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" . ' lkwism. grist, proprietor.! i|n litirqaakit JfainUg ftepttptr: Jfw % $rw?ti? of %. Initial, Steal, ^gricufto^anb Commraial $ntmsfe rf % Stantfj. !"' :;; .;, :;.T|KW---$po A lEl|^j,||i,JJlf4SI?,,; VOt. 10^ f YOEKVILLE, S. C., THUEsA&T, JANTJART: !37, 1870. ' . "' ' NO. 4_ scraps ?f ^ocal pstorg. Reminiscences of York. BY A SEPTUAGENARIAN. COLONEL WILLIAM HILL. ft The first iron works erected in the upper B part of the State stood on Allison's creek, the H . present site, I understand, of flourishing flour W mills and a carding factor)'. They were owned j 7 by William, Hill. These works were a most f important enterprise and an incalculable benefit to the whole vicinity. The loss of them when burnt by the tories of Ferguson's L command, was felt By farmers and soldiers of & the surrounding country, to be the bitterest F blow the enemy could have inflicted. The I, former knew not where to obtain the imple ments necessary to till the soi>, and feared j they might be forced to return to the wooden r plough. The latter missed the ordnance obtained from the forge to visit vengeance on T ? foe, who was daily harrassing their friends and country. So)> more than one good Presbyterian echoed ' Amen" to Elder John filler, who, when sometime after the event, i Jnn'Mul niHir with nil anlpmn fervof IT i/oiijg uuoii *ru w j I*?VM MV.V.M? .? . said: "Good Lord, our God who art in Hea- j ven, we have reason to thank thee for many furors received at thy hands, the many battles that we have won: There is the great and glorious battle of King's Mountain, where we kilt the great Gineral Ferguson and took his whole army; and the great battles of RamL seur's and Williamson's, and the ever-memoL rable and glorious battle of the Coyperw, N [Cowpens] where Ye made the proud Gineral ' Tarleton run doon [down] the road helterskelter; and good Lord, if ye had no" suffered the cruel tories to burn Belly Hells [Billy k Hill's] iron-works, we would no! have asked k ony map favors at thy hand. Amen." B Hill was a staunch Whig from the beginf ning of the contest He and Neal were elected the Colonels of a regiment from York. (It was then required of each regiment to have two officers of that grade). He was, throughout the war, an active patriot He ? fought at Williamson's where Houck was defeated and killed; bore .a most conspicuous a part in our effort at Rocky Mount, and the I gallant incident I now relate, had it been perW formed by Putnam or some other Yankee hero, would have been chronicled in every common-school reader in the United States. Our men had, after three attempts, driven the garrison of CoL Trumbull's New York tories into some log houses which served them as a fort, from which our men could not dislodge them by assault for want of artillery. Gen. Sumter conceived the plan of "fighting the devil with fire," and called for two men * . ? mi 1 as a toriorn nope to execute iu me voiuu- : teers for A is desperate service were Colonel William ^Hill and Adjutant Jemmy Johnson. The duty was to run to a large rock which slood within the abatis, each carrying tf an armful of light-wood. When they reach1 ed this rock, they could screen themselves behind it safely, and from thence throw the lighted wood on the roof of a building adjoining the log fort. One hundred yards did these brave men run in the face of the enemy,, the guns of the latter bearing directly on them the whole distance. They gained the j desired shelter unhurt Hill watched the j .ensBijt while Jfohnson ignited . pine and! threw the burning brands on the top of the , nearest house. The tories soon perceiving , their design, a detail sallied' forth and drove i, tnem from their position. They ran back to , our lines, not under the fire of the port-holes only, but that of the detachment that had come out against^them. A merciful Providence surely protected them; for their clothes were riddled with bullet-holes, and even locks of hair cut from their heads, yet they were < unscathed. A heavy rain falling, extinguish- j. i ' ed the flames thus hazardously Kindled, and ) I Sumter ordered the firing to cease, gave up J F the attempt, and fell back to Landsford. , j m At the hard-fought battle of "Hanging): Rock," Colonel Hillboreapajt, and received .; , 1 a wound in the wrist. In fact, he and his j i regiment were under General Sumter to the ! end of the Revolution, and shared in all his j i stirring campaigns, always enjoying the entire j j confidence and affection of the "Game Qock." j j History still owes to the memory of Colonel < William Hill an important debt, for though j < named in her records, his sacrifices and efforts ,; iu the great cause of freedom have never yet \ j received their due meed of praise. Well may i the shades of our partizan leaders cry? : i "He that doth public good to the-uiultiiude j < Pinda few are truly fateful.y j I hope a biography of this valuable Re vol u- j; uuiiaij juciu may joi uc uiiwaju, iui r'uitij . j the incident of Rocky Mount alone would (, constitute him one, without the many other , deeds of valor which wreathe the laurel for ft his brow. I am able to give but a meagre \ W outline. My materials are too imperfect and j ( faulty?my memory too treacherous, for me to ] F touch but lightlv the theme. Neither does it j ] come within tne scope of these "Reminis- ' j ences" to undertake so arduous a task. I there-; j fore leave it to those who come after me to do ! < the "noble Roman" justice: j ( After the Act of 1785, establishing the, i County Courts, he was elected one of the seven j t Judges. By the act of 1791, when the num-:, her of County Court Justices was reduced to 1 1 three, William Hill, Alexander Moore and j j John McLanahan "were elected by joint! ( nomination by the Senate and House of Rep- j, resentative8," and administered the law for years; and I do not remember to have ever ;, heard, in after days, a complaint of wrong m-eived at their hands, while occupying this In 1799 the County Court system was abol-! ished, and the people showed their affection 1 ? for and confidence in Colonel Hill, by sending him as one of their representatives to I the General Assembly. * He was a man of strong native talent, with few early advantages, shrewd acuteness, and a firm integrity of purpose. He was a man of wealth, amassed mostly by his own energy. The much-lamented iron-works were rebuilt by him after the war, and were a source of considerable revenue. I remember him "in the sere and yellow leaf"?when he 1 was above seventy years, but not showing 1 any great infirmity of age?a thin old man of medium height. He was then in York ville on a visit of either pleasure or business.1 He left four sons and two daughters. Gen eral D. H. Hill is a descendant, on whom the ' mantle of his grandsire has happily fallen. In his old age, Colonel Hill wrote a history ! of Sumter's campaigns, but it was never pub- i lished. I have seeu the MSS. The events ! are well told, and if prejudice ran high toward some parties, in some pages, perhaps he i / knew bettei than others of what he wrote. In consequence of some of the allusions con-1 tained in the manuscript, his heirs considerately prevented its publication. He died on his plantation, at the iron works, and is buried in Bethel grave-yard. ALEXANDER MOORE. Alexander Moore, of whom I have spoken as one of the colleagues of Hill in 1791, was the son of James Moore and Rachel Black, his wife. They were among the original i Scotch-Irish settlers of York. Alexander | was born in Pennsylvania, being a child several' vears of age when his father removed to this ' State. He was the eldest of a large family 1 of girls and boys. His parents, though poor, I determined, as was quite common with the early Presbyterians, to educate one of their sons for the ministry. Naturally, the election fell on their first-born for these ad vanfc. tages. He was early sent to "the larnin," and had all the opportunities of education that early period afforded. A natural taste for literature, united with a good mind, made him a hard student, and, for his times, a very finished scholar. He graduated at the College at Charlotte, North Carolina, about the beginning of the Revolutionary war, felt no calling to preach, and the contest waging between the Colonies and the mother country seemed to indicate to him the line of present duty. His father, too, being a good Whig, as were all the Scotch-Irish, saw his country's need, and was reconciled to the abortion of his long-cherished desire, by his sou's volunteering to serve his country. Young Moore joined Colonel Lacey's partisans, and became the intimate personal friend of that gallant officer, the length and strength of whose attachment,. an anecdote, which I have often heard, will show: my Years after the war, on one occasion, Moore was a candidate for the Legislature from *? Pinckney district. Lacey, at the polls ins Chester, would, station himself at a convenient spot, and as men approached, would enquire for whom they intended to vote. If for the opponent of Moore, Lacey would try his powers of pereuasion; and being a man of pleasant address, and personal popularity, often, by this means, would turn the tielcet. But not succeeding this wise, he would roundly swear he'd whip any man that didn't vote for Alee Moore." His bravery and vigor were so well known, few cared to test them, and he carried his point and his friend's election at that precinct Mr. Moore was one of the brave little b&nd of patriots who attacked Houck at Williamson s, where our men killed the Philadelphia lawyer and routed his command completely, with hardiv one man to his three. In the division of the spoils, a very fine gray mare fell to the share of Alexander Moore, which he rode many a day in the rounds with Lacey's "Rangers." In 1781 (I think) he was elected a lieutenant, and was in the command of the company that guarded the bridge at the battle?near Biggen's Church?of Jumby's Bridge. About 1783 he was elected Sheriff of Camden district, (under the constitution of 1778,) by the Senate and House of Representatives, to serve for two years. He waa re-elected to this office more than once.; In 1789 he declined are-nomination, and wassucceeded by Joseph Brevard, (afterward Judge Brevard) of Camden. In 1784 he married Miss Dorcas Ervin, and settled on "Big Fishing Creek," on a plantation now owned 1 ? ' * TT7M1! O D__ oy nis grana-son, >v luiam o. muure. um marriage he had four sons and four danghters. His wife died early and left him with a young and helpless family on his widowed 1 hands. She was a beautiful woman, and I remember being told by an old citizen, that in those days it was customary for ladies to accompany their husbands and brothers to the hustings; and at the elections she attended, she was always sure to win, by her popularity of manner, many a vote for her husband. After the death of his first wife, he bought a plantation from Edward Lacey, J father of the Colonel Lacey already alluded j to, twelve miles from Yorkville, (now owned by a grand-son, Alfred Moore), to which he ; removed. Soon after, he intermarried with ' Mrs. Catherine Marios. By this marriage 1 there was no issue. She survived him manj j years. i fin l-78{^Jw>4fwiis ax*4Hvi*date from district for the General Assembly, but was beaten. The cause of his defeat shows the devotion of our early people to their pastors. While a candidate, Mr. Moore had, on some occasion that required it, expressed freely hia; opposition to the Rev. Mr. McC^nna remain- i ing in charge of the Bethesda church, of which congregation he was a member, from j the habitual indulgence of the preacher in' drunkenness. . Relations, friends and neigh-j bors, held up their hands in pious horror, fo;; speak evil of the Lord's annointed was a>; heresy beyond their ken, and were Alee Moore twice as near and dear, they could i not send such a man to represent them in the Legislature. Thus, his own sections of Ches-1 ter and York failed him, and he was left out i Before the election for new members came, i the minister had too evidently fallen from , Krace for his flock to be blind to his fault;. for one day, when intoxicated, he had ascend- i ?d the pulpit to try and perform his sacred offices. Li the*revulsion of feeling, "that Moore was right and they were wrong," to re-1 pair that wrong, to a man, they came forward i Mid voted for him on the next election. This, j united with the forcible style of his friend, j General Lacey, secured him a seat by a large majority. In 1792, he, with Hill and McLanahan, were elected the three County Court Justices for York county?afterward i oalled "district." They continued in office < until 1799, when these Courts were abolished, i He was sent again that year to the Legisla-. iure, and in 1800 was elected Ordinary, that 1 uffice being then established. This position , be held till his death, keeping his office at I bis plantation, where he lived, twelve miles | from the village; but for the convenience of! tw\nlo hIuavr snendinp Court week and i ***? /~ -i o jale-days at the Court House. He was often j called on to j>erfonn the marriage ceremony, i smd I recall a scene I witnessed at his house j sixty-five years ago, and relate it to show how j a "big wedding" was managed in those days:! Between ten and eleven o'clock in the morn- j iug, some of the party descried a cavalcade' of apparently thirty-five *or forty persons, coming up the big road which ran past Mr. | Moore's residence. In front rode two men, and then behind them, two and two, two and two, a gentleman and lady; the entire crowd paired off, and thus strung out, magnified j their appearance and presented as an impos-1 iug a spectacle as possible. As they drew j near enough to distinguish faces, the Moore's i recognized, in the first gentlemen and lady, j a couple who were to be married that day, J and though no warning had been given knew ' the meaning of the escort. About one hun-' dred yards from the house, the procession halt- j ed. The foremost, riders, who were the "hot- > tie carrier*," turned their horses and rode ; back the whole length of the line (one on the ' left the other on the right), stopping at each j couple, beginning of course with the bridal pair, presenting simultaneously to each lady . and her escort the bottle of whisky; this everyone biased in turn, all remaining quiet, j reining in their restive steeds till the "creature comfort" was partaken of by all, and the carriers resumed their places in front. This evolution accomplished, the "goodlie" 1 n company muveu un. much i.icj nuc ... front of the house they entered the large gate and rode around the house three times, the men firing off pistols, loaded with powder,at which the horses of the ladies, as well as those of the gentlemen, would rear and pitch ; but female equestrians of that day were not easily thrown, and no accident occurred to mar the pleasure of the occasion. After completing the circle of the house, each time, there would he a pause, for the "bottle carriers" to make their rounds. The third time, they dismounted, hitched their horses, formed, and came into the house. Squire Moore went forward to the piazza to receive them. They announced their desire for him to marry the candidates for the holy state. He invited them in and without delay performed the ceremony with due solemnity. After which?the bridal party, being almost all of them acquaintances and neighbors?the tables and chairs were cleared out of the hall. Some one among them being a musician had brought his instrument, and then commenced what would be literally "the light fantastic toe" to the present generation. The pifjeon-wings and flying-sh vfile*, tramped to the merry measure of the fiddler's highland-fling and Irish-jig? "Nae cotillion brent frae France, But horn pin es, jigs, strathspeys, reels, Put life ana mettle in their heels till dinner hour approached. Then they began to make their arrangements for leaving. Of course the Squire must accompany them to the feast at the residence of the groom's mother. At first he declined, but as it was only about two miles he consented to go; with this, and some other accession to their numbers, they remounted and fell into line. The "bottle carriers," with flasks replenished, again handed the exhilarating beverage to all, three cheers were given for the new married folks, and away they cantered with meri . 'i t t t \1 !_ * iA_ i- _ ry Hearts ana gooa nppennres to partaae 01 the abundan| cheer prepared by old Mrs. Brown. ->?? "How ridiculous 1" does some young maid,en exclaim ?, In three generations from now /Mil.notonjr fasltions be as outre? What think you would your great grand-dames feel, were tliey to glancein at a modern party and see you whirling by, with'some gay cavalier, in one of the favorite round dances ? I hope the girls in a good time coming, will not only cry, at the description of them, "Howabsurd; but how disgusting!" Squire Moore was a man always before the people, and filled the various offices of trust reposed in him, with ability to his State, and satisfaction to the community. His manners were urbane and his hospitality unbounded. He had a fine person, commanding, almost stern appearance, and was one of the few men of his day who always wore a black broad cloth suit, ruffled shirt and high-topped beaver hat. He had some peculiar religious notions, but was orthodox in his faith, and died a triumphant death in the sixty-third year of his age. He was buried in the Bethel graveyard, of which church he had for years been a member. . [to be continued.] jm. * rv/ j jui ?tigmai Written for the Yorkviile Enquirer. Edith Egerton ; OR, THE UNCLE'S WILL. BY MRS. M. A. RIPLEY, Auihoren ofJ'Ellen Campbell; or, King's Mountain," etc. CHAPTER VI. It was early in the mellow month of October, when our party wended their way u_p the western slope of the Blue Ridge. Charlie, as usual, was dividing his time with praiseworthy impartiality, between the occupants of the carriage, and of Vernon's unexceptionable tete-a-tete, as he persisted in calling the comfortable traveling conveyance of the latter. "Miss Edith," said "Vernon, reigning His horses to allow the party to pass, "take a seat with me, and let me have the pleusure of giving you your first view of the Peaks of Otter. Belle has been pouting over my nonchalance, or absorption for the last hour, and will readily exchange my dull humor for the lively companionship of Miss Dora." "Pray, is Edith to profit by the exchange ?" said Belle, archly, as Charlie, anticipating Vgpnon, *praug,Ji^fciy from hi&> ?, to assist her ; "or are you actuated by an unselfish desire for my pleasure ?" "Miss Edith will give me the inspiration you have failed to impart," replied Vernon, smiling hi his turn, "and I am too generous to deny you a pleasure that was beyond my power to communicate." Edith laughingly assented, as Charlie presented Belle, and anxiously inquired if the vacation of her place in the carriage would not necessarily call for two to fill it. "Your compliment is too questionable to admit of reply," said Edith, "but I leave to Dora the task of clipping the wings of your ambition." Throwing the reins of his horse to the footman in attendance, Charlie sprang into the carriuge, vowing it was nobler to suffer for temerity, than to shrink ingloriously from conflict. Mr. Gordon called to Mrs. \ ere to leave the rash youth to the judgment he deserved, and seek peace with him in his quiet vehicle. Mrs. Vere's usual placidity was, however, seriously disturbed as she descended from the carriage, by Charlie's whispered "My dear Madam, if I had only the good fortune to be a Turk, how inexpressibly happy this arrangement would have made me; but being simply a Christian, imagine my chagrin and despair." Her look of interrogative perplexity was met with an emphatic "Depend upon it, lurks and heathens generally, are never troubled by the perplexing doubts which vex a Christian soul. They accept the good the Gods provide, without dispute or question." The roguish twinkle in his eyes, was increased to merriment by her expostulatory, "Now, Charlie, if you talk in that wild way to the girls, I shall, positively, separate you." . "Charming! dear Mrs. Vere, and so settle the vexed question. But which will you leave? Alas! to think my problem can be solved only by the loss of its richest, most beautiful, or tenderest component." Laughing merrily at the puzzled expression of Mrs. Vere's face, he doffed his hat in passing, crying "The Mecca of my hopes is almost attained, and I will be hapny in my own way, in spite of all Christendom !" Driving on as rapidly as the ascent would permit, the carriage, with its lighthearted occupants, was soon out of sight. Mr. Gordon followed, at a more sober pace, with his buggy, and very leisurely Vernon brought up the rear. It was near sunset, and who would not linger an autumn sunset among the mountains ? Vernon was constantly reining his horses, to point out different views that a vista in the forest would, again and again, open. At an immense distance below, a champagne country stretched away, far as the eye could reach, till the line of the horizon was lost in mist. Threading this country, like silver lines, were streams winding through field and woodland, and dotted over its surface were soft Lorraine pictures of hamlet, homestead and mill. Kising till the blue above minified with the blue be low, the unique forms of different mountainswere visible, and beyond, dimmer and dimmer, the pale, cloudy outlines of the Alleghanies oouM be discerned. Immediately in front, rose the South Peak of the Otter, a lofty symmetrical cone, whose sharp, forked apex, . was yet gilded by the rays of the setting sun, while its base was enveloped in misty shadows. As the sun sank, it no longer shed long, bright, golden rays, but intercepted by clouds, : it quivered, variable and misty, till the shadJ ows below mingling with the shadows above | hid the Peak, in gathering gloom, from sight | "We must hurry on," said Vernon, roused by the unmistakable signs ; "the Peak look* gloomy in the gathering twilight; his Majesty | is nursing wrath, and will spend it on om j heads if we do not soon seek shelter." As he spoke, a slight turn in the road re vcaled a mountain cabin. The beating of c loom could be distinctly heard, and a buxom looking woman was making an alto accompa nimeht to its deep bass monotone, in the music of her spinning wheel. A young girl sat 1 carding in the doorway, and uodded pleasant lv to the travelers as they passed, while a par ty of rosy cheeked children arose from theii play in the sand, to gaze in unqualified admi ration. "Those people possess more than an ordina j rv share of the home-bred virtues," remarket 1 fidith, as they passed. I "From what do you argue f" questioned ; Vernon. "From the order and neatness of the surI roundiugs, the simple courtesy of the inmates, and the unmistakable marks of natural refine; ment evidenced in their love of flowers," she ! replied. "Did you not notice the artistic arrangement of thai hop-arbor, the vine-clad i porch and the turf-bordered beds, with their i still flowering chrysanthemums ?" . "I confess that I was not so observant of the minutiae of the arrangements as you appear i to have been," said Vernon, "but I did not tail to notice the well-ordered barn-yard, with its thriving milk mothers, and good stock of poultry, which so plainly bespoke the management and care of the owner. But what have we here ?" said he, as the stroke of a hammer on an anvil were heard. "Some of old Tubal Cain's music ? And there is 'the smithery and forge,' and right stalwart fellows to work it withal." . ? i. .1 ? i. a. j j A slight descent DEOUgni mem to tne uuui of {a rudely-constrifofcd blacksmith's shfcp. Several brawny-cheated fellows wfere engaged at work on a wagon; and one broad-shoulders athlete was stooping in the act of shoeing a horse, while a young lad stood near assisting. The threatening aspect of the weather had increased considerably since the first tokens appeared, and Vernon stopped for a moment, to ask if there was a nearer way than the open road to the celebrated "Otter Peaks Hotel."'J "You might have saved a couple of miles by turning off a bit below this," said the lad gazing at Edith', "but there's nothing for it now, out to keep on." "We are not more than three miles from the hotel, are we?" questioned-Vernon. "A good five of them a clear day," replied the lad, looking knowingly at the sky, "but old Otter ain't apt to let folks travel when his dander's up, and I'm thinking he'll be awful mad to-night." While this brief dialogue was progressing, the task of shoeing was completed, and the young fellow, who had been so engaged, throwing an arm over the neck of the horse, looked curiously at Vernon and his outfit "Let him hold his wrath for a brief hour and we will dare him to do his worst," replied Vernon. "I would not ask so much time as that, but I fear there is a gravel, or something foreign in the foot of my near horse, which has caused him to limp for the last half hour; My friend," said he, addressing the curious gazer, "will you oblige me by looking? I will save time by attending to it." The man, without remark, immediately went round to the'side where Edith was sitting, and who had been partially shaded, by Vernon. ? - - " * i i ii .Lilting the .loot 01 tne noree, ne curoy sniu, "the shoe will have to come off." "We will not wait, then," replied Vernon, impatiently. Thank you, my friend, we will drive on." The young blacksmith gazed eagerly aud curiously at Edith, who was watching his ! movements with considerable interest; she | smiled pleasantly and bowed. An answering i smile, and a gesture of apology answered her, as doffing his hat, he bent his head to her in ; passing. j "Fine looking fellow," remarked Vernon ; "I have seldom seen a fitter subject for a picture than he made while standing in that nonchalantly picturesque attitude during our conversation. But hark ! can that be thunder ? ' Old Otter's growls are ominous?we must press j on*" ^ V p> ' > * t ?i A vivid flash of lightning was the almost i immediate answer, followed by a crash that : seemed to rend the mountain, i "What say you, Miss Edith?" said he, j "sliall we return and seek shelter in the cabin?" . I "Certainly not," replied Edith, who did not j at all like the idea of being separated from her companions. "We can accomplish the ; distance in an hour, aud the thought of a lit! tie drenching is not insupportable." ! "I only fear for you," replied yernon, "and | blame myself that I did not sooner note the threatening signs." ' "I do not think you are to be blamed," rej plied Edith, gaily; "we have been taken at ; disadvantage, and Otter has acted u'ngener| ously, unlike a king, to hold out with charms ' of rich and gorgeous sunset, only to betray I into gloom and storm. And see, the light i squadrons of skirmishers are upon us, and the j big drops betoken the advance of the grand 1 army." As she spoke, the rain began to fall in drops I like bullets, slowly, as if in warning of the torrents in check. Vernon now urged his horses to their utmost, up the toilsome ascent. { The air changed and chilled. There was a | confused, hollow sound amid the trees, darki ness gathered thick and fast; at intervals, ili luminated bv a vivid flash. There was a por' ... % ? , i .1 ri tentoue lull lor a lew moments, ana men?usnered by. a crash that roused wild echoes from a thousand lairs, the storm was abroad in the ! mountains. ' Vernon's horses, mettlesome at all times, j became almost frantic from fright, and it was I with the greatest difficulty he controlled them. ' Indeed, with hands benumbed, and gloves satI urated, he felt it almost impossible even to i guide them. They had progressed scarcely a mile, when a vindictive tiash, followed by a ! crash like the thunder of an avalanche, caused ! them to spring in such terror as to snap the | pole of the bug^y. The accident saved them j from the more dangerous one of an overturn, j and Vernon, whose presence of mind rarely | deserted him, was, in a moment, at the heads : of the frightened animals, soothing them into i submission. "Here is a chapter of accidents to be sure," ! said he, "and the very pertinent question fob j lows?what now ?" | "I do not at all "Vuind the walk," replied : Edith, hastily, "and I propose we shall still | press on." j "Impossible, Miss Edith," he replied, peremptorily but courteously, "I have noticed foi j the last half hour, that we are getting still deeper into the heavily timbered woods. Il would be a tempting of Providence ; besides i j the darkness makes the passage of these moun. j tain streams no longer safe. We must return." i Edith saw that the further prosecution ol their journey was no longer practicable, and ' yielding at once, she prepared to return. 11 The rain fell in torrents, and Vernon, who ; was leading both horses, could give her little assistance. But Edith's step was both firm and sure, and nothing daunted by the difficul | ties of her path, spite of torn dressand soaked , j feet, she combated heroically with the ele, j ments without a murmur. A weary, as well ! as dangerous walk of an hour, brought them ,1 to the shop, which was still dimly lighted with , i its charcoal fire. The noise of the storm was i such, that the occupants were not conscious oi , I their approach, till a call from Vernon broughl , l them to the door. Vernon then requested j tlieni to take charge of his horses till he could > see the lady's comfort attended to, when he r | would return, as he feared one of the horses I had been injured by the snapping of the pole i and the other was now quite lame. No ex 1 postulation from Edith could change his de i' termination to see her safclv housed, thougl i , expressing herself as quite willing to be placed under the care of the old blacksmith or out ;1 of his sons. , i "Dear lady," said the old man, "but it's ? *' pity to see one like you, exposed on such r -1 night as this; and it's useless to offer you shel r ter here. John! Hunter! show the lady t( - the cabin, and tell the old woman to do th< best she can for her. But stay, Jack, I'll neec - you about the horses. Hunter, my man, you'l 1 go and show the gentlefolks the way." i Without demur or remark, the young ath lete strode before them; and in a few moments J they were ushered into the cabin. Yernoorafter a few hurried charges respect- j ing her comfort, returned to His horses, while j Edith was conducted, amid exclamations and | eiaculationsj in every variety of the gamut, to toe loft above. The warm-hearted country girls-could find nothing too good for the lady who Accepted so cheerfully the inconveniences of her situation, and who seemed so anxious to save tKem trouble. Emptying the different receptacles of holiday garments, Edith was at length fitted to a blue cotton skirt with a crimson flannel waist Her own handker' chief, with its delicate lace border, was carelessly knotted around her throat Her hair, still damp from the recent moisture, was only partially confined by a bright scarlet net, with golden beads interwoven in its meshes. There wareourfteflScnltv about the shoes, which was at last settled "by discovering that & pair of boots, belonging to one of the little fellows,, who hsd-j^Uheeii made happy by a present snugly as Cinderella s glass yRHMj!Ptautibn was^required to coine jadder-like stairs, but the descent Iwia ar>V>tnnliahpH in sftfptv and Edith .whose appetitTwos sharpened by her walk, as weli as by iba previous ride, was glad to see arrangements making for satisfying it Chicken?"were)jn process of frying, ham browning to the most delicate shade, while sundry ovens * -around the fire, betokened a forthcoming and bounteous meal. The hostess and her daughters were not-slow in preparation, and by the time Vernon entered, the supper was smoking on the tidily-arranged table. Edith met Vernon's look of surprised ad-, miration over her rustic toilette, witn a blushing consciousness, and turning1-in some embarrassment from a gaze that dwelt.ft, little longer than his usual courtesy permitted, she encountered the eager glance of a pair of dark, vivid, eloquent eyes, which almost startled her by their magnetic power. Smiling at the unsophisticated admiration of the youth: she slightly bowed as she passed him to her seat at the table. Answering her smile as well as gesture, Hunter took the seat opposite, while Vernon placed himself at hersiae. The supper was unexceptionable, and our travelers aid ample justice to it; Edith winning"fhe h^ft of both host and hostess, hot only by h^rexpressed admiration of the bounties, jpqt Dy her unequivocal enjoyment of them. She was more than once, amused at the evident curiosity with which Hunter regarded her, although his eyes were always withdrawn when they encountered hers. The old man bantered him a little at the loss of his appetite, but replying, almost inaudibly, that he did not care for supper, he arose, In privileged country custom, and took his seat by the fire. The meal being over, Edith was asked if she would retire to her room, or sit with the family. 1 Disclaiming anything like fatigue, she re plied, she would much prefer sitting with them till theicjigual bed-time. A chair, was cheerfully placed for her, and while Vernon and their Host were chatting on interests, public and private, the female portion of the household, clustering arotind Edith, entertained her with many a.rustic tale of their different pleasures. ' Merrily they laughed and chatted, their busy fingers plying the bright needles in their socks and stodcings, while Edith, who knitted in tl*e rapVjAmian style, showed them she could f than -aiy of them. < The mother, who had been attending to some domestic work, at length interrupted th?n wijjh, "Come, girls, ain't it time the young la<^y resting? 'You'll excuse our plain arrangements, Miss, but the old. man aud I cannot venture up the loft stairs too often, so we have a little room off our living room, and Jack and Mr. Hunter, there, has the other; so there's nothing for it, but to put you up with tbrgirla." "A very good arrangement, certainly," replied Edith, "and one I do not feel at all disposed to quarrel with. The girls and I will get along finely." "Why, La!" cried the mother, "if yon havn't finished my sock. Well, that beats all! Why, girls, the young lady has taken two stitches to your one. But your tongues can beat your fingers any day, though they are right good girls to work,' she continued, apologetically. "There's my Nellie," said she, nodding toward a sprightly looking girl of about sixteen, "she can card and spin her eight cuts a day, with the best of them, and milk her cows, and run to a neighbor's for mother, if there's need, besides. And that minds mo, Nelljaof the poor black woman over the hillj, she's got no milk to-day." "No, mother," replied Nellie, "I took her enough .yesterday to last her through the day, and thought I would go again this evening, but the storm prevented me." "A.poor, sick negro woman," said the mother, replying to Edith's questioning look. "Quite a genteel old body, too, and so grateful for any little attention. She's a Yankee darkey, one of them free niggers, but her health not being good in New York, she said she thought she would come to the Virginny Springs, and work a season that she might, drink the waters. She did improve right sharp, she says, and was on her way home, but having some kin folk over in Liberty, she thought she would cross Otter and see them. But eare1 less driving upset her, and the poor thing has her leg broke." Edith's ready sympathies were very much excited, and the old lady went on to tell how 1 patiaatTy the sufferer bore her misfortune, and 1 also, how often she spoke of a Virginia lady, who would send her help, if she knew of her situation. "And, by-the-way, the lady has your name. I hear the gentleman call you Miss said, glancing at Vernon, "and talks constantly of Miss ""Betty !' exclaimed Edith; "not Betty Hare?" "That's the very name she calls herself 1" 1 exdlaimed the girls. ; "My dear old nurse!" said Edith, "she wrote , me of her failing health, and of her intention to visit the Springs this summer. I have been ' constantly trying to find her, and she as conP staptly eluded me, and now to discover her in , such condition. But I will not leave till I have seen her," said.she energetically; and > engaging Nelly to accompany her as soon as ! the roads became practicable, she called to i Vernon, who was still in earnest conversation with their host, acquainting him with her 1 decision. It was then resolved that if the storm, which I had now spoilt its artillery force of thunder i and lightning, but whose torrents still fell, was l abated in the morning, Vernon should go on i to relieve the anxieties of their friends, while f I Edith would remain till she could see Betty, : I and arranee matters for the comfort of the I I suffering woman. I When Edith had retired, Hunter, who had i beeif sitting silently, in a corner near their i party, with his hat drawn over his face, arose , and joined Vernon and their host. "Had your nap out ?" said Mr. Turner, ad dressing him. i "Yes," replied Hunter, smiling, "and feel I remarkably refreshed by it." ; Again Vernon was struck by the appearance of the man. Of just height, squnre-shouli' dered and broad chested, he seemed formed i in the mould of a Gladiator. He was simply -1 dressed in a hunter's costume, and now thathis ) ] hat was removed, the fire-light flashing on his i! face and figure, Vernon could mark well the I expression of resolute determination on his 1 bronzed face. A closely-clipDed moustache ornamented his lip, and the olack hair, flung - back from the bold forehead, contrasted finely with the whiteness of the upper part of the brow. The dark, scintillating grey eyes gave force and fire to; an expression which might have been pronounced too rigid, and an occasional merry twinkle in them, mellowed what might have been considered too severe. After a little desultory talk, Hunter left the room, and Vernon addressing Mr. Turner, asked, "One of your boys, sir r "Oh! no," replied the old man. ?f'A. stranger, who has been hunting, off aqd on, here, the most of the summer. His name:is Darger or Darker, or some such name. I have forgotten, but the boys can tell it to you. He seems so fond of the chase, that my boys call him Hunter, and he goes by that name among us entirely, now." "Where is he from ?" asked Vernon. "Ohi old Virginia to the back-bone, That is one l^ason I'm so proud of him. Vfhy, sir, he can turn his hand to anything; sharpen a plow, shoe a horse", merid a wagon, and not a better hand at a clearing, or a rail-splitting, in the whole country. I'd give him any. wages Tie asmsd, if he wouldwtarwitlrine: and my old. wbriiaif,*there,: thinks ;&o*t "as much of him as she does of one of the boys; but, youngfolks-like, he says he wants to see a little more of the world." "La! sir," chimed in the old woman, "he's the best-hearted fellow! Why, when he came, I was down with the fever, and he was better than a doctor to me. You see we have no doc tor in these parts; the place is so healthy doctors don't thrive. Weil, this young'Hunter got me teas out of my own. herbs and roots, for you see, I'm mightily opposed to doctor's truck, and that, with giving me a little something or two out of his own pocket, just set me up again. I tell you my "own gals, let alone the boys, could not have nursed me kinder. Then, there was my young, heiferj the red one, I take on. so about; > well, in some of her cavortins she got mightily hurt, and my old man was away at the tune,, and I .fretted .powerful. But the young fellow, attended to her?well, though I say it myself that maybe shouldn't say it?but there's no better manager of stock in the whole country, than the old man there; well, sir, I tell you, if any* thing, I believe Mr. Hunter had her about even sooner than he could have done it. Why, sir, he sot the old black woman's leg, and he says sheTl be about again in the course of a few weeks. Though you know she's mighty old, and it ain't reasonable to think- so; but if Mr. Hunter says so, it's so, you may depend upon it'' i . "Look here, Stranger, my old woman will keep you up all night, if .she gets talking'on Hunter. Though its all so, Jw don't dispute a word of. it Here, *fack, light the gentleman to bed," and, taking up a blazing torch, Jack conducted Vernon to the. apartment allotted for him. CHAPTER Vli. The sun was far from up, when Edith and the girls came down the following morning; but Jack yras making the fire, and the busy sounds of out-door laoor could ke distinctly heard. The mother came bustling in, saying she had no idea of seeing the young lady so early; but the old man liked to have his breakfast and be at the shop by sqn-up, and she intended to give her and the young gentleman breakfast after while.. , * Edith would not allow the family arrangements t/> heLintecfrred. witfw and faid^ahe would much prefer taking breakfast with them at their, usual hour. Nellie, why had taken her pails to milk, came back in a few moments to say she would have to have some help about the milking, for there were two more cows to milk that morning, and Jack had gone to the shop, and could not assist her. "You go, Jane," said the mother; "Amy has gone to the spring to see what mischief the rain did her bleaching web, but she'll be back after a while and help me." "I will make the biscuit for the mother," said Edith cheerily; "I anj used to the work and don't mind it." "Bless your kind heart," replied the old woman warmly, irresistibly drawn to Edith, not only by the obliging manner, bnt by the household appellation; "but you needn't bother, when I get my hominy and chickens on, I can soon ao the rest." "But you will do it much sooner, if yon let me help you," replied Edith, pinning on a snow-white bib-apron, which hung behind the door; "I know this is Jane's, and we will have breakfast before the girls get back from the dairy." Chatting away, as to the different degrees oi 1 excellence regarding cracker biscuit, those I made with buttermilk and soda, or better still | of clabbered cream, the preparations foi , breakfast still progressed, ana Edith soon had | her biscuit ready for the oven. She was stoop ing over it, and in the act of placing them. ! when Hunter came in and calling to her said, "Nellie, pour a little wateAi the washf1 an for me; my bands are in such condition do not like to touch the dipper." Edit! arose, and pouring the water without venturing to do more than glance at the taciturn youth, whom she thought would be sadly discomfited on discovering his mistake, was sur prised to see an arch smile succeed his keen I ' ? - 1 ...? .1-1 Ml . A J | Iookoi astonisnmeni, anaieu amue comustx I herself at his emphatic "thank you." | Vernon left rather reluctantly, after theii early breakfast, and only after repeatec : charges to Edith not to venture to visit th< ( disabled woman till he should return with ? j suitable conveyance. To all of which Edit! answered rather abstractedly that she woulc use proper discretion regarding the matter Vernon had scarcely left, When calling Nellie, she set out on her self-appointed mis sion. She found, as she had suspected, th( suffering woman to be none other than hei trusty old 'nurse, and the joy of the pooi creature, as well as her gratitude for thi kindness, sufficiently repaid Edith for all th< inconveniences of reaching her. She exacte< a promise of Edith that she would remain ii the neighborhood until her condition wouh bear removal, which Edith granted, with th 1 reservation that it should meet the approva ! of her guardian. Keturning in time for thei | early dinner, she was surprised to find Mr Gordon already there, his anxiety about he being so uncontrollable, thht it induced hin to retrace the road of the preceeding eveninj in order to ascertain what had befallen her j Sending Vernon on, whom he had met, wit! j the tidings of her safety, he was now awaitiuj I her return with considerable impatience, j "Is it a mountain maid, a grotto nymph, o Edith I am accosting ?" said he, as she enter ! ed, her eyes sparkling and cheeks glowinj I with the exercise. "It is, it mutt, be Edith," said she, kissinj him affectionately; for proving my own iden J tity by yours, this is really Uncle Walter ' Now, will you flatter me by telling.me tha !x 1 4. QW you were quae uneasy tuuui me i "Uneasy about you truly, but not 'quite,'' said he smiling, as be fondly stroked her hair for I remembered this cottage, and knev Vernon would take the best care of yon." "You grant me the flattery only to annul i all with a 'fott'" said she, without noticing th j conclusion of the sentence, unless a warn | blush could be construed as answering it. "The deprecating conjunction shall not in ' terfere with the full force of the next draught,' j said he bauteringly. "Where did you hap ! pen upon that exceedingly becoming and co 1 quetish Swiss costume ? Why, it is positively ; charming; walk off, Edie, and let me see you. She walked off a few paces, looking archl; j over her shoulder, then slightly elevating he ' dress, she said, "But you have not seen th most be witching port of my toilet Are they not conning?" sne naked, as she held oat the little booted foot. . I have constantly, the most irresistible inclination to watch the motion of the little pair, not associating them with my own movements in the least degree, but looking upon them as working* independently of all volition upon my part." As she spoke, Keltic looked in, saying, "Mr. Honter, Jack is rea4y, now, and says., if yon are going, it is time, you were off" \ Hunter, wf>^ Jhad beefy' sitting behind the half-opened door, arose, and passing through the room, went out ; "Provoking! that man should have heard us," said Edith. 4,. "Why, whofeke?" asked Mr. Gordon, y - j "I don't know," :replied Edith; "one of the old man's sops,fir some laborer, I don't know which. Botl^lake him tobe more observant than pereon#-? his class Usually aifef And would have preferred his not witnessing what was meant for you alone." "Pshaw! Edith, it ia not likft fdi to be critical upon such persons. I doubt If the young Mow either heard or potioed us* 1 But what arrangements are to be made about * ? ?^ A?lln Wa /umnof your guiug out ywuuu wus mo ub u?uui? work his hones this morning. Is it possible to obtain a conveyance here V * "Give yourself no uneasiness about "that, Uncle Walter; did not CoL Vernon tell you? I am going to remain here a few days/' replied Edith; "if the party do not like to wait they can go on, and leave; us to follow at our leisure. I cannot leave poor old Maum Betty in the condition she is, and she depending so much npon pie. ' You have no idea what Eleasure my visit gave her this morning, nor ow she seemed to cling to me. Let the party go on tod Charlottesville, and wait for us there. It will, not be the first .time you and I have been left to entertain each otner, and we have always proved equal to such an emergency." ,"I do not think a delay of a few days can make any difference with them," raid her indulgent guardian; 'the roads are so bad that; Iwill,not return to-night, but in the morning will apprise them of our determination, send on the party, who in the condition of things, will have no opportunity of sight-seeing on Otter and will return to you with your necessary wardrobe in the afternoon." "Thank you, dear Uncle. I think Maum' Betty will be able to travel in the course of a couple.of weeks, and then by rapid stages we can overtake the party."; <. t..,. The day passed without event, and the evening round the female portion of the household assembled around tne fireside with their knitting. Edith, seated near her guardian, was working in herosnal rapid style, occasionally addressing him, or answering his remarks, although giving more attention to the entertainment of the little fellow whose boots she bad borrowed. Amusing him with childish tale, fairy wonder, or practical lesson, nlia vm ntforlv unonnaoinus of the keen in terest with which one at least, of the party, was watching her. It was while relating to the boy a lively tale of Aladdin fancies and fairy imagery, her busy fingers flying over the sock which was lengthening like magic under her touch, and her race depicting the different emotions which her own imagination was calling into being, that she suddenly looked up. Hunter, hia head supported by his hand, was watching her intensely, and seemingly as miich intere.ugd as fthe ch^d. As. her ayes met his, the luminous look again struck her. Again, with an inclination of the head, so slight as to be almost imperceptible, he smiled an arch, puzzling smile, too evanescent for her to resent, even by a look, and turning to Mr. Gordon, he entered into conversation with him. Edith annoyed, she could scarcely tell why, 'listened with almost incredulity to a conversation which she forced herself to.be' lieve was sustained only by effort on one side i and by courtesy, on the other. But as Mr. Gordon, probing at times with argument, listening with deference, or Questioning with interest became more deeply engaged in the conversation, Edith was forced to acknowli edge it was no ordinary mind that could thus invest every-day topics and casual incident i with such graphic charm. -Unconsciously, she found herself wondering i where this mountain youth could have gained such acquirements, and as she cautiously i scanned his face, she inwardly acknowledged > that mind alone could have chiseled the 1 countenance into such sculptured lines. The i ease of manner, the freedom from restraint, > could only be gained in circles of refinement and by contact with the polished; and now this f rustic youth was disproving; all her preconceived notions upon tne subject; as combating in argument, playful in wit, eloquent in debate, or ready in humor, he kept the mind of. Mr. Gordon on the alert, lest taken at disadvantage, he would be "thrust with a spear, or foued with a pebble." A glance at Edith's interested face, an occasional tone of interrogation, and finally a direct appeal to her judgment, drew her, involuntarily, into the conversation. Mr. Gordon w?8 charmed to think he would have such a resource as the companionship of this youth, during their stay upon Otter, and bantered Edith, not a little, upon her want of i perception in respect to him.' For hie part, ' he was disposed to think that he was probably some small land-owner in the neighbor' hood, and one whose natural talents gave him 1 position and influence with the simple sons oi J the soil. i The weather was now bright and beautiful; i the soft delicious haze of the Indian summer, 1 made this mountain* region charming beyond description. Edith daily took her walk to the J cottage where lay the crippled woman; some - times accompanied by Mr. Gordon, oftener by ' Nellie, and, occasionally by little .Hal, with r | whom she had become a great favorite. Bet ' j ty, under the tmrgeon-eare of Hunter, and the s, kind attentions of Edith, was rapidly conva e I lescing, and she now hopefully looked forward 1: to a speedy removal to Oakwood. i Edith had, once or twice, met Hunter al 1 the cottage, and had been not only touched al e Betty's irrepressible gratitude ana admiration I of him, bat quietly amused at his nonchalanl r j manner of accepting it all. "One would ! think/' said she, to herself, "so apt he seemf r j in understanding the peculiarities of the race i so quietly accepting the fondling of the privi ? ! leged servant; assuming the position of the ' ! master, and yet yielding without demur to the *: exactions of the indulged class, that he is one ? I who has been 'to the manor bom,' and is ex' ercising an hereditary prerogative. She watchr 1 ed him narrowly, as skillfidly and promptly, j he attended to his surgeon duties, and found j ' herself admiring, not a little, as, ignoring cirj cumstauces and surroundings, he proved himII self the effective and prompt physician. - i He scarcely ever spoke to her when they '. | thus met, except in the moment of departure, t to make a few pointed and pertinent remarks, I watch for the smile his words were sure to pro" | voke; answer it by one eloquent in meaning / and before Edith could analyze it, or the emov tions produced by it, lift his hat with graceful ease, bend his head in a bow which she had t not yet learned to interpret, as a token of def e erence or humility, and was gone, leaving hei i to wonder over him more than ever; to b? auuuycu iu prupvitiuu iaj tuc uivcicsi* caui^u - and aoublv annoyed that she sliould indulge " in a thought regarding this enigmatical moun i- taineer. Resolving that she should not agaiiybe wit y tingly thrown with him, she took some paim tcroiscoyer at what time he usually made hii y visits; but was not a little disconcerted when r a few days after this mental decision, he po e litely, and with a truly professional air, re quested hen; fettfce certain meiUCawl TppmJt giving instructions respecting their Administration, concluding by fixing his keen eyes ri her, and with Ms puzzling smile, saying it was no longer convenient for him to ' make his visits until a late hour in theeveu- ' ing, and therefore Betty must not be dump- "" pointed if he did not make his appearance until after sunset Edith fblt her thoughts had been fathomed but she waspowerlemto reply; and too annoyed to answer the look that almost questioned, she turned, in some oonfbsion, away.' But she wis absolutely startled into composure again, by hearing, his fhll-toned mallow voice, speaking in low courteous tones, "Do not let me burden you, with my commission^ ?i: MissEgerton. I thought, perhaps unwisely, perhaps too boldly, that they might give you pleasure. Be assured, it woddgratify me equally as well, to find you preferred that the invalid should teoeive them from the hand of her physician." Disclaiming all. idea, of ^ way troublesome, Edith acoeptod the commit-, t the thought of her actions giving this assuming yo uth pleasure or otherwise Bat, hove?*. er, she might arrange plans to prevent their meeting at the oottage, where the invalid lay, she could, not prevent the constantly recur- , ring, and apparently accidental meetings, on the sunny slopes ana in the quiet vales of Otter. When these meetings first occurred, Edith felt she was yielding no point of propriety or dignity, in offering a passing salutation, or a kindly interrogation regarding the suooeas of his sport But Nellie, undeterred by conventional scruples, would not only ply Hunter . with innumerable questions, but would frequently insist upon examining the contents of ' Eclith had^no choice in such cases, but .to loiter along till Nellie's pleasure led herto fbl- ' low, or to leave them in such decided dispieafure as would convince him die was no nasty to the meeting. The latter horn of the auettm a '* she could not prevail upon herself to accept, " : for she could not think it either wise or prudent, to debate upon the subiect of proprieties with these simple and honest hearted peasants. . Concluding it the bettor reason, when such meetings did occur, to act hane^ -' without demonstration or reservation, dm *. avoided, as much as lay in her power, thairm- .1 currence; but when accident betrayed her into .1 them, her dignity was so fkr removed from haughtiness, as her suave and unpratotiding / manner was opposed to familiarity. She could have scarcely chosen a more f&scmating mood, . i\i nor one that she could have more gracefully borne. But it was in the unreserved iator-; course of the fireside, as the family assembled around their hearth, in these changing antumn evenings, that Edith, lnconsciouslr, became , more and more deeply interested in this 'many sided youth.' ' The interest, however, was not deeper than ,1 mmnoitr and ?. rtoHftin dfitrPPfl of iniftllftftfalft] pleasure, rendered it For it was impomible to listen to his able discussion, dashed with genial and hearty humor; to his acute criticism, tempered with taste and feeling ; to bis beautiful theories, evolving from them pramical and earnest argument without being interested, and interested deeply. Edith's cultivated and intellectual nature, keenly enjoyed the ,, discussion of topics, to which Hunter brought - . t -thtf forcible and Animated wordings of telfigent mind. % ,.S. It was on such an evening, after Hunter had been discussing foreign habits, manners and customs, that he answered Edith's look of inquiry by saying, "You would ask if I have been a traveler, Mias Egerton. Yes, till I have become a sort of cosmopolitan. I have studied the grandeur of statesmanlike England ; the simple and pure morality of yeoman , . Switzerland ; the degeneracy of chivajric Spain ; delighted in the researches of scientific France; in short, wondered and wandered over lands which deeds of prowess or endurance, jnental, physical, or moral, have made historic for past centuries. I have rejoiced in the beauty of sunny lands, and reveled under the gorgeousness of glowing skies; have enjoyed the companionship of many noble men, and admired the beauty of many lovely women; but never have I found a more equitable govern-.' ment than my own ; never a fairer land; never more integrity and honor than my own countrymen possess, and never have seen the beauty of their daughters surpassed." The sentence was concluded with such a speaking inclination of his head, that involuntarily Edith answered the homage fay a graceful and almost imperceptible, movement "Venerating my country as a whole, complete in its many parts, it is for my'native Virginia, to me, the heart and soul of it all, I cherish the fondest emotions, the purest aspirations which.it is in the nature or humanity * to yield. Witnessing the workings of other governments, the system of labor carried on in each, and the reflex influence of these workings and systems on society at large, I do unhesitatingly pronounce the type of civilization peculiar to the South, the uiostbeautifbl in its ' nature, and the most beneficent in its results, of any land the sunlight has ever wanned, or ' heaven *8 rain has ever blessed."'' "Can you explain to me," said Mr. Gordon, "why it is that even in the minds of the enlightened, such a prejudice should exist against i us abroad, as to call forth the bitterest inveet ive, the most determined opposition V "The answer, sir," he replied, "lies in a nutshell. The prejudice is not against slave la* , bor, but against the consequence of ik Urn [; poorer, class of white men cannot compete i against the workings of our system. - The tide . of emigration rolls back on the old world, or finds inhospitable welcome on oar Northern i shores, and thus the land teeming in piioduc- > tiveness, unsurpassed in fertility of soil and?. i salubrity of climate is, in a degree, shut oat to them. Not that I aver that honest worth I has no incentive to labor in the South, I oon- / tend that in the struggle to rise from poverty. t to wealth, from obscurity to influence, no land t offers greater inducements than ours. <JThe i way is open to all. The homestead, with its t pleasant surroundings, the laborer on,it.hapI py, free from care ana extortion, comparativei ly untempted by corruption and crime, idea, tifying himself with his master's interest?is " - a reality to which all may look forward, a po* > sition which all may attain." ? "How does our domestic life compare with > foreign habits ?" said Edith. "Differ as widely," he replied, "as our staple Ereductions and domestio institutions differ ! om ether lands. The basis of every social i system is its laboring class. Our peculiar in- . stitutions identifies us in interests, produces - similarity of tastes and manner^, we are bound together, not only by ties of blood, but by in heritad frip.ndshin and fioci&kohlicralians. The , homogeneousness of population preserved a, mong us, tends to make us a people marked with indellible traits. To my mind, there is , no society, nor can there ever be, so long as the causes conspiring to produce the result ret main active, equaling what is called Southern I society. I have found in England people equaling lis in privacy of domestic relations; f in Switzerland, I have found others equaling } us in simplicity of manners; amongst both , French and English, I have found tiie refined ) and elegant culture, which one willialways see - amid the higher grades of society, I have not only witnessed, but been the recipient of such acts of profuse hospitality, as would have i graced the patriarchal age. But it is only in 3 the South, and where her cherished institutions , most prosperously work, that I have seen all of these characteristics in rare combination. -1 Cherished in such homes, under the power of -' * *% U