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/ lewis m. grist, proprietor. J j|n |ntrejjcntient Jfamilp lletospaper: Jeir tjjc ^rcntotrort of % political, Social, Agricultural anir Commercial Interests of % Soutj). | terms?$3.00 a tear, in advance. YOL. 21. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JULY 29, 1875. 30. - - - ' ' * -r i 1 _11 ,1 JVtt ?riginal Jdorg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. THE SEVEN SISTERS OF YORK. CHAPTER XI. On the evening following the interview recorded in the last chapter, Claribel, feeling oppressed and melancholy, stole quietly out of the back door to avoid Jennie's questioning, and sought the shrubbery in the rear of the house, to indulge, without interruption, in the sad thoughts which troubled her. In the last few weeks a change had come over her, which had wrought pain and grief in her heart, while at the same time it mingled with these emotions brief tastes of exquisite joy, which in turn vanished to leave behind them the sting of acute remorse and self-reproach. What can be more bitter, more heavy to be borne, than hopeless love ? How or when the revelation of this love had first dawned upon her, she scarcely knew. Jennie's well-meant caution having opened her eyes to the state of Hugh's feelings toward her, made her at first avoid him ; and in the regret that this enforced avoidance caused her, she began to perceive that his companionship was dearer to her than she had known. Then her thoughts naturally dwelt much upon him?more than she should have allowed them to do. She recalled various little episodes in their intercourse, in which his look and manner bad been fraught with involuntary tenderness; words briefly spoken, to which she had attached little importance at the time, but now invested with an unmistakable significance. And she pitied him? pitied him intensely, with a deep, vain yearning to comfort bim ; and then she found?poor Claribel!?that she was beginning to pity herself as well. She could not blame him? there are few women who can blame a man for being weak enough to love them, even if that love is hurtful to another. She wassim ply sorry for him, and felt that fate was dealing very hardly with him, and with them all. The thought of his forsaking Edna never entered her mind ; she did not know what the end of it all would be, but only had a vague hope that by some means or other things would come right in the end. Aud so, as Virgilia had said, they went on living a surface-life, outwardly the same as before, but with deep thoughts and emotions, hopeless longings, stern regrets, vain pity and remorse, Ditter rears ana pain, stirring ana lossiug iu tiieir hearts. Thinking over all this, Claribel moved slowly along'through the trees until she came to a little arbor at the far eua of one of the walks, quite out of sight of the house and its immediate surroundings. There she sat down, and plucking the late blossoms from a vine that waved its tendrils near her, pulled them idly to pieces and watched them as they whirled and fluttered in the breeze, "These flowers are emblematic of my hopes," she said unconsciously, half aloud, "destined to be blighted and destroyed by the cold breath of adversity." "Claribel," said a voice near her. She looked up, and saw Hugh Thornton standing, with an agitated face, at the entrance of the arbor. The tell-tale blood .rushed to her cheeks, which had been colorless a moment before; but mastering her confusion with an effort, she strove to smile, and to make some commonplace answer to his greeting. "May I come in here with you ?" he asked. "Certainly ; you know I have no especial fancy for solitude," she replied with assumed lightness. "I know vou have had an especial fancv for avoiding me of late," rejoined Hugh, as he entered and took a seat on the bench at her side. He spoke reproachfully, aud she did not venture to meet his eyes. She felt that there was danger in this interview, but did not know how to escape from it. "Claribel," he continued after a short silence, "I have just been with Edna, and she sent me to find you." "Did she?" murmured Claribel. Once on a time this announcement would have caused her no surprise ; but Edna had long ceased making little plans to bring them together, as she had been wont to do at first. "Yes. She told me that she had seen you come into the shrubbery. Was I right to obey her ?" "Claribel gave him a swift glance. "No," she said courageously; "I don't think you were right." "Why not?" She saw that he knew why; but she answered him with that feigned carelessness which she found so difficult to maintain. "It seems rather reversing the order of things, does it not, that you should leave Edna to come to me?" "But if the order of things, as you call it, ought to be reversed?if they are unbearable, impossible to be endured ? I cannot endure them much longer. Claribel, sometimes I feel as if I should go mad." "Hush! hush," said Claribel imploringly. "You must uot talk to rae in that way." "But I must talk ; I have kept silent long enough. I feel that I am acting a farce?a miserable, wicked farce; it is time that I should speak the truth." "I think," said Claribel rising, and speaking hurriedly, "that you are excited, now, Hugh, and you will say something you may not mean?something you will regret afterward ; I cannot stop to listen to you. Will you come with rae to the house?" "No," said Hugh, stopping in front of her a9 she sought to pass out of the arbor; "no I will not go to the house ; and Claribel, you must not go either?stay and listen to rae. You must know what it is in ray heart to say." And then he took her hand, and in broken, passsionate words revealed to her his love. For a little space she listened to him in silence, overborne by his pleading, while her heart thrilled and glowed with feverish joy?then she suddenly drew her hand away, and turning from him hid her face and burst into tears. "Oh! Hugh," she faltered, "remember Edna." "Edna! Always Edna! Did I not tell you that it was she who bade me seek you?" "But not for this." "For what, then ? Claribel, do you not suppose that Edna knows I love you ?" She made no answer. "She knows it?has long seen it. I have not yielded to ray feelings without a struggle? believe me, bitter as the effort was, I would have crushed down my love for you had it been possible ; but it was not possible. I can | never love any one but you?I have never i [ truly loved before." < "You loved Edna," she murmured. "Yes?or thought I did ; but not like this, j Claribel, my little Clarie, have pity on me!" ( "I do pity you?I pity myself too," she said ] brokenly. His face lit up. ( "You love me, then! I was not mistaken, i Oh ! Clarie, we may be happy yet." i "Edna! Edna! think of Edna!" she answered. The thought of Edna, forsaken, * . heart-broken, was her one shield of defence. i "Edna is generous?she loves you better than she loves herself. Do you think she I would destroy your happiness?do you think t .. she could be happy herself, knowing that we * were both miserable ?" ' "She has been sogood to me always! How t can I make her such a return as this ?" 1 "Claribel, we do not hold our hearts in our * hands, to give them as we please. Is it our i fault that we love each other?" < She made no answer to this ; but after a 1 pause she said, looking away from him? s "Hugh, it would be better if I were to leave home; I have thought of it before." j t "T 1- ' ]aarro I ( "l^eave iiuum: 11 u, yuu snan um iimv i home," he replied vehemently. "If any one must go, it must be I; but Clarie, you will not send me away." "I will not send you away?except now, from here. Go, Hugh ; I entreat you to go. I have been wrong to let you stay?to listen to you at all from the beginning. We must forget that you ever spoke such words to me ! as you have spoken this evening." "Forget!" he echoed bitterly. "There are j some things, Clarie, that can never be forgotten." "But this must be forgotten, and put aside forever. Hugh, I could never be happy at Edna's expense; I would be tortured by remorse all my life long, if I were to steal you from her." "You do not steal me from her; I give myself to you, because I cannot help'it. I fling myself at your feet and implore you to take , me. I "And I must always make you the same ! ; answer?no," she replied almost inaudibly. | She had never before realized how dear he j was to her?how sharp a pang it would cost j her to say that little word. But here the j s j leaves near them rustled in the path beneath ! 1 | an approaching footstep, and Edna herself! t | came and stood before them. She looked J | pale, but resolved, and greeted them with a t j faint, forced smile. Claribel's heart smote ' her at the sight of that sad, patient face ; she t | threw her arms around her sister and hid her | face on her neck. "Oh ! Edna," she whispered, "why did you f | send him here ?" "I sent him where I knew his heart was I ; drawing him, my child," Edna auswered in y the same tone. "Look up, Clarie; you have * done nothing wrong. Hugh," she continued aloud, turning to him while she still clasped * Claribel's hand in hers, "why do you not say r ' to me at once all that it is your heart to say ? |* j Do you not think I know that you love ray j i little girl ?" | E "No ! no," interrupted Claribel, striving to j I ; disengage her hand. "Oh! Edna, why do I you talk in that way?" ^ "Because it is always best, dearest, that the i i truth should bespoken at once. I know that * : Hugh has a reason"?her voice faltered for a , moment?"for not saying this openly ; and | I that is why I say it for him. I have not; ^ ! made a mistake, have I. Hutrh ?" "Edna, how can I answer you that ques- 8 tion?" he replied in a tone of deep emotion. 11 "There is no reason why you should not. 11 We all make mistakes some time, you know, j s The wisest of us do not always read our own j thoughts and wishes aright. And if you once ! ^ made a mistake, as I know now that you did, j is it not best that we should all understand j v clearly that it is so, and rectify it at once? ! V i No one can wish you to do so more sincerely ; than I. This child's happiness"?she drew i her sister nearer as she spoke?"lies nearer r ray heart now than anything else." | She spoke with such a noble firmness?her ! | glance, as it rested on them both, was so ten- j ; der and true?that they looked at her in won- 6 | derment, half hoping that they had both been i ? | deceived. And she smiled?yes, her poor | wrung heart crushed down its agonv. as she i C ?- w ^ * i v acted out her part. I think Edna Vaughan I ^ would have gone to the stake with composure ; in a righteous cause, and spoken words of cheer to those who loved her, even while perishing in the llarae. p Still Hugh was silent. He knew not what 1 to say. He could not be egotistical enough to 1, tell her that she was making a sacrifice in i 0 giving him up?he could not utter a falsehood j and deny the truth of her words?he could ; ^ not reject Claribel, to whom his soul went ^ forth in intense yearning. At that momeut, t he admired Edmonia as he had never done ' ii before. Never had he dreamed that such uu- n J selfish devotion was a part of her nature. ^ His part was a difficult one to perform, for ' : there had been no acknowledged engagement _ , between Edna and himself, and he could u make no allusion to the bond which she now y j chose, resolutely, to ignore ; yet that was the ! s only obstacle which stood in the way of the ' s | accomplishment of his desires?and, dearly I j! 1 as he loved Claribel, he could not receive \ g her thu3, from her sister's hands, without a re-; f morseful pang. b But Edna ended the difficulty. Indeed, s ! she could not much longer have supported , this scene with equanimity, and she was re, solved not to break down. Gently laying her ij hand on Hugh's arm, she drew him toward n I her, and placed Claribel's hand in his. f I'T mna lini. .. ...... ... T . L - - - -J . L1 1*1 x nci tu juu witu IUJ' iuuuwl uieaa- w ing," she said, almost in a whisper. "Take ^ her, my dear brother Hugh." i * And in another instant she was gone, and r the flutter of her white dress vanished among t the trees. i< The lovers stood there, clasped hand in hand, a 1 in silence, which it was not easy for them to ^ break. Claribel was weeping. AtlastHugh, ? encircling her with his arm, pressed her close , r to him, and her face rested on his breast. ! n i "Shed those tears here now, my Claribel," a he said, softly. "This is your resting place t henceforth, while life shall last." d Those were all the words that were spoken * then. Even in the fullness of their mutual t love, they could scarcely rejoice yet?for it j seemed to them as if a shadow still hung over ; e them, and their way to happiness lay through grief and pain. j Edna hastened to the house?the library : door stood open, and no one was near; her ^ feet refused to carry her farther, and in a sort 8 i of agony she sank upon the nearestsofa. ller g 'ace was livid, even to her lips, and a cold lew stood upon her brow. "Great Heaven!" she murmured, "have )ity on me. Help me to go through this or-1 leal. The hardest part of it is yet to come. ! But I have done ray duty?yes, and I will lo it yet, even to the end. I have fulfilled ny trust, oh! my mother. Clarie's happiness s safe." A light footstep crossed the piazza outside; i face glanced in for an instant at the open vindow, and vanished. Edna's heart went up in a fervent unselfish ; irayer; and strengthened and sustained, hough hardly comforted, she presently rose md sought her own room. There she bathed ler face, on which some bitter, irrepressible ears had left their traces; smoothed with her tsual precision her glossy dark hair, and arranged her dress; and went down stairs to tea vith a serene countenance. When Claribel .nmn in oli/i noma alana TTllfrh fplt. t.hftt for 'OlliC I Li y OIJO U?UJV ItlVllW J AAUgw ? ? hat evening it would be best that he should itay away. When Edna retired to her chamber at bed ime, Dolly followed her to say that Henry Curtis had been pressing her to fix on a day or their wedding, and didn't she think that he 28th of October would be a very good ,ime? "A very good time, dear," rejoined Edna. 'I dare say we can have everything arranged >y then." "You see, Edna, I would have preferred vaiting until next February, and I told him o from the first; but Lucy, you know, is gong down to Charleston early in January, and December isn't a good time for having com)any of any sort, what with Christmas and so >n?though I suppose we would not have nuch company, would we?" ( "All that must be just as you like, Dolly, >f course." , "Well, I mean that I don't think much . uss on these occasions is pleasant; and I " ;now Henry doesn't wish it. And about my rousseau?don't you think Patty Brown can jet through the work in time? You kuow i iverythingis finished already that is of much J ' mportance." * .1 1?.11 ? I "Jixcept tne one important tiling 01 an. "Oh! my wedding-dress," said Dolly, with i very becoming blush. "Of course; but she las nothing to do with that, you know. By .he way, Edna, I have decided upon the >earls?Henry thinks they are nicer than any hing else." , "Decidedly; and they go so beautifully vith the orange-blossoms." "And they suit my complexion, rather." "Yes ; but anything suits that, you are so air." , "Dear Edna," said Dolly, with sudden imjulsiveness, taking her in her arras, "how I vish your wedding and mine were going to ! ake place at the same time!" "My wedding!" repeated Edna, shrinking ' jack. A sharp spasm of pain seemed for a J noment to contract her heart; but she con- 1 rolled herself, and answered calmly? 1 "It would be more fitting for Clarie to be narried at the same time; could you not 1 jropose it to her ?" |1 "Clarie!" echoed Dorothea with a look of j 1 yonderraent. "Yes; did you not know she was engaged o Hugh ?" "Edna!?surely?you cannot mean?" "But I do mean it?have you not seen that le was in love with her, all this time?" "All this time !" Dorothea looked at her ister with a wistful, perplexed air; she did lot know what to say or think. But Edna net the look steadfastly, and even with a mile. "Courtships don't always go on as openly as ours and Henry's, my dear," she said ; "and suppose you were, naturally, more taken up yith your own than with any one's else. It yas only settled between Hugh and Clarie his evening." Dorothea gave a sort of gasp?paused ir esolutely, as if debating with herself whether 1 o pursue the subject farther?and finally ' lade her sister good-night, and left the room, ] hinking far less earnestly of her orange-flow- ' rs and pearls than she had done when she ' ame in. And Edna, when she had locked ' ier door, flung herself, as she was, upon her ' ouch, and wrestled through the lonely night i nth her sorrow, until the cheerless dawn ooked in. < (to be continued next week.) j i How Marbles are Made.?The chief { ilace of the manufacture of marbles?those | ittle pieces of stone which contribute so largey to the enjoyment of boys?is at Oberstein, n the Nabe, in Germany, where there are 1 arge agate mills and quarries, the refuse of k ?hich is turned to good paying account by ieing made into small balls, employed by ex- t ierts to knuckle with, and are mostly sent to ? he American market. The substance used a Saxony is a hard, calcereous stone, which 3 first broken into blocks, nearly square, by * lows with a hammer. These are thrown by 1 he hundred or two, into a small sort of mill, s rhich is formed of flat, stationary slabs of i tone, with a number of eccentric furrows j ipon its face. A block of oak or other hard e food, of the daraetric size, is placed over the tones, and partly resting upon them. The I I mall block of wood is kept revolving, while ; t rater flows upon the stone slab. In about i t ifteen minutes the stones are turned into i pheres, and then being fitfor sale, are hence- ( orth called marbles. One establishment, with l iut three mills, turns out about sixty thou* i and marbles each week. 8 * * : C Effect of Light.?Dr. Moore, the meta-1 ( ihysician, thus speaks of the effect of light on j iody and miud : "A tadpole coufined in dark iess would never become a frog; and an in- j nut being deprived of Heaven's free light will \ v uly grow into a shapeless idiot, instead of a 1 leautiful and reasonable being. Hence, in i he deep, dark gorges and ravines of the Swiss j Calais, where the direct sunshine never eaches, the hideous prevalence of idiocy star- j les the traveler. It is a strange, melancholy I 8 iliocy. Many citizens are incapable of any v rticulate speech; some are deaf, some are I ilind, some labor under all these privations, 1 ,nd all are mishapen in almost every part of r he body. I believe there is in all places a j narked difference in the healthiness of houses , ccording to their aspect in regard to the sun, ,nd those are decidedly the healthiest, other * hings being equal, in which all'the rooms are, t luring some part of the day, fully exposed to t he direct light. Epidemics attack inhabi- t ants on the shady side of the street, and to- y ally exempt those on the other side ; and even u epidemics, such as ague, the ntorbid influnce is often thus partial in its labors." F flh*?""Sir," said the astonished landlady to a 1 raveler who had sent his cup forward for the eventh time, "you must be very fond of cofee." "Yes, madam, I am," he replied, "or I { hould never have drank so much water to 11 ;et a little." s pjstorg jf'jF. Gtaroliua. Written for tlie Yorkville Enquirer. HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE Early Settlement of South Carolina. BY REV. ROBERT LATHAH. (CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.) It is not certain what part Governor Moore took in the military expedition which resulted in the battle at Flint river. The probability is that he knew nothing at all about it until after it was endid. One of the charges brought against the Governor, by a very reBpectable number ofithe most worthy inhabitants of the colony, was his barbarous treatment of the Indiafas. Whether Governor Moore introduced into the colony the traffic in Indians or not^one thing is certain, he practiced it to an eitent and in a manner unprecedented in the instory, it would seem, of . any of the colonies in America. Before his time, Indians captured in war were reduced to slavery, and, in some instances, they were 3ent off and sold into bondage. In some instances, victorious tribes brought those whom they had captured from their enemies, and sold them to the colonists for a trifle. Governor Moore, however, instituted a new system of reducing the Indian tribes; or rather, he adopted a plan for securing slaves, iifferent from any heretofore practiced in the colony. He sent out parties to capture Indians. The object was to secure slaves for his own use. The Indians from whom he was most solicitous to make captives, and thus reluce them to bondage, were friends of the Spaniards, and, consequently, the enemies of die English. The Appalachees were the allies of the Spanish, and the Creeks of the English. This being the case, the two tribes were hostile to each other. Governor Moore lent out a party of bis miuions, under the direction of Anthony Dodsworth and Robert MacKoone, to capture, for the purpose of making slaves of them, as many Appalachees is they could. In this vile work, they were assisted by the Creeks. This band of kidnappers had made their way on one of their scouting expeditions out of the present limits of the State, when they were apprised of the approach of nine hundred Appalachees, under the direction of the Spaniards, to make an attack upon the colony at Charles Town. Such being the facts in the case, we are prepared to say that, bad as the Spaniards were, they sometimes were not wholly in the wrong. No one can censure the Spaniards for defending their allies. This Indian traffic of Governor Moore is the worst feature in his history. No palliation can be offered for it. All the best men of the colony, at the time, declared it was "unjust and barbarous in itself, and will in all probability draw upon us an Indian war with all the dreadful consequences of it." The attempted invasion of the colony by the Spaniards and Appalachees, in the early part if 1702, cannot be oftered as even a pretext for the expedition against St. Augustine in the latter part of the same year. Neither can it be said that it grew out of the fact that war had been declared by the English government against Spain. The fact is, it was an expedition planned by James Moore and undertaken by him for the sole purpose of plunder. Neither the advancement of the Euglish government nor the prosperity of the colony in South Carolina were consulted. The Spanish of St. Augustine had never, it is true, respected any treaties of peace entered into between the home government and that of England ; and besides, being the first to make an attack upon the colony at Charles Town, had ever acted the part of depredators upon the colony and iDflaraers of the worst passions of the Indians against it; but the expedition planned and undertaken by Governor Moore against 3t. Augustine, was in no sense a strategical movement to avenge these wrongs. The impression was made upon the minds of the Asjerabiy that the object of the expedition was to maintain the security of the colony. It had been discovered that St. Augustine was in juch a condition as to render it probable that it could be taken with comparative ease. The people were greatly incensed at Governor Moore on account of the manner in (vhich the election of 170.1 had been conducted, [u order to becloud their minds and thus jcreen his fraudulent conduct from an investigation ; and at the same time oppressed with debts, and withal of an avaricious disposition, lis fertile brain devised an expedition against 3t. Augustine. Although the matter was debated in low ( ;ones and with closed doors, it was not kept a lecret from the Spaniards. They sent to Haranna for aid, and in the meantime busily smployed themselves in removing to the castle ] ill that was valuable in the town. In this itronghold they stored away a sufficient imount of food for four months. The Assembly, in order to meet the expen- < bad been built one huudred and thirty-seven I years. The Spaniards had two objects in fortifying it with some care. The defending of St. Augustine was equivalent to maintaing j their claim to Florida; and further, the town'; served as a kind of light-house to the fleets passing through the gulf of Mexico and along | the coast of Florida. The castle was a square ! fort constructed of soft stone, with four bastions. The curtain was about sixty yards in | length ; the parapet nine feet thick ; the ram-1 part twenty feet high, casemented underneath for lodgings.and arched over. The town itself | was not fortified. The castle was depended upon almost entirely in case of an attack. At the time of which we are speaking, St. Augustine was a kind of military post. In the town a number of regular troops were stationed by the Spanish government, and the citizens were all registered and enrolled as a kind of militia. They received soldiers' pay and depended entirely upon this pay for a support. Most of the inhabitants were rnulattoes, and were a lazy, trifling set, who were ready at any time to engage in any plundering expedition that might be gotten up. They engaged in no kind of trade, nor even in agriculture; but whenever the pay granted them by the Spanish government was insufficient to meet their wants, they supplied the deficit by plundering their neighbors. This accounts for the fact that they had no regard for any treaties which might be entered into between the Spanish and any other government. So soon as Governor Moore landed his troops, he commenced entrenching himself. The town was wholly in his hands ; but from the fact that his artillery was light, he made but little progress in getting possession of the castle. After the siege had lasted about a month, Governor Moore discovered that, with his present ordnance, it would be impossible for him to get possession of the strong hold. With this conviction firmly established in his mind, he started an agent to Jamaica for bombs and heavier artillery than he had. This agent, for reasons not well known, did not go to Jamaica, but returned to Charles Town. It is very probable that the individual sent on this business did not enter fully into the spirit of the Governor with respect to the expedition. Oldmixon says the reason the commander of the sloop, which was to bring the mortars and bombs from Jamaica, returned to Carolina, was "out of fear or treachery." n?*A?nSn/* Imno tJonf PaI T^Q nlfl] TTnltinfoOP. VJiViraug iiui/t?biwuv| vui? ^uuiv. iviuuvw* ed his services to go to Jamaica after the desired ordnance. During his absence, two small Spanish vessels appeared in sight, and Governor Moore became panic stricken. One of the vessels had twenty-two guns and the other sixteen. The valiant Governor Moore never waited one moment to prepare for either further attack or defence. He immediately burnt his ships, aud hastened, with all possible speed, to return to Carolina. Sometime after, Col. Daniel returned from Jamaica with the ordnance and shells, and found, to his utter astonishment, that the siege was raised and Governor Moore gone. Col. Daniel narrowly escaped being captured. Fortunately for him, he fell in with Admiral Whetstone, by whom he was convoyed into Charles Town. Thus ended the military part of the expe . n. a . rni _ A anion against at. .augusnne. xne town was burned, but the inhabitants were notcaptured; and the reputation of Governor Moore, as a military man, was not established. He so conducted himself as to be charged by many, as imbecile and cowardly. His retreat was so,, precipitate at first as to resemble a rout. The vessels which had conveyed the troops that were under the command of Colonel Daniel, were left at St. John s. So soon as the two Spanish ships appeared in sight, Governor Moore made for these with all possible speed, leaving all his artillery and stores to fall into the hands of the Spaniards. Arratomakaw, King of one of the Indian tribes, commanded the Indian forces. As soon as he arrived at the vessels, he determined to rest. Governor Moore was still uneasv. and ursed Arra . J , e tomnkaw to hasteD up his braves and make good his escape. The brav6 chief told him he might go if he saw fit; but as for himself, he was determined to remain at that point until all his men had arrived. Very little blood was shed in this expedition. Only two men were lost; but it cost the colony an enormous sum of money. No one except Governor Moore derived any advantage from the expedition against St. Augustine, and it cost the coloDy the enormous sum of thirty thousand dollars, and filled the minds of the poople with bitter animosities. The headquarters of Governor Moore, whilst conducting the siege, was the Roman Catholic Church. This, as is always the case with such churches, was richly furnished. Hasty and precipitate as was the retreat of Moore, he did not ueglsct to strip the church of all its plate. In this consisted his gain. Arriving at Charles Town, he felt that he was J it least a richer man than he was when he j left. To some extent he felt that this plate I compensated him for his inglorious campaign j of a few months. During the time that Governor Moore was J jone on his St. Augustine expedition, the As- j sembly was prorogued. Soon after his re-1 ;urn it was convened, and ways and means ( levised for paying the expenses of the expelition. Strange as it may seem, the people,j cither because they felt that their Governor j oad disgraced them or because war was now ictually existing between England and Spain, desired to engage in another expedi-; ion for the subjugation of St. Augustine,: ?ensacola and other strongholds of the Span- j sh. A vessel was, by the Assembly, offered to ( 3oI. Daniel that he might scour the coasts of' j Florida. So zealous were the members of the 11 Assembly, that communication was held with < Ydrairal Whetstone, informing him that the 1 iolony would furnish an English ship with J' >rovisions if it would engage in the same ' rork. Col. Daniel having been taught an ;, mportant le39on by his past experience, did } lot accept of the offer so generously made | j lim by the Assembly, and the honor was con-1r erred upon Captain William Rhett. I' During the time that the Assembly, labor- j ] ng under great excitement, was devising and | ilanning these visionary schemes of again in-' ^ 'ading the Spanish dominions, committees of j c nvestigation and committees on accounts t rere busily at work. Day after day they j c worked, and still asked to be indulged. At last a bill was proposed for raising twen- j1 y thousand dollars, in addition to the ten ; housand already levied. This astonished he people. It was not until: that moment t hat they learned the cost of war. About c les of the war, levied a tax of two thousand ( jounds?about ten thousand dollars?on "real tnd personal estates, and of and from the profits ^ ind revenues of the inhabitants.' The ships ? n the harbor were seized for the purpose of | :onveying the troops. Port Royal was fixed ( lpon as the place of general rendezvous. An ( irmy of twelve thousaud men was collected, ( >ne-half of whom were Indians. At first,1 ] Jol. Robert Daniel was made coraraander-in- j ? ihief of the expedition ; but for some reason I j his order was changed, and Governor Moore ! t vas assigned to this post of honor and Col. . ] Daniel made second in command. Col. Dan-1 j el entered into the affair with all his soul, ( ind was a brave man and skillful officer. ; j In September, 1702, the troops assembled j ? it Port Royal, and the final arrangements j j irere made for the grand expedition. Colonel c Daniel, with a part of the troops, took the in-! j and route, whilst Governor Moore, with the v eraainder, proceeded by sea. On his way, | i Daniel took the two Spanish villages, St.; E lohn's and St. Mary's. On arriving at St. j Y Augustine, he boldly attacked the town and j f ook it. This was comparatively an easy \ ask, for the inhabitants immediately retired j ii n tViQ noaflo flnrnmnp Afnnrfl nnt. nn * ret arrived ; but coming up the next day, [ v ommenced, without delay, a vigorous siege I ji ?f the castle. This fort was, at that time, ! v >erhaps one of the strougest fortifications.in ; v forth America. St. Augustine is" the oldest town in North j t America, having been laid out by the Span- t ards in the latter part of the year 1565. Con- t equently, at the time of the expedition, it t the same time, a bill for regulating the elec- my tions in the colony was passed in the Assem- a 81 bly and sent to the Grand Council for ap- 18 0 proval. The Governor and his council treat- j onj ed this bill with the greatest possible con-1 wrj tempt. It was not so much as read over. 0f a This insult was resented by many of the best j " members of the Assembly leaving the house. 1 me The majority of the Assembly were good men | 3ue who studied the interest of the people, and had : . the prosperity of the colony at heart. A I ? ,! small minority were nothing but the tools of j raa] the Governor. On the next day the members ; war who had withdrawn returned and declared yea their willingness to sit in the Assembly, pro- j aD<^ vided the rest would unite with them in asserting their rights. One-half of the mem- enQ bers had protested against the proceedings of ancj the Governor, and others would have protest- j ver ed, but were prevented from doing so. No : esta sooner had the members, who had left on the J neg day previous, entered the house, than they ! P'a< were loaded with abuse. The Governor! ani joined with those members of the Assembly who were said to be "of 110 credit and no entj sense," in scurrilously abusing the oldest and met best men in the colony. The thing did not iugs end in vile epithets and empty threats. The eve] Governor commenced to treat the multitude. ^ Inflamed by liquor and encouraged by the Governor, his tools commenced a work of in- to t famy and shame which was kept up for sev- 0f j eral days. John Ash, a member of the As- pea sembly, was beaten in the street by a druuken and crowd aud forced to rush into the bed room of was a friend. The house in which he took refuge was surrounded, and at last, under false preten- {]0W ces, he was induced to come out, when he was i }nc} seized aud dragged on board of Captain Wil- j ]\ liam Rhett's ship and threatened to be hanged, | wit! sent to Jamaica, or sent off and placed 011! SUC( some uninhabited island and there left to i perish. Colonel George Dearsby drew his! sword on Thomas Smith, who was an old set-1 8atK tier, a landgrave, and had at one time been Governor of the colony. Captain William I Rhett beat Edmund Bellinger, a justice of *vro the peace, over the head, because he attempted j ^01 to restore order in the town. Neither age nor : me? sex was respected. Private houses were bro- i j. ken open and private apartments entered and 1 mej deeds of horrid cruelty perpetrated. During j wh< all this time, Governor Moore was either a si- ! fres lent spectator or drinking and carousing with I k the infuriated rabble. Petition after petition was sent to him by the insulted and injured people, begging and entreating him, as Gov- 8ajt ernor, to put a stop to the riot. The only re- j to c ply they got was, "that is the business of a j the 1 noflon nf flm nnann " | Put JUOVIVU Ui l/it V l/VMVVI 1 [to be continued next week.] ^ Ipscrlkurflus A MODEL FARM IN SOUTH CAROLINA, sun A correspondent of the Edgefield Adver- ^ tiser relates the incidents of a visit to the oye farm of Mr. W. A., situated in an adjoining ^ county. In inquiring for directions by which It i to find it the correspondent was told to "go sioi along on this road, and you will know the co^ place by the looks of things." From this ^rs description we should say that there was no danger of missing the farm. "The looks of 0y; things" must have been indicative enough. Vea Here is what the traveler saw: and On the side from which I approached the W01 house to the woods, about half a mile, are two fields (one 011 either side of the road) lying | J well for cultivation and improvement. They ' P1 are surrounded and cut into sections or divis-1 J ions by the most substantial and durable plank | ?Pn fencing. The field on the left and in front of the dwelling, is divided into four sections, of ? , about sixty acres each. Near the centre of |' the field I noticed a large, magnificent looking ; ,ou gin house, with three other houses or large [ .eJ shelters very near?all enclosed in a two acre , 1 1 1 1- ^ ?:i? : I her JOt, Dy a very nign ience, similar ju uuiisiiuu- i tion to the others, Near the centre of each j ?? ^ division is a large barn or shelter, fifty or six-1 ty feet square, enclosed by neat and substan-' 8<ra( tial railing. These, I learned, with their J a ground and upper stories, could accommodate I . r all the small grain and long forage raised on J" c the place in an uncured condition. . 1 One of these shelters is reserved for the ,n. protection, when not in use, of panels of port- { w able fencing?nearly a mile of which is used j on the place. , j.em Away in the rear of this field, and almost i ?r in front of the dwelling, in the edge of a pret- j cP,a ty grove of natural forest, is a row of neatly I painted cottages, six in number, about one | . ^ hundred yards apart, each with its comple- ^r.01 raent of outhouses. . I noticed that a spring which arose in the S0C1 vicinity of these cottages was made, by artificial means, to empty its water into some por- 1 tion of each section of the field. It passed Lav out across the road into the field on the right ?^S( and finally emptied into a small creek in rear j w^e of Squire A.'s residence. On the right hand j ?#ccl side the field is divided into one section of one i ties hundred acres and four of twenty-five acres j stltl each. j are About the centre of the front side of this J an<^ field is the dwelling lot, with its twenty acres like of flower and vegetable gardens, vineyard, pon< orchard, truck patches, outbuildings, Ac. iQ The fencing around and through these acres w^e is much more elaborately finished?all, how- j ip tl ever, being in the most perfect harmony. | tive, . ... . .. , . ,. i vari Alter detailing the meeting oetweeu mm- i jQ tj self and Mr. A., the narrator gets the following description of the farming operations of j 0f oi the year : j ease "The division which you first approached , of the field in front of us was in small grain j depi the present year?as you perceive?about 52 j ?* a( acres oats and 10 acres wheat. Last week a j steam thresher came by appointment and ' H threshed all out. The yield of oats was 83 said bushels per acre; the wheat 54i> bushels per in al acre." raasl "The division in rear of this one" (pointing mak in front of us) "is in corn, about 63 acres; I j from sipect 60 bushels per acre. The one next to j and it in cotton, same size, from which I expect j dene two 500 pound bales per acre. as cc "I have gathered larger crop's per acre on of yi the field in rear of my dwelling. This is pro- j sacr< pressing in fertility as the other did." j spec! "The clover in front of us will be turned ; ty a^ ruder this fall preparatory for corn. Cotton ,w^'c will be planted in the corn lot, and small grain Just 1 ind clover follow cotton. This system I ex- Inent sect to adhere to until a better suggests itself. c^ea' Hie field in the rear has four lots of twentyive acres each, which are similarly managed. E: [ began with this field, and consequently it is Mich ' * - < /?_ !.? I j M na ingner staie 01 cultivation uuu more pro- i g?i. luctive. On the cotton lot last year the yield ; wool vas 82 five hundred pounds bales, 90 bushels j :orn per acre, 92 bushels oats per acre on J "G wenty acres, and 56 bushels wheat per acre i "A >n five acres. "S "The small grain crops thisyear was a slight "A ncrease on these figures, viz.: Ninety bushels "S lats and fifty-six and a half bushels wheat "Y >er acre. she a "My hands are working for wages; I pay "C hem as they want the money. With one ex- have eptiou, each head of a family has money in noon nanas. iact as meir oauKer?anuw mem nail per cent, and pay on demand. This f their choosing. They have over SI,000 deposit in this way." looked at this grave, quiet man, says the ter, young in years, but with all the raieu i Nestor, and believed him in earnest. You fertilize, then, with clover. Please tell how you began, and, if you will excuse the stion, if you were not in independent ciristances when the war closed to be able to e your experiments such a thorough test?" I will answer your last question first. I rried about one year before the close of the '. My father and mother had died two rs before. I came home in April, 1865, n ' * . J 1 Ll. I tound everytning in a most aepiorame dition. It is true I had 1,200 acres of d, worn out, as the saying is ; about half ugh poor stock to run the usual size farm, I about sixty badly demoralized negroes; y little provisions; no hogs. My father's ite was badly in debt. About half of the roes, being aware of the poverty of the 3e, left me soon after the emancipation procation was enforced. With the others I ie a tolerable crop. My creditors acted te generously^ I proposed to settle off the ire indebtedness iu three annual installlts, which they agreed to; and by the bless3 of a kind Providence I was ready to make ry payment before the time expired, soon saw that the abnormal condition of cotton market, rendered so by the war, Id not continue, and began as early as 1867 ry the capacity of my land by a system otatiou, &c. I began that year with cow s on stubbie laud. The crop turned under the land subsoiled. My first experiment not altogether a success, owing, I think, ny lack of experience in subsoiling. I ved two deep in the beginning. I subsoil r gradually?plowing from three to four les deeper every year. [y next experiment convinced me that, ? ? * n r* 1 T 1 1 1_ _ f J i the help or uoa, i couia maKe larmiug a :ess. It was cow peas turned under foled by clover turued under?the subsoil v used after each crop. I use commercial ilizers only for cotton ; consequently the ie land is guanoed every fourth year. ? ^ low to Keep Meat.?A farmer's wife te from Venice, Cayuga county, New rk, telling the farmer's club how to keep it fresh a long time: There is no good sou why farmers and their families should so much salt pork, leaving all the fresh it to the inhabitants of cities and villages ;n the following method will keep meat h for weeks, even in the warmest weather, now, for I have used it for more than ten rs. As soon as the animal heat is out of meat, slice it up ready for cooking. Pree a large jar by scalding well with hot and water. Mix salt and pulverized saltpetre >ne teacupful of salt, cover the bottom of jar with a sprinkling of salt and pepper. ;down a layer of meat, sprinkle with salt I pepper, the same as if just going to the le and coutinue in this manner until the is full. Fold a cloth or towel and wet it trnnu anlf nnrl water. in whieh a little salt .vw~g I re is dissolved. Press the cloth closely r the meat and set in a cool place. Be e and press the cloth on tightly as each er is removed, and your meat will keep for nths. It is a good plan to let the meat lie r night, after it is sliced, before packing, sn drain off the blood that oozes from it. ivill be necessary to change the cloth occalally, or take it off and wash it, first in J water, then scald in salt and water, as at t. In this way farmers can have fresh it the year round. I have kept beef that j killed the 12th of February till the 21st rune. Then I packed a large quarter of 1 in the same way during the dog days, I it kept six weeks." This recipe alone is th the price of any newspaper in the laud. Victimized Young Man.?An amusing y is told of a young American gentlemau ), while sojourning in Paris, invited two aoisellesto accompany him to the theatre, secured three seats, and drove to the house bis fair friends, half hoping that one was isposed, so that his felicity might be unnded. The two were awaiting him and ir mother as well, who kindly invited herto chaperon the party, and intimated that daughters could, under no circumstances, vithout her. There was no help for it. The r crowded into the carriage. No fourth ; could be obtained adjacent to the three lady secured, or even on the same tier, and ing the three long acts the three ladies sat i box, while our young American gazed at n with feelings unutterable, from his seat he parquette. The drama over, only cabs, i room for two, could be obtained to conthe party home, Here, then, was a div_i.r-L I_J? _i_..u ma?wnicn yuuijg jauy suuuju nc ocic^i, his cab companion. They were both rming, and the matter was difficult to de-5. The old lady settled it, by saying srtense and Sophie, you go in this cab. Qsieur and I will follow you in the next. i young gentleman now thinks that French al customs are barbarous. 'iie Prevailing Hour of Death.?Dr. vson has recently published some curious ovations regarding the time of the day in the greatest and least number of deaths ir. He finds, from the study of the statisofseveral hospitals, asylums, and other initions, that deaths from chronic diseases most frequent between the hours of eight ten in the morning, and fewest between hours in the evening. Acute deaths from ;inucd fevers and pneumonia, take place he greatest ratio in the early morning, n the powers of life are at their lowest, or le afternoon when acute disease is most acThe occurrence of these definite daily ations in the hourly death-rate is shown, ae case of chronic disuses, to be depen; on recurring variations in the energies rganic life; and in the case of acute diss, the cause is ascribed to the existence of cr a well marked daily extreme of bodily ession, or a daily maximum of intensity cute disease. ? ' ii j n. J if abit.?"i trust everytmng unuer vjuu, Lord Brougham, "to habit, upon which, 11 ages, the lawgiver, as well as the schoolter, has mainly placed his reliance. Habit es everything easy and casts all deviation i a wonted course. Make sobriety a habit, intemperance will be hateful; make prue a habit, and reckless profligacy will be mtrary to the nature of a child as to any our lordships. Give a child the habit of >dly regarding the truth, of carefully re;ing the property of others, of scrupulous>staining from all acts of improvidence h can involve him in distress, and he will as likely think of rushing into an ele, in which he cannot breathe, as of lying, ting or stealing." ipectation.?A woman called into a ligan Avenue grocery and asked for suThe clerk told her they were out, but d have some next week. Lny coffee?" lot some coming." .ny tea?" ome this afternoon." Lny baking powder?" old the last an hour ago, madam." Veil, you've got codfish, haven't you ?" sked, in her desperation. lodfish, madam, codfish ? Well, no, we n't; but I'm going out fishing this after, and I'll do my best to catch one."