Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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? lewis m. grist, proprietor, j ^tt |nbepenbenf Jfamilj Itetospaper: Jw tjje |) amotion erf % political, Social, Agricultural aitb Commercial Interests of tjje Jsontje. |TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 20. YOBKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JTJLY 1874. NO. m' * * * * J *?- ?? ? A ?v? AM/1 Arl l\tr JV? ?rigmnl Jdorn. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. HOLLINGWOOD HOUSE. BY MRS. HENRY DEAS. chapter xvi. Soon the news of what had happened spread over the place, and the greatest excitement, of course, prevailed. Dr. Norwood was anxious to break the news, himself, to Ellinor, and also to Sydney ; but, as he feared, the servants got the precedence of him, and imparted it in their own abrupt and startling manner. He was met in the hall, by Ellinor, whose pale and terrified face betrayed her knowledge of the disaster. "Oh ! Doctor, this is horrible!" she cried, clasping her hands. "Just like those fools, to go and tell you," said the doctor, impatiently. "i wanted to keep it quiet, for a little while, at any rate. Now, you are all unnerved, and not fit for anything at all." "Oh ! no, it is only the shock ; I will get over it presently, and you need not fear that _:n mw naofuliiPRs nurse. Grand Ill Will UC3tl >JJ . papa is quiet now, and seems to be asleep, or I would not have left him. But can you tell me anything of this dreadful business?have you an idea who could have ?" "None in the world, unless the thief and the murderer were one and the same person, and even that supposition does not enlighten me much, so far. But we'll find out, never fear ; such an atrocious mystery is bound to be cleared up, sooner or later. Now, my dear, just go back to your grand-father's room, won't you ? I am going to have the poor woman brought in, and I don't care to have you encounter such a sight?you could do no good, you know." Ellinor obediently retired; she had, in truth, no desire to be in the way of the melancholy procession, which presently passed through the hall, on their way to the housekeeper's room, bearing their lifeless burden on a litter which the doctor had hastily prepared. After giving the attendants all necessary di rections, Dr. Norwood went to Sydney's room, anxious to calm any undue excitement which he might find him laboring under. He was shocked to find him sitting up in bed with his face deeply flushed, his eyes dilated and glittering, and his whole manner denoting a most unusual and unexpected degree of agitation. Around him were scattered the written sheets of paper that had been left on the dressingroom table, one of which he held in his trembling hand. "Doctor!" he gasped, extending the paper toward him, as he approached the bed, "for God's sake, look?look here !" "Well, what's the matter?" asked the doctor, who was always cool in the most trying J and unusual situations. "Tell me, is it true ? is she really murdered, as they say ??for pity's sake!" "Mrs. Norton? Yes, poor woman, it is uu- j " - . A_.._ .1 U ...k. ... ck?.,U 1 iortunaieiy 100 iruu?muugu nuj j\>u cuuuiu have been told in this sudden way?" "Then," said Sydney, falling back upon his pillow, "I have murdered her." " You f pooh, pooh, ray dear sir ; what folly are you talking ? How on earth?" "Doctor, you don't know?I am the cause of it all. Do you know who she was?" "Haven't the least idea," said the doctor," except that she is the Colonel's house-keeper." "She was my wife!" The doctor stared at him, for a moment, in blank amazement, then said quietly? "You are raving, my young friend." "I am no more raving than you are. As heaven is my witness, I speak the solemn truth. Her name and her dress were only assumed ; her true name was Elsie Deane, and I was married to her six years ago, in a little town in France." His tone carried conviction to the doctor's mind ; but the revelation was so startling, so utterly unlooked-for and incomprehensible, that for a moment it overwhelmed him, and 1 - 1.1 .i c completely IOOK away uie power u? icpiyuig. He sat down on the foot of the bed, and looked hard at Sydney's face. "Do you mean to say,"he asked him, when he could speak, "that the assertion you have just made is actually true, or the result ouly of some fraudulent imposition upon your credulity ?" "It is only too true," said Sydney, with a groau; "would to heaven I could find it a delusion. Oh! Doctor, my soul is overburdened with sin?I have much, much to answer for. But you will find an explanation of everything in these papers?the time for concealment is past, and it is only fittiug that the knowledge of my guilt should be laid before those from whom it has been hidden so long." "I'll look at no papers," said the doctor, with a resolute air, "until I take some measures to quiet you down again, or I shall have you in another brain fever before long. I believe now I shall find out the whole thing is only a deception?it's too irrational and absurd to be true. Well, well, nevermind," he added, hastily, as Sydney was commencing a fresh asseveration, "do, for mercy's sake, be quiet now, and do what I order you, and I'll believe anything you say?I have an idea I'm going distracted myself, amid so many sudden catastrophes and discoveries ; I was never in such a muddle in my life before." This state of feeling, however, did not prevent him from using his customary prompt and skillful means for restoring his patient's disordered nerves to something like tranquility ; he gave him a composing draught, talked to him just enough to quiet his agitation, and convince him of the sympathy he felt for hiiu?a convictiou particularly soothiug to him in his present self-condemnatory state of mind?and then, assuring him that lie would, without delay, peruse the manuscript, which would throw light on the strange revelation he had made, he left the room, with the promise of a speedy return. As the contents of these papers will prove as interesting to those who have so far followed ray story, as they did to the doctor, there can be no place, more fitting than this, to lay them before the reader. THE MANUSCRIPT. "The fire that consumes my brain, the fever that burns my body, will not let me rest. I have tried to pray, but the words perish on my lips. Prayer !?the thought is mockery to one like rae! The hand of the avenger that draws me on, puts aside, irrevocably, from ray reach, this last resource of the guilty; yet ' I cannot escape from its fatal grasp; it points j me to ray duty?to the fulfillment of ray | vow?and I must perform it, even though I j cut myself off from all hopes of Heaven, and , . doom myself to perpetual misery thereby. 1 "The fatal hour is drawing nigh, and while I wait its approach, I will employ myself in j preparing a statement to meet the eyes of those who have befriended me here, that they ( may know the sorrows I have borne, and the causes which have driven me to the act I am j about to commit. "I am Charles Sydney's wife. I do not! i know how, or for what reason his name is j changed to what it now is. Six years ago, in i the summer of 18?, I first met him, in my j native village of Thornton, in Berkshire, Eng- j land. I was then a young, innocent girl of j r\r\ nrtt nilito Olfrhtppll. T WAS I . IIU) UVV Vjumv V.JJW ? . called pretty, and had many admirers and j j sweethearts, one of whom had long wanted j j me to marry him ; my mother and every one I | else expected me to do so, and I thought I j j loved him, until Charles Sydney came. Then j all my feelings were changed, and this strau-1 j ger, whom I had never before seen, soon won j my heart. "I believe he loved me then. He seemed ! | I to do so; he looked and spoke as if I were j very dear to him, and asked me to become his | J wife. I was frightened to think of marrying j j a gentleman like him, for I was only au igno-1 j rant country girl, and he was very clever aud [ i grand. But I loved him so much that ray ] fears seemed to melt away, and, at last, I' promised. All this time, nobody knew anything of this secret love ; there was the begin- j ning of my sin. At last my mother found it! out. She was very angry, and forbade my j seeing him again; but I loved him as much j as ever, and I thought her cruel and hard, i Then he went away, and I thought he had de-! serted me; and while he was gone I promised J to marry my old lover, for I was tired of hold-1 . , 1 T I ing out against ray mother's wish, ana i thought he would never come back again. "My wedding-day was fixed, and I tried to make up my raind to be satisfied, and to return my sweetheart's true love, and be a good and honest wife. Oh! why could I not have been left in peace to do ray duty ? If I had married Jera, I might, in the end, have been happy; I would have been faithful to my promises, and no one could have loved me l better than he. Why did temptation come again in my way ? "i/ecame back?he sought me secretly one night, and told me he had everything ready, and I must come with him, and he would take me out of the reach of those who were persecuting me, somewhere far away, where I would be happy, and that he would marry me and love me always. And I forgot my promises to ray lover?forgot my mother's wishes? ! forerot dutv. obedience, everything: else for his sake. I went off with him, without even writing a word to those I left behind; I hardly knew what I did, 'twas as if I were acting in a dream. After traveling two days and nights we came to France, and there in a little j town we stopped and were married by a mag- j j iatrate. I have the proof with mc that the marI riage was real. Then we went to different : places?stopped a little while at one and a ; little while at another?and at last he took 1 me to Paris. All this time, in spite of my ! wicked conduct, I was happy?because he i was so good to me and loved me so much. ! He never seemed to tire of me, or to be i | ashamed of my ignorant ways ; he taught me i ! everything I ought to know, and I began to j ! act and speak like a lady, and to understand ! how I should behave. I learned fast, because I I wanted to please him, and he used to praise me, and say many loving things. "But after a while he was less kind ; at ! least, he used to leave me oftener alone, and | : stay away longer at a time. Still he seemed , fond of me, and I could bear anything while ; that lasted. I began to think, though, that i he was growiug tired of me, and this made me ; very unhappy, and I began to remember the ! old times at home, and longsometimes for ray | mother, and the others I had left. But I was j j never dull before him, lest he might weary j 1 of me more. "At last a friend of his came to Paris, from i | his home in America. His name was Russell;1 a bold, bad man, who led him into evil ways, j I and, who, from the first, seemed to be my ene-! my. Charles seemed afraid of him ; I do not j ! know why, but he could never refuse to do ! | anything he wished. And I believe to this j hour, that it was he who persuaded him to i leave me, as he did, alone and helpless in j i that foreign land, without one friend to turn ! ; to in my desertion. He brought me a letter j one day, from my husband, bidding me good-1 bye, and saying that we could never meet again, that our marriage had been only a pretence, and I was not really his wife. AVhether he really thought this or not, I cannot tell; but at all events he went, without seeing me again. "The misery I felt then is as fresh in my : mind as if it were yesterday ; but that was nothing?nothing to what I was still to feel, j "ltussell came to me and offered me his protection?vile, cruel hypocrite! I was so 1 helpless and lonely that I was afraid of) | making him angry with me,so I did not show him all I felt, but preteuded that I had made up my mind to stay in Paris; but when he left me, I put up a few things and stole away secretly from the hotel where I stayed, and : ; that night I ?0t away on the cars. I had ! enough money to carry me home, aud though j I kuew nothing about taking care of myself; in traveling, I found people kind enough to : help me and direct me on my way, and at; Inst. T trot to mv home. T crnt thorp to find our cottage desolate, and my mother dead?dead ; of a broken heart; and they told me that I,! , her only child, had killed her. "Was it any wonder, that upon her newly-1 ! made gravel took a solemn vow to seek out him who had destroyed our peace, and caused ; the ruin of all our earthly hopes; never to i rest until I should find him, and through him i ! avenge her death? From that hour this one j thought absorbed me; it became a part of my ! being; my vow was written in letters of fire ; upon my soul. I was no longer myself; my ! own nature seemed to have departed from , mc, aud my bodily frame became the dwellingplace of a fierce avenging spirit, that con- j j trolled my actions and my thoughts. At times I have shuddered to think that this was so ; I have longed to regain my lost identity, and feel, once more, the softer emotions that { used to sway mc. But it could not be. All that connected me with the past was irrevocaI bly swept away ; I could only look to the fuI ture, the fearful future, a vision of darkness ; i aud blood ever presenting itself to my view. I "I must not omit to state here that before ' I left Europe, I took pains to ascertain wheth-; er the certificate of my marriage, which I fortunately had in ray possession, was genuine or not. Two clergymen, one English and one Freuch, and a lawyer of some reputation, examined it, and assured me that it was perfectly correct, aud that my marriage was un- j doubtedly valid. The clergymen's names were Mr. Francis Lovel and Mousieur Florian l LeClerc ; the lawyer was Mr. James Harailton, of the firm of Hamilton & Son ; all residents of Loudon. "And now, at last, the time has come for ; the fulfillment of my vow. My weak nature - - - - r y . 1 I 1. . r shrinks from it, out 1 aare noi uraw uno*. , j. cannot if I would. "I have ministered to my husband through his illness; have sat beside him and looked j into his face, and he does not know me?has j never given me any sign of recognition. It j is best so. Had he known me?had he shown j any token of renewed afTection?my purpose ! would have been doubly hard to carry out. j There have been moments when pangs of swift agony shot through my heart, as I met the | gaze of his eyes, careless and indifferent, which used to beam on me with so much ten-1 derness and pride ; but I have steeled myself to endure it with outward calmness; I have | jealously guarded my secret; he will never know it, for when it becomes known we will both be beyond the reach of earthly pity or earthly blame. I shall not survive him ; the fatal agent which destroys his life will also terminate mine. Beyond, I know not what: may be in store for me; I trust that merciful and eternal oblivion?" Here the manuscript came to an abrupt termination, the disturbance and alarm which had taken place, having, evidently occurred, | just at this time, to cause the interruption. j The doctor's comment, as he put the loose sheets together on finishing their perusal, was brief and emphatic. It was contained simply in these words: "Mad as a March hare." CHAPTER XVII. A solemn and unbroken silence reigned over Hollingwood House. The front windows were all closed in, and the servants moved noiselessly about, as if afraid to disturb the unwonted hush that prevailed. All felt the influence of the thrilling and mysterious occurrences which had so suddenly broken upon the monotony of their lives; and their natural love of excitement, and fluency of speech, were quieted and subdued by the consciousness of the awful presence of Death?Death in one of its most heart-rending forms. The body of Mrs. Norton, or rather of Elizabeth Sydney?poor little ill-fated Elsie!? was laid on a couch in one of the darkened rooms, in readiness for the burial. Those who had been accustomed to see her in the plain sad garb she had worn, with the look of fixed sorrow and gravity upon her face, which had rarely departed from it, or been lightened by a smile, could scarcely realize ihe identity of the fair and youthful countenance to which death had restored almost its full measure of past beauty and grace. The fresh blood and coloring it had worn in early years had indeed ! faded forever; but every trace of pain, ofj premature age, was swept away; the small, j delicately cut features had regained their i child-like softness of outline; a slight smile rested on the curved lips, and a look of perfect serenity and peace lay like a moonlight glow upon the lovely face. No chiselled marble could have been fairer, in its purity aud repose. Ellinor'sown hands had smoothed the rich brown hair that clustered about the tranquil brow, and placed snowy flowers on her breast and about her pillow, whije she listened, with j comnassionate tears, to the mournful story of: her life. She was grateful to Dr. Norwood for the theory he unhesitatingly advanced, that the mind of the unfortunate girl, turning unceasingly upon the subject of her wrongs, had become completely unhinged, until at last she was no longer accountable for her actions, being, in regard to this subject, totally and undoubtedly deranged. Even in the common events of her life, Ellinor recalled many : little instances of singularity which had impressed her at the time; though she had little | suspected her to be the victim of so fearful j and terrible a monomania as she really was. i Sydney had expressed so earnest a desire to ! look upon her face once more, and seemed so distressed and excited by the doctor's refusal,! that the latter finally changed his mind,! thinking the consequences of a denial of his j wish more likely to prove injurious, even : than its gratification. Accordingly, the in- i valid was placed in a large chair, and rolled j into the room where lay the white-robed form of her around whom his tender, but too fickle affection had once so closely twined. All that past love, all the buried memories he had stifled so long, rushed over him in au ; overwhelming flood, as he gazed upon her. J Memories of winning glances and gentle tones, ' of clinging, child-like caresses, of innumer- i able evidences of a pure, unquestioning affection, and docile and ready obedience to his slightest wish; of the days in which she had J been his petted plaything, happy in his ap- j proval, grieved by the last shadow of his reproach ; yielding herself in her humility and , self-distrust solely to his guidance, ready to follow him to the world's end so long as he loved and cherised her in his heart. And how had her confidence been repaid? How' had he rewarded the sacrifice she had made j for his sake ? Iiow had he repaid her for leav- j ing her mother, her home, and breaking every ; tie of her innocent, happy girlhood, to cast: luilfnl prno] rlowfir. UCiaCll U{;uil llio V/Ul u i j-rjr vi uv? mvww> ^ tiou ; blighting the tenderness she freely lav- j ished upon him, breaking the heart that had j laid itself at his careless feet. Could he j plead in extenuation that the step was not a voluntary one?that he had been urged to it i. by the evil couosel of his insidious, false 1 frieud, to whose pernicious advice and wicked invention he had lent only too credulous an 1 ear? Could he excuse himself for abandoning the helpless being whom, by the most solemn obligations, he was bound to protect and cherish, by saying that for his own selfish 1 ends his tempter had coined the tale of a false | marriage, the truth of which he did not even pause to investigate ? No?for all this he i'elt that there was no excuse. He was crushed and overborne by these thoughts, and by the weight of retribution which hail fallen upon him ; and looking upon the dead girl as she lay in her tranquil beauty before bim, he envied her the fate which had removed her from the troubled scenes of life to a land where, he doubted not, her errors were all forgiven, and her terapest-tossed soul safely anchored at peace and rest forever. For him, he felt, there could be no more joy or gladuess on earth; the lesson he had received was too solemn and impressive a one , ever to be effaced from his mind ; the consequence of his sin and folly too terrible ever to be forgotten. But in the midst of his remorse i and grief arose some salutary thoughts, and j purposes of a higher life; and a faint, halfformed prayer ascended from his heart that; he might be enabled in the future, through 1 God's help, to conquer his weakness and the ; temptations which so easily beset him, and j by leading a purer and better life, to atone, in j some degree, for the errors of the past. One j long, soft tress of glossy hair, aud one white 1 flower that lay on her breast, he took as mementoes of this sad episode of his life; and with a farewell kiss upon the brow of the j ' 1 1 - -1 " !% *. inAvrvPOQOlklir 06(1(1, ne returueu u> ins iuuiu, lucAj/iwiuij saddened and humbled, yet not without profit from his bitter experience?the bitterest he had ever known. A few words more concerning one or two other characters in my story, and it is done. | Col. Hollingwood, after continuing in a somewhat precarious state for several days, at length recovered sufficiently to leave his room, and to be wheeled on a couch into the front parlor and piazza, where he would lie placidly gazing out upon the lawn, or watching his grand-daughter as she sat near him with her work. He was never fully informed of the circumstances of the housekeeper's death, or told the secret she had so carefully preserved, for the doctor considered it expedient to avoid all exciting subjects, lest they should have an injurious effect upon his mind; indeed he appeared to take but little interest now in anything but the objects immediately surrounding him, and as long as he had Ellinor by him, and missed none of the daily comforts which his illness rendered necessary, did not concern himself about anything outside of this limited sphere. His left side was almost useless, and his speech slightly impaired, though there were times when he could speak ?nloornnca QTiH PVPfl fihoWPfl I Willi iiio TTULiigu uvmuww) v> some indications of returning bodily strength. Ellinor became more than ever to him a ministering angel,attentive to his every wish, and lavishing upon him even fonder caresses than in former times, when he had been less helpless and dependent upon her care. "Nelly," he said to her one day, "I've been thinking more than ever, lately, dear, about! your future when I'm taken from you. God knows when it will be; but it must be before very long, and I would be very happy, dear, to see you married to some good man before I A burning blush arose to Ellinor's face; she bent over her work for some moments in silence, but at last her desire to set his mind at rest conauered the reluctance she felt to -J __ betray her own feelings, and kneeling at his side she whispered "Would it please you to know, Grandy, that there w someone who cares for me, and wants me to be his wife?and that he is a good man, and one who I know will make me happy ?" And then she told him a little secret which it is time for my readers to know, also, since it so intimately concerned her future life. There was a certain clergyman; a quiet and i studious man, the pastor of a country church, who had since her childhood regarded her with a feeling as near approaching adoration as religion would permit him to bestow upon any earthly being. But though rich in spiritual graces and spiritual lore, he was, like most country clergymen, poor in this world's , goods, and for this reason his worship was from afar; for he was too high-minded to risk the imputation of seeking her for the sake of ' her fortune, and he knew that his profession ( would not protect him from the shafts of invidious tongues. Apart from this, he could i not assure himself that he had found any fa- < vor in her eyes, beyond the natural esteem in ! which she held him for the sacred calling he j had ever striven earnestly to adorn. He lit- j ( tie dreamed that in her maidenly heart,j scarcely acknowledged to herself, there slum- ] bered a preference for him which, it needed 11 but a fitting advance ou his part to bring to ; ' light, while at the same time, in her exalted ! J appreciation of his character, she deemed him ! ] too far removed from her ever to bestow a i j thought on her unworthy self! ! < It happened, just about the time of the re-; i cent occurences at Hollingwood which I have j ' related, that an uncle of this clergyman, a j! rich and childless widower, died, leaving to j J his nephew a considerable portion of his for-! ] tune. This secured him a handsome independ- j | ence for the remainder of his life, and placed 1 1 him quite beyond all suspicion of interested j > motives in making the choice of a wife. 11 And now, with this weighty obstacle reraov-1 1 ed, his thoughts turned toward Ellinor? i, when, indeed, had they been absent from her? j j ?and he resolved boldly to try his fate, and j ask her to share, in prosperity, the existence j I he would never have sought to link with hers , 1 in poverty. He did not seek her, but he;1 ' 1 A \ 1 wrote ner a letter, a raumy, siraiguwui wmu , letter, telling her how long he had loved her, i < and how earnestly he hoped she might deem j his affection not unworthy of a return. As j I Ellinor read these words, a glow of joy audi' triumph filled her heart; but she felt that her 1 duty to her grandfather must outweigh every j other consideration while he lived, aud not ( even to become Edward Montague's wife :, could she relinquish this sacred trust. This j I she told him, not denying that her heart was 11 his, but refusing to enter into any engagement, j1 since she did not wish to bind him by a prom-!J ise which must be so uncertain in the time of j j its fulfillment. Then he answered her that it,, needed no promise to bind him to her, for j i that his love was unalterable, and he would j 1 wait for her a lifetime, sooner than relinquish j' a hope which would sweeten his duties and ; j iMidut'ov nf liia pvi.afpnrft?and 1 ! lUil LilV |mwu mm; w ...w much more in the same strain, which it is by j! no means necessary to repeat here, for even i, clergymen, when they fall victims to the tender ' passion, are not above the weaknesses this state of bondage is supposed to entail upon ]! humanity. Ellinor could not have found courage to I' moke this little revelation to her grandfather, I had she not been impelled by very strong mo- < lives to do so. But she was rewarded for the ; effort by the pleasure with which hercommu-' nication was received, and the old gentleman's ! ferveut blessing upon her, and prayer for her ! long-continued and well merited happiness, j Two days afterward, who should make his ! appearance at Hollingwood but the Rev. Edward Montague, summoned thither by the I Colonel, without his grand-daughter's knowl- J edge. Indeed, he was wiser than to forewarn j her of his intention, which was to hold an in- j interview with her lover, in which matters ; should be satisfactorily compromised, and all j impediments to their uniou smoothed away.! The end of it was, that it was settled for the ' marriage to take place in the following spring, j and that Mr. Montague should, during the old i gentleman's lifetime, make Hollingwood his j summer home, while in winter the whole party would remove to the pretty parsonage j house which was to be suitably prepared for j the reception of its mistress; an arrangement: which permitted Ellinor, as hitherto, to devote herself to her grand-father,and which seemed, < in prospect, to afford him so much delight, \ that even had no other influential motives prevailed in its favor, she could scarcely have had the heart to object to its fulfillment. T1.. VA.umml OnrJ nfViAr.tJ flfit Oil foot a dill gent investigation concerning the robbery and murder, and several persons were taken up on suspicion, but the evidence combining to clear them, they were all subsequently released. Strange to say, no suspicion fell upon Russell, nor was it known that he was the author of the diabolical deed, until years afterward, when, miserably dying from a wound received in a brawl at a gambling-table, he confessed this among other sins of his dark career. Sydney, of course, broke off all connection with him on his recovery from sickness, and by the advice of his uncle, who assisted him honorably to settle his debts, went abroad for some years, not, however, to idle his time, but to devote himself to the study of a useful profession, in which he afterward became eminent. Pic never married, but led a retired, though practical life, striving to do good to those with whom he was brought in contact, and winning their esteem by his unvarying uprightness and integrity. In a quiet spot in the Hollingwood buryingground, there is a mound with a simple cross of white marble above it, on which is engraved the inscription, "ELIZABETH SYDNEY, Aged 24 years. ,rr" J? oVioll toon in inv ' " "JLney mat suw iu tc&io ouuu ... j~jAlthough the place has passed out of the hands of its old owners, this spot is still tenderly cared for. Above the grassy mound the sweetest flowers bloom in spring aud summer, and fresh garlands, from time to time, are wreathed about the cross, the inscription upon which is always kept bright and clear. Few know the history of her who rests beneath ; but in one chastened heart her memory will last until death, and with the sorrow aud remorse linked about the remembrance, are entwined hopes, which grow more cheering as the years pass by, of final pardon, and a reunion in that world where sin is wiped away, and sorrow turned into everlasting joy. [the end.] fpftootts fUadittfl. / THE TAX UNIONS. The Executive Committee of the Tax-Payers' Convention, at their late meeting in Charleston, adopted and ordered to be published an address to the people of the State, and a form of constitution for the Tax Unions. The address is as follows: Fellow- Citizens: The Executive Committee of the Tax-Pavers' Convention, in pursuance of the duty with which they were charged, herewith present to you a plan for the organization of the Tax Unions throughout the State. The object of this organization is to put into effective operation all lawful means within our reach for the reestablishment of an honest and economical administration of government in South Carolina. The committee do not deem it necessary to argue with you upon the urgency of the occasion, or the necessity of reform. The burdens to which we are subjected are greater than we can bear, and the proof is to be found in the fact that the houses and lands of the proprietary class are being forfeited to the State, in quantity and number without a parallel, from sheer inability to pay the taxes. There can be no stronger or more distressing proof of cppression than the systematic confiscation by the government of the property of the citizen for non-payment of dues too excessive to be borne. But when the moneys, extorted from the people under the color of law, are also systematically and shamelessly squandered, plundered and stolen, another and moregrievjus wrong is added to the catalogue of enormities. and the verv acme of the most vulgar form of despotic rule is reached. Such government forfeits all title to the name, and is no better than organized spoliation and robbery. It would be a slander and stigma upon pou to suppose that you will suffer this state )f things, so destructive and ignominious, to continue, without exhausting every possible human effort to put an end to it. Your history, your traditions and your personal manhood forbid it ; there is no need of reasoning ibout it?if you be true to yourselves, your instincts will all impel you in this direction; lor can you hope to redeem yourselves, withDut helping yourselves. Self-help will bring pou all other help. We cannot believe that there are not good men enough of all parties in the State to rescue the government from the men that are bringing ruin and disgrace upon you, and to restore it to something of its former respectability. To this end activity, real earnest purpose, devotion to the cause ind thorough organization are necessary. Ihe Tax Unions will furnish the form of organization, but you must breathe into it the breath of life, and make it a living, active, stficient and pervading instrumentality for Ejood. Especially should our young men demote themselves to this work. The future, its hopes and destinies, are all theirs. If they ;lo not try to shape it, there will be UDtold miseries in reserve for them?uot only ruin, but shame and remorse, sure and perhaps too late. It is upon them that the blame will rest, for it is now their time to come to the front in this struggle under the law, as before they came to the front in the more dreadful issue of war. The same spirit and courage that stood them in stead then, will stand them in stead now. Their cause will enlist the sympathies of all good men throughout the country. To put dishonesty to flight, to rescue the good commonwealth from the hands of those who have made her name a by-word and reproach everywhere, is a work well worthy of an earnest,concerted and persevering effort; and if it be undertaken in the proper spirit, and with a zeal and energy proportioned to the exigencies in which we are placed, it must and will be successful. In conclusion, we beg to commend to your ; earnest, sober and faithful consideration these i words of wise, patriotic counsel, from the ad- j dress of their convention to the people of! South Carolina. Let the honest and wellmeaning citizens, one by one, be brought into j the Tax-Payers' Union, and made to work for . the cause of good government until the State j is redeemed. The cclat that attends the clash j of armg is wanting to sucli a struggle, but no j cause can be more worthy of the earnest, faithful and patient labor of one who loves his people and his State. A triumph like this is not to be won by a single decisive battle, nor, it may be, by many toilsome campaigns, but patient, enduring and honest work, sooner or later, will bring victory to your standards. No laurel wreaths may crown the victor's brow, but a ransomed and redeemed Carolina, a free, prosperous j and happy people, will attest to future gen-1 eratious that, worthy of your ancestry, and ; true as they to duty and honor, you have j taken up the fight in the darkest hour of adversity, and faithfully and successfully fought it out to victory. We conjure you, then, at once, to organize, compact and work up the Tax-payers' Union, until you anchor the State safe in the harbor of assured peace and prosperity. JAMES CHESNUT, Chairman, &c., in behalf of Committee. I The constitution for the Tax-Unions, as | finally adopted, is as follows: I 1. The object of the Tax-Unions are the reduction of taxation and the honest appropriation and expenditure of the public funds. 2. There shall be in each county as many Subordinate Tax-Unions as may be deemed necessary, but not less than one such Subordinate Union for each township or ward. There shall be one County Tax Union for each county, and one Union for the State. " ~ " * ' i 11 i 3. Each Subordinate Tax unron snannave such name or designation as the members thereof may select, but each County Union shall be designated by the name of the County and the State Union shall be styled "The Tax Union of the State of South Carolina." 4. All tax-payers in this State are eligible to membership of any one Subordinate Tax Union in the County in which they live. 5. Applications for membership must be made in writing and addressed to the Tax Union of County. Such applications shall be signed by the applicant, or by his authority, and shall give the applicant's full name and address. The applications must be submitted to the Executive Committee of the Subordinate Union to which they are addressed, which committee may report thereon at any meeting of the Union, and a majority of the votes of the members present shall be sufficient to elect. 6. The officers of each Subordinate Union shall be a President, a Vice-President, a Secretary, a Treasurer aud an Executive Committee of five members, including the President and Vice-President, who shall be members of such committee ex officio. 7. The Subordinate Unions shall hold regular monthly meetings, and shall haveauthority to hold special meetings as may be neces sury. i 8. Each member of a Subordinate Union *shall pay to the Treasurer of such Union an initiation fee of fifty cents, also such uniform per centage, not exceeding two per cent., of the last tax laid upon him for general State and County purposes, as may be called for by the Executive Comraitte of such Union, with the approval of the Union ; and such per centage shall be declared and collected before the first day of September in each year. 9. The County Unions shall consist of two delegates from each Subordinate Union, with one delegate additional for every twenty members beyoud twenty in each Subordinate Union. 10. The County Unions shall meet at the respective Court Houses, on the first Monday in July, October, January and April in each year, with authority to hold special meetings, upon the call of the Executive Committee of the County Union. 11. The officers of the County Unions shall be a President, a Vice-President, a Secretary and a Treasurer, who shall be elected -x .l- oU?ll ?flR no iin. I UL lUC lltSb UJCCLlLig, uuu onaii nuiu uuiw until the first Monday in July in the ensuing year, and until their successors shall be elected and shall qualify. 12. The Executive Committee of the County Unions shall consist of the Chairmen of the Executive Committes of the Subordinate Un- i ions, who shall be ex officio members of the i County Union, together with the President of i the County Union, which County Executive > Committee shall have power to elect its own officers. j 13. The State Union shall consist of three i delegates from each County Union, and shall i meet annually in Columbia, on the fourth i Tuesday in November, and at such other i times and places as the State Executive Com- i raittee may appoint: Provided, That the ] 6rst meeting of the State Union shall be held i at such time as may be appointed by the Executive Committee of the Tax-Payers' Con- i vention. j 14. The officers of the State Union shall be i a President, three Vice-Presidents, a Secreta- ] ry, a Treasurer, an Executive Committee and i such other officers as the Union mav deter- j mine to appoint. I 15. The State Executive Committee shall j consist of two members from each Congres- < sioual District, and the President of the ; < State Union. The members of the State Uu- j 1 ion from the County Unions of the Counties, composing each Congressional District, shall j nominate the members of the State Executive ( Committee from that District. 16. The State Executive Committee shall elect its own officers, and shall meet at such 1 times and places as the Chairman, in his own 1 discretion, or upon the written request of two 1 members of the committee, shall appoint. 17. The actual expenses of each member of 1 the State Executive Committee, in attending ' meetings of the committee, shall be paid, up- 1 on the order of the Chairman of the State ! Executive Committee, by the County Unions ' iL ? MUAnm a 1 T\. nf Ufl ^ U1 MIC V/ULJgi C951U11Q1 J-MOLUUb VT 1111*11 no 1 OJ.M O" eents. 18. The Plate Executive Committee shall ( make such aa assessment as they think neces- 1 sary, upon the County Unions, which assess- i ments shall be in proportion to the amount of * the last tax laid for general State aud County j purposes in each Couptv,. and shall not exceed H per cent, Of "lll'e'araount of such tax; and the Executive Committees of the several ( County Unions, in order to meet such assess- r ment and defray their other expenses, shall j make and collect an assessment, in like pro* j portion, upon the Subordinate Unions. 19. All funds received by the Treasurer of j the State Union shall be deposited by him, in his name as Treasurer, in a bank to be desig nated by the President of the State Union, and no money shall be drawn except upon the i draft of the Treasurer, countersigned by the j Chairman of the State Executive Committee, I . notice of which provision shall be given to j the bank which shall be designated as the place of deposit. 20. The State Executive Committee are au- j fn nou Im Trnounrop aa nnmnnncfl. I j 11iu1 16wu l?u |'?j HIV JLivuuuiv*) ww vvuj|/wuwv( j tion for his services, if they shall deem it nec- j essary, a commission not exceeding 11 per | cent, on all money received by him, and 11 !, per cent, on all money paid out by him. |, 21. There shall be prepared by each Sub- j j ordinate Union, a full and correct roster of: 1 such Union, giving the name and residence of j each member, and also a record of the names 1 of all the tax-payers withiu the towuship, y ward, or other district, in which the said < Union works. One copy of the roster and y record shall be kept by the Secretary of the | Subordinate Union, open for the inspection of members, and a duplicate copy of such roster and record shall be sent to the Execu- i tive Committee of the County Union, who ! shall prepare therefrom a general roster and i record for the county. A duplicate copy of I each county roster and record shall be for- < warded by the County Executive Committee i to the Executive Committee of the State Un- . ion, the Secretary of which committee shall ! prepare therefrom a general record and roster i for the State. 1 'I'L. 1 tlIS CODSlHUllOU may ue auisuuw uj the vote of two-thirds of the County Unions, subject to the ratification of the State Union, or by a vote of the State Union, subject to the ratification of two-thirds of the County Unions. JAMES CHESNUT, Chairman Executive Committee. The Executive Committee also unanimously adopted the following resolutions: Resolved, That the delegations from the several counties to the Tax-payers' Convention of 1874 be requested to proceed at onccf/ to the organization of Subordinate and County Tax Unions, in accordance with the plan now promulgated by the Executive Committee of that convention. ' Resolved, That the County Unions shall la tor tban thf> first Mondav in Sen UUl iHHVl VMMM VMW ?? ?J 4 tember, the members of the State Union, which will meet at a time to be hereafter announced by the Executive Committee of the Tax-Payers' Convention. Resolved, That after the organization of the Tax-Unions it would be inexpedient, in our ^ opinion, to re-assemble the present convention, and that if it be at any time advisable to eall the tax-payers of the State into convention again, a new body should be organized upon motion of the Union. Resolved, That this committee, before separating, take great pleasure in placing upon record their appreciation of the ability, impartiality and dignity with which their Chairman, the Hon. James Chesnut, has pesTttecT' over their deliberations. Sensible Bees.?The following illustration of the power possessed by insects to communicate their experiences to one another is given by a lady correspondent of the London Spectator : "I was staying in the house of a gentleman who was fond of trying experiments, and who was a bee keeper. Having read in some book on bees that the best and most humane way of taking the honey, without destroying the bees, was to immerse the hive for a few minutes in a tub of cold water, when the bees, being half-drowned, could not sting, while the honey was uninjured, since the water could not penetrate the closelywaxed cells, he resolved on trying, the plan. I saw the experiment tried. The bees, according to the receipt, were fished out of the water after the hive had been immersed a few minutes, and with those remaining in the hive laid on a sieve in the sun to dry. But as by bAd management, the experiment had been tried too late in the day, as the sun was going down, they were removed into the kitchen, to the great indignation of the cook, on whom they revenged their sufferings as soon as the warm rays of the fire before which they were placed revived them. As she insisted on their being taken away, they were put back into their old hive, which had been dried, together with a portion of their honey, and placed on one of the shelves of the apiary, in which were five or six other strong hives full of bees, and left for the night. Early the next morning my friend went to look at the hive on which he had experimented the night before, but, to his amazement, not only the bees from that hive were gone, but the other hives were also deserted ; not a bee remained in any of them. The half-drowned bees must, therefore, in some way or other, have made the nther hpp9 understand the fate which awaited them." _ The Philosophy of Rain.?To understand the philosophy of this beautiful and often sublime phenomenon, so often witnessed, and so very essential to the existence of plants and animals, a few facts derived from observation and a long train of experiments, must be considered: 1. Were the atmosphere here, everywhere, and at all times, of a uniform temperature, we should never have rain, hail or snow. The water absorbed by it in evaporation, from the sea and the earth's surface, would descend in an imperceptible vapor, or cease to be absorbed by the air, when it was once fully saturated. 2. The absorbing power of the atmosphere, and consequently its capacity to retain humidity, is proportionately greater in warm than in cold air. The air near the surface of the earth is warmer than it is in the regions Df the clouds. The higher we ascend from the earth the colder do we find tne atmosphere. Hence the perpetual snow on very high mountains in the hottest climate. Now, when from continued evaporation, the air is highly saturated with vapor, though it be invisible and the sky cloudless, if its temperature is suddenly reduced by cold currents descending from above, or rushing from i higher to a lower latitude, by the motion of i saturated air to a lower latitude, its capacity to retain moisture is diminished, clouds ire formed, and rain is the result. It conienses, it cools, and, like a sponge filled with water and compressed, pours out the water ivhich its diminished capacity cannot hold. ? ?+ Important Decision.?-The Chief Justice >f the Supreme Court of the United States nas been holding Circuit Court at Richmond, Va., and during the terra a case came up reviewing the decisions of some of the Bankrupt Courts. The Chief Justice "declared the imendatory bankrupt law of 1873 absolutely void. He decided that it changes existing rights between the debtor and creditor. Such ' 1 1 <L. P.nntltdtinn manges, 10 De warrauieu uy uicvumuiunuu, must be uniform in their operation. This is not. The consequence is, that the act of 1872 remains unchanged, notwithstanding its attempted amendment in 1873." The Richmond Dispatch says he has also iecided that "no bankrupt in Virginia can jet a homestead exemption from his Court as igainst a debt contracted before the Gth day if July, 1869, the day the present Constitu;ion of Virginia was ratified." Birmingham Pens.?In Birmingham the lumber of steel pens made weekly is about 1,800 gross, or 14,112,000 separate pens, rhirty years ago pens were sold wholesale at ive shillings per gross; now, pens as good or letter, may be had for three half pence per jross. * When it is remembered that each gross equires one hundred and forty-four pieces of iteel to go through at least twelve processes n the course of manufacture, tne iact tnat me hundred and forty-four complete pens can ie sold for three half pence, after providing naterial, paying wages, and leaving a profit ;0* maker, is a convincing proof of the results ittainable by the exercise of mechanical ingenuity and divisional labor. ' + Companionship and Health.?To be perfectly healthy and happy, one must have friends. They need not be in large numbers, but one, two, or three kindred spirits with whom one can commune, share joys and sorrows, thoughts and feelings. In choosing iriends great care is necessary. There must ne some bond of sympathy. It may be moril, intellectual, or social; but even these xmde are not sufficient. An invalid or a weakly person needs healthy friends; a timid me, brave friends. Those who are blessed with good friends are healthier and happier ihan those who have none. Offended Honor.?They don't stand any nonsense in Arkansas. A stranger in Little Rock asked a gentleman for a postage stamp, ind, having been accommodated, tendered three cents in payment, when he flung them du the floor and exclaimed excitedly, "If you were not a fool, sir, you would know that an Arkansian doesn't peddle postage stamps!" No apologies would be accepted, aud the irate man walked off, muttering about his offended ion or.