Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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$pr, V lewis m. grist, Proprietor.! ^ii Jnbepenbent cfamilg $f efospper: Jfor % promotion of % political, Social, ^grienltural aab Commercial Interests of Ijie Sont|. TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR,IN ADVANCE. VOL. 21. YOBKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MAY 6, 1875. JSTO. 18. _ - - ?1 . 1.1 J jln ?rigiual Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. UNCLE BRAINERD'S WILL; OR, The Fortuues of Alice Lynn. CHAPTER XIV. AN UNLOOKED-FOR RELEASE. In spite of the terrors she had endured, and the miserable feelings of loneliness which oppressed her, Alice had no intention of yielding to the wishes of her persecutors, and brought all her fortitude and self-command into play, to sustain her during her brief periods of intercourse with Mrs. Broderick, who came twice in the day to bring her her meals ; and who was evidently disappointed at the calm and proud manner in which the girl received her and replied to all her questions. Alice had no watch to keep her informed of Ko lime hnt aha nnticed that her dinner on this afternoon was brought her much earlier than usual. After it was over, feeling tired of seeing nothing but the four narrow and discolored walls of her prison, she mounted upon her chair, her sole post of observation, and leaning her forehead against the window, stood there for some time, gazing in melancholy abstraction upon the fields that composed the prospect. Suddenly the aspect of two figures emerging from a narrow path which wound around the house from the front door, and proceeding in the direction of a gate which gave egress into a broader road beyond, met her eye. She looked attentively; surely it was Raphael and his sister goiug out for a walk, or perhaps bent on some more important expedition. She could not mistake the lank figure and stooping shoulders of the one, nor the stiff carriage, firm tread and black garments of the other. She watched them until they passed through the gate, keeping herself out of view for fear they might turn and look up at her window; aud once assured of their departure, began to look, with a vague thrill of expectation and hope, at all her surroundings, with a view to the possibility of effecting her psprtnp dnrinc their absence from the wv*"r" ? ? ? ? ^ house. She might have known her jailers too well, however, to suppose that they would have left her any such loophole. She tried her door, but the security of the lock baffled her slight strength. She then tried the window. With some difficulty she succeeded in lifting the sash, and fastening it up with an old crazy button placed there for the purpose, then leaned outand looked below. No chance ofgettiug out that way?there was no ledge, no projection of any kind, between the window and the ground ; only the flat, unbroken wall of the house, and the height was too great to admit of her letting herself down by sheets or blankets knotted together, as she had heard of persons doing, without the peril of a fearful jump, when she got to the end. Moreover, just beneath lay a heap of loose rough stoues and fragments of rock, threatening serious injury, and perhaps loss of life, to any one who should fall upou them. None but a maniac would have tried such a mode of escape, and Alice exclaimed mournfully as she turned away? "No, there is no hope?absolutely none. I must make up my mind to remain in this horrible place?perhaps die here; and Maurice will never even know my fate !" This thought brought a gush of tears to her " * ' ? - * _ LI..J reiiet, ana ior some time sne wept auu souoeu unrestrainedly. When she was more composed, she took her letter to Maurice out of her pocket, aud read it through, though she knew it already by heart. "Poor letter," she said, "it seems like a mockery to keep you by me, for I shall never have a chance of sending you off." Even while she spoke, however, the very chance she spoke of was near at hand. When she refolded her letter, she resumed her post by the window ; for the freshness of the air revived her, and the sight of the blue sky was more cheering than the dull, confined prospect within her chamber. While looking out, and despairingly musing on the hopelessness of her situation, she caught sight of the figure of an old negro man hobbling along through the nearest field, with a basket of provisions on his arm. With painful eagerness she watched his approach. Would he turn off into a pathway by the fence, or cross over and come near enough the house for her to attract his attention ? How slowly he came along! She fairly burned with impatience and the t i? &CCU1ICBO ui lici icai, buot luis, uivmcub/a auu her brother might return just at this crisis, and cut off this one feeble chance on which so much depeuded. The old man did not turn aside. He crossed the fence, and came toward the house. Alice now leaned as far out of the window as she could, and shouted to him. He stopped, and looked all around, of course in every direction but the right one. She shouted again and again. Oh ! joy, at last he raised his eyes and saw her. She waved her haudkerchief with frantic eagerness, signing to him to approach. Slowly he came toward her, with a wondering, puzzled expression on his sable countenance. At last he was near enough for her to make him hear and understand her. "Old man," she cried, as distinctly as she could, "I've got a letter here, will you put it in the post-office for me ?" "Postoffice !" echoed the old man ; "lord, missus, I don't go nowherd near the postoffice." "Oh! but please, do, for pity's sake, my kind, good man," said poor Alice, impatiently, "I've no one to help me, and my letter must go?oh! can't you find some way of sending it off?" The negro took off his hat, and slowly onra U i a VioQrt wKUp A IIpp waited for his answer, glancing along the road, meanwhile, in an agony of fear lest she might discern the returning figures of her cousins. "Can't you take it for me ?" she entreated again. "If you don't, I can't tell what will * become of me." "Well, missus," said the old man, "my young master, he goes twice a week down to the store, where the letters is put in the mail. 1 don't go, cause you see I'm too old to go so fur. I lives up yonder over the hill, a good ways from here." "Oh ! then your master would take it for me; I am sure he would," cried Alice. "Won't you a3k him to for me? Will you carry it to him ?" "Yes, missus, I will. But ain't this Mr.. Chester's house?" "He lives here," said Alice. "But he's not at home now," she added, quickly, "and I want it to go right off." ? "Ain't he to home now ? I seen him yesterday, along to o!e man Guppy's place." "No. Oh ! please take this at once," said Alice, who had drawn the precious letter from its hiding-place and securely fastened the envelope. "You will find the money wrapped up with it to pay for it. Will you be sure and send it off for me safely ?" "I'll be sure. I hope thar ain't no bad news, missus ?" said the old man, sympathizingly. "Yes?no?at least, something will happen if this letter doesn't go. Don't drop the ^ money?I've got no stamp." And with this injunction, she Hung down, with a trembling hand, the little package on which her hopes depended?saw the old man pick it up, and deposit it in the crown of his hat?received from him a parting assurance that he would >- - _ send it off safely?and watched him hobble away again with feelings that can only be imagined by those who, after days of intense anxiety and almost despair, suddenly see relief j and hope spring up into view. When he was i : fairly out of sight, she flung herself upon her ; i knees, and poured her full heart out in a fer-. | vent thanksgiving for the mercy thus vouch- | safed her. It was true, she had no positive assurance that her letter would ever reach its j destination, or that she could rely on the fidel- j I ity of the bearer, whom providence had thrown , , in her way. But she certainly had stroDg i ground for hope, and the revulsion of feeling I was so great as, for the time, nearly to over- j whelm. She recollected the necessity, howev-1 i er, of concealing her agitation, and appearing ! | as calm and composed as usual to Mrs. Brod- j j erick's pryiDg eyes ; and when that worthy lady appeared, shortly after dark, with a cup of tea and a slice of bread for her supper, she so far succeeded in suppressing all outward signs of the excitement she felt, as to create * ' > -~-t?>? ontr. i 130 suspicion, iu ner jauci o uicasi, ui I thing unusual having occurred. She noticed that Mrs. Broderick's countel nance wore an uncommonly satisfied expres: sion, and that she looked at her, as she set i down her plate and cup, with an air of tri: umpli, as if something particularly pleasant i had happened, or was in prospect. She was j too much engaged, however, with the thought, of her own piece of good fortune, to concern j herself about those tokens of complacency,, which boded her no good. "I hope," said her cousin, as she was leav- ! ing the room, "that you will have a good night's rest. To-morrow you will probably be removed to more comfortable quarters." Alice meditated on this speech, when she was left alone, with some renewal of her apprehensions. What was the next movement contemplated by her persecutors ? Nothing prompted by good-will, she felt sure; and gloomy and confined as her preseut quarters were, she would have preferred the prospect of being left there in undisturbed quiet, to that of a change which would probably only increase her uuhappiness. "Perhaps," she reflected with a shudder, "they have fixed upon to-morrow as the day on which I am to be forced into that hateful marriage. Well, let them try ! They can't marry me against my will?it will be impossible. If I say no instead of yes, no minister will dare to go on. Everybody can't be as wicked as they are; surely some one will Help me when I tell them my story." Poor, inexperieuced Alice! How little she knew of the artfulness of the plot which had been laid to entrap her, or of the foresight exercised by her jailers in guarding against the : possibility of any one affording her the help she hoped to obtain. Before she lay down to rest that night she offered up a more earnest prayer than usual j for protection and deliverance ; and fell at last into as untroubled a sleep as if she was in a ! safe and happy home, instead of being encoraI passed by "many and great dangers." She was awakened by a bright light shining into her room ; and starting confusedly up, she soon became aware, from the red glow j which illuminated the walls, that there must t be a fire in close proximity to the house. She hurried on her clothes, and mounting ! on a chair by the window, raised the sash and looked out. She could not see the flames, but the same red glow was shed over everything in sight, and presently a volume of smoke j was seen to burst forth from the window of a small shed-room adjoining the kitchen. She i had no doubt that the fire must be in that | portion of the building, and wondered at the silence which prevailed below, which seemed to indicate that the other occupants of the house were not aware of their danger. | As she could not get out of her room, she ! commenced stamping and beating on the floor, ; and agaiust her door, and crying aloud to j rouse them. At length she heard their voices, and the sound of hurrying footsteps, in the I rooms below; but no one came up stairs. Tongues of flame were now shooting out of the ! window whence the smoke had first issued ; and as she watched the evidently increasing conflagration, a feeling of terror thrilled her mind with the thought that they might not remember to unlock her door, but leave her there, a helpless prisoner, to run the risk of a horrible death. Suddenly an idea flashed into her brain. What if she should try to make her escape out of the window, by means of the bough of j that old tree, which waved within her reach ? ' Strange that she had never thought of it be- j fore ! She looked out and shuddered?it; would be a fearful venture, but she might sue- j ceed. If she failed ! She looked down at | the fearful distance, and felt that in case of a ( fall, from such a height, she must inevitably i perish. Her room was becoming suffocatingly hot. She touched the wall, and it burut' her tender hand. Good heavens! were her captors fiends in human shape, that they made ! no effort to release her? Then the thought { occurred to her that this might be her best, her only opportunity for effecting an escape. If once safely descended, she could, in the: present hurry and confusion, easily elude their j : vigilance, and fly. But to descend ! Again ! she measured, with her eve. her chances of safety?and determined,at all hazards, to try j her fate. The end of the bough was easily reached, I but it looked dry and weak, and she feared it would not bear her weight. A little, just a little farther down, there was a short, thick, knotted branch ; if she could get hold of that she thought ske would be safe. She was a ; fearless, hardy climber, and, as a child, had often fallen into disgrace with her auut for the rents in her frocks and aprons, resulting from 1 the pursuit of this style of amusement. Her past experience might serve her in good stead now. She leaned out and grasped the dry , bough, not trusting herself to look down, j Her only chance was to seat herself on the ! window-sill, with her feet outward, and then gradually swing herself down, grasping her support, as far from its extremity asshe dared to reach. This she uow proceeded to do. : i Very cautiously she placed herself in the requisite position?no easy matter to do, for I the sash was so low that she was forced to bend her head to escape touching it, and the ; wiudow-ledge barely wide enough to afford her a seat. Holding firmly with one hand to the frame of the window, she leaned forward. | She could all but touch the strong branch she j wauted to reach. A little farther, and she grasped it?but in the effort she lost her bal- , ance. Her head seemed to swim as she felt herself falling?one desperate clutch and she j found herself clinging to the tree, now her [ only support, forty feet above the earth ! For 1 one wild moment she believed herself lost. 1 I The branch swayed and bent beneath her j weight, aud she fancied she heard it cracking, j but in an instant, her ideas becoming clearer, she found that with a slight effort she could slide down to a more secure position, and this | once attained, the remainder of the descent! | would be comparatively easy. The harsh : surface of the tree scratched her hands, and j the smaller branches caught and tore her dress, but she little heeded these trifling impediments. Down she went, now sliding, now J swinging from one bough to another, until the ; ground was reached?and she was safe! Safe from this great peril; but whither was she to go? She glanced hurriedly arou?*d. : No one was in sight, but the first step Bhe took might bring her within view of those she so ; anxiously sought to avoid. Delay was dani gerous ; and trusting to Providence to guide ! her steps, she started in the direction of a I neighboring field, and ran breathlessly on, - ' ? never pausing until she reached the shelter of a clump of trees, in the deep shade of which she stopped for a few moments to rest. Looking back, she could see the ravages the fire was making on one side of the house. A great portion of the shed had fallen in, exposing the blackened rafters, and the little room off the kitchen seemed to be entirely destroyed. In the light of the flames she could discern black figures flitting distractedly about; Raphael and his sister, and one or two others, probably some acquaintances, who had come to their aid in trying to suppress the conflagration. After waiting long enough to recover breath and composure, she proceeded on her way, not quite as rapidly as at first, lest she should too soon exhaust her strength. She crossed the field she had entered, and climbing the fence, found herself in a little path leading to a wood, which looked dark and gloomy enough to terrify her, but she could see no other way of proceeding. She went on, with trembling limbs and a beating heart, and an unspoken prayer for protection and help. The peril of this darksome wood, peopled as it seemed to her imagination, with weird moving shapes and fantastic shadows, appeared scarcely less than that from which she had been delivered. Her nerves, always excitable and weak, were scarcely equal to the strain upon them, and she felt ready to faint. The moonlight, penetrating through the entwining foliage, cast a ghostly, uncertain radiance upon her path. Dismal stories she had heard or read in her childhood, of haunted woods, and supernatural beings who visited the earth at midnight, crowded upon her memory. As long as she could, she combated her fears, but they proved at last too strong for endurance, and over-powered by mingled fatigue and intense excitement, she sank fainting upon the ground. CHAPTER XV. THE DELATOUK FAMILY. "Really, Gervais, this is a very awkward predicament, isn't it?" :< :n. k.<? mi. follnir na rnn't QU 11/ ID y UUl| mj uwai av/tu *?) ??v * leave the girl here, you know; by some means or other she must be carried to a place of safety." The speakers were two young gentleman, of about twenty-four and twenty-six years of age. The scene was the wood in which Alice had been journeying; the time, the hour of sunrise; and the subject of the dialogue was Alice herself, who stood leaning against a tree at a little distance off, looking very pale, dejected, and apprehensive. Gervais Delatour and Paul Raymond, riding down in the direction of Columbia from the country home of the former, had chanced to pass through this wood, having spent the night at a farmer's house close by, and encountered Alice, who having recovered from her swoon, but feeling very faint and weak, was sitting on the ground in a forlorn attitude, having neither strength or courage to proceed on her way, though aware that it was perilous for her to linger longer than she could help in the vicinity of the hated domicile from which she had made her escape. Struck with surprise, and also with admiration at her beauty, and compassion for her apparently helpless and unhappy condition, the two friends bad drawn bridle, and respectfully tendered their assistance if she needed it. Poor Alice, greatly abashed at the consciousness of her own dilapidated appearance, and the singularity of the predicanriQn* i? mkinh ulio Mlaa nlocpH nnH nnl. tfUllW ing what on earth the gentlemen must think of her, could hardly find words in which to answer them. She stammered, faltered, uttered a few incoherent phrases, and then burst iuto tears. "I fear you are ill," said Gervais Delatour, in a sympathizing tone. "Will you not make use of my horse to convey you home ? I will accompany you to see that he carries you safely." "I have no home," said Alice, and then recollecting how strangely this assertion must sound, she added? "I am an orphan, and have lately been with some people who were very unkind to me. I have met with great misfortunes. 1 have left their house, and now I don't know exactly where to go. I have been half the night in this dreadful wood." "Good heavens!" cried young Delatour, who, as Alice spoke, was more and more charmed by her grace and beauty, and felt convinced that she must be a person of refinement and gentle breeding. Is it possible that you are entirely without protection of any Hort? Raymond," he added, turning to his friend, "don't you think we might manage to hire a conveyance from that old fellow back yonder, if we tried ?" "A conveyance ?" repeated the other, dubiously. "What for?" Thereupon the two withdrew apart and conversed for a few momeuts in a low tone. Paul Raymond did not enter readily into his friend's plan, which was to hire a vehicle of some description and carry Alice to his mother's place, some twenty miles higher up. "My dear fellow, you are absurdly romantic! How do you know but what this girl is ttLl HJJJJUSIUI BUUJC UUUCOCiVHig UJaiav>wi haps?" "Oh ! nonsense, Paul. Look at her face; if ever I saw candor and purity, they are written there!" I'm not so easily imposed on," said Gervais, impatiently. "Common courtesy would make a man help a young, unprotected creature in such a strait as this." "I thought persecuted, wandering damsels of this sort, only existed in books," said Raymond, good-naturedlv, but with a touch of irony in his tone. "However, if you are disposed to act the part of knight-errant and rescue her?" "You'll help me, I am sure," said the other, eagerly. "Look here, Paul; this is an awkward predicament, as you say, and we must act as delicately as possible. Shall I propose my plan and see what she says to it ?" "My advice is," said Raymond, "that we show her the way to the farm-house, and take some of the womenkind there into consultation." "Well, may-be that would be better," said Gervais, musingly. "The old lady seemed to be a good, motherly soul, and that rosy-faced daughter?perhaps she would come here to meet this poor girl, if one of us went to fetch her, ana take her hack with her. "Oh! that would take such a long time," said Paul, who was somewhat impatient of the interruption to their journey. "I can go on and tell them she's coining, if you like, and you and your 'fayre Una' can follow on together." Thereupon Gervais returned to Alice, and addressing her with the same high-bred courtesy which had before marked his manner toward her, agaiu offered her the use of his horse, since she evidently had not strength to walk, and proposed to conduct her to the farm-house where, he said, he felt sure she could obtain comfortable shelter. Alice saw no alternative, but to accept the proposition ; and she presently found herself on the back of Gervais Delatour's beautiful iron-grey, his master holding the bridle and carefully choosing the smoothest path, while young Raymond cantered on ahead to give warning of their approach. Never was a more romantic adventure! Alice felt as if she was enacting one of her own idyls. In spite of her desolate condition, her spirits insensibly rose with the sense of freedom aud escape from danger. The fresh ! morning air revived her; the bright sunshine | chased away the phantoms of the night, and | the cheerful twitter of the birds, as they | hopped from branch to branch, seemed to anj imate her with renewed hopefulness and courj age. The handsome, open countenance, frank j bearing, and chivalrous manner of her proI tector, inspired her with confidence in him. He reminded her a little of her cousin Maurice, and the resemblance worked powerfully I in his favor. They found the good people at the farmhouse waiting to receive them, though full of evident wonderment and curiosity, and Alice felt, that, for her own sake, she had best take them partially into her confidence. She, therefore, related to her hostess, Mrs. Martin, as much of her story as was necessary to ex-1 plain the plight in which she had been discovered, and found the worthy woman quite ! ready to sympathize and condole with her in her misfortunes. She gave her own name as Marion Lyle, and carefully suppressed those of her relatives, being fearful lest these people ? ;_*_j ?i 1 :_i' nilgni oe acquaiuieu wild uieiu, aim iLiiui iu them of her whereabouts. "Miss Lyle," said young Delatour, "if you can make yourself comfortable here for twenty-four hours, I think I can arrange a plan which will ensure you freedom from future molestation, and provide you with at least a temporary refuge." "You are too kind," said Alice, blushing deeply, "but you have already taken so much trouble on my account, that I feel ashamed to impose on you any farther." "Impose! It has given me the greatest pleasure to render you this trifling service. My plan is this, to ride up to my mother's place to-day, and send or bring down our carriage, which to-morrow can take you to Elmwood ; my mother will be charmed to receive you as her guest, and?" "But how strange she will think it," said Alice, shrinking sensitively from the thought of intruding herself in this unexpected way upon a total stranger. "Indeed, I don't think that would answer at all! I am very much obliged to you for your kindness?more than I can tell you ; but I can't take advantage of it in such a way." "Miss Lyle, I entreat yon not to speak so," cried Gervais, imploringly. "As I assured you just now, my mother will be only too glad to have you. "You don't know my mother, or you would not doubt my assertion," he added, smilingly. "Come, won't you agree to my proposition ?" Alice considered for a little while; then turning toward him a brightening face, she exclaimed? "Have you any little sisters that I could teach ?" "Sisters I fto, I am sorry to say I have none," he replied ; "I have the misfortune to be an only child. But, if that would be any inducement, I know of some little girls in our neighborhood whom vou could take as pupils, J?: c~l l: ? II yuu arc uesnuuo ui leaguing. "Bat may-be they wouldn't come to me," said Alice in a doubtful tone. "Oh ! yes, they would," confidently replied Gervais, who was delighted at finding so tangible an inducement to her to yield to his proposition. "I know them all very well, and I would tell them all about you, of course, and represent to them that?that?" "ThatI am an accomplished teacher," said Alice; and the absurdity of the idea of this recommendation, on so brief an acquaintance, striking them both at the same moment, they could not refraiu from joining in a merry laugh, which served to put them on a more sociable footing ; and Alice finally agreed to the young gentleman's plan, which he proceeded at once to carry iuto effect. She spent that day quietly at the farmhouse, the owners kindly pressing their hospitality upon her for as long a time as she chose to partake of it. But she was secretly very anxious to get away as quickly as possible from the neighborhood of Mrs. Broderick and her brother. About dusk, a light carriage drawn by two pretty bay horses, drove up to the door. No one was inside, but a neat-looking maid-servant occupied the seat beside the driver, and *r. ai:?? oiic nauugu iw AIIUC UJC juiivniug u\/n "Mrs. E. M. Delatoar begs to say to Miss Eyle, tl>at slie will be most liappy to see her at Elmwood, and hopes she will feel no hesitation in accepting the invitation given by her son, in which Mrs. D. cordially joins. The servant who carries this has instructions to wait on Miss Lyle, and attend to her comfort during the journey." How kind ! How very kind, thought poor Alice, to whom it seemed as if these new friends had been raised up to her almost by a | miracle. She slept that night with a lightened heart, and early the next morning, after taking a kind leave of her entertainers, she found herself en route for her new destination. They traveled slowly, and it was near three | o'clock when they entered a long avenue of ; elm, aud the maid, looking into the carriage, | informed her that this was Elmwood, and I that the house would be in sight directly. A turn in the road brought it into view; a pretty snow-white dwelling, embowered in a nest of trees, with a smooth lawn in front, and bright flowers clustering around the front steps and porch. As the carriage stopped, Gervais Delatour came out to meet Alice, i with a glow of pleasure illuminating his hand! some face; and before she had reached the I * J i? i_.i? I LUp BL?;p, nu CIUCI'JJ VCI'JT flllglll auu up- I j right in figure, with a pair of large blue eyes, j j and a delicate, youthful bloom in her cheeks, | i appeared in the doorway, and held out her hand in kindly greeting to the timid guest. "You are heartily welcome, my dear," she j said as she conducted her into the sittingj room, a pleasant apartment, luxuriously furI nished.and adorned with a number of elegant i knick-nacks, more costly than useful, the like ! of which Alice had never seen before, She felt out of place in her torn, shabby dress, | which had suffered considerably in her escapade of the night of the fire, and a feeling of ! painful embarrassment crept over her as she reflected on the depeudent position in which she was placed. j After she had partaken of some luncheon, dinner not yot being ready, Mrs. Delatour ' conducted her to a pretty little room which she said, had been prepared for her use. I "In this wardrobe," she said, opening the j ; doors of a walnut press, "you will find some | articles of wearing apparel, of which you ! may be able to make use, until you can be ! ! more suitably provided, aud I hope you will i ; oblige me, by doing so." "I don't know how to thank you," said j Alice, with tears in her eyes, "for your kind- j ness to a poor unprotected girl." "We will talk about that afterward," said , Mrs. Delatour, smiling; "meanwhile, make ' yourself ns comfortable as you can under the I circumstances, and when you are ready, come | I down stairs, where you will find me in the j same room as before." Alice found, in the wardrobe, one or two | j simply made dresses, and some articles of underwear, beautifully fine and white, and all marked, In French embroidery, with the monogram "M. A. D." As these initials were different from those Mrs. Delatour had used in her note, and as the garments were large ! enough for Alice, who was much taller than her hostess, she concluded that they must be the property of some other member of the family. After some hesitation, she decided to put on oue of the dresses, as her own was really uot fit to wear. And thus arrayed, with her beautiful hair freshly curled, and a bloom in her cheeks, which they had not' | worn for many days, she descended again to | (the parlor. Dinner was presently served, and Alice was ! I charmed with ?hg_jti>TX)intmer.ts of the' table. The exquisitely One damask, the beau- ^ tiful china and cut glass, and massive silver, ( exceeded in elegance, anything she had ever ; before seen. A S?vre vase stood in the centre of the table, Oiled with choice flowers from the greenhouse, where, as she afterward discovered, blooming summer reigned, in spite of the wintry weather without. No one | was present but Mrs. Delatour and her son, beside herself. After dinner, when Gervais was gone out, Mrs. Delatour bid Alice draw her chair near the Ore, and commenced, though with much delicacy, to ask some questions concerning i herself and her prospects. Alice felt that it < was due to her kind hostess to explain her "! position; and, therefore, candidly told her her t whole story, ending with au earnest request t that she would help her to keep her secret safe. f "So you are running away from a fortune," j exclaimed Mrs. Delatour when she concluded. ( "Keally, my dear, that is the most extraordi- ( nary thing I ever heard in my life ! I don't { know whether to laugh at you or admire you r for it. Most people, I have no doubt, would f /In flio fnrmwp hut tn toll vnn thft truth. I in- I cline to the latter." t "But, Mrs. Delatour," said Alice, earnestly, c "don't you see I had no right to keep it? 1 Don't you think it would have been very unjust?" C "Not at all," said her friend. "You are f legally entitled to it, and it is therefore justly c your own ; but if you chose to resign it, that t is your own affair. I don't know, however, j that you can make such a disposition of your t property, as you are under age. I think the 8 fortune is still yours, in spite of your running ( away." g "But if I will not have anything to do with s it, no one can make me use it, you know," v said Alice. "And as they cannot find me, 5 why they will have to keep it for themselves." t "We will ask Gervais about it," said the t old lady. To him, when he came in, the t question was referred; but though he evi- 8 dently was of opinion that Alice ought to ? have the money, yet, strange to say, he advo- t cated the course Bhe had pursued in leaving -] home, and thought she was quite right not to r let her relations know where she was 1 f After Alice had gone to bed, the mother j and son had a long conversation regarding Q her. p "Don't you see, mother," said the latter, th-i ?? /lAAAMntlnn 1% am viiAO n/vf o till nttor- _ mail llljr ucguipuuu Ul nci nao uui> an uii uivi Jj drHWII ?" c "She is very pretty and ladylike," said his mother. "But such a romantic little thing! The idea of her haviug the courage to undertake such a wild-goose chase! Do you know, I have been seriously revolving the expediency of communicating with her relatives ; I think it would be only right." "Mother!" cried Gervais with a horrified face, "you could not do such a thing!" "Why not?" "After her confiding in you so implicitly! It would be really treacherous." Mrs. Delatour laughed, and rubbed her little white hands together. "I meant it for her own good," she rejoined. "Don't you think it a pity the poor little thing should be allowed to defraud herself of her rights?" "It is very noble iu her," said Gervais, warmly. "But very foolish," said his mother, who was of a more practical turn of mind. "And then these people she has left are not her own relations either." "You don't count courtship as anything, then ?" "Oh ! I meant the half-uncle's widow." "She seems to think a great deal of the cousin to whom the other half of the property is left." vktif v*a nnn't nam nf vlor rrtll JL CDj UUL HO oau V lunv uui v w? aivay j wv. ^ know ; a young single man, and not even liv- t ing at home." j "You think we had better keep her here, ( then ?" t "I thought that wa9 the arrangement deci- * ded on." j "My dear Gervais ! I have decided upon . nothing; I could not make any arrangement ( so quickly, you know. As to what you and , the young lady may have agreed upon?" j "Pshaw! mother; of course she has said j nothing about it," said Gervais, rather impatiently. "She seems to be the most modest, . T..1- A A.\ 1J . sensitive June creature iu tne wunu muciuc ^ ly refined iu her feelings. She is auxious to j teach, it appears, and I think we ought to j try and get some scholars for her?don't you." ( "Perhaps so; I will see what she says about j it, to-morrow." "And?you will let her stay here?" " "I shall not turn her away," said his moth- ? er, smiling. "But if she can get an indepen- j dent position anywhere, she might prefer it." "I should think she would make you a pleasant companion," said Gervais, persua- j. sively. "Considering that I am old enough to be t her grandmother?yes." ' ^ "I meant as your adopted daughter, or grand-daughter, if you like it better. You must often be lonely while I am away from f home." "Well, it uever occurred to me," said! Mrs. Delatour, in rather a dry tone, rolling up her j knitting as she spoke. "Come, my son, I thiuk it's time to go to bed. You are goiDg to start early in the morning, you know." For Gervais was going, on the following ^ day, to resume the journey southward, which had been interrupted by his unexpected ad- J venture. His friend, Paul Raymond, had j gone on already, and he would, therefore, have to travel alone. Perhaps it was for this reason ^ that he looked forward to his trip with less pleasurable anticipations than he had done when he first left home, (to be continued next week.) \ A Maltiiusian Calculation.?An eco- I nomic journal enters into a curious calcula- t tion as to the actual cost, in dollars and cents, c which a mau or woman would be to the world i aud Bociety by the time he or she got old f enough to "pay expenses," or return back to o the country what thus far has been expended 1 in rearing the population. a Every baby, it is fair to assume, when prop- 8 erly brought up, costs its parents at least fifty dollars a year, an expeuse which increases v largely as food, clothing, the shelter of a 1 warm home, education, and spending money, F are required for the growiug child. The ac- c tual cost up to th* fifteenth year, of each child * in this republic, is certaiuly not less than a 11 thousand dollars. At that age its labor would I be worth its subsistence. Not till it reaches J t the age of eighteen (and a great many not j g even then,) does it really begin to be produc- j i tive. For every 100,000 children, the nation i t Loa nrrx-ln/ia oiv nr oialit mil lions nf dollars. 8 IIOO IU |IIUUUVV " " " fc>" - , | consumed without adding at all to production.! p To rear that number of children to a produc-1 v tiveage certainly costs a hundred millions of J n dollars without any profit, whatever, in re- j p turn. Herein is the great value of iromigra-: a tion. This great republic receives into its j I broad aud glorious bosom every day not less j 8' than one thousand emigrants from the old t world. Of course, two-thirds, perhaps seven- j t; eights, are adults, already grown for us by j I Europe, at her cost, up to the productive a point, when they come to our shores to give ; I us the benefit of their toil. Annually does a Europe labor industriously to produce and t raise for our republic, free of cost, more than p 800,000 persons, who we could not have fur- a nished ourselves at an expense of ?300,000,000, t No wonder that we grow rich and prosper, v for the loss of the world is our gain, and all h -^jj^^^re nursing-mothers for us. fistotg (tolina. J Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. 1 t HISTORICAL SKETCHES f OF THE Early Settlement of South Carolina. ? BY BEV. BOBERT LATHAN. I (CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.) On the 19th of April, 1672, Joseph West t etired from the office of Governor of the t :olony settled at Ashley river, and Sir John feamans was publicly proclaimed. This was t he beginning of a series of calamities, both to li he immigrants and the proprietors. ? ' ? i 11* 1 - xL Yearaans baa won ior nimseir, ai last, mc ipprobation of the proprietors by the manner ? n which he had conducted their affairs at n Dape Fear. It is, however, doubtful whether ii >r not he ever had any thing in view except r he reparation of his own ruined fortune. f( The proprietors, from the beginning, were s avorably disposed toward Yeamans. He and hey had many views, respecting men and u hings, which were common. The majority a >f the proprietors were Cavaliers, and so was p feamans. c Whatever may be said regarding Yeamans' e gubernatorial career at Cape Fear, he signally f, ailed at Ashley river. He commenced a t] sourse of conduct which showed that he had 10 desire either to advance the welfare of the ? ufant colony or to promote the interests of ri he proprietors. His acts resemble those of a elfish laud-holder. He who bad ruled at jy 2ape Fear with the affection of a father, now 8( ;rasped with the rapacity of a miser. No j, ooner was he proclaimed Governor than the vhole face of things was changed. On the tI !Oth of April, the very day after he assumed U he office, the people were assembled and a tl lew Parliament chosen. Stephen Bull, Chris- a( opher Portman, Richard Conant, Ralph Mar- tl hall and John Robinson were chosen mem?ers of the Grand Council. The deputies of ^ he proprietors were Colonel West, Captain li Nioraas Gray, Captain John Godfrey, Mauice Matthews and William Owens. The in- a > - < l__t _ tueuce or west, was out juoi, uuiniuisiauu- 0^ ng the fact that he was removed as Govern- t< 1 r. He remained true as steel, both to the n >eople and the proprietors. Ii Yeamans bad a plantation in Barbadoes, n ,nd he had a definite knowledge of the wants ti if that community. He kuew the kind of b uerchandise that was in the greatest demand Cl here and which would command the great- n :st amount of money. All YeamanB seems p 0 have had in view was the amassing of a it ortuue for himself. To effect this purpose, d le commenced buying up the produce of the t| ettlers and shipping it to Barbadoes. The t< lolony was thus, if not impoverished, retarded ^ n its progress; and the proprietors, in their ^ (Sorts to support the colony, were involved d n a heavy debt. They became disheartened, r, ind concluded that in the future they would 0 je more sparing in granting supplies. The 0 (olonists asked for a supply of stock. This t] vas refused them by the proprietors, on the c ground that it was not the intention of the Bi atter to establish a colony of graziers, but of t! jlanters. C The official character of Yeamans has been c lupported by a certain class of old writers; 0 )ut it is clear that they were favorable to him f because of his political notions and ecclesias- c ical connections. Those who defend him said that he incurred'the disapprobation ot the n proprietors by making too many and too ? arge demands upon them for the welfare of I he colony. This conclusion is not well sup- p ported. The inhabitants of the colony would ii icarcely have been dissatisfied with a Govern- tl >r who was thus zealously striving to advance t< heir interest. The proprietors complained si pecause they had expended so much, and q here was no prospect that the demand upon tl hem for supplies would come to an end. tl There is one fact which must settle this matter e brever. It is this: Sir John Yeamans was n poor when he was made Governor of the col- ti my, and when he died, in August, 1674, he b vas rich. He had ne other means of making ri lis fortune, except his plantations and his a raffic with the colonists. ? During the infancy of the colony, the man- n tal labor was all, or nearly all, performed by ri vhite servants who had been brought from t< England, and by Indians who had been either il pought from their enemies or captured in war, ind sold into slavery to defray the expense of s< he war. It was customary for the imrai- ri ;rants to hire an Indian hunter. Such an t< ndividual could be procured for less than five ri lollars a year, and he would supply a family w n meat of the choicest kind all the time. tf In Mav. 1674. JoseDh West was again com- n nissioned Governor and made a landgrave p )y the proprietors. Sir John Yearaans, on iccount of bad health, had, previous to this o; ime, gone to Barbadoes, where he died in ei August of the same year. On the departure tl ifYeamans the people selected West to be el heir Governor, and the selection was con- a irmed by the proprietors. tl When West commenced his second term of g iffice, the colony was in a bad condition. Dissension had sprung up, and old animosi- it ies which bad been lulled to sleep, were o iroused in all their original strength. The it 'ery existence of the colony was threatened, o feamans, by purchasing the products of the t< leople and sending them to Barbadoes, had a educed the colony to the greatest extremity, famine began to stare them in the face. The tl ry for bread was heard in various quarters, tl )pen rebellion was plotted. The facta con- tl erning it are few, but the inferences are plain S md easy. h The proprietors, with the exception of Ash- n ey Cooper, were Cavaliers; the people were a oostly Dissenters. Ashley Cooper aud John d l/ocke, who were intimately connected from S he beginning with the planting of the col- ci ?ny, were favorable to the Dissenters, whilst tl t was the evident intention of the other pro- p >rietors to establish in Carolina the Church C if England. The members of the Church of ei founM/l Thoc aiara rptyflrHprt Jjligiauu noic l(t?ViVU< AIJVJ tiv?v s men of culture and honor, whilst the Dis- tl enters were regarded as an ignorant and n juarrelsome set of people. No doubt, there o: v&a some truth in this. The probability is, tl hat whilst the Disseuters had more mental tower, the Cavaliers were a more refined C ilass. They had 110 love for each other, and aj tence could not live long together in har- li nony. d It is true that the first set of laws drawn up c< ty the proprietors granted each individual the C ;reatest liberty in religion. In these Funda- ci nental Constitutions there is no denomina- f' ionalism. It is evident that some peculiar w ,nd only temporary circumstance induced the h< iroprietors to be so liberal. This liberality T raa due to Ashley Cooper and John Locke? uainly, however, to the latter. None of the el iroprietors were men eminent for piety; and 8t 1 though Ashley Cooper was nominally a sj )issenter, he was too much engaged in other ci chemes to devote much attention to the cul- C ivation of his own heart. He was a man of P< alent, and we should respect his memory. Si ie is the author of what is known in England nd America as the Habeas Corpus Act. John E vocke was a great mao, and, it would appear, Is good Christiau. He seems to have imbibed tc lie spirit of his divine Master. He had less rejudioe in his mind than was common bi moug the men of his age. He said: "At A he day of Judgment I will not be asked tl whether I was a Lutheran or a Calvinist, but si lad J embraced the truth in the love of it" ? In the first set of Fundamental Constitu* ions, signed by tbe proprietors on me ist u?y f March, 1669, three sections have special eference to religion. They are sections 100, 01 and 102. Other sections have reference o religion, but not so speoially as those reerred to. We quote them accurately: C. In the terms of communion of every church r profession, these following shall be there, without which no agreement or assembly of men, inder pretence of religion, shall be accounted a hurch or profession within these rules. 1. There is a God. 2. That God is publicly to be worshipped. 3. That it is lawful, ana the duty of every man, *eing thereunto called by those that govern, to tear witness to truth; and that every church or irofession shall, in their terms of communion, set lown the external way whereby tbcy witness a ruth as in the presence of God, whether it be by ' aying hands on or kissing the Bible, as in tbe Jhurch of England, or by holding up the hand, r in other sensible way. C.?1. No person above seventeen years of age hall have any benefit or protection of the law, or ie capable of any place of profit or honor, who is lot a member of some church or profession, bavtig his name recorded in some one, and but one eligious record at once. C.?2. No person of any other church or prosssion shall disturb or molest any religious asembly. Provision was also made that any individlal might leave one church or denomination ,nd join another; and also, that slaves be permitted to connect themselves with any 5 hurch they might see fit. All this was libral?Christian, we might say?but it is clear, rom the future conduct of the proprietors, hat they did not mean all that they said. ^ These Fundamental Constitutions were to remain the sacred and unalterable form and ule of government of Carolina foreverbut be proprietors did themselves, on the 1st of larch, 1670, change these Fundamental Contitutions. One of the changes introduced is ) these words: As the country comes to be sufficiently planted, nd distributed into fit divisions, it shall belong > the Parliament to take care of the building of le churches and the public maintenance of di^ ines, to be employed in the exercise of religion"] j wording to the Church of England; which being 11 I le only true and orthodox, and the national re-v, J gion of all the King's dominion, is so also of ' arolina; and therefore it alone shall be allowed ? receive a public maintenance by grant of Parament. In 1672, the proprietors drew up and sign1 what they styled the "agrarian laws. " The rident tendency of these "agrarian laws" was * mwo the nroDrietors and colonial aristoc B" " w i 1 icy the permanent control of the colony. a February, 1673, whilst West was teropoiry Governor, the Fundamental Constituons were proposed to the peoplrfor adoption, ' ut by them rejected. Everything was calulated to stir up old and bitter feuds. Yea- , ians had bought up, at a mere nominal rice, the produce of the inhabitants and sent to Barbadoes, and the immigrants were too ' ependent on the proprietors. No doubt t ae larger number of them were not disposed ; ) do much for themselves. Some of them 'ere gentlemen of ruined fortunes. TF / ^ 'ere not accustomed to labor. _ Others' Jfy M oubt, were idle and prodigal. The f y ents of the Church of England were jefcw^ f the Puritans; and the Puritans, on the ther hand, had not much good feeling for he Cavaliers. Public sentiment in the little olony was in a state of general ferment. At uch times, a leader is rarely wanting. At his time, he appeared in the person of John Culpepper?a name afterward prominently onnected with an insurrection in North Carlina, which, under bis direction, was successul in deposing all the officers of Clarendon olony. Florence O'Sullivan had been placed on an aland, (whicb now, in honor of trtffi,Ts tailed iullivan's Island,) in charge of a "big gun." le was charged to fire this gun on the ap- < iroach of any "top-sail," as a warning to the ^habitants of the town. O'Sullivan, durin he confusiou of the colony, had been foraipy * en, and was reduced to a point bor tarvation. Incensed at such treatiq^tTl^ uitted his post and joined the riirrnnfont|fif'he town. This was not all; for at thm ftps, he Spaniards at St. Augustine, having ljpra? J ?V.tnno in tKa />nlnnv, uMM*. U UI II1C ObttlfC VIA tlllllgo IU VUW vvavM^ J ? ~JJ~~ lined to take advantage of it for its destrucion. For some reason there seems to have een a disposition on the part of servants to un away from their masters at Ashley river, nd go to the Spanish at St. Augustine. ? We annot suppose that the Spanish were kinder >asters than the English. No doubt, the eason was that the servants who were inclined > run away were Catholics, and they were I at ease in a Protestant colony. At the time of this disturbance, a noted soundrel by the name of Brian Fitzpatrick, an off to the Spaniards and communicated i them the unsettled state of things at Ashley iver. The Spanish sent out a party of men, rho encamped on St. Helena Island. Caplin Godfrey was sent out with a body of fifty len. So soon as Godfrey approached the ost of the Spaniards they fled. In order to meet the necessities of the colny, one ship was sent to Virginia, and anothr to Barbadoes, to bring supplies. Before lese returned, a ship sent out by the propritors with provisions and a few immigrants,?? ?: J TU!. nttonniul fVio nnrtparflnrfi of ITlVCUi 1UIO V/imugv>vi vmw ? lings. Florence CSullivan was required to ive security for his future good behavior. This calamity taught the colonists a very nportant lesson. It taught them to depend u thefcselves. It was an evil in itself; but , resulted in good. The attentive observer f events cannot fail to discover the superinjnding providence of God in the most trivial ccurrences. In the neighborhood of Ashley river colony, lere lived two powerful tribes of Indians? le Westoes and Saraoas. The latter had leir home near the Isindiga, now called the avannab river. The former were the relentjss and uncompromising enemies of the white lan. Between these two formidable tribes, fierce war broke out, about the time of the isturbances in the colony at Ashley river, o bitterly was it waged that both tribes were ompletely ruined. It is worth remarking, in ris connection, that Providence seems to have aved the way for the settlement of South !arolina by reducing, in one way and anoth* r, the number of the Indians. Previous to the settlement of the State by le English, disease had greatly reduced the umber of some of the tribes, and the hostility f the tribes to each other kept their ranks tinned. It should not be forgotten that Ashley ooper, one of the original proprietors, by his Sent, Dr. Henry Woodward, purchased, in 675, a large tract of country from the Inians. The deed of transfer specifies the )untry sold as that of the "Great and Lesser astor, lying on the river Kyewaw," (now tiled Ashley,) "the river of Stono, and the esher of the river Edisto." The price paid as "a valuable parcel of cloth, hatchels, eads and other goods and manufactures." his deed was signed and sealed by tfcfijoiijMm ad seals of four chiefs, with the marks of even war captains, and what is stranger ill, by "fourteen women captains," -IfPeundvauia can boast that William Peon purlased her territory of the Indians, South aroliua can boast that Lord Shaftesbury jrchased at least part of the present State of autb Carolina, At a later date, the Indians ceded to the nglish all their lands as far as the "Appaicbian Mountains." This last grant seems i be accompanied with no compensation rhe fact that Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaflesury, was the author of the Habeas Corpui ,ct, and that he, at least in pa#, purchased >e soil of South Carolina, ftotRtlje Indians, jould cause his name to Jngratefui imembrance. , [to be. continued next week.].