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I I ' / ' * LBmS^ amST, ^ Jamilo fjbfas^tr: for % promotion of % political, Social, ^griotltnral ani> (Tommtrrial |ntecsts of % StralbVOL. 15. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 1869. v - - ' .! ! I COUNTING-HOUSE ALMANAC FOE I860. 100's* Hi ?-3>>?}I-0O[ ?I g hJi <j>5>^| go gHlps! SlliiSBS g.et&g1?;? Sigiai^Ww 1869-?Sss = ^|,ea9^35|g^ ! : : ? *<: : i : > ^^ M : 5 : : l] 111*11.1 Jau . 1 2: JtTltT ..... 12 3 3 4 5 6 7 8 4 5 6 7| 8 9 10 lo! 11 12 13 14 15 M 11 12 1314; 1516 17 17' 18 19 20 2l!2223. 18 19 20i2H22fc8 ? 24 25 26 27 28j29 30l 25 26 27128 2930 31 31 ?M Fjib. ... "i 2 "3 "4 "5 "ft Aug. "i "2 "3"4 "5*6 "7 ! 7 8 9 10 11 12 13, 8 ?1011 121$ 14 14 15 1617 18il9;20 15 W'1718 1920 21 ;21 22 23)24 25 26 27 22 23,2425 2627 28 128 ... ...! .J .J 20 80j8l ? MAB. ... 1 2 3 4 5j 6- Sept. ... ? ! " * 2 3 4 7 8 9'lOllK lft 5 6 7 8 91011 14 1516117 18 19 20; 12 18;1415 1617 18 21 22 23:24 25 26 27; 19;20(5U2&2&24i2& 128 29 <0|3l 26,27,28129 3?.-... 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The speaker was a curious little old man, cleanly dressed, cleanly shaved, with- short, crisp, white hair, and a face like a red pippin; such a face as is hardly ever seen out of this country, and even here rarely, save amongst farmers, game-keepers, or others who are much in the open air at all seasons. This little?for he was very small indeed as to size?this little old gentleman was encountered in a first-class smoking carriage, on the Southwestern railway. "Curious trial, that, before the Lord Chief Justice," continued the old gentleman, as if he wished to pmmate fintheraoavowation. "I was oooe tried for murder, myself," (with a pleasant smile.) "Yes," said the fitflb old gentleman, "and very nearly hung, too. I did not get off free. I was sentenoed to transportation for life; went through seven years of it, and then they pardoned me for what I had never done." "You see," said the little old gentleman, smilxi ?^ rv+li/vw cmnL'orfi in lDg more luau over, <u me Uiv uhivi ... the carriage stared at him?"You see, I was for many years a cattle merchant in London. My business consisted in reoeiving from abroad?from Hoflaod, Germany, Normandy, or wherever I could form a connection?oxen, cows, sheep, pigs, some on my own account, others to be sold on commission for correspondents, who sent their animals to me for sale. The trade was a profitable one.? Every beast sent over on my acoount was folly insured, so that if they died on the passage, I came upon the insurance oompany. I had very few debts, and taking one thing with another, I may have fully calculated upon realising at least twentyfive per cent, on my capital every three months In other words I got a profit of one hundred per cent on the money I had oommenced business with. "But with money comes the desire for more. There was a time before I began to deal in cattle when I thought myself rich if, at th*end of a year, I had two hundred pounds in bank, over and above my expenses for the last twelve months Now it ^ was otherwise. I lamented that I had not always an idle balance of fifteen hundred or two thousand pounds I was fond of money for money's sake. I could not make money fast enough for my wishes in the cattle trade, and therefore determined to do a little in the loan and discounting way. "It is nearly twenty years ago, and I have gone through a great deal.of trouble since. My system was never to put too many eggs in one pot?never to lend very much to any single person?but to lend very small amounts to various people. I used to answer the advertisements of tradesmen in diffi v 7 culty, and if I found that a borrower naa gooa security to offer, I would lend him perhaps thirty or fbrty pounds; taking ten pounds* month for the accommodation, and much more in proportion for longer periods. One of my clients was a printer, with a small business, near what was then called t the New Road, near Marylebone Road. He had often borrowed twenty, thirty, and once as much i as sixty pounds from me, and had always repaid ft me to the day. The security he gave me was all v the same, joint note of hana of himself and his ft brother, a grocer up Hackney way. The name of K this borrower was Strange?Ed ward Strange. He was in a delicate state of health, always suffering m from bis chest, and in severe winters he used to f be laid np for weeks together with a bad cough. . He was a widower, without children. |f "One day Strange came to me and said that he r bad a very exciting offer to enter into partnership with a printer who had been established m business several years. The sum required to be paid for the partnership was three hundred pounds, and he asked me to advance that amount upon the security of a policy insurance for one thousand pounds upon his own life. On inquiry I found that, years before, Strange had, when a young and healthy man, effected an insurance upon his life for five hundred pounds. This policy he always managed to keepnp, and still wished that it should not relapse. As it had been running on for nearly twenty years, and as he paid a veiy small premium, and was now in very bad health, the insurance company would have beea very glad to have purchased it baick. Therefore, after looking at the affair in every possible way, I came to the conclusion that tho security was good, and that I might safely advance the sum of three hundred pounds upon the security policy being indorsed over to me. This waS done and I advanced the money! L Gentlemen, it was the worst day's business I ever ^ did in my life. "In general, a creditor sees but little of his debtors, whether they are few or many. The man who owes money generally avoids the individual to whom he owes it But it happened otherwise with Strange and myself. "With the new business that he had bought he was not expected, nor even wished, by his partner to interfere; and his own indifferent health made it very desirable that he should be as free as possible from the confined air " 1?- mnma TIia nnrtaprahin Tip 01 IU6 UIWU VVM.M M MV had purchased secured for him a certain amount of income, which, together with what he had besides, allowed him to go about in diverse parts of the country, traveling being much recommended by the medical attendant Knowing that I had to make weekly trips to Harwich, and that I had often to go to Rotterdam in the way of business when looking after cattle, he asked me whether he could be of use to me as clerk. He asked for no salary, only his actual traveling expenses; and for this he was to keep my accounts and write my letters and make himself generally usefuL The bargain war l a good one for both parties. On the one hand mj w business was increasing every week, and having tc knock aEout a great deal at fairs and to see a great k many dealers, I had no time to look properly after my accounts, which sometimes got rather complicated. On the other hand, Strange had enough to live upon, but not enough to pay traveling expenses with comfort Having been friends for several years, when we traveled together we always had onr meals in common ; and in country places, or i where the inns were very full we generally took a double-bedded room between us. i "After a time I found Strange's assistance of such value to me that I was able to increase my connections very materially indeed. Being a i shrewd man, he was able at the end of a twelve 1 month to make purchases and conduct my business i as well as I could. This led, naturally enough, to < a partnership being formed between us, by the I terms of whioh I was to lend him five hundred i pounds to put into the business, of which he was 1 * aP fho nof nrnfiffi Afl snrptv fot* 1 iu uavo a ivuiui u? vuv mwv ^/* v? the five hundred he insured his life for another thousand. Thus, when we commenced working together as partners, Strange owed me eight hundred pounds, and I held policies of insurance on his Kft for two thousand pounds. "Our business trips used generally to last from a week to a fortnight. Sometimes we were detained at the port to whioh we had brought the animals for four or five days, awaiting the meanB of shipping them to Eagland; for it is not every steamer that will take bullocks, or sbeep, or pigs, as cargo. Sometimes, "one of us would remain in Loudon, conducting the sales of such animals as his partner 88nt him from abroad. And this had happened when the event of which I am now going to tell you took place. "As Strange could speak French very well, I often sent him alone to the fairs in Normandy and | Brittany, nearly always going myself to those in - Holland and the North of Germany. It was somewhere about the end of a certain May, that he went over to France, intending to remain there about six weeks, and go from one fair to another on a certain round. Three or four consignments | of beasts had reached me in Loudon, and the last i was to come over in a day or two. My partner | had visited all the foirs he intended to go to and was to join me. I wrote him at Southampton, where he was to land, saying that I would meet ' him there, take a look at the cattle he had bought, ; and send some to London, and go with the rest to some of the Southern counties, wnere tnere was \ likely to be a market that would suit my book. ( "I reached Southampton on the day named and 1 met Strange. We diued together in the afternoon at a small inn near the docks, and, finding we could j not get two bedrooms, engaged a double-bedded j room for the night. Then we began to square up | accounts, and spent the afternoon seeing how we i stood in the matter of money. But something ' that Strange had done vexed me sorely. He had, j in the face of what I had written to him in Lon- j don to the contrary, paid some two pounds a head j more for about thirty or forty beasts than we < should ever realize. When I told him how fool- i ishly he had acted, he answered me back that he ] had done bis best, and that he had as much right \ as I had to speculate with our joint funds. To ] this I replied that, although he was undoubtedly a ( partner in the concern, it was I who put in all the y capital, and that he had only an interest of twen- < ty-five per cent in the profits. His rejoinder I rer 1 member well. He said that if he died, I would i get all the money he owed me and more. To this | I retorted in a passion, that I knew it, and that I i did not care how soon he died. All this wrang- ] ling took place in the coffee-room of the inn, be- i fore the girl who waited on us, the cook of the house, the barmaid, the landlady, and the land- , lady'8 husband. The latter, when he saw we were , getting angry, tried to make friends between us, . but iD vain. We were each annoyed at what the ( other had said, as well as at our own folly, and , neither would be the first to say he was sorry for | what hod happened. , "About six o'clock I took up my hat and went j to see some friends in the town. When I got back it was past eleven o'clock, and Strange, the house- ; maid told me, had been in bed and asleep more ; than an hour. I paid my share of the bill, for I < intended starting early, went up stairs, found i Strange fast asleep, and went to bed myself. Next ; morning I was called at five, packed my bag, swal- i lowed a cup of coffee, and in half an hour was on my way to London. On leaving the inn, I told i the porter that my companion was asleep, and, as i he was onlv coins bv the ten o'clock coach to i Brighton, they need not call him yet I should < not forget to tell you that while I was dressing in i the morning Strange awoke,- and that we shook i hands over our dispute of the previous evening. , We moreover agreed to change our plans, and Strange was to meet me in London the next day. , As I was closing my carpet-bag, he asked me to , lend him one of m'y razors; a thing which I had , the greatest objection to, {for if I am particular about anything I possess, it is about my razors,) but, having only made up my difference with him, I could hardly refuse him so small a favor. "The next days I am writing of, were before railways had extended to Southampton. Leaving the latter place at half-past five in the morning, it was half past six in the evening before I got to town. I went to bed, got up next day, and while I was sitting at breakfast with my wife, our servant told me that two gentlemen wished to speak , to me. I went down to see them, and before I could open my mouth to ask what they wanted, found myself with handcuffs on, arrested for the murder of Edward Strange. "It seems that, finding Strange did not come down by half-past nine, the porter went up to call him. He found the door locked, but no key in it. After knocking some time on the outside, the door was broken open, and poor Strange wasfound with his throat cut from ear to ear, and a razor in his hand. The key of the door was afterwards found in the coffee-room under the very bench on which I had sat to drink my cup of coffee before starting. "I was brought before the magistrate at Bow -i r? rr on/1 WOO Kir K Sin sprit. awrecu UV.AU uivvumg] uuu ouw ...? down to Southampton to await the result of the coroner's inquest upon my partner. The verdict was wilful murder, and after commitment by the magistrate to the sessions, I was put on trial for my life at Winchester. "The trial lasted only a few hours. It was fully proved that Strange and myself had quarrelled and had high words the night before, and that I had said I did not care how soon he died, so that I could recover the money I had lent him. A great deal was made of the fact that by Strange's death I should be entitled to the insurance upon his life, to the amount of two thousand pounds, by which I should be a clear' gainer of one thousand two hundred. "It was further shown that the razor found in poor Strange's hand was mine, and three medical men declared their conviction that, although the instrument was undoubtedly used to kill the dead > man, it must have been placed in his hands after ' death. Moreover, there were not only evident i marks of a struggle about the bed and bedclothes, i but Strange's throat was cut from right to left, i which no one could do but a left-handed man, 1 which Strange was not Then again, the fact of , the bed-room being locked, and the key hid close ) to where I had breakfasted, told fearfully against I me. It was clear that Strange could not by any i possibility, have cut his own throat and then locked r the door of his room on the outside. It was at> tempted by my counsel to throw discredit upon t this part of the evidence. The learned gentleman tried very hard to elicit something which might even lead the jury to imagine that the door had been locked after the murder, and that some person had unknowingly let the key drop in the coffee room. But it was of no avail whatever. It was dearly proved that the key had been inside of the door when I went up to bed, and that it had never been seen again until it was found in the coffee room. My defence tried hard to make out that some person likely to oommit the murder might have been in the house on that day, but all ^ ?? Ao tviol wpnt. nn. ftvfin T. who knew my own innocenoe, oonld not help allowing myself that the evidence, J though purely cirjumstantial, was very strong against me. The only points in my favor were that, on the day of the murder I was supposed to have committed, I travelled up to London, and had-not the least appearance of a man who had anythiag.on his mind. "Again, Strange was known to have had on his person a gold watch and a purse containing a few sovereigns and twenty-five pound notes, the numbers of which latter were ascertained at the bank it Southampton, where he had procured them iii exchange for a bank-post bill The watch had seen taken, and was never traced; the sovereigns lad also disappeared, but the bank notes had been exchanged at the Bank of England on the day of :he murder, and before I, as I fully proved, had my communication with any one in London. Of ;his last point my counsel made the most, but it lid not help me much, if anything. The jury reared, and after deliberating about half an hour, eturned into court , and declared, through tbeir breman, that I was guilty of the wilful murder of Edward Strange. "Gentlemen, a man who has gone through that jrdeal?-who has heard the jury pronounce him guilty of a capital crime, and heard the judge pass sentence of death upon him?a man, I say, gentlemen, who has gone through that ordeal and still lives to tell the tale, may (or am I presumptuous?) be looked upon as a man who has really gone through what, in these days, would be called i sensational time. I heard every word the forenan said, and found myself wondering what the udge's black cap?of which every one has heard lout few have aeen?would be like. Then I was n a kind of dream for a time until I heard the words condemning me to be hanged by the neck mtil I was dead. A sensational effect upon me, gentlemen, or am I presumptuous And will you favor me, Bir, with a light? "In spite of appearances," said this little old gentleman, smoking with exceeding relish, "my Wends did not believe me to be guilty of the fearlul crime for which I was to be hanged by the oeck until I was dead, in ten days after the trial. They moved heaven and earth to obtain a commutation of my sentence, and, after a great deal of trouble they succeeded. At the time of which I ipeak, there was in England a temporary but strong reaction against capital punishment. I canlot recollect all the circumstances of the case, but n a trial for murder two men had been condemned to death and duly executed, and shortly after they iad been hanged by the neck until they were lead, their supposed victim made his appearance, veil and hearty. The public took up the question )f not hanging upon circumstantial evidence, and I jenefitted to the extent of my life, by the temporary excitement I was respited, and condemned jo transportation for life, and very shortly afterwards?for in those days transportation was in full play?found myself on my way out to Van Diernen's land, a convict lifer. "For seven long years, gentlemen, did! under20 this punishment, for a crime of which I was perfectly innocent. Curiously enough, the man who had really murdered poor Strange, as he afterwards confessed, went out in the same ship with me, condemned to seven years transportation for burglary. He must have heard me tell my story and declare'my innocence over and over again; for in the colony we worked together in the same gang. He was afterwards assigned to a master who lived near the prison where I had to slave out my time, as in those days 'lifers' whose sentence had been commuted from capital punishment, were never allowed to leave the chain-gang. But after three years in Van Diemen's Land, this real murderer took to his trade of burglary. To avoid being captured he fled to the bush, and on a party of police being sent after the bqnd to which he belonged, he shot a constable in cold blood. He was captured, sentenced to be hanged by the neck until he was dead, and two days before his execution confessed that he had murdered at Southampton, a man named Strange, for which another person had been sentenced to death. "His statement was taken down, and it was exact It appeared that he had been hidden for several hours in the inn, intending to steal whatever he could lay his hands on. Early in the morning he found his way into poor Strange's room, hoping to pick up something before the house was astir. But his entrance awoke Strange, who struggled for a few minutes with him, and he kept hold of him. The razor which I had lent Strange being still lying on the bed, he murdered his victim with it, and then put it into Strange's hand, in order to make it appear that he had committed suicide. He secured the watch, the purse and the bank notes of the murdered man, and stole out of the house, locking the door of the bed-room on the outside, and hiding the key. He declared that he had got into Strange's room before 1 left the house, and that, for some.time after, his fear was lest I should come back. Had I done so, the murder would, in all probability, have been prevented. "When the statement made by this convict had been duly verified, and when certain references had been made to the home authorities, I was liberated. That is to say, gentlemen, I obtained the royal pardon for having committed a crime which I never committed. And very sensible I am, gentlemen, of the royal clemency. Though it seems odd." "All tickets, gentlemen, all tickets ready"' The train had reached the ticket platform at Vauxhall. "Ah! yes!" said the little old gentleman, producing his; "mine's a return ticket; but it had very nearly been otherwise!" Weddings a Hundred Years Ago.?-It may be of interest to know how they arranged marriages a hundred years ago. An old paper has the following description bearing upon the subject: "Married in June, 1760, Mr. William Doukin, a considerable farmer, of Great Lassin (near Rothbury), in the county of Cumberland, to Miss Eleanor Stotten, an agreeable young gentlewoman, of the same place. The entertainment of the occasion was very grand, there being no less than one hundred and twenty quarters of. lamb, forty-four quarters of veal, twenty quarters of mutton, and a great quantity of beef; twelve hams, with a suitable number of chickens, etc., which was concluded with eight hampers of brandy made into punch, twelve dozen of cider, a great many gallons of wine and ninety bushels of malt made into beer. The company consisted of five hundred and fifty ladies and gentlemen, who concluded with the music of twenty-five fiddlers and pipers, and the whole was conducted with the utmost order and propriety." JSgf A London witness having told a magistrate that he was a penman, was asked in what part of literature he wielded his pen, when he replied that he penned sheep in Smithfield market. jto fatewiStwg Sketch SOUTHERN GHTVALRYT Lieut J. W. DeFottest, ati agent of the Freedman's Bureau, who was at one time stationed at Chester, is publishing a aeries of articles in Harper's Magazine, with regard to what he saw and heard in South Carolina. Many of his statements are exaggerated?unintentionally, doubtless?yet he occasionally blunders upon some truth. We publish the "second paper" in order that our readers may know what appearance the Southern people present when viewed through Northern spectacles. He commences with POLITICAL FEELING. Walking the streets of Greenville, I met a child of six or seven?a blonde, blue-eyed girl with cheeks of faint rose?who, in return for my look of interest, greeted me with a smile. Surprised at the hosnitable expression, and remembering my popularly abhorred blue uniform, I said, "are you not afraid of me ?" "No," she answered; "I am not afraid. I met three Yankees the other day, and they didn't hurt me. We of the North can but faintly imagine the alarm and hate which have trembled through millions of hearts at the South, at the phrase, "The Yankees are coming!" The words meant war, the fall of loved ones, the burning of homes, the wasting of property, flight, poverty, subjugation, humiliation, a thousand evils, and a thousand sorrows. The Southern people have never before suffered anything a tenth part so horrible as what befell them in consequence of this awful formula, this summons to the Afritee and Furies of desolation, this declaration of ruin. Where the conquering army sought to be gentlest it still devoured the land like locusts; where it came not at all, it nevertheless brought social revolution, bankruptcy of investments, and consequently, indigence. A population of bereaved parents, of widows, and of orphans, steeped in sudden poverty, can hardly love the cause of its woes. The great majority of the Southerners, denying that they provoked the war, looking upon us not as the saviours of a common country, but as the subjugators of their sovereign States regard us with detestation. I speak of the "chivalrous Southrons," the gentry, the educated, the socially influential, the class which before the war governed the South, the class which may, soon govern it again. Even if these people knew that they had been in the wrong they would still be apt to feel that their punishment has exceeded their crime, because it has been truly tremendous and has reached many who could not be guilty. I remember a widjwed grand-mother of eighty and an orphan grand-daughter of seven, from each of whom a large estate on the Sea Islands had passed beyond redemption, and who were in dire poverty. When the elder read aloud from a newspaper a description of some hundreds of acres which had been divided among negroes, and said, "Chattie, that is your plantation," the child burst into rears. I believe that it is unnatural not to sympathize with this little plundered princess, weeping for her lost domains in fairyland. Imagine the wrath of a fine gentleman, once the representative of his country abroad, who finds himself driven to open a beer saloon. Imagine the indignation of a fine lady who must keep boarders ; of another who must go out to service little less than menial; of another who must beg rations with low-downers and negroes. During the war I saw women of good families at the South who had no stockings; and here I beg leave to stop and ask the reader to conceive fully, if he can, the sense of degradation that must accompany such poverty; a degradation of dirt and nakedness, and slatternly uncomelioess, be it observed; a degradation which seemed to place them beside the negro. Let us imagine the prosperous ladies of our civilization prevented only from wearing the latest fashions; what manliest man of us all would like to assume the responsibility of such a'piece of tyranny? Moreover, "Our Lady of Tears," the terrible Mater Ladirymarum of De Quincey's visions, fills the whole South with her outcries for the dead. It is not so much a wonder as a pity that the women are bitter, and teach bitterness to their children. Of course there are lower and more ridiculous motives for this hate. Non-combatants, sure of at least bodily safety, are apt to be warlike, and to blow cheap trumpets of mock heroism. Furthermore, it is aristocratic to keep aloof from Yankees; and what woman does not desire to have the tone of grand society ? When will this sectional aversion end? lean only offer the obvious reflection that it is desirable for both North and South, but especially for the weaker of the two, that it should end as quickly as possible. For the sake of the entire republic we should endeavor to make all our citizens feel that they are Americans, and nothing but Americans. If we do not accomplish this end, we shall not rival the greatness of the Romans. It was not patrician is in that made Rome great so muoh as the vast community and bonded strength of Roman citizenship. Let ns remember in onr legislation the law of solidarity; the fact that no section of a community can be injured without injuring the other sections; that the perfect prosperity of the whole depends upon the prosperity of all the parts. This idea should be kept in view despite of provocations; this policy will in the end produce broad and sound national unity. As the Southerners find that the republic brings them prosperity tb<jy will, little by little, one by one, beconn as loyal as the people of other sections. FINANCIAL CONDITION. In Naples and Syria I have seen more beggarly communities than the South, but never one more bankrupt. Judging from what I learned in my own district I should say that the great majority of planters owed to the full extent of their property, and that, but for stay-laws and stay-orders, all Dixie would have been brought to the hammer without meeting its liabilities. When I left Greenville there were something like a thousand executions.awaiting action; and, had the Commanding General allowed their collection, another thousand would have been added to the docket. I have known land to go at auction for a dollar and twelve cents an acre, which before the war was valued, I was told, at seven or eight dollars the acre. Labor was equally depreciated, able-bodied men hir ing out at seventy-five cents a day it tney iouna themselves; at twenty-five cents if found by their employers. The great mass of the farmers could not pay even these wretched wages, and were forced to plant upon shares, a system unsuited to a laboring class so ignorant and thoughtless as the negroes. It seemed unjust that debts should retain their full valuation when all other property was thus depreciated. Yet I doubt the practical wisdom of the stay-orders. I think it would have been better to let the whole row of staggering bricks go over; then every one would have known where he was, and industry would have resumed its life. As it was, there was a prolonged crisis of bankruptcy, in which neither debtor nor creditor dared or could take a step. It was a carnival of Micawberism; hundreds of thousands of people were waiting to see what would turn up; they were living on what remained of their property without working to increase it; why should they accumulate when the creditor might seize the accumulation? This financial and moral paralysis was fostering dishonesty. People who had in other days been honorable descended to all sorts of trickeries, in the hope of saving property whioh did not seem to be covered by the stay-orders. I was teased with applications to use my authority in preventing the collection of debts, the administration of estates, and the levying of taxes. In short, the stay-system was transforming the chivalrous Southrons into a raoe of?Micawbera. There would have been more hope in the future or my district but for the exhausted soil and the wretched agriculture which had been bequeathed to it by slavery. Land which, under proper cultivation, will produce two generous crops a year, had been reduced, by lack of manure and of management, to one crop, varying from ten to two bushels the acre. The oommon plow-share of the country is about six inohes wide by ten long, and this is used until it is worn into what is called a "bull-tongue," a phrase which aptly describes its shape and size. This triviality does not turn a furrow; it scratches the earth like a harrow. Here and there, at monstrous intervals, a planter AT?*1. ?A n rv lrial UU3CO MUIUIOIU ^iuno kOUU uiauui?| gdbUVitug uiu forty and eighty bushels of corn to the acre. His neighbors look on frith astonishment, bat withoat imitating him, as if his results were magic, and beyond merely human accomplishment A German colony, planted at Walhalla, in the northwest era corner of South Carolina, has converted a tract of some thousands of acres into a garden of fertility. Among their Anglo-Saxon neighbors you cannot discover a sign of their influence. What is to become of this bull-tongued and bull-headed race ? I sometimes thought there was no hope of the physical regeneration of the South until immigration should have rooted out and replaced its present population. In this same land numberless water privileges send their ungatbered riches to the sea, and the earth is crowded with underground palaces of mineral wealth. The climate, too, is unrivalled; the summer heat in Greenville was rarely too great for walking, its highest point being usually eightyfour ; while the winter brought at the worst twd oc tnree iaus 01 snow, wrnca meicea in two or laree days. Neither in Europe, nor along the shores of the Meditteranean, have I found a temperature which, during the year round, was so agreeable and healthful. You can see what it is in the remarkable stature of the men, and in the height, fullness of form, and beauty of the women. My impression is that the entire Alleghany region, from Maryland down into the North of Georgia, is a paradise for the growth of the human plant If bodily comforts and intellectual pleasures existed there, I should advise all New England to emigrate to it Yet it is poorer than Naples, and before the war it was not richer. So much for the political economy of the chivalrous Southron, and so much for his rule-or-ruin statesmanship, and, in one word, so much for slavery! SOUTHERN LOYALISTS I class the loyalists of my district under the head of "semi-chivalrous Southrons," because, being seldom large planters or even slaveholders tney ao not exhibit aH the oharaoteristics of the "high-? toned" population. They are mostly -small faruK ers, inhabiting tbe mountains of Pickens and of a certain portion of Greenville known as the Dark Corner. I did not always find it easy to distinguish them from rebels. One gaunt old female laid claim to Bureau rations on the double ground that she was a good Union woman, and that she had lost two sons in the Confederate army. This story was so contradictory that I believed it, remembering first that truth is often more improbable than falsehood ; and, second, that many loyal families saw their children carried off by rebel press-gangs. These poor, uncultured, and, in some cases, halfwild people have always been true to the United States Government. In the days of Nullification, and in other subsequent disunion excitements, when Governor Perry, (or, as they called him, Ben Perry) fought a great fight against Calhounism, they were his firmest supporters, and regarded him with something like adoration. As a Greenvilleitc said to me, "They believed they would go to him when they died." "But ?ow," in the words of one of their patriarchs, "Ben Periy has fallen from the faithand consequently the mountaineers have deserted him in a body, and stigmatize him as "the biggest reb agoing.'' One of the prime staples of the Republican speeches which I heard in that region was the showing up of the apostacy of this distinguished *'central monkey." THE MOUNTAINEERS DURING THE WAR. It is certain that the tnajority of the able-bodied men of tbe mountains were eventually bullied or dragged by main force into the rebel army. They songht to remain loyal; there is no reasonable doubt of that; but the conscription details were too much for them. Long lines of videttes were run clear through the mountains, and the distances between the Hnes were traversed by relentless patrols. Men who fled on being summoned to surrender were sbot at once ; they were massacred in. their own door-yards, in the presence of their families. It must be understood that by the Conscription Act, every male Southerner was placed on the roll of the Confederate army, and thus was constituted a deserter in case he failed to repair to the depot of the regiment to which he had been assigned. It was nominally as deserters, and not as Unionists, that these victims were murdered. The rebel authorities even used blood-hounds to aid their troops in scouring the refractory mountains. "But that didn't amount to much," said a stalwart old mountaineer to me with a chuokle. "The dawgs would run ahead yelping, and the boys would take a crack or two at 'em with a rifle, and that would be the end of the dawgs." It took at least two lowlanders to catch one highlander, and when caught he was very nearly worthless as a soldier. He seldom fired a gun at the Yankees; if there was a chance to desert he improved it; if he got back to his native rocks, he was a bigger pest than ever. Nearly all the youth of the Dark Corner were, at one time or another, chased into the rebel army, without doing it a particle of benefit Meantime, the elders of the mountains harbored such of our men as escaped to them from Columbia or Andersonville, and acted as guides in running them through the rebel lines to Eastern Tennessee. Several of them have shown me certificates to this effect, from Union officers whom they had thus befriended. "I tell you this paper was a mighty big scare to me as long as the war lasted," said a stooping, meagre farmer, in a threadbare suit of homespun. "If it had been found on me it would have cost me my life. I walked five miles and back for an auger to bore a hiding hole. I bored the hole in one of the inside beams of my house, put the certificate into it, and then drove a wooden hat-pin on top of it. The very next day thar was a reb detail along to search me for signs of Yankees.? They looked me all through, but they didn't find nothin'. The captain hung his cloak up on that very hat-pin. When I see that, stranger, I could hardly help a-smilin'." Solomon Jones, the Union patriarch of the mountains, a tali, robust, florid, hale man of over sixty, as alert and healthy as humanity can be at thirty, a kindly, generous, fair-minded, Honorable though uncultured spirit, was persecuted during the war as the upright are persecuted in evil times. He was hunted from His house ; he lay out for i weeks in forests, fed in secret hy his fiunDy and i friends; caught at last, he tfas thrown into Green- i ville jail with felons. His sole erinie oonsisted ha speakingagainst arebel government and &r the i government of his country. To the honor of Mr. 1 Perry it most be mentioned that he procured the f liberation of martyr, nnd that ha declared,, x with his accustomed courage i "Jf Jones deserves ~ prison I dssetvn it^/or he ha* said no more than r L" To the bank credit of the Governor it rirast 1 be added that be charged and oolleoted a hundred i dollars for the service. However, there were few men in the Sonth who would have had tba will or * the fearlessness to do it at any price. 1 A PLANTER UNIONIST. _ ) He was not amoontaineer, bat fired a few miles 6 from tbe base of the bills, where be owned thou- { sands of acres of fat bottom and fair upland. His ^ beard of a day'B growth showed grizzly, bat his ' hag dark brown hair had scarcely a trace of silver. ] Unlike the majority of the lengthy-limbed popula- 1 don of the- Mesghacy slopes,.he was short and * broadly built His face was very red, and his eyes 1 a little bloodshot He bore unmistakable signs of * being a regular and by no means stingy drinker of his own excellent white whiskey. Bat he was an c honest, worthy, generous, hospitable, honorable 3 nature. I had heard of him, and of his tribe and ( set, as determixjed Cnioniata. Loopers and Dor- ? hams. "Gualandioon Siamondi e Lanfranchi." 1 Yet stubborn as they were, the Confederacy had " known how to make them bend. "My son went into their army, " he said to me. ? "It was go in or he shot" J never went in. I c furnished a substitute, and did everything 'under ,? God's heaven to escape it Yet they were always J after me. I was open-mouthed. Every body c knew what Looper thought t > fur. 1 "They took every oow I had, ourse me.if they 1 didn't! One day. a party of twenty came, with a 1 lieutenant at their head. I saw them at my bam, 0 and went out to meet them. Said they,. 'Hove 4 you any claim on these cattle?' Says ? 'By?, ? they are mine.': Says they, 'We are going to take ' them for the Governments help canyon the war.' ( .Qooo T {TfJo a /lam trri/iL-a/1 txrov an/1 tjati am a /lam t set of fools for trying it.' Says,the Lieutenant, 'You say another word, and wo'11 Jiang you to the next tree.' 'By -?, you may hang me,' sayal; 'but as long as I live you can't shut my mouth.' I tell you I cursed them as long as they staid. If you doubt- what sort of a man I am, ask any body in Piekens District. Every body knows me. Every body knowp what Looper is. "Ah, those dam scoundrels have robbed me cruelly 1 Every one of my cattle, and every horse ' except an old broken-down critter! But it can't be helped now. My son never went in your army, but he dpne service for your side; he has helped your, runaways through the lions. There was Adjutant Johnson; write to him if.you don't believe it Write to Captain Bray; he knows us. * ; "And now they' ve got my son, jnst for killing s dam rebel named Miller, who was passing himself off for the bushwhacker Largent, and insulting our women and children?just for shooting that dam . scoundrel they've got him shut up in the penitentiary, daree mt if tbey havwr'tl Why* shy*hat Milter had been threatening to plunder moand kill me for harboring your men. He knew about my ways; eyery body knows Looper. My doors had been broken in by the bushwhackers two nights before. I suppose I came near being shot That was a way they had: make a noise at your door, perhaps call you to it; theu if you opened it, fire L Off rides the bushwhacker in the dark, and nobo- s dv ever knows who it is. More than a docen men < in our district have been killed that way. : I "I've got up a petition for my son's release. < He ought not to be shut up there with thieves I and rascals. He's as amiable and good and gen- I tlemanly a boy of his age as there is, I don't care < where. I'll show you the paper." < The document had a long list of signers, many i of them, to my surprise, leading secessionists, i But Looper was a man of property, influence, j energy and courage; and when Southern publio I feeling does not forcibly rid itself of such an antagonist it will treat him fairly. If it does not blow j his brains out; it will Bubecribe his petitions. It i has a certain martial respect for a couragous oppo- j nent. ; ( SOUTHERN INDIVIDUALITY. " 1 Whether chivalrous or semi-chivalrous, the | Southerner has more individuality of character i than the Northerner, and is one of the most inter- | esting, or, at all events, one of the most amusing, | personages on this continent, if not in the world. | He has salient virtues, vices, and oddities; he has > that rich, practical humor which is totally unconscious of being humoristic; he in the gravest manner decorates his Kfe with ludicrous and romantic ( adventures; in short, he is a prise for the aneedo- ' tist and novelist Dixie has thousands of high- J toned gentlemen who suppose themselves to be f patterns of solemn and staid sobriety, but who * would be fit to associate with the Caxtonsand Doc- a tor Riecabocca. In that land of romance yOu will * find Uncle Toby and Squire Western and 8ir Pitt a Crawley and Colonel Newcome and Mr. Pickwiok 4 and Le Chourineur, all moving in the best soeiety ' and quite sore they are Admirable Orichtons. t In what other part of the civilised earth would I a leading statesman write a ponderous political I work in dialogue, after the fashion -of the essays 1 of Plato and Cicero? Such a gusto of classical J imitation might possibly be found in a Harvard t Sophomore; but at the South we discover it hi an f ex-United States Congressman and ex-Vice Presi- 1 dent of the Confederacy. Alexander H. Stephens ^ is as redolent of Greeks and Romans, as verdant I with lore, as Keitt or Prior. y Where else oould you meet with such a curious I incarnation of the apostolio character as , 8 a planter by profession and habitude, but a preacher bj? mission ? He was a passionate religionist; if he met you iu the street he button-holed you * and vented upon you his dogmas; chance passers- I by were beckoned to until he had a circle; you ' listened because you dared not ran away. One 1 Sunday, exhorting in a little cross-roads church, ( and having been annoyed by two negroes stealing c ont of the house, he came to a solemn pause in his c service, and then spoke as follows: "Next Lord's v day I shall hold worship in this same place. I 1 - .... .,1 T -1 II _J J t shall bring my double-barrenea gun; jl smm buiuu that gun, brethren, in the pulpit, alongside of me; ^ and, if any man gets up and goes out while I am 0 preaching, by ! I'll shoot him." ' A half fuddled planter called on me one evening v and invited me out to a treat of stewed oysters. 0 The restaurant was the back room of a bakery; we sat on broken chairs, among sticky pans, spilled J flour, and loaves of dough; the oyster-dans were 11 opened with an old bowie-knife. When the stews a were before us, my friend observed: "Come, don't ' let's eat like savages. Major, can't you ask a * blessing?" As I declined, he pulled his broadbrimified felt from his muddled cranium and said graoe himself I knew a worthy old South Carolinian, bearing j a name of revolutionaiy notoriety, who would not r invest his money at high profits, holding that "six i per cent, my dear sir, is the interest of a gentle- a man." t I knew another worthy old person who raised a I set of white and a set of black children, treated i both with generosity and affection, maintained ah f excellent character in his church, and died in the t odor of public esteem. 1 I knew a planter who, having said in a drunken t ?. : rn??!?1 area that he would sell his plantation for twenty iioWaaad dollars, would not revokehie words when ?ber, although it was worth thirty thousand. I knew of another planter who beat his beaatiW wife as long as he lived, and at his death willed ier a consnienftle property, oncondifionthat she ihould never quit the State, he knowing thltt her shiefest desire was to remote to the North. - I knew Southerners who taught their slaves to ead m spite of severe prohibitory Jaws, and who shored ibr their growth in morality and piety as nistionanee labor for theoonveiBioo of the heathen. Ilraewofa Lonisinakdy who flogged a negro * roman With her own hands until the sufferer's tack was a vast sore of bruised and bloody flesh- . Audacity, vehemence, recklessness, passion, * entiment, prejudice, vanity, whimwhams, absur" i -? ? i: t UOBS, culture, lgDOEBUUB, UUIUUUiW, WHVWUHii rhe individual has plenty of elbow-room, at the South; he kicks out of tbwlnoto with a freedom > tnkimwa to our rieady-pulhBg"society; heisabull 1 Mrs. Gnwdy'sohina-ahop. Strangest of all, he >elieves that he is Kke the rest of the worid, or, noreuctoretely, that the rest at the worid should >e like him. This remarkable personage, more striking in haraoter -and habits than the strange people thorn the Bronte girls brought out of the depths < >f Yorkshire, has hitherto found no worthy paintsr. Even Mrs. Stowe has hut faintly fetched wo or three Southern portraits: a Loniwaniin -Ae type of languid gentility, without A vice, rithoutfa shadow; a Virginian?the type' of well- ' red jollity and good-nature, without a riia-low; a field-preacher?shrewd, coarse, Humorous, ipd well enough. Her Eva is no more diatioetiyef Sbuthern than her Unde Tom is honestly Aftian. Her Mrs. St Clair I consider a.libeL.an.&e . iard-working, oarefal, Southern bowse wife and Distress of a plantation r- - : The chivalrous-Southron has been too pontfrely md authoritatively a poBtical power to get Mi redtmrilt in literature. People hare not describdhim; th^y hate felt driven to declaim about lim; they, hkve preached against him. Northern iens have not done justice to his virtues, nor Southern j>ens.to his vioes. . r-._ The aeeaeeee of Dim, produced under* mixed aspiration of uaraby-pambyism and provincial ranity, strong in polysyllables aftd feeble in perseption of character, deserve better thanUny other esults of human labor that I am aware of the naive epithet of "powerful weak." The novelist rvideotly has hut two objects in view; Pint, to . .? rt .1 .i. n _i? * jreaaat toe oouuiron as we aower ui g/tavui# , econd, to do soma .fine writing for his own glory. Dwo or three works by Kennedy and by the auhoress of "Marion Harkud" are the only exoepions to this rale. Not until the Southerners get id of some of their local vanity, not until they tease talking of themselves only in a spirit of selfiduktion, not until they drop the idea that they ire Remans and most write in the style of Cioero, rill (bey be able to ao paint their life as that the' world shall crowd to-see the picture. Meantime et us pray that a true Southern novelist may soon iriae, for he will be able to furnish us vast amnsenent and some instruction. His day is passing; n another generation his material will be gone;.. ;he "chivalrous Southron" will be as dead as the slavery that created him. How shall we manage this eccentric creature ? irVe have been ruled by him; we have fought him, >eaten him, made him captive; now what treatnent shall we allot him? My opinion is, that it would be good both for him and for as if we ihould perseveringly attempt to put up with his >ddities and handle him as a pet. He resembles ;he ideal white bears described in the "Pearl of Drr's Island"there ain't no kinder creetur in the whole world if you'll only get the right aide of rim." It is true that he has wanted to eat us, which is exasperating; it is true that he still talks )f eating us at some convenient season, which is ridiculous; hut I believe that he suffered too much in our late straggle to seriously think of renewing t: I hold that his war snorts are mere election jonoombe. A little letting alone, a little conciliation, a little lattery even, wouldsootbo him amazingly; and if initdd with good government would it the end be tore to reconstruct him as a quiet citizen and sound patriot The Republican party, while firm7 maintaining the integrity of the country and the peat results of the war'in the advancement of hunan freedom, ought to labor zealously for the proeverity of the South, treat tenderly its wounded pride, forget the angry past, be patient with the perturbed present, and so create a true, heart-felt rational unity. tap* There exists in countless numbers in the riv;rs of the northern part of South America a bloody ittle fish called the caribe, after the fierce Cambbee Indians. Humboldt, speaks of it as pue of the peatest scourges of the oountiy. A horse driven mm a fbrd where they are fbcmd is Bure to be itfacked, if there be on him a single raw spot made >y the spur, they instantly fasten updn the spot, ind in an incredibly short time-gnaw their way hrough to his entrails. Tire Waraum Indians, rho' five among the flooded lands of the delta of he Orinoco, and are obliged to place their huts on >osts driven into the water, without even a dry >laoe to bury their dead, have made these caribe* iseful for their funeral rites. According to Don iamon Paez, whose travels are lately published, hey tie the corpse to a stout rope, and hang it in he water, and in less than twenty-four hoars draw t out a perfectly clean skeleton. The canto have lone their work as thoroughly as any nnatonaoal jrepar&tor. All that the mourners BCW-hMlsio lo is to separate the bones, and pack themlnhaso^ gaudUy orn&mented with beads, placing the ikuU on the top as a lid to the funeral-urn. ['];; ? ? + Growth op Great Men.?Great minds maare slowly. It is not unusual to find that the eading men of oar day, or any other day, were rery unpromising boys. Daniel Webster, the acknowledged statesman of America, was notoriously lull when a boy, a poor scholar in college, and gra" WT * U _ luafced without honor, iiemy warn ueecner, in* lisputably the most popular divine in this country, ras a fourth-rate scholar when young, and com: ileted his studies without distinction, except on he playground. Robert Rantoul stood near the hot of his elaaB in college. Sir Walter Scott was ailed a dullard when a boy. Patrick Henry, those oratory stirred the hearts of the F. F.Y.'a, ras as stupid a boy to keep on the shady side f a tree, under which he would He, Hke an nntanking brute, the Hvelong day. How often are re startled to find that the dolt whom we pitied, f we did not deride, in our school dayB, is now the state lawyer, the drilled physician, the profound niter, or the princely merchant; leaving us, once lis superiors, wondering "Upon wiiat meat doe* thia ?OK Canr feed That he hatli frown so great i* Don't Eat at Night.?-A touch of the dys>epsia growing out of a pig's foot swallowed at nhlnight, baa changed a man's whole life, and an [regularity of the bile has made many an angel Imoet a fiend. If the gas trio juice is all right and he blood in swimming order, the world is a nice, night pleasant place, and from which nobody is in i hurry to move; but if in that queer, mysterious laid there is any alloy, the sky of fife is aH cloud, he winds howl and everything is dark and dismal [f you want to feel happy, look after your digesive and circulating systems.