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lewis m. grist, Proprietor.! ^it Jithqicnticnt Jamilj Itefosjiaptr: ?<it tij? Ijromotion of % ^jolrtical, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of t|e Sontjj. |TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IS ADVANCE. VOL. 18. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MAY 3Q, 1879. NO. 22. ' ~ * " * I * * ' ' ? -i V?AA? oAMfi Jmo oinnCk jto Original fbist .ftflig. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. AN HEIRESS IN HER OWN RIGHT. BY EMILY J. ROMEO. .CHAPTER IV. TALKING AND WORKING?PLANNING FOR EMERGENCIES. "O, that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it eome." Shakspeare. Mr. Henry made his promised visit to Mr. o?wi woo nlpflcpd with the whole farn ?? liguil UUU II WW .. ily, especially Ellen. In speaking of her on his return to Mr. Elliott's, he said to Mrs. Elliott? "She makes me think of an expression my wife uses when she wishes to say a lady is peculiarly endowed with natural talents, balanced by good sound sense?'she is an heiress in her own right.' My wife thinks so little of money and of people for money's sake, and values goodness and sense so highly, she is considered very singular by those who cannot see the worth of a person except through the dollars and cents they may possess. I wish you could make us a visit. You would like my wife, I am sure; and I promise her liking you. You might be benefitted by some of the springs in our vicinity. They are quite celebrated at home, and it would give us pleasure to have you visit us and try their virtues." "Thank you. I should like to make the visit, and have no doubt but I should be charmed with your wife; but I anticipate no relief from any source for my poor,.suffering 1 J ? neau. "We shall be glad of a visit any way. And it will do no harm to try the springs." "The future is very uncertain ; but X may go when the war is over. When we have been traveling, I have often wished to spend a whole summer in Virginia; but after a short stay our party would overrule my wishes and we would go on to Northern watering places or other fashionable resorts, and spend the season in gay frties. I know I shall never consent to do it again." "You may not, Mrs.Elliott;" but were this war to end to-day, there are thousands who would go to-morrow, if they could, and spend the money the country at home will need, in trying to outdress and outshine those who have made fortunes out of our misfortunes." "I hope not They could not, if they feel as I do." There was a silence for a few moments and then Mrs. Elliott asked? "From your experience, what should you advise if Sherman's army were to come through here ? Should you stay and risk it, or try to seek a place of greater safety ?" "I should stay by all means. You are off the direct line to any city. This is a poor position for an army to make a stand, and unless there are different movements and manoeuvres made by both sides than what I anticipate, you will not be apt to see anything but scattering companies or stragglers, against whom coolness, courage and resolution are great safeguards. If you leave your house it will be plundered, and very probably burnt. Should you go away, you might run into greater danger than you leave." "But if we remain, there are some precautions we could take in case stragglers or large companies should come here ?" "O, yes. I should advise you to secrete everything you value, and let no one, save the white mem here of the family, have an inkling of their place of deposit. Don't trust a servant, no matter how much conhdence you have in one. Threats and bayonets can open the mouths of those who could withstand soft words and fair promises. Had you thought of staying here and trusting Providence, or of seeking another asylum ?" "I hardly know. We shall certainly remain till there are more threatening indications than now. If this low country is "thrown out," as is often talked of, and the line of defenses removed to near the railroad from Augusta to Branchville, we shall stay ; for we have learned families are rarely molested when not in the march of an army, if they do remain in their own homes. The up-country is crowded.with refugees already, and some of our relatives write they fare much harder than before they went tliere." "I think you would be protected if you were thrown out; and then it won't be long now before peace will be restored." "When I think of the trials of mind we all undergo, and the hardship so many suffer, aside from the dangers of the camp, I am tempted to pray that the war may soon close, even if we are subjugated. Since my son Claude died I have had very little patriotism. rr* i 11 1 /% _ 1 '11 l_ L me Diooa 01 a cnua caa wasn away muuu of the ardor which was felt at the beginning of our struggle; and when a mother sees how vain has been the sacrifice, it is no wonder her soul cries for peace before all are slain." Mr. Henry prolonged his visit several days with pleasure to himself and all the family; though he endeared himself most to Mrs. Elliott and Grace. "You make me think of Ellison, my brother-in-law," said Mr. Elliott one evening. "He writes home long letters containing the same views you hold. My wife and Grace are much influenced by them, but Conway and I are more hopeful for our country, and won't be disheartened. Then, Ellison is like you in picking up friends; only a little more so. He sees a "man and brother" in any one who does half way right, or who tries to help himself. I often tell him he will demoralize society if he has his way, and he declares he would improve it; but I can't see it the way he does." "I should like to see Mr. Ellison. I don't think, from the letter your wife received this week, his views are very ultra." "They are enough so to make him differ from the most of our old families. You know we are rather exclusive in this State." "Exclusiveness is not confined to this State; and I find myself in Mr. Ellison's position quite frequently?standing up for mau, as man, rather than because he is connected with someone of ancient name and fame." In spite of Mr. Elliott's "pshawing," and Conway's "don't keep bringing Mr. Henry up all the time,"- his visit was productive of great results, for which they afterwards blessed his comiDg. At Grace's earnest request, seconded by her mother, Mr. Elliott rode out daily with her and Stuart and made them familiar with all the roads and by-paths for many miles, and with ainhs places where it was thought a person might secrete himself for a time in I comparative safety. All the fords, bays, ! islands, hammocks and the like, were learned and located in their memories. Signals were agreed upon in case they were needed ; and Grace took pains to learn all she could imagine, or any one told her, might be of use iu a case of emergency. To Conway's laugh and sarcastic questions, she would say? "It can do no harm ; and if it does no good I shall never regret the time and exercise it takes." Christmas came, and with it Russell Elliott and his cousin Arthur; but Mr. Ellison thought it was no time for soldiers to leave , * 1 - J1 T 1_ J!J 1.. I tneir posts, so ne ana oacs. uiu uut iui furloughs. It was expected by the family that Arthur i would marry Grace. He was willing, "deraned if he wasn't, when she was the handsomest girl in the State, unless it was Conway, who had been snapped up by Jack, deuce take him. But then Grace wouldn't quarrel, and Conway had a temper of her own, he'd be hanged if she hadn't; and he didn't want a wife kicking up a row for every little thing a fellow did. Grace would have just as much tin as Conway, so he believed he had a better bargain than Jack, demned if he didn't." It will be seen Arthur Edwards had a way of using coarse words; but he was' rich?Mr. Elliott's favorite?and must have a chance to sow his "wild oats" like other young men? he'd come out all right! To do him justice, it must be said he was good-natured, obliging, brave, not a spendthrift, and hardly as profligate as the most of his associates. He wasn't the longest headed man in the country, but that he couldn't help. The house was not crowded with company as usual at the holiday season; nearly all their friends were off refugeeing, and did not like to go so near the coast. There were gloomy apprehensions all ' * ** 1 r* i l through the country, aua wnen oavannan fell they were greatly increased. The news of Sherman's creeping nearer and nearer was known, but the fall of the city was unexpected, and gave a great shock to the country. We can all recall our blindness now, in 'hoping against hope,' but then each new disaster and defeat came with a suddenness, an unexpectedness, that showed how strong our confidence had been. "Shall we stay, or fly ?" was the question again anxiously asked. All fled who had the means of going, except the Elliotts and the Wrights. Russell, who had lingered over his ten days 'leave of absence,' advised waiting till they saw which route Sherman's army was about to take, and then getting behind it, or keeping on one side. What they wanted, to save to take with them, or bury. Mr. Wright said he had no where to go. All he had was right there, and it was better to lose it at home than among strangers. He had talked with soldiers from Georgia and the border States, and it was hard to tell where a safe place was when an army was bent on overrunning the country. Russel and Arthur were recalled, and the family felt uneasy, unsettled. The costly jewelry and massive silver service of the family, and-that belonging to Mr. Ellison, were buried by Mr. "^lliott and Stuart, and the others were made acquainted with the places of deposit. So well and secretly was it done, that even Maud,. Conway's maid, who was most trusted of all the servants and thought she knew everything that went on in the house, supposed the whole family treasure to be in a Bank in Columbia. She would have taken oath that she helped pack it, saw it put in the wagon to go to the depot, that Mr. Elliott went off on the cars with it, and was gone three days, and she saw him give Mrs. Elliott a paper stating the things had been deposited in the Bank. She little knew what a change had been made in the contents of the box, in the hour Conway had kept her in the garden helping her about a new flower-bed she was planning, and how Mr. Elliott and Stuart worked and blistered their hands in digging holes for burying it; nor how near they came to being discovered as she passed near them on an errand to a distant negro house. Some time in the early part of January, a set of men calling themselves Wheeler's cavalry, came for horses, cattle and provisions, threatening to destroy everything if their orders were not obeyed and what they asked for given at once. Mrs. Elliott's coolness and firmness prevented their entering the house or taking the horses; but they stole several things from the yard and went off with curses and threats. In a day or two they returned, but Mr. Elliott was at home, and he told them if they took a Single horse or troubled anything he would get a regiment and hunt them down till there was not one left. They were not Wheeler's cavalry and were acting without orders. The country should be made too hot to hold them if they did not leave. They blustered awhile, threatened to shoot J every one of the family, and rode around as if intending to do great things, but at last went off and were soon heard of in other neighbor hoods doing great mischief and bringing dis-! credit on a brave company, whose name they j had stolen. Mr. Wright was protected by some soldiers from the true "Wheeler's caval-! ry," who were picketed there at the time of the last coming of the scoundrels; but on ! their first visit they had quite an exciting scene, which we will let Ellen tell. She and j Albert had rode over to Mr. Elliott's and after ' j listening to their account of how the thieving j deserters and skulkers talked and tried to frighten them, she related what they did at her father's. "They went from here right over to our ' I house, ordered dinner to be cooked, the keys ' ! of the corn and smoke house given up, and ! blustered about till, from being frightened, | mother and I grew as fierce as tigers. Moth-; er took one of father's pistols, I the other, and I j then we told the captain if he didn't make j ! his men walk out of the house and behave i themselves, we'd shoot him. 'You can see | I how good a shot I am,' said I, and I put a ball 1 - ... ... i .1 .1.. I j through the head 01 a cnicseu one ui uic ! rascals had caught and was bringing into the ' piazza. It made that man turn pale and ; leave in a hurry. 'There are five bullets left,'; ; and I looked the captain right in the eye ; he 1 understood me and didn't wait for another j specimen of ray skill." And Ellen laughed at the remembrance. "Oh! Miss Ellen, would you have shot the man?" asked Alice, with eyes widely distended. "Most certainly, if they had gone on as i they began ; but I am glad enough they saw I fit to behave themselves and not stay long. "I don't think I could be so brave," sai Grace. "If the emergency demanded it, you couh I am not very daring on common occasioni but my courage came with the exigency." "We hear they do more mischief tha , Sherman's army," said Mrs. Elliott. "I don't know, but I think there was mor . truth than poetry in Mr. Henry's remark, ths 'the worst thing to be dreaded was the arm J that invaded a country, and the next to b feared was the array that defended it." "I heard him say the same thing, and ws afrnob- xoifVi if. nt. the time " remarked Mri Elliott. "Did your exploit make you feel nervou after it was over, or brace you for other grea deeds ?" asked Conway. "A little of both. But I haven't told yo all our adventures. Last week some thoi sands of our men passed by our house on th way to Braxton's Bridge; some of them wer fine looking men?real soldiers. One of thei said 'we are the men that whipped the Yar kees back at Honey Hill.' After them wa a still larger crowd of old men and boys wh did nqt expect to be sent out of Georgia?thei own State?but had been ordered out for week, and it had been several siuce they cam< and they didn't have a change of clothe) They were ragged and dirty till it distress? me to see them. They begged pitifully fo provisions, and we cooked from early in th morning till dark, without being able to sup ply a tenth part of their wants. Mother fel sorry for them, and gave freely till they she her best cow in the cow-pen and sent in fo salt to cook it with; that was the "last straw with her." "It was enough to provoke her," said Grac? "We heard there were a great many soldier passing?that this part of the country was t abandoned, and there was nothing to be left fo Sherman's army to get; but only a few cam here, aud they behaved very well," said Mrs Elliott. "Many of thera asked where families live< that they could get provisions from ; but w always answered evasively that most of th< neighbors were up the country, and off thi way was the river swamp." "We shall have to thank you, then, for sa ving us from annoyance, and perhaps loss,' said Mrs. Elliott gratefully. "It was both to us. Some few companie camped close by, and though they put a guar< round us and said we shouldn't be disturbed they carried off several of our bee-gums, brob open our largest potato-banks and stole ever potato." "That was too bad; you were almost read; to say 'defend me from my friends' when the; left," Grace remarked. "Yes we were; but you haven't heard al yet. The next night came a portion of Young' Brigade from Virginia. The company campe< in sight, and the officers staid in the house and appeared very well. They said their mei would not steal like the infantry; but found they borrowed a great deal, and thei returned nothing; and our cane-bank wa nearly destroyed?there isn't enough left ti plant half a task. One of the captains was i relative of yours, Mrs. Elliott. We did no find it out till breakfast, or he said he woul< have come and staid here the. night before He was the handsomest man I ever saw; wi could all see a family resemblance when w< heard his name. I think he is a man of goo< sense, and I know he is high-spirited" "I am sorry he let his men do wrong, if hi is a relative of mine. But may be he was no the head officer." "Vo? ko w?a in rnmmand r hut I sunnosi * w? MV ? v." ' "IT it is difficult to keep soldiers from taking wha they want when the temptation is as sweet as i bank of sugar-cane. They had the fines horses I ever saw." "I'll engage you noticed the horses mor< than the men," laughed Grace. "They were well worth it?they were sue? fine ones. But I must be home before sunse or mother will be uneasy," and jumping up sh< added, as she caught the direction of Grace'i eye? "Don't say a word more about my fondnes for horses, Miss Grace, when you can't kee] from watching Stuart and Albert out then showing off their blooded bays." "I acknowledge a horse to be my favorit animal, but that won't hinder me from laugh ing at you, for you know you are more devo ted to your Princess than I am to all we own.' "She is mine you must recollect; I alraosi raised her." Ellen took leave amid many urgent invita tions to come again soon; even Conway said? "Your visit has really cheered us. W< have heard so many^umors, and been in sucl suspense that it does us good to hear what ha happened, and know that the worst is proba bly over." Grace went out to the gate, and, as usual the two girls had a good many "last words.' "I wish she would come oftener," said Con way. Alice looked up in surprise. "Why, sister Conway, I thought you didn' care anything about her I" "She is always so cheerful and pleasant om can't help liking her, and then there is no om else to come now." "I wonder if we should be so brave an< bear such annoyances so cheerfully," sai( Mrs. Elliott, thoughtfully. "I don't think we need fear anything now mother," said Conway. "Our troops an moving higher up. There will be nothing ti call Sherman's army this way. If they gi from Savannah to Charleston they will pas on that road lower down ; and if they go t< rVilnmhin.. will mnvn mnrfl t.nwarrl tlv Savannah river, till they are higher up. . don't feel afraid at all now." But Conway little guessed what a wide pat] Sherman was to sweep in this State. CHAPTER V. a glimpse of the army after "sherma: WENT DOWN TO THE SEA." "Truth is stranger than fiction." "This is all trueas 'tis strange; Nay it is ten times true." Shakspkare. Mrs. Elliott had just recovered from one c her nervous headaches?headaches which al 1 her life had caused her so much suffering Lying in a darkened room?with every fool step and voice hushed as they approached he door?for days her head would throb an beat, and she would not know what it was t have an hour of ease. She had escaped a attack somewhat longer than -common, an now it had lasted twice its usual time. " You who know what it is to have a heredi-1 d tary or nervous headache, can sympathize with Mrs. Elliott. She could not remember 1. the time when she was not subject to its vio3, lent attacks. Nearly one-seventh of her life had been passed in acute pain. Physicians n had been consulted and remedies tried in vain. If a medicine seemed to do good at one e time it had no effect at another; and after it j trying everytnmg sne wtta uuviseu iu ume, y traveling to various places, and using every ie means possible, she had resigned herself to the belief that she should never be relieved is from her sufferings. s. True, she never had fevers, or any other sickness; they did not seem to leave any ill is effects afterward, nor did they injure her it beauty, but it was torture to endure them. They were generally just as frequent, but did u not last so long in the low-country as higher i- up, and Mr. Elliott was glad to live wherever e she could be spared a single hour from the e horrible pain. n Grace was usually the one to take care of t- her mother, and very gentle and tender were ? her attentions. Conway was just as willing o to do all she could, but she was so quick in r her movements, lifted her mother so suddenly a it gave her pain, and her touch was not so j, soft and delicate as that of Grace, and grad3. ually the whole care fell to her when she was d at home. r Mrs. Elliott had justrecovered from one of e her most severe attacks, when they were all h awakened in the middle of the night by the it arrival of Mr. Wright with the news that it Sherman's army was not far off, and would r probably be in the neighborhood early in the " day. There was no more sleep that night; and while Mr. Wright went with Mr. Elliott and ? helned him bridle the horses and nut some ' ?i * s corn in sacks for them, the girls collected the 0 spoons, forks and such little things of value, r which it had been necessary to retain for daily e use when they buried the more massive plate, !. and consigned them to their father's care. Mrs. Elliott hastily packed a basket with pro3 visions, and brought out a pair of warm blane kets. To Grace was given the direction they e were to take, and the particular spot they in8 tended as their place of refuge. It was a relief to all, in that moment of haste and anx iety, to know that Grace and Stuart had learned ' all suitable places of concealment, and, if it was necessary, might possibly communicate s with the loved ones who knew it was better to 1 fly than run the risk of being made prisoners. , Before day-light the two men and their e horses were miles away. Had the family sat j down quietly, it would have seemed as if there had been a funeral in the house; but they bad j no time for idleness or rest The clothing, f books and every thing that could be packed away was put in bureaus, trunks and clothes1 presses, and locked with the greatest care. A s few laces and small things were secreted 1 about their clothes. Breakfast was scarcely s, tasted, and it was scarcely cleared away, be3 foresoldiers seemed to spring out of the ground e like locusts, so suddenly and in such numbers 3 did they appear. They poured into the house s like bees, and to Mrs. Elliott's inquiry for 3 their commanding officer, or a guard to proi tect them, they only returned? t "O, he's back yonder?we've had our or3 ders?you don'tneed a guard?we shan't hurt ' you," or made no reply at all, and passed on. e The house servants gathered round the e family in silence. It did not seem ten minutes 1 before every corner in the house had been ransacked; the attic explored from end to 0 end ; the trunks, wardrobes, and closets were t broken open and their contents scattered here and there. Disorder reigned everywhere. 3 The only place left partially untouched was t the parlor, in which the family were gathered; 1 but even there the men pushed in and out, t stared about and made remarks on the fine furniture; but were prevented from doing any ; damage by two or three, who with some fine feelings, ordered them to let one room alone as i there was enough in the rest of the house for t their vandalism. b Just as it seemed as if everything would 3 certainly be destroyed?for they were then forcing the doors of store-room, smoke-house 9 and other outbuildings?a body of cavalry 3 dashed up at full speed, guards were placed at 3 all the out-houses, the dwelling was emptied of its crowd of ruthless men, and something 0 like quiet succeeded the late confusion and . hub-bub. The servants began wandering over the dis> ordered apartments with exclamations of ast tonishment, and Mrs. Elliott was leaning back in her chair wondering what had caused such . a change?the arrival of some high officer, or _ the special interposition of Providence?when e a card was handed her on which was written? ! "An interview with Mrs. Elliott is desired, if agreeable. H. S. Clinton, Capt. U. S. C. "Tell the man to come in," said she, surprised that he had not done so, like the rest of the horde, without ceremony; and a mo| ment after, a fine looking man, with bared head, stood on the threshold. A bow to Mrs. Elliott, a graceful inclination to her daughters, and before she could reply coldly to his, "Mrs. Claude Elliott, I believe," a pleased look came over his face, and a military salute was f?iTTon tn tho nnrtrnit. nf her srm Claude, which ^ hung directly over where Conway stood. To the look of surprise which all showed in j spite of the chill haughtiness they felt, Capj tain Clinton said? "I am happy in being permitted to protect , this family. Two years ago I received a great e kindness from the hands of Colonel Elliott, 0 and vowed to repay it if it was ever in my 0 power. The protection I am now able to 8 give, I pray you to accept as coming from 5 him. I hope to hear, madarae, that he is e well." j Tears came in Mrs. Elliott's eyes. There was such an honest frankness in the man's Ij words and manner, and his speaking of her son as if he were still alive was so unexpected, it overcame her; but instantly she commanded her voice to reply? "He has been dead over a year." s. A pained look was cast at the portrait?a fine picture of Claude, taken in all the flush of life and early manhood?and then he said, feelingly? "In him the South has lost a noble man ?f and brave defender. Shall I tell you, madam, 1 why I have reason to honor your son and r un'oVi fn lio o fr^nd t.n his mother? It is not t- a long story." r "If you please," replied Mrs. Elliott, d "Stuart, ray son, place a chair for the officer." o She almost said gentleman, and he was one. n Captain Clinton bowed, rested his hand on d the back of the offered seat, but did not take it. I "Two years or so ago, after one of the battles in Virginia, my only brother was missing. He was little more than a boy, my mother's j idol, and it was with great reluctance she had consented to let him pay me a visit. As a battle was imminent, I urged him to return home, but he was all ardor and desired to see the contest. He promised to remain in the back-ground with the baggage and keep as much out of danger as possible; but the excitement of the day carried him away, and in the hottest of the nght he dashed into the ranks and fought like a veteran. It was useVlim fr> nn onfl tVlPrP VVPLQ lit.. ItOO IV Utg U1UJ bV gV ??UV4 WMwaw **<v ... tie time for words. I saw his horse wounded and dash off wildly; then I saw him throw up his arms and fall. "Carried on by the rush of the charge we were making, I was borne away from the spot, and when the battle was over, he could not be found. All night I wandered over that part of the field where I had last seen him, turning over the dead and throwing the light of my lantern on the faces of the wounded ; but not one was my poor brother. "At day-break I found his horse, stiff and cold, and with a foreboding heart I sat down by it and cried like a child. Conquering myself after a little, I renewed the search. The harpies of the field had already been there, and many of the dead were robbed and stripped ef coat and boots. Just as the sun was rising, I was attracted by voices near an unusually large pile of the slain. "Let him alone?he ain't dead yet." "But he can't live an hour, and if I don't have it, some one will. Here, help me I say." "I sprang forward instinctively, and it was Willie, ray brother, they were roughly stripping. It took but an instant to dash them away, and raise his head upon my arm. He opened his eyes, knew me, whispered 'water?tell mother,' and fainted. I thought he was gone, but the man who had said, 'let him alone?he ain't dead,' proving to be a good-hearted fellov, declared there was life in him, and helped me attend to him. "Just as Willie was reviving, we were surrounded by a body of Confederate cavalry. The man escaped, but I could not desert my * . i ? i..j 1 Drotner, ana was taaen pnsouer, staucueu, and was about to be carried on, when my entreaties for my brother to be taken care of, were answered by a soldier's placing a pistol to his ear and saying 'I will care for him.' Before the words were half uttered, a strong hand seized his wrist, and the pistol went off over "Willie's head into the ground beyond. "It was Colonel Elliott's hand that saved my brother's life, and on inquiring into the circumstances, he ordered a stretcher, and instead of taking us prisoners, went himself with us nearly to our lines. "There," said he, 'Claude Elliott has done by you, as he hopes some one will do by his brother, who is some w. .e on this bloody field,' and at that instant one of the men called out, 'Here he is Colonel?his leg is broken ; his horse was on him so he couldn't crawl out.' "My brother is now at home safe and well. His life and my mother's happiness are due to your son ; and that has caused me to make every inquiry to find his family, and gain from General Sherman a special order for your protection. I did not think of telling all this when I entered; fyut seeing that portrait and hearing of his death, makes it but just he should have the credit he deserves. I wished to ask what directions you would like to give, and to say it will be best for me to have an apartment in the house while the array are in the neighborhood." Mrs. Elliott was deeply affected. She knew, from some slight account given by Russell, when he came home wounded, that Captain Clinton's story was true, and his earnestness would have convinced her without proof. She tried to thank him, but he assured her it was unnecessary; he was only too glad to have it in his power to show his own gratitude, and regretted that a disagreeable detention had prevented his arriving before the soldiers had * 1 lime 10 anuoy ner. The sitting-room, as commanding the best view of the whole yard, was assigned to Captain Clinton; and after a few directions and suggestions on both sides, he bowed and retired. "What a pity a man of such good appearance and gentlemanly manners, should be in the Yankee army," said Conway. "What a good thing for us, that with his fine feelings he is in it," remarked Grace. "See what a reward has followed your brother's noble act. A good Providence was in it, and we have reason to be sincerely thankful," was the comment of Mrs. Elliott. The house was brought back to something like order before the day was over, but the servants could do little more than watch what was going on out of doors. There seemed no end to the soldiers, who were passing all day. The fields were literally filled with them, and it was the merest chance if a foot of ground was left unsearched. If one of the servants appeared, he or she was coaxed or threatened to reveal where the family had hidden things; and great noise was made when some boxes of meat and a few articles were found, which had been purposely buried where the negroes knew of it. The two men who waited in the house were out with the soldiers nearly all day, but by what means the house-girls were induced to leave, the family never knew ; nor whether the clothing and other things missing were taken by them or the soldiers who ransacked the house in the morning. The black women were all there at sunset, apparently more afraid of the army than their mistresses; but at ten o'clock not one was to be found save .Lance, 'tne stupidest tmng on the place' the others called her, who, fast asleep on the dining-room floor, knew not what was going on around. Lance was a strange oddity when Jack Singleton, who owned her, took her away from the cruel hands of his overseer. Besides being sorry for her, he took a liking to her excellent disposition and offered lier to Conway for a waiting maid. Conway scorned the gift, but 'Grace, more easily moved by pity, accepted it; and now after five years in which she had proved honest, good-tempered and industrious, she was to find a double reward for the few months of drilling it had taken to transform the awkward, open-mouthed, sleepyheaded child, into a neat, obliging waiting maid. Lights were flitting all about, and a confused sound from the not distant camps, showed the suldiers were long in settling to rest. No one but the guards were in the yard, and Captain Clinton kept all disturbances from the house ; but the family did not feel like sleep. At a late hour Mrs. ?lliott and the children were j persuaded to take a little rest, and about four j o'clock Conway's hedfl sank back and she | slept as soundly in her easy chair as if it had : been a bed of down. Grace alone was left to j keep vigil, while the long, cloudy winter night wore away. Anxious thoughts for her father filled her mind, and her heart was lifted in prayer for his safety. The early rousing of the soldiers was a change, if not a relief; and then her mother's : gentle, "Grace, ray dear, go and lie down? you have had a long, lonely night?I shall | not sleeD aeain. so vou can take a good nap," j ? r o ' y w was like music after the silent hours she had passed. She went and lay down, but the troubled doze into which she was soon sinking was broken by loud calls from Hess, the cook, to ! come down and open the door. She had no coffee in the kitchen?dem mean white Yankees done tuck every grain, an' ef she didn't git breakfast 'fore dey was rootin' roun', dere wouldn't be a thing lef?case one on em tole her a thousan' worse ones was comin' to-day.' Lance was roused, and Hess came bustling in. She was an old woman, and had been head cook for over forty years. Of late she had been training a couple of her grandchildren to take her place, but she never gave up the control, and now they were gone. "Where'sall dem gals, an' John and Joe?" "Dunno; deys gone, I specs," and Lance glanced toward the encampment. "Jes' like dem fool niggers. Dey b'lieves everyting dem soldiers say. Dey better wait an' see if deys good family or not, fore dey goes runnin' off wid white mens. I know dese folks wot comes an' goes, an' tears up, an'steals from'spectable black people, ain't much no how. You ain't gwine off, fool-like, too?" "No, maum Hess, I'se gwine stay till Mass Jack comes back. Dat Yankee officer wot stays in de settin' room, told us if we didn't min' de wite people he'd give us smoke. Maud an' Clara dey jes laugh after he gone, an' say de oder men say deys as free as him, an' to clar out ef dey wanted to, an' dey went soon as dark come." The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Elliott. "Well, raaum Hess, you haven't left us?" "No, Miss Georgia, me an' my ole man neber leave till we's carried off in our coffins. We's got some sense yet; we knows wen we's whole-footed. It's dem wite niggers wot don't know wen dey's well off." "Have they all gone ?" t "Ebery one, ma'am." "I hope they will never have cause to regret it Have you any thing to cook for breakfast?" "Yes, Misses. Dat captain yonder sent plenty of beef from his own wagon, an' deres lots of tings in de smoke-house an' store-room. Dem guards is mighty polite." "Then make just what you please, and bring in breakfast as soon as it is ready." Although they had eaten little the day before, Stuart was the only one with an appetite, and Hess grumbled that they could 'eat nofin no more.' In the course of the morning, Mrs. Elliott sent for Captain Clinton. He was out; but two other officers were in the room, and Lance, who had rarely been sent with messages when quicker and brighter servants were about, gave it in such a way they hardly knew whether Clinton was meant, particularly, or any officer. "It don't matter," said one; "I should like to see who it is Clinton has moved heaven and earth to protect. If it is the family I think, I'd see the house burned over their heads before I'd raise a finger for them." "It will be rude to force ourselves into their presence. I'm sure its Clinton they want," replied the other. "Come along, Major. I'm going anyhow, and you might as well see the fun. So come on," and the two men crossed the wide passage, to the parlor. Mrs. Elliott was seated in an arm chair, with Conway standing on one side and Grace the other. She looked up in cold surprise and scarcely acknowledged the bows of the two men; but nothing daunted, the one who had taken the lead began? "As Captain Clinton had gone out for a short time and left Major Vincent and myself?Col. Ford?in his place, we have answered your summons and come to receive your commandsand the speaker drew up a chair and sat down. Mrs. Elliott rose indignantly, Conway's scorn was withering, and Grace raised her head with the Elliott pride which so rarely showed itself in her. Colonel Ford's manner was enough to rouse them ; he, too, had recognized Claude Elliott by his portrait, and the smouldering fire of an old college feud gave a wrathful, insulting tone to his words. "I have no commands except for you to leave the room." J Colonel Ford's face was livid, but there was a firmness and majesty in Mrs. Elliott's appearance not to be resisted, and he went out so humiliated that even his curses were re- ' strained till he reached the sitting-room. , Major Vincent had not spoken; he bowed dep- I recatingly, and followed the Colonel. Ford would not meet Clinton when he saw him i coming, but dashed out like a madman. That i he had drawn contempt on himself only added to his rage. Major Vincent gave Clinton a brief account of what had passed. "It is strange," said Clinton. "Col. Ford . knows what belongs to good manners and is < generally extremely polite." ] "Some old grudge, I guess, for he intimated ' something of the kind, and he fairly glared when he caught sight of a fine portrait which was back of the lady." "I must apologize for the intrusion. I am sorry it happened." "You ought to see the Colonel; he's furious. As for me, 1 felt like a whipped puppy, l wonder why they left such a fine picture hanging so conspicuously; they must have heard of the destructiveness of an army." "Its fastened in the wall?I noticed it yesterday. Don't you remember a fine house in Georgia, with a number made in the house that way, and what a time we had keeping the man from destroying them ? But I must not linger here. "Wait till I return," and he passed over and rapped at the parlor door. Lance opened it partially, and with a bow, "Its de right one dis time," stepped back for him to enter. Mrs. Elliott received his regrets very quiet- J ly; she did not blame him, and was greatly ' obliged that they had been troubled so little. ! She merely wished to know if she could send , a letter to New Orleans, where she had a mar- i nea aaugnter, it uaviug uccu oumu vuuv ?uw she had written or received a letter. "Most certainly. I shall take pleasure in forwarding any you wish." "Must they be open letters?" asked Mrs. Elliott *"Not at all. Sealed as usual." "Could he tell how much longer the array would be there?" "They were moving on then. Few beside stragglers would be there after the middle of the day. Was there anything he could do 'r any supplies he could furnish, though much on the place had been saved." "No, she thanked him?they needed nothing," and the interview closed with far less satisfaction than the one of 4he day before. Then, "one touch of nature" had made them "kin;" now, the conduct of Col. Ford had chilled all. Not many soldiers were there after two or three o'clock. A body of cavalry was seen to go away, but it returned about sundown, and camped in sight of the house. They watched them closely, but not even Stuart could recognize one of the horses as belonging- to them or Mr. Wright, so they spoke hopeftilly of their father's safety. Grace, who complained of a dull headache, was persuaded to go up stairs and try to sleep. Instead of undressing and going into the room next her mother's, where she and Conway had sat the night before, she lay down on the lounge in her room opposite her mother's. She felt more at home there, and only thought to stay till the others went up to bed; but at eleven o'clock she was sleeping so sweetly, Mrs. Elliott could not bear to wake her, but covering her carefully and kissing her softly, let her lie. It was many a long night since Grace had gone to sleep first, and while Mrs. Elliott bent over her, and saw the pure, peaceful expression which rested on her beautiful face, her heart blessed her, and she prayed, as only a mother can, for a beloved child. She thought how many nights Grace had bent over her, and how loving and tender had been her care, and she breathed a thanksgiving that none of her children had inherited her horri ble headaches. The doors between the rooms were left open, the light partially shaded and set on the hearth, and before midnight all had sunk to rest. [to be continued next week.] [Copies of the Enquire* containing the previous chapters of tills Story can be furnished to new subscribers.] MRS. DAYIS AND MR. GREELEY. The accompanying communication, says the Telegraph anq Messenger, comes from a source of the most unquestionable authenticity, and reflects honor upon the nomiuee of the Cincinnati Convention. No true Southron can pursue it with unmoistened eye, and the rebuke to Mr. Voorhees is most withering and complete: Editors Macon Telegraph and Messenger: Mr. Voorhees, in his recent attack on Mr. Greeley, styled his signing of Mr. Davis' bond "an impertinent interference." Allow me to give you the true history of that matter as I recently learned it in New York, from a fentleman who knew all about it Mrs. Javis went to New York to consult Charles O'Connor, Mr. Davis' counsel, as to the best manner of effecting his release from prison. Mr. O'Connor told her that in his opinion there was but one way that it could be done, and that was to get the representative man of the Republican party to sign his bond. Mrs. Davis inquired who that man was. Mr. O'Connor replied that it was Horace Greeley. She then asked him if he would not see Mr. Greeley and get him to do it He replied that he had no influence with Mr. Greeley, and that she was the proper person to see him. She said she would go and see him. She went to his office, sent in her card, and was invited into his private office. Shef said to him: "Mr. Greeley, my husband is confined in a casemate at Fortress Monroe. He has been there for 1 TTa to a nlrl LUUUjr lUiJg, ncaijr muuiiw>. j.jlu u u *wv*v w<v> man, and he is gradually sinking under his rigorous imprisonment. He will die if he remains there much . longer. I came here to consult Mr. O'Connor as to the means of getting him released. He has told me there is but one way to do it, and that is to get the representative man of the Republican party to sign his bond, and that you are that man. He has advised me to apply to you. He says that you have a kind heart, and that you will do it, if you believe it to be right. My husband is dying. Mr. Greeley, may I hope that you will favorably consider my application ?" Mr. Greeley arose, extended his hand to Mrs. Davis, and said: "Madam, you may, for I will sign his bond." Mr. Greeley was then a prominent candidate before the Legislature for the United States Senate. Some of his friends heard that he had agreed to sign Mr. Davis' bond. They went to him and protested against it They told him that they had made a count, and that he would be elected* by six majority, but that if he signed this bond it would defeat him. He replied, "I know it will." They told him that he was one of the owners of the Tribune, and if he signed this bond he would lose thousands of subscribers. He replied, "I know it" They said, Mr. Greeley, you have written a history of the war, one volume you have out, and have sold large numbers of it Your second volume is nearly out, and you have large orders for that. If you sign this bond, these orders will be countermanded, and you will lose a large amount of money." He replied, "Gentlemen, I know it, but it ie right, and I will do it." He did do it, and I am informed that he lost a seat in the United States Senate, and over $30,000. To my mind, this does not look like "impertinent interference." *** # # 4 The Chinese Wall.?Mr. Seward, who visited the great wall of China during his visit to that country, recently gave the following description of that wonderful structure: "The Chinese have been, for at least two or three thousand years, a wall-making people. It would bankrupt New York or Paris to build the wall of the city of Pekin. The great wall of China is the great wall of the world. Itisforty feet high. The lower thirty feet is of hewn limestone or granite. Two modern carriages may pass each other on its summit. It has a parapet throughout its entire length, with convenient staircases, buttresses and garrison houses at every quarter of a mile; and it runs, not by cutting down hilb and raising valleys, but over the uneven crests of toe mountains and down their gorges, a distance of a thousand miles. Admiral Rodgers and I calculated that it would cost more now to build the great wall of China, through its extent of one thousand miles, than it has cost to build the fifty-five thousand miles of railroad in the United States." ? <16?* If you have occasion to transplant in the summer season, let it be in the evening after the heat is past; plant and water the 3ame immediately, and there will be no danger from the heat next day; but be careful, in digging up the earth, you do not break any of the young shoots, as the sap will exude out of the same to the great danger of the plants.