Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. (iRisT, Proprietor.| 5,i( Inbepcnbent jfamtlfT ftclusppcr: jfor fljc |)ro.notion of tjjc |olitical, social, Agricultural nub Commercial Interests of tjje J?out|. |TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 20. YOEZVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, APRIL 9, 1874. NO. 15. (Dvigimtl Written for the Yorkviile Enquirer. DESTINY; OR, * HOUNDED I>OW:X. BY NELLY MARSHALL McAFEE. CHAPTER XLV. It was eleven o'clock before the fishing party was all arranged. The bright autumnal sun was shining, gilding the whole landscape with its glory, and warming the old gray stone walls of the Bluffs with its rays. Mr. Gadburv had already wandered through ~ J the grounds, smoking his cigar, and met two neighbors, to whom he had sent an invitation to join in the day's sport. Indeed, the closest observer would not have suspected the secret thoughts and feelings of the man?he behaved with such calmness and talked in such jesting tones. It is true, his face was paler than usual; but that could readily be ascribed to two sleepless nights and days of dissipation. McDonald assumed a cold and collected manner; but he was not so consummate an actor as Gadbury. About his affectation of gaiety there was a continued restraint; and although his Iids were wreathed in smiles, the rest of his face was rigid and white, save his brow, which was corrugated as with the wrinkles of eighty years. At last, every thing was in readiness. The servants had been sent ahead with well-laden hamper, and every implement appertaining to the day's sport. As they crossed the grouuds to the avenue, McDonald slackened his pace and loitered behind the rest, looking backward searchingly at the window of Cecelia's chamber, to see if he could catch a glimpse of her. Suddenly, a pale face showed itself for an instant, framed in the lace drapery, like the head of one of Michael Angelo's faces looking down from heaven to earth. Gadbury loitered, also, until McDonald joined him. "You seem to forget that we have companions, and that your part must be well played." McDonald bowed. "You are the coolest man alire." he said : "I euvv vou, but I can not imitate you." "After the affair," said Gadbury, "our actions will be recalled, an'd if suspicious, they will weigh against us. Come let us hurry up. Our companions arc ahead. Remember, the honor of the woman you love is at stake. Our prudence alone can save her!" The two men then walked quickly onward, and joined the other sportsmen with whom they readily joinecf in a light conversation about the county crops and gossip, and domestic affairs, McDonald even complimenting Gadbury on his wife's beauty and amiability, and dubbing him the happiest husband in the world. All of these compliments Gadbury received with good-humored and apparent sincerity. Then one of the neighbors speculated to another on the likelihood that Gadbury was trying to catch "Damar" for his sister; for McDonald still passed under his assumed name to everybody but Cecelia, Dalaval aud Gad bur}*. "Is he rich ?" asked oue, in a low tone, to the other. "I suppose so?she is, you know," answered the other; "all the Gadbury's are." And so these dupes walked along and chatted with two desperate men, who were armed then with deadly weapons, ready to kill each other. The day wore on. The sport was only ordinary, and everybody began to yawn and wish for lunch time. At last, it came. They selected a shaded spot, where the birds sang overhead, and spread out the lunch. They ate heartily and drank freely; and then their potions becoming deep, they grew stupid or crazed with excitement. Only Gadbury and McDonald, with that other excitement in their blood, retained their senses, while, to all appearances, they were the most intoxicated of the party. Suddenly, the waiters who had wandered off a little distance, set up a wild shout. The two neighbors went to sec what was the matter, leaving Gadbury and McDonald en gaged iu an apparently heated discussion. The men quickly turned and called out?"A body !?a body !?a dead body !?a woman ! her face half picked off by the crows." At these words, Gadbury and McDonald exchanged a strange glance. Gadbury could lutrdly maintain an erect position. His knees trembled under him. He was nervous and confused. While the servants were making efTorts to prepare a litter to carry the dead Fbody to a shelter until a magistrate should be summoned, and while the neighbors were discussing the affair in deep excitement, Gadbury and McDonald suddenly dropped their subject of dispute and Gadbury said with sombre gravity? "Now give me the lie. I will return the accusation, and as I say "lie the second time we will both fire." "You lie !" thundered McDonald. "You lie!" reechoed Gadbury, drawing his pistol. "One moment," said McDonald, hastily, "you remember my threat last night? I have fulfilled it. Dalavai has my deposition ; he will put it in the magistrate's hand at the first sign of mistreatment. In the face of death, I swear to you she is innocent; I swear it!" "You shall pay for this in your blood. You arc a scouudrel! l ou are a poltroon r McDonald stood erect and fixed his eyes on Gad bury. "And you lie !" This was the signal. McDonald had also drawn his pistol; but power had left him ; he could not raise his arm. Gadbury firmly lifted his pistol, and fired three times without effect. The neighbors looked on, horror stricken. No man dated interfere. Then McDonald lifted his pistol and fired, while Gadbury's hand was on the trigger to shoot again. When the smoke rolled away, Clarence Gadbury lay weltering in his own blood. j CHAPTER XLVI. The scene at the Bluffs was calm and eminently peaceful. Old Mr. Gadbury was in his arm-chair stroking his pet cat's fur ; Docia was embroi dcring at one of the open windows ; and Ce-' v celia sat near her old uncle-in-law reading the v newspaper to him. f Any one, to glance in on the sweet domes-' c tic picture, would have concluded that every ! heart was at peace with itself and the world, e , Cecelia showed no difference in her bearing j from what she did the day before; she was al- v ways more or less melancholy ; and now, al-; fc though her face was very sad, there was a j bright flush 011 either cheek, showing that her J ti ; blood burned with feverish auxiety; and her T ! eyes shone with a luminous light, appalling s as it was beautiful. She felt that any mo-! 0 I raent she might die. The tense nerves could j : not hold out long. The fatal news was all ' a : that she needed to kill her utterly. | h Think of it?as she sat there, reading of t j the crops, the railroads, the telegraphic news, 0 I the rise and fall in stocks?the man to whom e j she belonged, and the man whom she knew too 1 s late that she madly loved, were pitted against! t oooVi nflior otirl nnp must, difi! ^ V j Whatever might be her widowhood?that: a ! of heart or of hand?she felt, instinctively, s that it would be brief?very brief. It is true she was young, and she was beau- n j tiful, surrounded by the favors of fortune; i j but ah! life walled itself in before her, and t | left open to her feet, only a blood-stained path ; through which she must tread if she would j n pass onward. r For some time the three occupants of the ' sitting-room kept silent. Cecelia had ceased j reading, and sat there with her hands folded ! j helplessly in her lap. Old Mr. Gadbury t ceased stroking the silky fur of his great tortoise-shell cat, and' Docia, out of patience a with the pattern she had begun for the third time, suddenly rose and approached Cecelia. ^ Since the discussion in the library over "Da- v mar," there had been a decided coldness be- j tween the two ladies. Docia certainly suf- 0 fered most from the constraint, and after s waiting vainly for Cecelia to make the first t advance toward her, she now attempted it ] herself. b "I wish brother Clary would come home 1*ia nAmnontr T am lnnolv " ; 1, Tllbli IJIO VVUI^MUJI jl UUJ IWIIVIJ. I J, Cecelia looked up and shuddered with n vague dread, and then dropped her head on r her hands. s; At the sound of Docia's voice old Mr. Gadbury roused up and listened. ( As Cecelia seemed but little inclined to j a I converse, Docia went over to a guitar-case, in i j the corner, and taking out the instrument, t,( commenced thrumming on it. "Have a little mercy on us, Miss Docia," c cried her uncle, petitlautly. p At this, Docia banged the instrument back b in the case, and returned to her seat by the window. t, Silence reigned everywhere. Cecelia sat there shivering perceptibly, and p sighing and listening for sounds of approach- p( ing footsteps. w "What is the matter with you, Cecelia?" said the old man, for the first time noticing p, her agitation and the wild expression in her I great, lustrous eyes. h "Nothing," she murmured in reply, "unless ( -u I am going to have a chill; I feel so cold." ; gj When she said this, Doeiatook an afghan i ofT the sofa and wrapt it about Cecelia's j shoulder, and then took her hand and counted j her pulse. j . "How strange!" she said, "your hands are : ? j like fire, and your pulse is very quick; your ; ^ I head and throat are hot, and yet you are sha- j king with a chill." j j Suddenly, Cecelia started to her feet with a ^ loud and awful shriek. , I . . j J* Docia drew back in alarm, half believing i her sister-in-law was demented. i "Cecelia! Cecelia!" cried old Gad bury, | ^ wringing his hands, "Cecelia, are you going j ! mad ??are you going mad ?" i "Oh! don't you hear? Don't you hear?"! j 1 she cried, in accents of terror, impossible to : describe; "I have felt it all day! I felt it! , I felt it !" v i She rushed to the door, as if she would go ^ out to meet what she dreaded, and then came ! : running back, in a frenzied manner, and fell ; ! upon her knees, burying her awe-stricken face j ^ in the sofa's sombre greeu cushions. ! I lie old niau stood near her crying like a i ! child, believing she had lost her senses,and he j loved her as he had never loved living thing i , ,. B ? i a before. Docia ran out of the room to call for help.. ^ The noise of tramping feet was heard in :' the lower hall, as she opened the door. A ^ j moment after, a piercing cry rose above the heavy steps, and Docia came running back, and throwing herself on the floor beside Cc- ji celia, clasped her with convulsive energy. Old Mr. Gadbury caught Docia by the shoul- j der and cried hoarsely? i ? "What is the matter ? For God's sake 1 tell me !" j "BrotherClary?oh ! uncle, brother Clary > n is dead ! They are bringing up his body ; . weltering with blood!" moaned and faltered j Docia. Cecelia rose to her feet, looked wildly about, her, and sank prostrate amid the sofa cush- ^ i ions. Her first feeling was that of great joy 1 at not hearing that McDonald was killed. ! She kept her face hidden, and lay there! Krn?tliitifr lionvilv & i f The noise of confused voices and of men's j feet heard in the vestibule, came nearer, and ' a great commotion seemed to exist among the j new arrivals. Several persons now entered the room, and I1 with them the neighbors who had so gaily set out with Gadbury and McDonald for a day's 1 sport. ; "Don't he frightened ; be calm, ladies?be ' i calm,"said one, in an excited manner; "there I i is no danger; the accident is only slight. ' 1 They had been drinking too much, and Mr. ) Gadbury got angry. Ho has been wounded, j 1 but not mortally, we hope. Where must we t move him ? In what chamber? I mean." j i i Before any one could answer, four men ! came in, carrying a terrible burden between i \ i . them. i s "Don't bring him in here?not here!": cried the sympathetic neighbor, running to t ! the door to prevent their entrance. ! i For a moment they hesitated and consulted ! about what would be best, and then, despite | i the neighbor's adjuration, they entered the i , room. They laid Clarence Gadbury down on a j I sofa, lie was either dead or in a swoon?one t j could scarcely tell which. The expression of < his face was harsh and painful, and it was ! colorless as marble. Ilis coat had been taken f off; but the rest of his clothing was saturated ( with blood. On the right side of his breast 1 I was a large crimson spot. It was the death-11 round. Those near him had staunched it as roll as possible with their handkerchiefs ; bul rem the very first, there was no remedy thai onld have availed him. Docia threw herself on the body and utterd the most piteous and heart-rending cries, Cecelia did not move. Lying on a sofa, rith her face buried in the cushions, she was lind and deaf to her surroundings. Now and then a convulsive movement antounced the presence of life in her form ?his alone betrayed the emotion the sufferer till experienced, although, evidently endcavring to crush all feeling in herself. And now occurred an incident anomalous ,nd unexpected. Old Mr. Gadbury preserved lis coolness and his presence of mind ; aftei he tears he shed over Cecelia, every vestige f excitement left him, and while every one lse stood in consternation and awe?while the ^ T"\~ ^ itonlPin cr\Kc?? \cVi 11* orrowui l/UCltl CA|;ciiuv-m nov.il iu cumu ....... he despair of unfortunate Cecelia was fasl ergingon madness, he mastered his emotion nd leaning over his nephew, sought to find ome trace or sign of life. "He is dead, then ?" he said, turning to tin leighborwho had broken the news, and speak ng in a low, inquiring voice, as if he dreadec he reply. "No," said the man,sadly, "not dead yet;' nd he hopelessly shook his head as if he hac 10 thought of his host's recovery. "Did you send for a doctor ?" "Yes; have sent for two or three?for Doc or Hunt and Doctor Tomlinson. They are he best physicians in the county." "But they live in Harrodsburg, ten milei ,wav." "Better go ten miles for a good doctor that lave such quacks as live about here, whc irould be no advantage in the case. Doctoi Jelson was away from home. He is the onl) ne who could do anything about here. So J ent to Harrodsburg. If there is any salva ion for him Doctor Hunt and Doctor Tom inson are the men who can administer the aim of life to him." Their conversation was interrupted by s lud cry of joy from Docitu Gadbury had aoved ! His poor wounded body had become ~ /^oonArofn nlacn nf* hie I'illlillitttCU >111/11 tile U^O|/V/i uvu Viu ;|/ v/a u Ik ister's endearing arms. Acute pain portrayed itself in his features, )nce or twice, he partially opened his eyes, nd then closed them. He was evidently eneavoriug to master his sufferings sufficiently a speak. After many efforts, he raised himself on his lbow aud looked about him in a wild, desairing, wretched way, that would have rought tears to the crudest eyes. "My wife!" he moaned, in broken but eager 3nes, "my wife! I want Cecelia." Cecelia started from the couch and aproachcd him. Even in that little while her jatures had undergone such a change?she as so wan and white and full of despair? ,iat at sight of her, a murmur of pity rose rom every one present. "Send Docia away," said Gadbury, turning is face awav, that the young girl was coverig with kisses and tears ; "send away my ister Docia?my dear little Docia, who loves le so well." "No! no! I will never leave him !" cried )ocia, terribly affected by his tender words hat she so much feared were dying ones; you shall not tear me from him; all the rorld shall not take me away !" she cried, "Oh ! I wish it," he moaned, pitifully ; and leariog these words, all strength, all hope, eft her, and she suffered herself to be gently ed from the room. "I want everybody to go away ; I want tc ee my wife alone," resumed Clarence Gad mry, looking around him. His old uncle turned to the neighbors and aid with a sorrowful gesture that was full ol ufinite pathos? "Nothing can be done for him until the lectors arrive; and it might be dangerous tc rex him. If there is no hope, we* must nol leny him, poofiboy!" At this, lie quitted the room and beckoned ,11 the rest to follow him. They did so, and Jecelia was left all alone with her dying bus land?the man to whom she had been botl also and true; the man who loved her utterly ,nd intensely, although his jealousy had casi . blight on his own life, as well as hers. Cecelia had stood near him like a statue die was apparently insensible to all that was mssiug around her. The noise of the closing loor roused her from her awful stupor. Slit ooked around her with a hunted, wild ex ression in her eyes, terrible to see; but those or whom she looked were no longer there. At length, as if dreading the ordeal, liei ;aze rested on the blood-stained couch where ier hapless husband lay. "Come, nearer?nearer me," he gasped ; "1 oust speak and my voice is almost gone." She mechanically obeyed him. The nexl nstant, she threw herself on her knees besidi iiin and took his hand. In a suffocated voice, again and again, and ' O ? ? et again, she moaned out despairingly? Pardon?pardon?pardon." Although dying, the man snatched his hand rom her grasp. Then he lifted up her head ind gazed attentively in her pale and bcauti 'ul face. " l ou are not grieving, he said, "your eyes ire dry ; not a tear to shed even when yoi ice me thus?dying by the murderous banc >f the man you love !" "I cannot weep ! My brain is on fire," sin nuttered and moaned ; "on fire, on fire !" "And can it, indeed, be, that you so little egret my deatli ? Do you realize how youi ndifference humiliates me, even in my dying lour? Ah! don't you know it f And yet i rou pretended to grieve, it would do you less lonor. hut do weep! You surely can fine ears to shed ! Think what a mockery ! A vidow who cannot weep !" "A widow ? Ah ! I am not that! I nevei vill be that! I tell you I never will be that!' ;he cried out, passionately. <im. i ?.:n t A ~,i :# V/ll ; jw, *-? 11 will ; aiiu ji yyj u iiaib in ears to weep, you will look lovely in crape t is always so becoming to blondes 1" Great God ! what a death-bed. A niai sneering away in fruitless wrath the last mo nents of his life. "Oh! Clarence you will not die! Say tha rou will not! Say that you forgive me! Ii .here 110 mercy for me? No pity??no par Ion ?" "Yes I will die !" said Gadbury, in a slov md feeble voice, with the same deathless, cru ?1 glitter in his eyes; "I will die, and by th< land of your paramour. Before the sun sets he man you swore to love and honor?swon j' it at God's high and holy altar?and whom : ^ ; you have outraged and disgraced, will be only | f , a clod of cold and senseless clay." "Have mercy! Oh! pardon !" still pleaded . 1 and besought the miserable woman, crouch- j , ing prostrate on the floor, aud lifting up her , hands with a pitiful, pathetic gesture that | i1 would have touched any heart, save the one ' I that she had so wronged by her treachery. j n . i "I have no mercy ! I pray with my dying j t! ,: breath that God will likewise grant you no ri mercy ! I grant you no pardon ! I took you 0 | to my heart; I loved you above all the world, i * and beyond Heaven. I sacrificed my eternal' j' welfare to secure you, and you have wronged ? lime. You have foully dishonored me! Liv- n ' T 11 1 2-1. ~ J . f r ing, I WOUlU imvu piujisnt'u ^uui ticauiuij , fc > dying, I curse you endlessly?eternally!" !a ; He paused for breath. j * i "Air ! air!" he cried, sharply ; "more air! I'* i Open the windows." I _ t lie fell back on the sofa, exhausted by the I I , great effort he had trade to speak. I n I ' Cecelia obeyed him as one who is under a ^ mesmeric spell obeys every behest of the mes- a ; merizer. !4 The fresh September breeze blew into the j, | room and fanned the dying man's panting j r lips. He looked out on the yellow light of I ? the sunset, with most melancholy eyes, and j a I then out on the green woods which death so i 1 soon would shut forever from his gaze. I * Cecelia did not return to her husband's j. . side. She passed through the window, out on J ; the balcony with its boxes of oleander, pink and crimson, yellow and white, and stood j c 3 there leaning on the balustrade and glancing , a down on the ground beneath, with their grav- j , eled walks, variegated flower-beds and neatly I , [ trimmed borders of box-wood. She leaned j r J there, wrapt in the profoundest reverie, strange i r and sad. ; ii [ The woman was losing her mind. Suddenly her husband's voice roused her, i u . and she returned to his side. ; "Have you yet no tears to shed ? Are you j n stone?" he said with the fierce energy ofj? L deathly struggles; "weep!?woman?weep? v | weep!" i "I cannot! 0, I cannot! Here is my i s , | heart," she moaned, baring her snowy breast J j to his gaze; "kill me, as I begged you to do j 1 last night, and I will not utter a single sound [ of reproach ; but don't ask me to weep, for I ], . j cannot! I have no tears !" -| He seized her frantically by the arm, and ( f i said in the most supplicating and tender | h , ' tones? "Oh ! Cecelia, I have loved you so ! Oh ! j p . j Cecelia, I appeal to you, do not wed him when : p I I am dead! If you do, I will curse you? ti j curse you?curse you !" I I j He loosened his grasp and fell backward J' .1 with a convulsive sob. His eyes closed, and j' .: his despairing voice died away into silence, j , j Again he raised it to mutter something whol- j 15 . I ly unintelligible, and then gasped and was ' \ ,! still. His spirit had passed away, j Cecelia crouched down by the sofa, wring- Sl . j ing her hands and moaning distractedly ; but ^ . making no sounds of words, save once when j ' she leaned forward and whispered in his sense-! r : , i , i less ears? I AT , ,| "JJon't curse tne: i\o, no, aon i curse mei j I I I am dying, too ! Don't curse me! j Then she was silent. ! j For many moments she continued thus ; ^ | then suddenly, starting to her feet, she ran ! out on the balcony, and with one wild, pier- j k I j cing shriek after another?of despair unutter- s< i able and irrecoverable insanity?she dashed ( 11 ' | herself from the railing of the balcony to the ! ' stone steps below her. Her head struck and ; ^ ( she died almost instantly. Peace?the peace which the quiet grave alone can give to weary heart and weary j j brain?was hers forever more. | v ? I * * * * * a 1 ! t For Irving McDonald? Well his heart? 1 ; was a man's heart; and although sorely woun- j j >' (led, it did not break. The recollection of I that awful tragedy in which he played so f ' prominent a part lived in his memory always. 1 [ 1 He took to his heart no other love. All : | the affection of which he was capable had be. longed to Cecelia, and it was buried with her , in the grave. ^ r! Ill-fated, beautiful woman that she was, j t destroyed unwittingly by his unhappy passion!. r He never entered society again. He uvoi-; ^ ded it; and if any one ever questioned as to i ? 3 why he absented himself so studiously from j' r' the world lie once adorned by his intelligence, ; i his beauty, his wealth and his elegance, a . sombre shadow would settle down over his ; 1 proud face ; but he would never reply. j 0 He never spoke of his grief to any living . being; not even to his faithful friend, Dalaval. ; And so the tragedy of the man's life closed i with the death of Cecelia. [ Destiny marks out for us, one and all, fated paths in which our feet?our tired feet? I I are doomed to tread. j v ?I If we resist, we soon or late, learn how I i i c ; powerless have been our efforts. We soon ( I 1 or late, learn to bow submissively to the Dies- t .1 tiny that Hounds us Down, with the mute c 1 pathos of the Buddhist that prays at the I hands of his eternal Idol?only for the beni- d ' t son of extinction. , ' r i I b [the eni).] " | L IS 3 A Good Story.?An amusing story of an (I 1 1 English nobleman, recently deceased, is told , c | i by the "Man About Town," in the English i Sporting Gazette. We give it in his ?\vn ^ : words: "The duke," he says, "was once in j t 2 | church, no matter where, when a collection e i was announced for some charitable object. If ? The plate or bag, or whatever it might be, | . began to go round, and the duke carefully t j put his hand into his pocket and took out a h ' florin, which he laid on the pew before him t! j ready to transfer to the plate. Beside him 5 sat a little suob, who, noticing this action, im-. e 1 itatcd it by ostentatiously laying a sovereign I L 1 alongside the ducal florin. This was too , e | much for his grace, who dipped his hand into I his pocket again and pulled out another florin j fi , i which he laid by the side of the first. The j | little snob followed suit by laying another , ti ! sovereign beside the first. Ilis grace quietly e ) added a third florin, which was capped by a I ; third sovereign on the part of the little snob, ii Out came a fourth florin to swell the duke's w , donation, then the little snob triumphantly p laid three sovereigns at once upon the board, a The duke, not to be beaten, produced three 1 s: florins. Justat this moment the plate arrived, h ^ i The little snob took up his handful of sover3 cigns and ostentatiously rattled them into the a plate, then turned defiantly toward his rival,! e ! as who should say, 'I think that takes the o I shame out of you,' Fancy his chagrin when '1 j the duke, with a grim smile, put one florin ti " into the plate, and quietly swept the remain- si 2 j ingsix back into his pocket. Ilis grace used b > ! to chuckle when he told the story, and 11 31 think, on the whole, he had the best of it." j n ifjlbccltiiucflujs |laiUug. k. CONTEST WITH FOILS. ! A STRIKING STORY OF A RUSSIAN DUKE. ! _ | Just thirty years ago I arrived in St. Pesrsburg, with the intention of establishing lyself as a fencing-master in the capital. In- | roductions from distinguished individuals of iy own country enabled ine to make a friend f Count Alexis W.; and that nobleman in- i Brested himself greatly in my success. Not ontent with procuring me several pupils, he ; rged me to petition the emperor for the val-1 able and honorable appointment of fencing- [ laster to a regiment; and, toward that end,! ave me a letter of recommendation to an ' id de-camp of the Czarowitsch C'onstantine, dio was then at the Castle of Stelua, near It. Petersburg. The morning after, I hired a droschki and et out for Stelna, armed with my credentials, reached the convent of St. Sergius, the saint .1 T> Ul A lAnnn/ln. iiosi venenueu in xvussm unci 01. aiMouuci I fieuski. A few minutes afterward I arrived j t the castle, and was soon ushered into the ! partmcuts of the emperor's brother. In one j f those I discovered him standing with his i >ack to a large fire, and distinguished by the uost forbidding countenance I ever beheld. Ie was tapping his boot with his riding-whip, j nd the undried splashes of mud on his pan-1 aloons indicated that he had but recently re- j urucd from a ride or a review. At a table | lear him was seated General Kodna, pen in j land, and apparently writing under the irince's dictation. The door was scarcely closed when the zarowitsch, fixing on me his piercing eyes, bruptly said: "What is your age ?" "Six-and-twentv." "Name ?" "G ." "You want to be a feucing-master to a reg- j ment ?" "May it please your highness, such is the bjcct of my ambition." "Are you a first-rate swordsman ?" "I have fenced in public several times since I ny arrival in St. Petersburg, and your high-1 iess can easily ascertain the opinion of those i-ho were present." "I have heard of you, but you had only I econd-rate fencers to contend with." "Which gave them just claims upon my orbearance, your highness." "Forbearance !" he repeated with flashing yes, and a scornful curl on his lips; "but if ess considerate, what then ?" "I should have buttoned them ten times or every twice that they touched me, your j ighness." "Ha ! and could you do that with me?" "That would depend on how your imperial ighness might wish to be treated. If as a rince, it is probable your highness would ouch me ten times and be touched twice, hit if your highness desired to be treated ike any other person, the ten hits would be chieved by me, and the two by your highess." "Lubenski!" roared the czarowitsch, rubing his hands ; "Lubenski, bring the foils! Ve shall sec, Sir Braggadocio 1" "Is it possible your highness would condecend?" "My highness orders you to touch me ten imcs if you can. Do you want to back out .1 ready? Now take this foil and mask. Juard!" "Is it your highness's absolute command ?" "Yes, yes!" "I am ready." "Ten times," repeated the prince, as he atncked me, "ten times, mind you; less won't o, ha! ha !" Notwithstanding this encouragement, I i opt merely on the defeusive, contenting my-1 elf with parrying his thrusts without return-' ig them. 44\T^v..? *1,I" Un onrvrlltr ttfhflt nra ! J.1UW) LilUU i LI IV/U Jiu, uu^iiij, nu??v i?iw . ou about? You are playing the fool with ie. "Why don't you thrust?" "Your highness! the respect?" "Confound your respect, sir! Thrust, thrust!" j Observing through his mask that his cheeks ! fere flushed and his eyes bloodshot, I took j dvantage of the permission granted, and ! ouched him three times running. "Bravo !" cried he. "My turn now. Ha ! : L hit! a hit!" He had touched me. I then touched him j our times in rapid succession, and was then j ouched once. "Hurrah !" he cried, exultingly. "Rodna, ' lid you see that?" Twice to his seven." "Twice to ten, your highness" replied I, 1 iressing him very hard. "Eight, nine, ten ! i sTo\v we are quits." "Good, good !" cried the czarowitsch, ap- ! irovingly ; "very good. But that's not all. j ?he small sword?not enough?no use to the i avalry ; want the sabre. Now could you dc- j end yourself, on foot, against a mounted I ancer? Parry a lance thrust? Eh?" "I think I could, your highness." "Think so ! Not sure, eh ?" "Pardon me, your highness, I have no doubt j f it ? "Lubenski!" again shouted the prince. The officer appeared. "A lance and horse ! Quick !" "But, your highness," I interposed. "Jla! you are afraid ?" "I am not afruid ; hut with your highness ! should experience equal reluctance to he the j ictor or the vanquished." "All nonsense and flattery. First trial was I apital. Now for the second." At this moment the officer appeared before j lie windows of the palace, leading a magnifi-, ent horse, and hearing a lance in his hand. | "Now, then," exclaimed Constantine, as he \ ashed out of the room, and made me a sign j o follow him. "Give him a good sabre, Lu-1 icnski; and now, my Englishman, mind your- j elf, or you'll he spitted like one of the toads 11 my summer-house. The last lived three ays, Rodna," he added, turning to that gen- j nil, "with a nail through his belly." 80 saying, the prince sprang upon his steed. Vith great skill, he put the animal through he most difficult evolutions, at the same time xecuting sundry parries and thrusts with his nuce. "All ready ?" he cried, riding up to me. "Ready, your highness," was my reply ; and e, setting spurs to his horse, galloped off to lie furtherend of the avenue. "Surely, all this is a joke?" I said to Gen-1 ral Rodna. "By no means," was the reply. "You will i ithcr lose your life or gain your appointment. ! )cfend yourself as if you were 011 a battle- j eld." i Matters had taken a much more serious urn that I had anticipated. Had I considred mysclt'at liberty to return blow for blow,' could have taken my chance without uneas-, less; but finding myself bound to control, as ell as to use, a keen-edged sabre, while ex-' osed to the sharpened lance of a reckless and royal antagonist, the chances of the diver- | ion were decidedly against me. It was too ite, however, to draw back. I summoned to my aid all the coolness and i ddrcss I possessed, and prepared to face the zarowitsch, who had already reached the end f the avenue, and turned his horse about.! 'lie animal advanced at full speed, Constan-j ine being crouched down upon his neck in ; iich a manner that he was nearly concealed , y the abundant mane. When lie reached me, he made a point at; ly breast; but I parried his thrust, and, I bounding on one side,.horse and rider, carried i away by their impetuosity, passed by without I doing the slightest injury. c Very good! very good!" he said ; "try i again." J t Without giving me time for objection or re- i mark, he took space for his career, and, after f asking me if I was ready, returned to the r charge with great fury. As before, I kept my ! eyes fixed on his, and not one of his motions ! escaped me. At the decisive moment, I par- j ried en parle, and by a spring to the right' t made his second attack as harmless as the ! I first. | 1 Uttering a howl of disappointment, the 12 czarowitsch entered into the spirit of our tilt-1 < ing-match as ardently as if it had been a real j 1 combat, and had, moreover, made up his ' ' mind that it should terminate in his favor; 1 ' but when I saw him retracing the ground for > the third assault, I resolved that it should be ! 1 the last. i ? i i j A j ? i 1 Again ne aavanceu tuwaru mc mm nmu-, wind speed ; this time, however, without con-! tenting myself with a mere parry, I dealt a j violent back-handed blow an the pole of the ; lance, which was severed by the stroke, and , Constantine felt himself disarmed. Then, | quick as thought, I seized the bridle of the ! 1 horse, and by a very violent jerk threw him j( on his haunches, at the same time placing the 11 point of my sabre on the breast of the rider, i General Rodna uttered a cry of alarm ; he thought I was going to kill the prince. Con- 1 stantine also had the same impression, for the 1 color left his cheek for an instant. Stepping 1 a pace backward, and bowing to the grand J duke: "Your highness," I said, "has now seen J what I am able to teach to Russian soldiers, 1 and whether I am worthy to become their { professor." 1 "Yes, by my soul you are! Never saw a ' braver fellow ; and a regiment you shall have, ' if I can get it for you. Now follow me," he i added, as he threw himself from the saddle, | and led the way to his apartments. ' When there, he took up a pen, and wrote 1 at the foot of the petition to the emperor, ! which I had fortunately in readiness: "Ihumbly recommend the petitioner to your ! imperial majesty, believing him in every way worthy of the favor he solicits." It is only necessary to add that, after some 1 /lrtlnif T trrn a II n Q fn on All nrli t a nropn ro i OilUl 1/ UC1UJ | X TfCIO iUI bUlJUi/VV/UUvwii j, the post I so anxiously sought. THE HOMESTEAD LAW. IMPORTANT DECISION OF THE STATE SUPREME COURT. John 0. Cochran, executor, appellant, .vs. Michael Darcy, respondent; Michael Darcy, respondent, vs. John C. Cochran, appel-i lant. Supreme Court, November term, 1874. Opinion : Moses, C. J. These cases involve the judgment of this ( court in re Remedy?2 S. C. R., 216?and seek to reverse it, under the authority of Gunn vs. Barry decided by the Supreme Court of the United States at December term, 1873? 15 Wallace, 610. ^ It is true, as submitted by the respondent, that in Gunn vs. Barry the question directly made was as to the effect of a homestead exemption on a judgment obtained before its allowance by the constitution and act of the ( General Assembly of the State of Georgia, still it is so apparent that, in the view of the : court, the retrospective operation of such pro- j vision against all previous contracts was void, j because in violation of the tenth section of! the first article of the constitution of the j United States, which declares "that no State 11 shall pass any law impairing the obligation of ' contracts," that we feel bound to regard the i opinion as expressive of the views of the i court to the full extent to which the reasons i which it assigns may carry it. A respect to the duty which we owe to the highest tribunal of the country, as well as to ourselves, requires that we should not only give to .the decision all proper effect in the case as presented by the facts, but that we should accept the argument of the opinion as it affects the general question involved in its judgment. We yield a ready assent to what Mr. Justice Grier says in Cook vs. Moffatt et al., 5 Howard, 308: "The Constitution of the United States is the supreme law of the land, and binds every forum, whether it derives its authority from a State or from the United States, j When this court has declared State legislation j to be in conflict with the Constitution of the j United States, and therefore void, the State ; tribunals are bound to conform to such de-, cision." The Constitution of Georgia declared that! each head of a family should be allowed a j1 certain amount of realty as well as personal-, ty, and that no court or ministerial officer should ever have jurisdiction or authority to j1 enforce any judgment, decree or execution :: -? x i. i I against sucn property except lur tuxes, nuu so | forth. The Legislature of the same State, in ; October, 1868, passed "An act to provide for j setting apart the homestead as required by the ' constitution." In the cases before us, the exception was claimed under the constitution | and acts of the General Assembly of this 11 State, which, except as to the amount of home- {i stead allowed and the prohibition of jurisdic- i tiou by the courts, were of the same character \ as those provided by the constitution and laws 1 of Georgia. In the application of the princi- < pies which are to govern their enforcement, I < as proposed by the two States, no difference j I can be found to exist. The emphatic lan- j I guage of the opinion bears directly upon the :. general powers of the State to withdraw from j i a contract any substantial right which attach-; < ed to it at its inception, and must be viewed : s and accepted as the expression of the court < in regard to all homestead exceptions. It is j j in these words: "The legal remedies for the enforcement of j 1 a contract, which belong to it at the time ' I and place where it was made, are a part of its obligation. A State may change them, pro- e vided the change involve no impairment of a J substantial right. If the provision of the . constitution or the legislative act of a State fall within the category last mentioned they are to that extent utterly void. They are for all the purposes of the contract which they j j impair, as if thev had never existed. The constitutional provision and statute here in * question are clearly within that category and J are therefore void." The contracts on which these actions are founded were entered into before the adoption ' ^ of our constitution, and we can perceive in j them no element in regard to the homestead I law, which withdraws them from the princi-1 pies announced in Gunn vs. Barry. The motions are granted aud the cases re- i rnanded to the Circuit Court. I certify that the foregoing and preceding j pages are a correct copy of the original opin- j ion of the Supreme Court in the case of Bar- j; cy vs. Cochran and ' Cochran vs. Darcy, filed :' 12th March, 1874. j j Witness my hand and the seal of the Court, at Columbia, this loth March, 1874. Albert M. Boozer, Clerk of the Supreme Court. - ?? Ignorance of Fire.?According to Pliny 1 j fire was a long time unknown to some of the j ancient Egyptians, aud when a celebrated as- j ^ tronomer showed it to them, they were abso- j t lutely in raptures. The Persians, Phoenicians, Greeks, and several other nations, acknowledged that their ancestors were once without the use of fire, and the Chinese confess the ; 1: same of their progenitors. Pompanion, Mola, j f Plutarch, and other ancient writers, speak of t nations which, at the time when they wrote, n knew not the use of fire, or had just learned e - ???imbb t. Fuels of the same kind are also attested jy several modern nations. The inhabitants >f the Marian Islands, which were discovered n 1551, had no idea of fire. Never was asonishment greater than theirs when they saw t on the desert in one of their islands. At irst they believed it was some kind of aninal that fixed to and fed upon wood. EARTHQUAKES. In view of the excitement at Bald mounain, N. C., a little earthquake history will, perhaps, be relished. 7,000 is set down as the lumber of importaut earthquakes, up to the fear 1861, of which we have any reliable ac- j ;ount. It is estimated that this is but a small proportion of the real number that have taien place ; for the early records are so very neagre, that of 7,000 stated, only 787 occurred previous to the year 1500; while there is i catalogue of 3,340 which occurred from 1800 to 1850, or one in about five days. A writer in the Popular Science Monthly, for. March, 1872, says: "The means of detecting ind recording shocks are now so perfect that, when applied iu all parts of the globe, they will, doubtless, fullv iustify our statement, ;hat in 110 instant of time is the earth's crust fae from vibrations." The seismograph is ;he name of the instrument used for this purpose. Earthquake shocks arc not uncommon in A.merica. Many persons now living will remember the terrible shock of 1812, which made the bells in Richmond ring over the frightened city, and shook the houses in Columbia. [The fissures in the wall of'he College buildings are to be seen to-day, gaping witnesses of that terrific shock.] On the 1st af June; 1638, eighteen years after the landing of the pilgrims, there occurred the first earthquake in New England, of which we have any authentic record ; in 1663, 1755, tnd many times since, portions of Canada, New England and New York were convulsed by earthquake shocks. A great earthquake took place at New Madrid, Missouri, in 1811 and 1812, the shocks continuing many months. The ground rose in huge waves, which burst, and volumes of water, sand and pit-coal were thrown as high as the tops of the trees; the forests waved like standing corn in a gale of wind, and an area seventy miles long by thirty wide was submerged and became a swampy lake. California is the most volcanic region in North America. The crust of the earth there has been shaken with more or less violence countless numbers of times; but further 1 * ii x i_i; c : than the cracking or wans, lumonng ui cuuuneys, and the overthrow of shaking buildings, little damage has been done by them ; and they are so common on the Pacific slope, that they have lost half their terrors. The most fearful earthquakes recorded in history are: At Antioch, in 526, when 250,000 persons perished; at Lisbon, in 1655, which destroyed60,000 people; the Calabrian earthquake of 1783, which buried 35,000 men, women and children out of sight forever, in one awful hour; and the one at Arequipa, in 1868, which engulfed 40,000 persons. Von Tschudi says that "no familiarity with earthquakes can blunt the feeling of insecurity. The traveler from the north of Europe waits with impatience to feel the movement of the earth, and with his own ear to listen to the subterranean sounds; but, soon as his wish is gratified, he is terror-stricken, and is ptompt- * ed to seek safety in flight." THE EFFICACY OF PRATER. The Gilded Age tells how Uncle Daniel and the children first saw a Mississippi steamboat. They were sitting on a log one warm summer evening telling about spools, alter me manner of Southwestern negroes, when uncle Daniel said impressively, "chil'n, dars sumfin a comin'." A deep coughing sound troubled the stillness, away toward a wooded cape that jutted into the stream a mile distant. All in an instant a fierce eye of fire shot out from behind the cape and sent a long, brilliant pathway athwart the dusky water. The coughing grew louder and louder, the glaring eye grew larger and still larger, glared wilder and still wilder. A huge shape developed itself out of the gloom, and from its tall duplicate horns dense volumes of smoke, starred and spangled with sparks, poured out and went tumbling away into the farther darkness. Nearer and nearer the thing came, till its long sides began to glow with spots of light, which mirrorred themselves in the river and attended the monster like a torchlight procession. "Chil'n," said uncle Daniel, "it's de Almighty, git down on your knees." As the noise and the lights drew nearer uncle Daniel prayed : "O Lord, we's ben mighty wicked, an we knows dat we 'zerve to go to de bad place, but good Lord, deah Lord, we ain't ready yit, we ain't ready?let dese poor chil'eu have one more "linn'i'i ioo' ono mnpo nliqnpp Tnkft de ole U11UUV.V/J JVO V/UV iuu* v VUMMVVO ?? ? ? ? niggah if you's got to hab somebody. Good Lord, good deah Lord, we don't know wlmh you's agwyne to do, we don't know who you's got your eye on, but we knows by de way you's tiltin along in your charyot of fiah dat some poor siuner's' gwyne to ketch it. But good Lord, dese chil'n don't b'long heah, dey's from Obedstown whah dey don't know nuffin, and you knows your own self, dat dey ain't responsible. Oh Lord, spah de chil'eu don't tar de little chil'en away from dey frens, jcs' let 'em offjea' dis once, and take it out'n de ale niggah. Heah I is, Lord, heah I is! De ale niggah's ready, Lord, de ole?." Here the steamer's whistle screeched fairly in the faces of the awe struck group, and uncle Daniel seizing as many of the chil'en's hands is his own brawny ones would hold, scoured iff toward the woods. Looking back, they saw the boat was rounding a point out )f sight. "Well," said the relieved uncle Daniel, "dere's some folks dat say dey ain't no fieiency in prali. Dis chile would like to tnow whah we'd a been if it warn't for dat irah. Dat's it, dat's it." 4-^-4 Street Scenes in Paris.?The street icenes constantly forced upon our observation n Paris, says a correspondent, are very amusng to a foreigner. Men and women, harassed bv leather straps into capacious hand ;arts, transport heavy loads with apparent ?ase. Jackasses, with ears of much fabulous engtb, are driven in small herds from door to loor, where they are milked, and the product served to invalid customers. The prevalence >f wooden shoes, worn by the humbler classes, ?reates a perfect din and clatter upon the sidewalks and roadways, while these pedal at;achmeuts bear a goodly proportion in size tnd form to a swampscott fishing skiff. The jncovered heads of men, women and children )f the working classes, except, perhaps, a iuen cap upon the more pretentious middleaged women, is a marked feature. The wonlerful harnesses upon the common horses, leavy beyond all reason, with collars partly >f wood, and of such enormous size as to overhadow the animal itself, are remarkable to >ne who has an eye for the eternal fitness of hings. The marvelous burdens borne by nen and women upon their heads is also a :onstant source of astonishment. Then there s the array of chiffoniers who perambulate he street gutters in the morning, and who igain make their appearance, armed with auterns, at night, to ply their humble calling. Vnd also the amusing cries of itinerant tradesnen, prepared to serve you in various domesic matters, and all forms a panorama of cuious and busy life, extremely picturesque. ? ? 4 5ST The story is told of a pious old lady iving near Athens, Georgia, whom the young oiks over-persuaded to give a party. When he guests had assembled, a solemn-looking oinister was introduced, and preached a solmn sermon two hours long. /