Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, May 13, 1875, Image 1
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"VOL. 21. YORKVILLE, S. C., THUESDAY, MAY 13, 1875. NO. 19.
' - - * - ' * 1 !J L' ? U ?f !? I tinno TliasnrnnriaCnri) saw that West kfiDt
Jto Original Jdotg.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
*?"'"UNCLE BRAINERD'S WILL;
OK,
The Fortunes of Alice Lynn
CHAPTER XVI.
LIFE AT ELMWOOD.
Mrs. Delatour was a widow. She was a de
scendant, as her husband had also been, of at
ancient Huguenot family, and had many
years before settled down in this pretty coun
try home, in the vicinity of one of the pleas
antest villages in the upper part of our State
With much kindness of heart she mingled a
large share of family pride ; and there wer<
several reasons why she hesitated in offering
to Alice the unlimited protection and hospi
l:-L u i I_J
laiiijr wxiicu wuuiu nave aa'uiueu vvuu uic
desire of her son. She doubted the wisdom oi
throwing ioto constant juxtaposition two
young people who might easily fall in love
with each other, since the idea of a marriage
between them was not to be entertained for
an instant. For beautiful and charming as
she acknowledged Alice to be, she could not
reconcile herself to the idea of one of the de
la Tours so far forgetting hi<i. dignity, as to
^^h^htitf^i^^isnJUmtittrupon one of less illus^|0i^mPH^vhalever
might be her intrinsic
w?rth. On the other hand, she could not but
b< charmed with the amiability and sweetness
ol disposition which each day of her intercturse
with the young girl served more fully
tc develop ; and had Gervais been out of the
question, she felt that it would add greatly to
her happiness to have her constantly with
her, for her son was often absent from home;
and at such times she was very solitary, notwithstanding
her assertion to the contrary.
About three years before, she had lost a niece
whom she had adopted in childhood, Marie
Delatour, a lovely girl who had been very
dear to her; and she felt that Alice, if she
kept her with her, might fitly supply her
place.
Unable at once to decide, satisfactorily, between
these conflicting arguments,she resolved
to let matters, for a short time, take their own
course, especially as Gervais expected to be
absent for three or four weeks, in Columbia.
She was not inactive, however, in supplying
Alice's present needs. She furnished her with
an abuodaut wardrobe, and would have pressed
upon her acceptance a liberal sum of money;
but this the young girl gratefully refused,
saying that she required nothing more than
she already had, and hoped, by her own exertions,
to supply all future necessities. She
was very anxious to obtain pupils, and Mrs.
Delatour finding, upon examination, that she
was quite capable of giving instruction in the
plaiuer branches of education, succeeded in
getting up a little class for her, among the
village children, whose parents were very willing
to take a teacher upon her recommendation.
This class met at the house of Mr.
Gleuinore, the Episcopal clergyman of the
village, and Alice went there daily, at nine
o'clock, to fulfil her new duties, which occupied
her until half-past one, or two.
Mr. Glenmore was an old bachelor; a rather
eccentric, but extremely kind and benevolent
man, and much beloved by his parishioners.
He shut himself up a good deal in his
study during the mornings, and thus it was
that Alice, though daily at his residence, never
met hue.until sometime after^he commenced
to teach. One afternoon, hower, as she was
crossing the front entry, he me out of his
study, and encountered her st as she was
putting on her hat in readiue to set out for
home.
"Miss Lyle, I am happy tooeet you," be
commenced. Then suddenhstopping, he
gazed at her with unraistakabjeuriosity and
surprise.
"Pardon me,' he said recoiring himself
after a moment; "jour resembnee to some
one I once knev is so very string, that for
an instant I alnost thought myyes had deceived
me. So exactly the sara!" he added
with another scrutinizing look. "The hair,
the eyes, the featirei?all, all th^ame ! But
this is folly," hecoitinued as if peaking to
himself. "I am forgetting how jany years
have passed since thai. Excuse e, my dear
young lady ! Yourface carried ie back to
the days of ray youtl, so coraplety, that it
made me forget my pod manners. Will you
permit me to walk a ittle way withyou ?"
Alice of course assnted. Mr. GUraore got
his hat and stick, am they set oultogether.
"Did I understanc Mrs. Delator to say
that you were from the upper pat of the
State?" he asked presntly.
"Yes, sir ; I cameiere from Spar\nburg."
"From Spartanbug! I was in aat district
for many years before I cane here;
but I don't reco'lect the name of ]yle up
there," said the clergynan, musingly.
"My father and raoberdied long ag," said
Alice, quickly. "I lied there with soue relatives."
"Were your parentsfrom that districhlso ?"
To this question Aice replied, withtruth,
that she did not know for she really we uncertain
where ber graid-father's home wa situated,
and was not sue either that be night
not be speaking of sor.e other family o: the
same uame.
"No sir, from the lo* country." \
"From the low-couary !" he repeated jith
another glance of interet at her face, '^re
you?pardon my curio;ity?any way relied
to a family of Chesters down in Barnwe^?"
"It is to one of that ainily," continued be
clergyman with some hesitation, "that Jui
bear so strong a reseublauce. It was tkit
circumstance that mark me think you raigfct
be related to them. Many years ago I kn*v
one of them well?a very lovely young ladp
You are almost her counterpart. I faucTo
.when I first saw you that she was standiq
ibefore me. She has been dead, I believe, fo
some years." He sighed as he spoke, an
walked on more quickly, looking straigb
ahead. Alice's heart beat. Could he bespeafc
ing of her mother? She thought it very like
ly, for she knew from a small picture she ha
or ner motner in early youth, that she di
strongly resemble her. She felt greatl
tempted to find out whether her surmise ws
correct or not, for her heart warmed towar
any one who had been her mother's friendperhaps
in this case more than a friend, jud?
iug from Mr. Glenmore's evident emotion i
speaking of her ; but she remembered the m
cessity of preserving her incognito, at least fo
the present, aud was silent.
Mr. Glenmore presently introduced sora
indifferent topic, and continued to chat in i
pleasant, fatherly manner, until they came t
the outskirts of the village.
"Here I must bid you adieu," he said, hold
ing out his hand, "for I am going to see i
sick parishioner, and my way branches off ii
the opposite direction to yours. I am verj
glad to have met you, and I hope iu futur<
we will not be such strangers to each other.'
From that time he made it a point of see
ing her every day, for a few moments, whil<
she was at his house, and often accorapaniet
her a part of the way home. He had evi
dently taken a great fancy to her ; but Alict
could not help thinking that he must have
been an old lover of Mrs. Lynu's, and that ii
was her resemblance to her which had so com
pletely won his heart. And her romantic
conjecture happened to be right. Mr. Glen
more had iu early days beeu a devoted ad
mirer of the beautiful Alice Chester, aud his
suit had been sanctioned by her father, bill
the wilful beauty had not regarded him with
j favor, and be bad lived unmarried for her
i sake.
; Alice could have lived very happily in Mrs.
! Delatour's pretty house, had it not been for
! the feeling, somewhat hurtful to her pride,
j that as a straDger she had no right to trespass
I thus upon her bounty. So when a fortnight
; had passed in the fuliilment of her duties as
# ! teacher, she said one day?
"Mrs. Delatour, I have been thinking that
> perhaps I could get a room somewhere in the
| village, in the house of some one that you
j know. Don't you think it possible?"
* j "What do you want to get a room in the
I | village for ?" asked her friend.
r! "Because," said Alice, blushing, "I have
' j been with you a long time now, and it is time
" I for rae to begin to provide for myself. I am
j making enough to hire a little room with and
II pay for plain board, if I might pay at the end
5; of each month."
' i "Nonsense, child," said Mrs. Delatour, brief|
ly. "Be satisfied where you are for the pres'
I * . l . J* ?
\ ent, ana uou t laJK aoout proviuing ior yuur'
jself until you make a little more money.
11 Are you not comfortable here?"
1 "More than comfortable," said Alice, warm1
j ly, "and I am more grateful to you than I
1 can express ; but it seems wrong for me to be
1 j stayiug here so long."
; "When I am tired of'you, F will tell you,"
1; said her hostess. She felt, in truth, strangely
1 j reluctant to part with the young girl, who had
| already endeared herself to her. And though
j she still hesitated in deciding to keep her al'
I together, she could not make up her mind to
1 j let her go, just yet. So Alice stayed on and
I enjoyed the luxury of her present life, and the
j days slipped by until Gervais Delatour came
1! home.
On the very evening of his arrival, the
young man asked his mother if Alice had
1 consented to live with her, altogether.
"I have not asked her," quietly replied Mrs.
Delatour.
Gervais bit his lip, and walked off, some|
what impatiently, toward the window.
"What is the matter, my dear ?" asked his
1 mother, in a calm tone. "You look annoyed."
"Oh ! no, by no means," he replied carelessly.
"I only thought it possible some such
arrangement had been made."
"Yes, that was quite natural, considering
how long she had remained here; but you see,
1 I don't like to send the poor girl away?"
"frond heavens! mother." cried Gervais.
' turning around, "how can you speak of such
a thing? Turn her away!"
"I said send her away, dear."
' "Well, send or turn, it is all one. As for
' her having been here long, I don't see that
she has so far paid more than an ordinary
( visit; one or two weeks only?"
"Four," corrected, his mother.
| "Four, then. Has she spoken of her plans?"
, "No. I doubt if she has any to speak of.
To tell you the truth," said Mrs. Delatour,
who liked to tease her son, but never carried
it too far, "she proposed some time back to
leave me, and board in the village, ou her
scanty earnings, silly child! But I told her
, to remain quiet for the present?"
, "Did you ? That was right," said Gervais,
his brow clearing. "But what earnings do
you speak of? Has she any scholars ?"
"Yes; a little class of six children, who
meet every day at Mr. Glenmore's. I got
them for her without any difficulty. You see,
luckily, Miss Ames has just gone away, and
j these aresomeof her former pupils. Marion
I is a good little thiug, very diligent and pains|
taking. She is getting to be a favorite, and I
I shouldn't wonder if in time she succeeded in
, I getting up quite a school. By the way, Ger
11 vais, you cau't think what a fancy Mr. Glen,!
more has taken to her. He walks with her,
and lends her books, and seems really sraitt
ten."
"Mr. Glenmore! Pie is old enough to be her
father."
"Fully. But that does not preclude the
possibility of his liking her does it?"
"Oh ! no, certaiuly not. I only thought you
meant?"
"That he had fallen in love with her?
i Well, it's not unlikely, now you've suggested
j the idea. It would be a capital thing for
her, too," said Mrs. Delatour, musingly.
"I cannot see why," said Gervais, somewhat
i sharply.
"My dear son ! a young girl in her lonely,
friendless situation, to become the wife of the
clergyman of the parish?a man sufficiently
well off, too, to support her comfortably, and
leave her in good circumstances when he dies!
i Most people would consider it au excellent
match."
"Most people would be very foolish, then.
But I beg your pardon," he added, checking
! himself; "perhaps you areoue of them !"
"I! Uh ! no," said Mrs. JJeJatour, good,
humoredly. "I confess I haven't troubled
; my head about it. In fact, the little thing
, I ought not to think of marrying, for several
j years to come. She's nothing but a child."
"In years, perhaps," said Gervais, "but
I certainly not in character. No child would
j act with the self-denyiug resolution she has
11 displayed."
, "She is certainly quite heroic; foolishly roj
raantic, perhaps ; but with a great deal of
principle. And now, my dear, to change the
; subject, do tell me something of your visit,
i You have not told me a word of the Grahams,
! or Talbots, or auy of those people I am interested
in."
This conversation gave Mrs. Delatoursorae
insight into her son's feelings. And, iudeed,
it was not very long before they became too
evident to escape eveu ordinary penetration.
Gervais was, undoubtedly, a victim to that
not uncommon, but seldom fatal malady?
I love at first sight. His impulsive French
! nature had yielded readily to the influence of
i Alice's charms, and each succeeding hour of
. their intercourse kindled the flame into greatj!
er strength. His mother felt sorely perplexed
at the discovery. This was the contingency
: she had dreaded ; but she had not looked for
d.itsosoon. However, as she had run away
it with her husband on a six week's acquaintance,
and lived happily with him all her iuars
iried life, she could not exclaim now at the
d ; oily or imprudence of this sudden infatuad
ion on her son's part. Alice was good and
y bvely and sensible, more attractive than any
is |irl she kuew j but then?she did not know
d ffiough about her. Who were the Lyles?
- j &e had never heard of them before. And
j- j ^lice?or Marion, as she called herself?was
n ; viry reticent about her family. Mrs. Delatour
>-' hid been able to learn very little concerning
r thtm. Of the Chester side she had not spoj
kec at all, though they were the only connec?
I ili.ia s\P mli Ink in nrvint i\f hirfli ohp
e , UUU9 VI nilltu, 111 J/uiuv VI Via vii| vnv wm.m
a boist; and the Fieldings, Mrs. Delatour felt
0 sure, must be rather common sort of people.
I She had always contemplated a distinguished
-! match for her son ; looked forward, if need be,
a i to his going over to France, to seek a bride
j , among the descendants of some of those old
j \ families who, in former years?centuries ago,
j it might be?had mingled in the gay assera'
biies that gathered in the walls of the stately
- Chateau de la Tour. Yet mother-love was
j strong in her heart; and if Gervais' happi1
ness should be dependant ou his marriage
- with this obscure, penniless young girl, she
; was not at all sure that*one would have the
; courage or strength of miud to combat his
t wishes.
j Of Alices readiness to comply with those
;! wishes, no doubt, of course, ever entered her
mind.
I Meanwhile, Alice, quite unconscious of the
i1 sentiments she had inspired, tranquilly "pur;
j sued the even tenor of her waytaught
i her scholars, read all the books she could
! find, wrote stories and poetry as of old, and?
| thought of her cousin Maurice.
?
CHAPTER XVII.
: Alice's second offer, and what came
of it.
Some weeks passed by. One evening, as
Alice was sitting alone in the library, engrossed
j with a volume of poems, Gervais entered, and
! seating himself near her, commenced idly
j turning over a portfolio of prints which lay
i on the table. Alice read on for a little while
1 without looking up ; then raising her eves,
; she blushed to find him gazing intently at her,
j his head resting on his hand, and his elbow
i heedlessly crushing one of the engravings he
' had been feigning to examine,
j "What is that which interests you so?" he
asked, glancing at her book.
"An odd volume of Laraartine, I found on
the upper shelf."
"You are a French scholar, then?"
?r*u i t rmltr rco h fnlfirqhlw wfill
Vtl t UUj JL VUIJ ? VUU I ? W?1
enough to understand it when the idioms are
not very difficult."
"If you spoke it, you would delight my
mother's heart. She clings to everything associated
with the home' of her ancestors, in
spiteof being born and brought up in America."
"I have not had many advantages," rejoined
Alice. "You know I was educated in
the country, and at the school I went to, they
I only taught the rudiments of French ; but I
like it so much that I have read a good deal,
with the help of a dictionary, and brought
myself on a little in that way."
"If you would let me help you," said Gervais,
"perhaps I would not prove myself a
very inefficient teacher."
"You. Oh! I would not give you the
trouble," said Alice. "And I have not much
leisure time?only the afternoons."
"And the evenings," said Gervais. "Could
we not read together, then ?
"Perhaps," said Alice, doubtfully. "But
your mother?"
* "She could enjoy her nap in peace."
"But she likes to talk, too; and I am afraid
it would be impolite."
\jervaisieu a nine aimoyeu at tier wnui> ui
readiness to enter into his scheme.
"Oh ! if you dou't care about it, of course
that makes a difference," he answered carelessly.
There was a silence. Alice fancied
from his look that she had displeased him in
some way, but could not understand how.
After a pause he resumed.
"My mother and I have been discussing a
rather important question lately?important
to me, that is, and almost equally so to her;
though I don't flatter myself that it would
prove of much consequence to anybody else.
She has suggested that I should make a visit
to France."
"To France !" Alice looked up, her face
full of eager interest. "Oh ! how pleasant
that would be!"
No shade of regret in her tone, at the prospect
of his leaving home! Gervais felt a keen
thrill of disappointment; but he answered
with well-feigned nonchalance?
"That is just a question I've been debating
with myself. I can't make up my mind
whether it would be pleasant or not. Under
some circumstances, it might?but?"
"To vou. I should think it would be delieht
ful," said the unconscious Alice. "It is the
country of your forefathers, and you would
find so much to interest you."
"Icau't say I care much about my forefathers,"
said Gervais, irreverently. "I have
no doubt they were all very good people; but
you must recollect that I never knew any of
them."
"No, of course not," said Alice, laughing.
"But I should think you would like to see
that beautiful old Chateau de la Tour, where
| your great graud-father used to live."
"I have seen its picture," said Gervais. "I
suppose my mother has often shown it to
you ?"
"Yes. Would she go with you, if you
went?" asked Alice, struck by a new idea.
"Oh ! no ; she is no longer young enough
to undertake such a journey. And the fact
is, I should hate to go alone."
Alice looked contemplative. Gervais hoped
she was thinking of his possible journey.
But, in reality, she was only wishing that she
had the power to travel about at will. She
I u - - - Ai._i. i in t 1
wouiu uol, iu mat uaae, ueiiKeiy lu uegieut au
good an opportunity as he had of seeing foreign
countries.
"If I should go," he continued, "I would
be abroad, probably for a year, at least."
"Yes, I suppose so," said Alice. "You
could hardly see everything you wanted to in
less time than that. But I should think that
Mrs. Delatour would miss you very much."
"I should be glad to think," said Gervais,
"that somebody else would miss me, too."
"Who ?" asked Alice, inuocently.
" You !"
"I!" She blushed again, embarrassed at
his earnest look, but still not divining his
thoughts. "I would not be here all that time,
you know."
"Why not? You could not leave my
mother alone."
Alice did not know what answer to make.
Her position at Elrawood still seemed a doubtful
one, for no arrangement had been made
for her permanent residence there, though
olia or?rtl?A rvAi'n/* TVfro T^nlafAlir
n iicucv^i ouc opuivc ui guiu^, IUJO, i^tiftiuui
always put the question aside by saying that
there was time enough yet for her to think
about it.
"I hope," said Gervais, speaking rapidly,
and from a sudden impulse which he could
cot resist, "that you will never leave Elmwood,
unless?unless you leave it with me."
She gave hitn a startling glance, full of
wonderment; then her cheek and brow flushed
crimson, as his eyes sank beneath his.
"Miss Lyle?Marion !" he exclaimed, bending
forward and takiug her hand, "don't you
know?don'tyou understand?why I wish you
to care about ray going? Don't you know
i how much I love you ?"
?,I did not know it," said Alice in a very
low voice, when she could summon courage
' to speak. "I never dreamt of such a thing."
The truthfulness of her tone it was impossible
to doubt.
"But now that you know it," he pursued
with feverish anxiety, "will you not give me
one word of hope ? Tell me that I have not
been very presumptuous in daring to cherish
fVtic. Uoontifnl (^room fall *n r\ tUnf fiti II
bino u^autuui uiuaiu ten 111c tuai juu win
i not be cruel enough to destroy it?"
Alice looked pained, and turned away her
face. "I am very, very sorry," she began
falteringly.
"Sorry! Then you don't care about me!
Oh ! Marion, if you only knew?"
His voice trembled with the intensity of his
emotion, and he paused to recover his composure.
Alice had withdrawn her hand from
' his, and she now spoke in a very gentle but
decided tone.
"Mr. Delatour, if I had fancied that such
a thing as this could happen, I never would
have remained under your mother's roof.
My last desire would be to cause uuhappiness
to any one who had shown me the kindness I
have received at your hands. But you must
uot think me ungrateful because I cannot do
as you wish."
! "But why cannot you ? Do you dislike me
j so hopelessly ?"
"Dislike you? I like you almost4better
than any one else I know," said Alice.
| "Then, iu time, might not your liking grow
i into a stronger feeling ? Give me a little
i hope?just one ray!" he continued, eagerly.
| "I will go away for a year?for two years, if
' you wish it?if you will ouly tell me there is
I a chance of your giviDg me the kind of welj
come I want when I come back !"
I "But there isn't a chauce," said Alice,
; simply and gravely. "I would always be
j glad to see you?as my friend and benefac:
j tor?"
"Benefactor, pshaw !" he said, impatiently,
i! rising and turning away from her. "I hate
I that sort of talk. You talk of receiving ben1
efits, when you have bestowed upon me more
happiness than I ever knew before?short'
lived happiness," he added, bitterly. "1 was
i foolish enough to think it might last."
, Poor Alice hung her head, feeling as grieved
, and penitent as if she had really been guilty
' of some wrong. "I am very sorry," she rouri
mured again. "You ought never to have
brought me here, to make trouble in this
i way."
"Don't say that," he returned, impetuously,
i "I shall always be thankful and glad for the
privilege of having enjoyed your society, even
though you have disappointed my dearest
hopes. Don't look so downcast," he added
I with some compunction, as he caught sight of
the tears iu her eyes, "or I shall feel like a
brute for having annoyed you in this way."
I A .. .l: .i 1 ?
Al. M1IH IllUIUbUL WJO LUUUII U1 U]?pi uavuiiig
footsteps was heard; and Alice precipitately
retreated by a side door, while Gervais took
up a book, and feigned to be absorbed in its
contents when his mother entered the library.
"Where is Marion ? I thought I heard
her voice in here," said Mrs. Delatour, in her
soft tones.
"She was here, but she went out a minute
ago," replied Gervais, indifferently.
"Went out! Where?"
"I don't know?out of the room, I raeau."
"Oh !" said his mother," who had watched
his countenauce narrowly during this brief
dialogue, and felt convinced that something
had happened, though she could not quite divine
what the nature of the something was.
She asked no question, but she kept watch
daring the evening on both the young people.
She saw that her son's manner to Alice
was constrained, and Alice's to him very shy
and a little deprecating; and she drew her
own conclusions therefrom, and secretly rejoiced
over them. "The silly chit has absolutely
refused him," she said complacently to
herself; "thanks, no doubt, to that cousin
somebody or other of hers, of whom she seems
so fond." And it came to pass that after the
young girl had gone to bed, and Gervais, as
was his wont, lingered over the fire with his
mother for a parting chat, the latter contrived
by a little judicious manceuvering to elicit
the confession she desired to hear. Gervais
never kept any secrets from her, and he soon
came out with this, frankly enough.
"Of course it serves me right, mother," he
said. "I deserved punishment for being so
presumptuous as to expect to win her affection
in such a short time."
Mrs. Delatour had experience enough to
know that while the fever was still on him,
the most unwise treatment she could bestow
would be that of casting any slight on the object
of his adoration ; so instead of saying that
she thought the presumption was on Alice's
part, in rejecting such a magnificent offer as
that of her peerless son, she quietly remarked
that it was a great pity; but that girls so
young seldom knew their own mind, and it
was difficult to know what to expect from
them.
"Oh! she never gave me the least encouri
agement," said Gervais, quickly. "The fault
was all mine."
"No, I never blamed her," said his mother.
"I believe she is a good, innocent little thing."
"She is an angel!" cried Gervais, enthusiastically.
Next day, when Alice returned from the
village, Mrs. Delatour detained her in the
parlor for a little private talk, before she
went up to her room.
Marion, dear, she said, holding her haud
! caressingly between both of hers, "I want to
make a definite arrangement with you. I
don't wish matters to go on in this unsatisfactory
way any longer. Why, you look quite
alarmed," she added, smiling, as Alice's color
came and went, in apprehension as to what
might be coming next. "It is nothing very
terrifying I want to say to you. Sit down
here a moment, by me."
Alice accordingly took a seat on the sofa,
and Mrs. Delatour, still holding her hand,
went on in the same affectionate manner.
"It is only that I want to make sure, my
dear, of your companionship while my son is
absent. Did you know that he was going
away very soon ?"
"He spoke to me of it." said Alice, trying
to look unconcerned, "but did not seem quite
sure whether he would go or not."
"He has been talking of it for some time,
but has just succeeded iu making up his mind
ou that subject. It is decided now, that he is
! to start from New York early in April. This
j is?let's see?the thirteenth of March, is it
j not ? So he will leave home in a very few
; days' time. And I want you to promise not
to desert me while he is gone, uuless, indeed,
you find ray home and my company too dull."
"I think you must be laughing at me," said
Alice, a little reproachfully, "orelse you must
think me very ungrateful."
"For what, my dear ? If we come to talk
of gratitude, it is I who should be gratefcil to
you, for enlivening me with your cheerful society,"
said Mrs. Delatour, who felt, at that
moment, overflowing with benevolence toward
Alice and all human kind. "It is settled,
then ? You promise to stay with me ? Gervais
will be gone for a year?perhaps longer;
and I should be very lonely during his absence,
without you."
"Yes, I will stay, and I thank you, most
gratefully, for your kindness," said Alice. "I
shall never, never be able to repay it."
"Yes, you will," said her friend, kissing her
: forehead. "Always be the dear, amiable
! little girl you are now, and your companionship
will be an inestimable benefit to me."
Alice wondered, as she went up stairs to
take off her things, whether Mrs. Delatour
would have been so friendly to her if she had
known that she had refused her son! She
little knew, in the innocence of her heart, that
the proceeding for which she so deeply reproached
herself, far from being considered
an offense, had won her ten fold the favor she
j had before enjoyed in the mother's estimation
! She of course considered her au ex.
tremely foolish girl; but she was disposed to
i view her folly with a very lenient eye, since it
j had brought about a result which so exactly
! accorded with her wishes.
Toward the end of March, Gervais bid
adieu to Elmwood and its inmates, and departed
on the long talked-of visit to the land
I of his ancestors. His mother was very low-:
spirited for some time after he left, for she \
was too devoted to him not to grieve over his ;
absence, thoueh it was at her owu desire that |
; he had gone. Alice, too, missed him. She
liked and admired him more than any one,
; except Maurice, whom she had ever known ;
but under the circumstauces, his departure
was a relief. He had recurred once, and
once only, to the subject which was such an '
! embarrassing one to her. "I am not going to
importune or distress you," he said, "but I!
mud say one thing before I leave, and that
is, that I wish you to be sure that my feelings
toward you can never change. My love for !
you is the first great passiou of my life, and
i it will be the last. I must still live in the
hope that you may one day reward it; but if
' this hope fails me, it will go with me unex- 1
I tinguished to my grave."
It was the speech of an ardent and enthu- j
siastic soul, sincere in every impulse, hut eas'
ily swayed by circumstance and change ; but
' it made Alice feel more guilty than ever, and
j caused her to wether pillow that night with
j tears.
; Gervais was not destined to remain away
for as long a period as he had anticipated.
Toward the fall of that year?1860?the political
clouds which had for some time been
overshadowing his native country suddenly assumed
a more threatening aspect; and in December,
South Carolina passed the ordinance
secession from the control of an overbearing
and tyrannical government. War seemed
imminent, though many still ridiculed the
idea of such an extreme measure; and among
other absentees who flocked eagerly home to
j be in readiness to join in the impending strugj
gle, was our young scion of the Huguenots,
burniug with ardor tor the sacred cause,
which quite banished, for the time, every other
consideration from his mjnd.
[to be continued next week.]
pjstotg of Carolina.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
HISTORICAL SKETCHES
' 'of the
Early Settlement of South Carolina.
BY REV. ROBERT LATHAN.
(continued from last week.)
The individual who has only a limited
knowledge of human nature, might be ready
to conclude that all the circumstances con
I oected with the settlement of South Carolina,
1 would have inspired the first European in|
habitants that came to the country, to live
I together in perfect harmony. This was far
from being the case; nor is it to be wondered
at. A8 we have seen, the majority of the immigrants
were dissenters from the Church of
England ; but the proprietors and the Grand
Council were Cavaliers. There is not the
shadow of a doubt that the Cavaliers designed,
from the first, to establish a kind of religioas
oligarchy. This, together with the recollection
of the fiery struggles which had been
passed through in old England, fed the bitter
hate which still lived in the bosom of the dissenters.
No doubt both parties were greatly
to be blamed. To allay the party feeling
which existed amongst the settlers, required
all the skill, energy and prudence of Joseph
West. Notwithstanding the great zeal manifesffcd
by the different religious sects, very
little was done, directly, by any of tbera, for
many years, to promote piety. A minister
and church was an appendage of every New
England settlement. A church was built and
the people settled around it. Such was not
the case in Carolina. For a period of ten
years, we have no certain account of the erection
of any church, or even of any preaching
in the colony. Joseph West is characterized
by all parties as a devoutly pious man, and
we may reasonably conclude that, occupying
the position and exercising the influence which
he did in the colony, he would exert a happy
restraint over the wayward, and encourage
those religiously disposed.
However retarding these religious bickerings
might have been to the growth and prosperity
of the colony, they did not put a stop
to its expansion. The locality chosen on the
west side of the Kyewaw was found not suited
to the purposes of the colony. The express
object which was had in view in selecting it,
was because it was so situated that no large
vessel could approach it. The simple fact is,
the first settlers were afraid that they would
be attacked by the Spanish. They were aware
that the mercies of that people were cruel.
Hence, they selected a "high ground" on
Kyewaw river, thinking that at that point
they would be comparatively safe. Port
Royal was abandoned because it was a good
harbor and near the Spanish. The "high
ground" on the Kyewaw was selected because
it was farther away from the Spanish, and
had no harbor. The proprietors enjoined it
upon the immigrants to settle at a distance
from the coast for the sake of health.
The point of land between the Kyewaw and
Waudo rivers?now the Ashley and Cooper?
was soon discovered to be more favorable for
a settlement than that first chosen. IndividI
uals had settled on this place,which was called
Oyster Point. The Grand Council, on the
13th of January, 1672, directed Capt. Maurice
Matthews and Capt. Godfrey to make an
examination of the Wando river with reference
to its suitableness for a settlement.
What the character of the report of these individuals
was we can only conjecture. It
may well be supposed that they were pleased
with the situation. It was now found that
the spot first selected, whilst it could not be
approached by an invading fleet, was still
greatly exposed to the Spanish and Indians.
The peculiar situation of Oyster Point?being
simply a tongue of land, bounded on both
sides by a river?rendered it much more desirable
for a town constantly liable to be attacked
by an enemy. It also possessed commercial
advantages. This, however, was a
matter of secondary consideration. The
great object with the immigrants in selecting
a site for a town, was its advantages in a military
point of view. Any individual who
will look at the map of the State of South
Carolina, will not be slow in concluding, that
I for all the purposes of the early settlers, there
is no other location equal to Oyster Point.
This tongue of land had been, at an early period
in the history of the colony, taken up by
Henry Hughes and John Coming.
The object of the survey made by Captain
j Godfrey and Captain Matthews, dues not,
I however, seem to have been made with special
| reference to a change of location, but only
| with the view of securing a safe locality on
I which other immigrants might settle. From
the nature of the surrounding circumstances,
all the settlements were made in what were,
with propriety, called towns. Single individuals
could not have protected themselves
against the hostile Indians. That it was not
1 contemplated in 1672, to make Oyster Point
! the chief town, is evident from the conduct of
j Hughes and Coming. On the 21st of Febru;
ary, 1672, they met the Grand Council, and
j Henry Hughes gave up one half of his land,
j "near a place upon Ashley river, known by
I the name of Oyster Point, to be employed in
and toward the enlarging of a town and cora|
mon of pasture, there intended to be erected."
j Mr. John Coming, and Affera, his wife, came
j likewise before the Grand Council, and freely
gave up one half of their land near the said
place, for the use aforesaid. In fact, the setj
tlement of Oyster Point must have commenced
very soon after the settlement on the
western bank of the Kyewaw, which the immigrants
named Ashley, in honor of the Earl
if Shaftesbury.?
As early as June 18th, 1672, we find the
Grand Council devising ways and means for
the defense of the province. One, amongst
many other orders issued by that body, is in
these words: "All the inhabitants on the other
part of the river, called Oyster Poynt, doe
repaire to the plantation there, now in the possession
of Hugh Carterett Cooper, and being
soe embodyed, doe march forward to the plantation
now in the possession of Mr. Thomas
Norris, or Mr. William Morrill, which may
be thought most safe and useful for that design,
under the command of Mr. Robert
Donne, there to remayne and exercise such
orders and rules as the Grand Council shall
think fitt to be prosecuted for the better safety
of that part of this settlement."
The town was, by order, or rather by the
consent of the Grand Council, laid out by
John Culpepper in 1672. The warrant isj
sued by Governor Yearaaus to Surveyor Gen'
eral Culpepper, bears date July, 1672. The
! Spot attracted a consiuerauie nuuiuci vi iu- ?
habitants; but owing to the hostile disposition t
of the Indians and the fear of a Spanish inva1
sion, the settlers generally preferred that sec- c
| tion which was most densely populated. \
In 1673 John Culpepper got into a difficul- I
| ty with the authorities of the Ashley river t
j colony and went to the Albemarle colony. I
i There, in 1677, he got into a more serious i
l difficulty, which has, with some good ground, c
| been regarded as the beginning of forcible re- <3
; sistance to the exactions of the British governI
ment in America. This was about one hundred
years before the American Revolution,
and more than fifty years before Carolina was
divided into North and South Carolina. Culpepper's
difficulty in Albemarle colony was
simply this:
The British government levied a tax of two
Dence on everv Dound of tobacco sold in the ?
colouy, or not sent to England. The object, ?
evidently, was to give England a monopoly J
of the tobacco trade. At the time, a man by
the name of Miller filled the offices of gover- ?
nor, collector and secretary of the colony. He a
proceeded to collect the tax on tobacco, and
i made himself both odious'and oppressive to the j
| people. Culpepper resisted his acta. The Gov- t
eruor was seized, and all the money found in bis
possession was taken from him and appropria- j
ted to the resistance of what the people u
thought high handed measures and to the de- ^
fense of the colony. The fact that Albemarle
colony now, since it did not have to pay a
tax on tobacco, enjoyed a great advantage ^
over the colonies in Virginia and Maryland, ^
made the latter discontented. l
a ? ?* ? ?..i0
a pittll wao Bell uu luut lu ouuuuo vuijjojjper,
and in order that he might receive justice, ^
he went to England for the purpose of making tj
an appeal to the ruling sovereign for a repeal
of the tax and to beg for mercy for having j
resisted royal authority. He was arrested;
but Shaftesbury managed to get the matter jj
quashed, fearing lest it would ultimately come tj
before the House of Commons and put an ^
end to his ministry. Shaftesbury openly de- jj
clared that the laws of England did not extend
to the remote and insignificant province r
of Carolina, and that the difficulty was only ^
a petty feud amongst the people of Albemarle c
and their rulers. It is hard to reconcile this
declaration of Shaftesbury with the fact that J
Miller had collected, by authority, fourteen ^
thousand dollars off the people of Albemarle.
So soon as he was out of this difficulty,
Culpepper came to Carolina and engaged in ^
laying out the original streets of what is now ^
.the city of Charleston. This was in 1680; jj
but in 1679 the people generally had become ^
disposed to cross over the Ashely river and
settle on Oyster Point. The proprietors were ^
duly informed of this fact, and also of the g
advantage to be gained by making a change
in the location of the colony. This met the ^
hearty approbation of the proprietors. On ,
the 17th of May, 1680, they wrote to the
i~i __j n 1 n :i
uroveruor auu umuu vuuum iu hjo luuun- g
ing words: "We again desire you to take
note that the Oyster Point is the place that
we do appoint for the Porte Town, web
(which) you are to call Charles Towne," &c. g
The same instructions, in almost the identical ^
words, had been sent to the Governor and ?
Grand Council by the Richmond frigate, on
the 17th of December, 1679. We quote those ^
of May, 1680, to show that the proprietors c
felt much interest in the contemplated change t
of location. No doubt, before the last in- ^
structions arrived, the change had been effected.
All the public offices had been removed
to Oyster Point, and at that point the Grand g
Council was summoned to convene. The Q
town, in obedience to the instructions of the
proprietors, was duly named Charles Town, i
For the first two years it was, in contradistinction
from the place that had been left,
called New Charles Town; but, gradually, Old n
Charles Town was abandoned, and until after g
the close of the Revolutionary war, the name g
(JharJes Town was retained. c
The streets were ordered to be laid out east ?
and west, intersected by others at right angles.
This, no doubt, was done, at least as well as ^
the nature of the location and the circumstances
of the case would admit. The proprietors
were particular to enjoin it upon the
Governor and Council to pay particular at- ?
tention to the "regularity and siraightness of ^
the streets." The houses were not built so as
to correspond with the surveyor's lines. The
section of the city first laid out was that which jj
at present lies between Broad and Water tj
I streets, from the Cooper "river, westward, to ^
Meeting street. It is in this quarter we find
Zig-Zag alley. j
There is good reason for concluding that
the change from Old Charles Town to New
Charles Town, was made in the spring of the ^
year. Thirty houses were erected ; but what
the exact number of the colony was, it is impossible
to say with certainty. In order to SJ
increase the growth of the town and give it S|
an importance which it could not otherwise tl
have, the proprietors ordered that all ships be a
loaded and unloaded at it. In laying out the g
town, a lot of five acres was to be laid out for n
each of the proprietors, wherever they might a
see fit, either in persons or by their agents, to b
select it. Any individual who took up a lot f]
* * . i (* J _ * _ I
was required to lay toe xounaauon 01 a uuusc si
upon it within one year, and have a house v
erected upon the foundation within two years. J
Any person taking up a lot and failing to ft
comply with this requirement, forfeited all r!
his claim to the lot; and the Grand Council w
could grant the lot to any one else, and he p
would beat liberty to build upon it. The ob- J
ject of this proviso, no doubt, was to preclude vf
speculation. Any person could take up as t!
many lots as he desired, provided he would fl:
build upon each extra lot, within twelve tl
months, a house at least thirty feet long, six- w
teen feet wide, and two stories high, besides ti
garrets. Ci
Immigrants flocked in from all quarters, ti
England, Ireland, the West Indies and the n
colonies in the northern part of North Amer- j(
ica each sent its quota, and the town grew
rapidly. Land increased in value. Within a
j two years after its settlement, a hundred g(
houses were built. Land sold for Ave dollars 0
| per acre and rented for half as much per an- ft
| num. Almost from its very foundation, the ?
j town began to assume a commercial aspect. ]t
I In November, 1680, sixteen ships?some of ft
them large for that period of the world?enI
tered the harbor at one time,
i Heretofore the colony had been without; lc
any church building or regular church organ- 01
ization. A five acre lot had been reserved, b
as we have seen, in one of the contemplated g<
settlements, for a church; but we have no tl
evidence that any church was erected upon di
it. In 1682, duriDg the administration of tc
Governor West, the first church in the State hi
was begun. It was long called the Euglish b<
church. Its distinctive name was St. Phil- ai
ip's?now St. Michael's. A law was passed : in
by the Parliament forbidding drunkenness and
| idleness, and enjoining the observance of the in
Sabbath. of
The saddest event of this period, was the fa
removal of Governor West from office. From nt
j the first, he had been intimately identified A
i with the colony in all its movements, and w<
j under his wise and prudent management, it dt
) had grown and flourished. Oldmixon says to
the reason that West was removed from the of
office of Governor, was because he dealt in wi
Indians and opposed the proprietary party, cc
There seems to be some strange inconsistency d(
about the charge, which it is not easy to re- ci
concile. The immigrants were allowed, from pf
the first, to hold negroes in slavery, and exer- at
cise over them absolute control. It could not hi
be said that the proprietors were opposed to at
slavery. The main point of opposition to he
West was his religious creed aud political no- ht
IVUOt AUVVJ/IVfliivvvkv wwfi - 4- he
Cavaliers in check.
Joseph Morton succeeded "West as Governir.
From a letter written to Andrew Percirall,
by the proprietors, we learn that Joseph
Jorton and Landgrave Axtel, about this
ime, were instrumental in "bringing five
tundred people to the colony in less than a
nonth's time." It is barely possible that this
iircumstance influenced the proprietors to
legrade West and elevate Joseph Morton.
(to be continued next week.)
ANECDOTE OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN.
As the President was passing through the
eards of a hospital near Washington upon
me occasion, he observed in one of the beds^
-oung soldier wbose paiua countenance auu
xpressionless, glassy eyes betokened great
ihysical and mental prostration, and be ininired
of the attending surgeon if there was
,ny prospect of his ultimate recovery.
"Not the slightest," renlied the doctor.
His vital powers are rapidly ebbing away,
,nd will soon be exhausted."
"I am heartily sorry for the poor boy," said
dr. Lincoln, "and I should like to' dd soraehing
to make his last hours pass as comfort*
bly as possible. Would there be auy harm
amy speaking to him?" added he. And
pon being assured there would not, he sat
own by the bedside, and taking the young
aan's hand, in the kindest possible tone of
oice said, "My young friend, I am the Presient
of the United States, and am informed
y the doctor that you cannot possibly live
ut a short time. Now if there is any request
ou would like to make in regard to your
imily, it will afford me very great satisfaclon
to comply with it."
The youth turned his dim eyes toward the
'resident, but made no response until the
uestion was repeated, when, with great effort,
e succeeded in giving articulation to his
banks, and expressed an earnest desire to see
is aged grand-mother, who, he said, was then
ving in Bangor, Maine. ,
The President, after assuring him that evev
effort should be made to gratify his wishes,
ade him a kind adieu, and calling the medial
officer aside, asked if there was any prosect
of the young-man's surviving until the
Id lady could be telegraphed to and corae to
Vashington ; and he seemed a good deal perlexed
on being told there was no hope of
his; but after a moment's reflection he said
he only expedient that occurred to him unei
the circumstances was the exercise of a
ittle of that harmless strategy which was always
allowable in war times; that if he could
nly find some old woman who would consent
3 personate the grandmother, the boy was in
uch a state of lethargy that he would not
robably detect the deception, and would die
dth the consoling belief that he had received
he parting benediction of his aged relative.
<innL?k narfoinlv Via ft nArfftntlv iusti
ilJtlb VTUUIU VUi vutui^ ww w j
able device," replied the surgeon; "but
/here will you find the elderly female to en*
ct the part of grandmother ?"
"Let me see," soliloquized Mr. Lincoln,
oldingup bis left hand while he enumerated
?ith the index finger of the right hand;
there is old Mrs. B r, old Mrs. S k,
nd old Mrs. M s; they are all most belevolent
ladies, but I am apprehensive they
ould not be prevailed upon to undertake any
hing which involved the faintest shadow of
leception. No, no," continued he, "there is
10 hope from that direction; but if I could
inly induce my friend Gideon Welles to peronate
the old lady, in suitable costume, the
ibject would be attained, and nobody harmed."
"But," remarked the Doctor, "Mr. Welles's
ong white beard would at once expose the
rtifice."
"That all can be obviated by his wearing a
light-cap, tied down so as to cover up the
ieard," said the President. Accordingly he
at down at once and addressed a note to the
iecretary of the Navy, begging him, as a speial
favor, to comply with the request at as
arly a moment as practicable, as the boy's
ours were numbered.
Now it happened when the Secretary reeived
this communication he was busily enaged
in official transactions, which, in his
pinion, were of so much consequence that
bey could not be postponed for anything else,
nd he replied that he entertained a high apreciation
of the honor conferred upon him
y the President's selecting him to perform
be chief role in the sad little drama indica*
3d ; but, unfortunately, he was at that very
loment deeply absorbed in the solution of
le difficult problem as to whether Noah's
rk or the new model gun-boat was best
" j
fiapted to the purposes 01 moueru wnuoio.?
Editor's Draper, Harper's Magazine for April
"Hail Columbia."?"Hail Columbia" is
tid to baveheeo composed under the circum- A
:ances as follows: In the year 1793, when
ie patriotic feeling pervaded the country,
nd when there were several parties in the
eld, Mr. Fox, a young actor, called one
lorning upon his friend, Mr. Hopkinson, and
fter stating that the following evening had
een appointed for his benefit, begged his
iend to do something in his behalf. "If,"
aid Fox, "you will write me some patriotic
erses to the tune of the 'president's march,'
feel sure of a full house." Mr. Hopkinson
i a short time wrote the first verse and chous,
which were submitted to Mrs. Hopkinson,
'ho sang them to a piano accompaniment, and
roved the measure and music to be in keeping,
n this way the second and other verses
rere written, and when Mr. Fox returned in
ie evening he received with delight the song
s it now stands. The following morning,
ie announcement was made that Mr. Fox
rould sing a new patriotic song. The theare
was crowded ; the song was sung and reeived
with rapture; it was repeated eight
roes and again encored, and when sung the
inth time the whole audience stood up and
)ined in the chorus. Night after Dight "Hail
lolumbia" cheered the visitors of the theatre,
ud in a very few days it was the universal
mgofthe boys in the streets from one end
f the city to another. Nor was the author
>rgotten. The street in which be resided
as'on one occasion crowded, and "Hail Coimbia"
broke on the stillness of the midnight
om 500 patriotic voices.
? ?
A Life that Ended in Smoke.?If the
>vere of the weed desire a patron saint, they
light to secure the canonization of a deceased
urgher of Roterdara, (that is, if he was a
3od Catholic,) who died a short time ago at
le age of eighty years. It is believed that
jriug his life he smoked more than four
ms of tobacco, and drank more than five
jndred thousand quarts of beer. A few days
jfore his death, he made his will, in which,
nong other provisions, he made the follow
.
g arraugemeuuj jui ma unu iuu?ai.
All the smokers in the country were to be
vited, and each presented with ten pounds
' tobacco and two Dutch pipes of the latest
shion, on which were to be engraved the
imes, arms and date of the deceased testator.
11 his relatives, friends,' and funeral guests
ere requested to keep their pipes alight
iring the ceremonies, after which they were
empty their ashes on the coffin. The poor
' his neighborhood who attended his funeral,
ere to receive annually ten pounds of tobac>
and a cask of good beer. His coffin he
sired to have lined with the cedar of bis old
gar boxes. A box of French caporal and *
tcket of old Dutch tobacco were to h? placed
the foot of his coffin, his favorite pipe by
s side, and also a box of matches, a flint
id steel, and also some tinder, becaqgB,?a
i said, there was- no knowing what might .fl*
ippen.