this great wrong, and to restore the Union and the Constitution, and the rights of the States, and ot all the States under it. Now, I do not say the nominations made at New York are the very best that could have been made for that purpose. - The elements to be organized into a victorious annv were four fold. To use a military figure, there were four army corps to be organized into one grand army: First The great Democratic corps. Second. The War Democratic corps. Third. The Conservative Republican corps. Fourth. The Civilized Southern Corps. i The first, or Democratic corps, was fully organ- i ized, with ranks well filled, but not in sufficient numbers to secure the victory. There was the War Democratic corps, which supported Lincoln in 1864; but which, in consequence of the great wrong above mentioned, was ready to sever itself from the Radical army under General Grant; and there was the Conservative Republican corps, of which you are pleased to speak of me as a leader, who, for the same reasons, were ready to join the grand army, and do all in their power to bring success to our cause. The two lasfc are the recruiting corps. They hold the balance of power. As a matter of policy, had the first office been given to a chief of the oth- 1 er, it would have made our victory more easy, if ? not more certain. Everybody knows that the result of this contest is to depend upon the important question, whether we shall be able to recruit those two corps in sufficient numbers, and cany them to the hearty support of Mr. Seymour. If we can, victory is with us. If we cannot, victory is against us. In my judgment, it is our duty to do so. The very life of the Constitution is involved, and, with it, the rights of the States and the liberties of the people. I cannot hesitate for one moment My judgment is for it; my whole heart is in it So far from relaxing, we should redouble our efforts.? Bear in mind that the war was ended three years ago, when a new era was opened in political affairs; that Mr. Seymour is a man of high character, of unquestioned patriotism, of great ability and experience, wholly with us upon the living and paramount issue; and that if elected, he will make a most able and dignified President; and oertainly no Pennsylvanian will forget that, but for his promptness and energy in forwarding the foroe of New York to Gettysburg, that great battle might ' have been lost and Pennsylvania overrun. While n Gen. Blair, wfc have a civilian and a soldier rho66 promptness and indomitable resolution seiid Camp Jackson, and saved Missouri from seoes- . ion; who always stood among the foremast of the rar Republicans, in council and in the fiekl while he war lasted; and when it waa over, was among he first to demand that forwhidk the war was jrosecuted?the Union of the States under the institution, with their rights, oquahty and tfgaiy unimpaired Let us unite for a victory. Let us have peace? i peace which comes not from a violated Ctmstituion and the despotism of the sword, but a peaoe rhich oomes from a restored Union and the ?tjremacy of constitutional law, by which alone liberty is secured. Respectfully yours, J. R. DOOL1TTLE. t i , i - J- r.j Prom the Col amble Phanlx. y j LETTER FROM A COLORED MAE. ' The following letter is addressed to the presiding )fficer of one of the Leagues, in Hony District: Columbia, July 15,1868.. My Hear and Honored Str;?1 promised to write you % few lines, to give you my views of things in this city, the seat of Government (f this glorious State. I pray that these Etna may find you in the enjoyment of the best health, as they leave me at present The delegation arrived herein fodi health. We had our place in the oar with the white people?the white people is grum on the oars, except the white members of the Legislature, and especially the caudidates.for Senate, for Judge if the Courts, and such like. The candidates and the white members treats us like brother* -They sit on the same seats in the can; they call us mister?none of your unde or boy, or snek things which belongs to the time when we had the hoe in dut hand. The candidates and our white brother members, have treated us well; they is so friendly that I feel somehow as if thisjhing won't last. I see white people here who was once right rough, who now treat us real kind. They invite us to take drinks?this is the greatest place for drinking, I ever was in?to tell you the truth, hooajped sir, I have not laid down to sleep a single night sue* I * arrived, without feeling as if I had just as much drink as I want?plain or with sugar?oost al the same, lis worth whife coming to the Legislature, just for the free drinking. They have rdriokirere they call cocktails?tumbler half frill of whiskey, ice, sugar and a bitter stuff?I find this a good drink; I think it will keep off fever and, agna i the sugar makes the liquor too sweet, so they put in the bitter stuff?the bitter stuff makes the. whiskey too bitter, so they put in thesugar* v ba The election for one Senator has comeWff^the Eon. Tom Robertson is elected.' Mr. Mcltihlay nominated Mr. Robertson. He spoke of him as nne who had imperiled his life fbr the Constitution. I voted for Mr. Robertson, because ihe party required me to do so; yet, I must say, I don't recollect Mr. Robertson's periling life fir or against the Constitution; because he was a wood contractor on the South Carolina Railroad ; and by keeping off the track his life Was safe. He was Colonel of a reserve Regiment, in the Confederate service?and not being called into action, his life was in no danger. Mr. R. keeps a nice carriage, one grey and one bay horse, and plenty of good whiskey. On the whole, Mr. R. is a good man; he has money and don't go on the bonds of public offioers. The great election for Senator has come off. Hon. Mr. Mackey, Mr. Sawyer and Pareou French were candidates. I voted fbr Mr. Mackey, first; then I voted for Parson French, and to-day fir Mr. Sawyer. French kept quiet?Mackey and Sawyer quarrelled powerful; Mackcy's people got op & newspaper called the Record, in, which he cursed Sawyer dreadfully. These white people quarrel so, that I commence to think then must be something wrong. The oolored people are th? best in the Legislature, by long oddk Mr. "V/Tiipper is a * giant; so is Mr. DeLarge. Hey are both far. ahead of any white people in the Legislature.? These gentlemen would be respectable anywhere; but especially in this Legislature, there are more poor mean whites here than I ever saw before.? Honored sir, I feel the Hush of shape when I look at the white Republicans in this body. The Democratic members are only a few, but in caridbr, I must say, I can find no fault with theory they may be misguided men; hut they are honest ihd straightforward. Sir, tears came to my fcyeswhen I saw them votefor Sawyer, to-day; not that they loved Sawyer more, but because they loved Mackey less. ; -i i * >';t\ Honored sir, I must close. Three white men have asked me to ride out with them in one of Hon. Mr. Fraree's carriages, and I ga I think thev want to talk to me about voting for Judges. This meeting in New York don't look right They have nominated men named Horatio Seymour and Franklin Blair, and, to tell yon the troth, oar party don't feel right There ia something op in the country, and I don't think Grant can cany the day. In that case, what is to be done? These mean white men are going to leave, sore, if the party goes down. The Democrats say, they will give ns qualified suffrage, and will be jnst to os; and, to tell yoo the God's troth, from what I can see, we had better accept of their promises. We all know these people, and they have always spoken troth. I am put out with the white meo in the Legislature; they quarrel so, and accuse one another of bad things, and prove it on one another. I am not satisfied. If we cannot find honest men like Whipper and Cardoza, and such like, we bad better go back to the old white people. I cannot trust these new whites. They look mean. .The carriage has come. I am to at on the back seat I will write yoo again, soon. Love to inquiring friends. Keep the League together. Tell the people not to bay any land, because this Legislature is going to tax land all to pieces. TeU the people never to vote for mean whites any more.? Vote for respectable colored men. If they can't do better, vote for the old white people of the country. They will be true, anyhow, and won't lie. I subscribe myself, from these halls of the Legislature, yours until death, GEORGE WASHINGTON MILLER. A Prediction Fulfilled.?Hie following is in extract from a letter written in 1346 by Hen. I. H. Hammond, of Sooth Carolina, to Thomas Clarkson, Esq., of England, The prediction" of he consequences following the abolition of slavery lias been remarkably verified and is becoming more ? every day : ' 'Released from their present obligations, their irst impulse would be to go somewhere. And first they would seek the towns and rapid)? accumulate in squalid groups upon their outskirts.? Driven thence by the armed police force which vould immediately spring into existence, they vould immediately scatter in all directions. Some jodies of them might wander to the free States, or he Western wilderness, marking their tracks by heir depredations and their corpses. Many would oam wUd in our big woods. Many more would teek the recesses of our swamps for secure covert. Few, very few of them, could be prevailed upon o do a stroke of work; none to labor continuously, vhile a head of cattle, sheep or swine could be bund in our ranges, or an ear of cent nodded in rar abandoned fields. These exhausted, our folds md poultry yards, barns and storehouses would leoome a prey, finally, oar scattered dwellings rouldbe plundered, perhaps burned,andthainnates murdered."