lewis ml ?rist, proprietor.J ;J,it |nbfjjrnbntt Jfamilg lUtospa per: Jfo rtjje promotion of fjie political, .Social, ^gritnlinral anb Commercial interests of tjje Sontl). |TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. "V"OL. 21. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1875. NO. 51. ihc ftotg Seller. THE MISSING WIFE.a clergyman's story. Helen Hunter was the prettiest and sweetest girl, to my thinking, that I had ever seen, and she returned my love with an equal tenderness. I had not known her many months when I put my engagement ring upon her finger, and she promised to marry me as soou as I was settled. More fortunate than most young clergymen, I had not loug to wait; and the day I became pastor at M., I urged her to set the day for our nuptials, and we were married within a month. Never shall I forget the day upon which I hrought her home, the delight she expressed at the ?ight of our picturesque garden, with its great trees, aud the old disused well, picturesque sun dial, and the great ivy which over ran the sides of the house, and the low brick wall which surrounded the enclosure.; Nothing should be disturbed, she said. A few bright flowers should glow in the beds, but! otherwise the old garden should remain in HIUU We had been married a week when we went i out into the garden about twilight to plant; the seeds she had brought from her home. ! She knelt down beside the box-edged borders and turned up the dark mould with a dainty little trowel I had given her for the purpose. I remember her dress. It was a rich, dark ! silk, with a gloam of garnet through its pre- j vailing shadow, and at her throat and in her j ears she wore a set of rubies that were an | heir-loom iu her family. The costume accorded well with her dark beauty, her velvet j eyes and crimson cheeks. No one could have looked more charming. We crouched close together on the gravel. I felt that we must i look like a pair of silly children to the grim old servant, who came to me with the announcement that "Donald Black was very bad indeed, aud wanted me." I am afraid I obeyed the summons less hap-j pily than I ought. "I shall wait tea for you, if you are ever so late, Edward," she said, as I left her to go in- ; to the house. j Having secured ray hat and cane, I returned to the garden where iielen was gathering some flowers from one of the borders. "I will not be gone long," I said ; "I will be ; back to tea," and then with a kiss I left her. j Donald kept tne well employed for three ! hours. However, the old man was by no j means dangerously ill. As I hurried home, I recalled with pleasure the sight of his wife ! bending over him, and thought how love lived on through care and change, and how this aged woman had once been a girlish bride and Donald a gay bridegroom, and how it j was plain to see that he could never be to her the uninteresting old creature he was to others, > -1J I I _ tU JUBL ueuause ui me uiu luve uemccu mem. . And then it came to me, so happily, so sweetly, that if such hearts were so true, that of one like my Helen could be truer still; and that all life's ills would fall harmlessly upon me if I were to be loved as she loved me now throughout my life. I had dreaded old age a little, but if we were spared to each other, what was there for me to fear? She would always be beautiful to me; I always to her. j The golden glasses of love would throw a glo- ^ ry over everything, and hattnwttfb T5r QsT~ With these thoughts I passed my threshold aud looked into the parlor. The tea-table was spread there. Her chair and mine faced each other as usual, but both were empty, j There was no one in the room. I waited a moment, standing before the fire, which, in this spring weather, was acceptable, and then, surprised that ray wife did not come to meet me, went up stairs in search of her. She was not in her room, nor in any other. Perhaps she was still in the garden. I hurried dowr. stairs again, and passed out at the back door. "Helen!" I called; "Helen!" No voice replied. Was I foolish enough to be alarmed ? It seemed so. I laughed at 1 myself, and called still louder,"Helen ! Helen ! , Helen !" but still no answer. "I know where you are, Helen," I cried, i "Come out of your corner?come, Helen." Still there was no answer. "She is in the kitchen," I said to myself.; "I'll find her there." I hurried up the path. My foot struck something. I stooped. It was a little saucer ; that had held the seeds. Farther on was the trowel she had been using when I left her. It was contrary to Helen's habits to leave any- j thing lying untidily about, and a vague alarm | possessed me as I eutered the kitchen. "Your mistress?" I began. Anu, the old woman, and her daughter Jane, looked up at me in a startled way. "She went up with you, didn't she, sir?" asked Ann. "With me? No!" I said. "That's curious," said Jane. u\\T~ ?i ?i ? A VY C lUUUglib MIC 1JI Lioby saiu XX1III. Then I saw the girl'3 eyes distended with a look of terror. "And God have mercy on us all!" said the j old woman. "Why do you say that now? What do you fear? My wife must be about the place., Nothing can have happened. Nothing?" Then I faltered, paused and staggered j against the wall. Old Jane brought me a glass of water. It revived me. But I no longer affected any calmness. I knew some accident had befallen my wife, and all that I could hope was that it was not a fatal one. Followed by my servants, I went through house and garden. We looked in every room and every closet, under every bush and tree, where the ivy shadow fell, where the tall shrubs grew. We went to the old well, but, the great stone lay across its brink. "If she could have falleu in, she could not have put the stone back," said Jane. And I saw the absurdity of the dread that had crossed ray mind. Once I thought I saw her form, lying across the paths and ran for- j ward with a cry to raise it. It was only a black shadow thrown from a great oleander ' by the rising moon, which ray fancy had transfigured. In a word, our search was fruitless at home, in the neighborhood, in the village, and in the surrounding country. Many came i to my aid. All was done that could be done. ?>ne was gone, vamsnea, as it seeraen, irom the face of the earth. The only clue we had was the assertion of the younger servant that j she heard a cry from the garden that had ! frightened her. She had told her mother, but j the old woman's hearing was dull, and she had heard nothing. It was cruel, as I knew, to suspect these women of having injured Helen, or knowing j anything of her disappearance, but they were \ suspected by others?not by me?examined and acquitted. Then, faintly and darkly, suspicion fell j eveu upon me. I knew it was said that I had 1 wearied of ray wife, and rid myself of her. j This passed at last, and the story accepted ; by the vulgar herd was, that my wife had left me for another lover. I knew her pure as an I angel, but I could not blame a stranger for j not knowing her as well. "What did it matter to me what was thought ? i My house was emptied of its joy; my home was desolate. I continued my vain search. I i advertised ; I employed detectives; and this j went for years without bringing me even the I sad relief of knowing some terrible truth. ; i I grew to be an old man very early; my I hair lay white upon my temples before I was' j forty. I kept in my little church, for if Helen I were living she would find me there better than elsewhere. If she were dead, it seemed j to ine that some token of her fate must come ! I to me at last. Twenty years had passed, and i | still there was no answer to ray prayer for ti- j ; dings of her. There was a prison some five miles from M.,; a gray and gloomy place. A man was to be i executed for a foul murder. He was a hardened wretch, but there was all the more need for spiritual aid; and, the prison chaplain being very ill at the time, I was requested to | : visit him. I went, of course. I It was, strange to say, the anniversary of ; Helen's disappearance, j The same spring weather?warm at noon,1 cool at night?and the grass was springing in rrorrlon froah and crrppn! and the buds ' were on the trees and the lilac bushes, just as ; on the day when I looked back and saw ray ! wife smiling at me over her shoulder, as she knelt beside the garden beds, scattering the flower seeds. I thought of all this even as I entered the frison gates and the cell of the doomed man. foun^.him, now that death was near, more pcurtcnt tLan I bad hoped. His guilt was established, and he made no effort to deny it. And when I had talked to him some time, he wept, sobbing heavily, as such men do when i grief overcomes them. "This was a fight, and with a man," he said, when he regained his composure. "The God you talk of may forgive that. But pray- : ers can't save me. I've done one thing in my life that can't be got over. That would drag i me down if all the angels tried to save me." 1 "I killed a woman once. It's a long while ago. But I've seen her face ever since. Now, i if I was to look over my shoulder, I'd Bee it 1 there. Some think that confession does one i good. I'll tell you. It can't hurt, and I'll die easier. I was tempted by her jewels, and 1 she was alone iu a garden, in a quiet place. I ! jumped the fence, and grabbed 'em. She screamed and struggled, and I stabbed her. < Then when I had the jewels?ruby earrings I they were, and a pin?I took a great stone off | an old well, and dropped the body in. I can i hear the water splash now as it did when I dropped her in, and the sound of a girl singing in her house. I can see the blood on ray i hands, and hear the gravel under ray feet as t I ran away. I got some money by the job, t but I took no comfort in it. I've never taken i * i 1 _ any since. A woman, ana young ana pretty, | and doing no harm to me." , [ "What is the matter? Help! help! Great t heavens, how you look !" I heard him cry this out, as I lost conscious- c ness. The truth had come to me at last. I a knew it had, before he told the tale to others,! and owned that the scene of this terrible story ! [ was the parsonage at M.; before they lifted I f the stone from the old well, and found in the [ c mire at its bottom the broad wedding riug, j I which proved that what else lay there, was all t that was left of my beloved wife. j r KIDNAPPING A ROBBER. | a The post-office at Oberville, a small western i town in the United States, was a very impor- j J tant place. The worthy postmaster kept a j country store, where he dispensed goods of i ^ every description. | f The district was comparatively new, and j a formed one of those prairie villages that spring j into existence miles away from other towns, j ^ mid aro a Burt of iwokme-w trading post fW a?1* large extent of country. Saturday was the ; principal trading day; and Mr. Harmon, the 8 postmaster, and his assistants were always 1 j overwhelmed with business on that day. 1 But on the particular Saturday afternoon of a which we wish to speak, trade had slackened 8 earlier than usual, and the proprietor and his ^ meu were enjoying a breathing time, and chat-, finer ujitli socorul rnnorh-Ionicinp fpllnws whn a ""6 """ b- ? e> ' ; had gathered about the stove,, many of them * being strangers, for a stranger attracted but little notice in that community of new comers. ; "Here comes Charley Gilbert, the very man j 1 I want to see!" remarked Harmou, as a horse-1 1 man dashed up to the store aud dismounted. , He was a tall, broad-shouldered young ; Hercules ; aud the large bay horse he rode 11 looked well adapted to carrying such a weight, v audexhibited due equine pride in serving his young master. Both horse and rider were J" well-known and respected throughout the settlement. Leaviug his well-traiued animal f standing unhitched, Gilbert entered the store, j11 "You are just the person I wanted to see | 8 Charley 1" said Mr. Harmon. !, "Singular," said Gilbert. "I should think a you would rather not see me, as you know the ^ object of ray call. People are uot generally ^ so welcome when they come for money." ^ "Well, I am an exception in this instance, for I am anxious to get rid of the amount I ^ owe you. Fact is, there have been burglars j * about and they tried to break into my store ^ last night, but were frightened away; so I ^ prefer you would hold this money against i t more successful attempts of the kind." > And Mr. Harmon proceeded to count out! a larue roll of notes, which Gilbert Dlaeed ! o f * i i d carefully in his pocket. "Now, Charlie," said neighbor Hill, one of ^ the party seated around the stove ; "you had y better keep a look-out, 'cause some one might ' stop you to-night before you return from Crantou." t The allusion to Cranton brought a slight blush to Charley's cheeks, for it was known that he was on bis usual Saturday evening visit to a certain young school-mistress, who dwelt in the neighboring settlement. "How do you know I am going to Cranton ?" j asked Charley. "Well, I only suppose so, 'cause I've heard said you go that way about this time o' the week and Hill winked to the crowd, who laughed ; and Charley Gilbert, not wishing to j discuss the subject further, left the store, and | . mouutingold Hero was soon out of sight. "Mighty fine chap that Gilbert is," resumed Hill, to his fellow-louugers; "been in the army and won his way, and now he has got his allotment of laud out here, and will soon have , one of the finest farms in this country." The short autumn day came to a close, and " it was long after dark before Gilbert reached 1 his destination, aud received his usual hearty v welcome from Sarah Denton. c Saturday nights were the bright spots in her j dull life as a schoolmistress, and were sure to , ^ bring her Charley. Old Hero had carried t| his master over the road so often that he (j knew just what was required of him, and j needed no urging. T f tiro q la tn trlron k a t?l f a.\1t Vtio loo tto j.%, iovu ?iicu viiancj tuua 1110 leave ui ^ his sweetheart. "Now, do be careful," were her last words, j 8( "for you know there might be danger on the t( road, so raauy robberies have been committed lately." j ? "Never fear, Sarah ; old Hero will take me home safely." i And, with a good-by kiss, he mounted and _ rode away. 1 The Dight was dark?no light except the jstars that sparkled crisply from a clear sky. j *| But, had it been ever so dark, it would have made no difference to Charley. His thoughts . & were of the sweet girl he had just left, and j ^ paying no attention to his horse, he rode slow-; ly along, intent upon plans for the future. j "The money I have received to-day will en- j able me to complete my home; then Sarah 'si will be my wife, and we shall live on the farm a such a happy life," he mused. I h A long, dark patch of forest loomed ahead, g through which the prairie road ran, and not a until he had entered its dark shadows, did the j c horseman arouse from his blissful reverie. i a "What if I should be attacked ?" thought i ( he. "I have nothing to defend me, and enough j money to make it a good haul for such gentry, j Humbug! I don't believe there is any dan-1 ger? "Halt!" And two dark forms sprang into the road, j seized his bridle, and the steely glitter of pis- j tols leveled at him, within a few feet of his j breast, startled him. Like a flash, his good right arm struck the ! weapon from the hand of the robber, and fell! heavily upon the shoulder of the fellow; and j with a sudden jerk of the powerful arm he j was hauled over the saddle-bow, while old j Hero, in response to a dig of the spur, sprang j away, jerking the other robber off his feet, | and causing his bullet to speed wide of its intended victim. On through the gloomy woods, and out j again upon the open prairie, dashed the horse j with his double burden, while the robber j struggled like a child in the powerful grasp I of his captor. A closing of the fingers over j his neck soon reduced him to quiet; and, held , in this manner, he rode an unwilling captive, \ and, at last, the lights of Oberville appeared,1 and soon they were in the village. At a word ; from his master, Hero stopped in front of the ! post-office, from the window of which a cheery | light shone, denoting that the assistants were j still busy replacing the goods that had been ; taken down during the day's traffic. "Hilloa!" cried Gilbert. A head appeared at the door, and a voice answered, "Hilloa ! Who's there?" "It's me, John, and I have got something j nice here; come help me in with it," answered | Charley. "It's Gilbert," said John, addressing his I fellow-shopman. "What's that you've got, Charley? a saddle of venison?" asked John as he approached. "Better than that, John. It is a real live little deer. Come and lift him down but hold bira fast/'said Gilbert. Tbeastonished shopmen gathered about and Charley told them of his advonture. Soon ;he robber was released from his unpleasant position on thesaddleand taken into thestore, where his captor followed. Here he was safely bound. "I think I have seen this fellow before," renarked John, as he took a survey of the cap,ive. "He is the stranger that was sitting at he stove here when Mr. Harmon paid your noney, Charley." "Let's search him, and see what sort of .1 1 i? i i i L:? >? I _/ jiuuuer ue uus auuuL uiui, auggeaieu uuc ui he shopmen. The prisoner's pockets revealed a small flask 1 >f liquor, a pack of cards, some Jitlle money, tud a savage-looking dirk knife. "Hilloa, what's this?" exclaimed Gilbert, licking up a piece of paper that fell on the loor, and opening it, read : "One thousand lollars reward for the capture of one William Larkin, the supposed leader of a gang of rob>ers and horse-stealers. He is a short, slim uau, about five feet six inches in height, dark i iair, heavy black eyebrows and moustache, rad peculiar-looking small black eyes?" "Answers the description to a T," broke in lohn. "Aha William Larkin, or Curly Bill! I've leard of him. Charley, you're in luck 1 This j ellow is a prize, indeed 1" added one of the .ssistants. j "Yes, this placard is from the sheriff of St. ! foe, and is dated only a week ago," said Char-1 ayil'liir finishing roaJiug. L "Geutlemeu," said the rohber, "you have 1 ;ot the original Curly Bill, and when you de- 1 iver me up, you will get that reward. I am ! j n your power ; but these strings are bound ] iround ray wrists most unmercifully tight," ; ( ,nd with a grimace of pain, he asked, "Can't , on afford to make 'em easier?" : "Yes, let them out a little, Jones,"said John, .ddressiug his fellow-assistant. "Make them afe, but not too tight, and I will watch the iird meanwhile." So Jones proceeded cautiously to re-arrange he bands on the wrists of the prisoner, while he others gathered arouud him. With a sudden jerk of prodigious strength, i ]urly Bill got his hands free, dashed his fist; qto the face of John, and sprang to the door j /hich had not been locked. I So sudden was his movement, that ere the est of the group could comprehend the scene, ie was clear of the store, aud as Gilbert! eached the door, he saw the robber spring nto the saddle on old Hero's back, and dash ! way. Pursuit was not to be thought of; but Giliert placed his fingers to his mouth, and gave 1 . shrill whistle; hearing which, old Hero,! lespite the urging of his rider, wheeled sud-1 lenly, and at the same wild gallop, started ! tack to his master. Seeiug this, Curly Bill attempted to throw liraselffrora the saddle; but, in so doing, his oot caught in thestirrup, and he was dragged lelplessly over the hard road. Fortunately or the poor victim of this mishap, the dis ance was not great, or tne result might have i teen far more serious. How often is it that the merest trifling acident contributes to the ends ofjustice. Vil- ] ^ ains may successfully carry on their work for i t ears, and in their fancied security forget the j ] ate that must eventually overtake them?a lip, an accident, and the law claims her own.! Gilbert hastened to secure his horse, and ; . he insensible form of Curly Bill was again I arried into the store, where an examination ( evealed a broken head and a fractured leg, 1 vbich would detain their prisoner as eflectu- ( .lly as shackle and chain. | In a few days the sheriff came up from St i toseph, and took charge of the maimed man, \ ud through his confession, many of the gang j f desperadoes were taken or killed, and the ; ountry freed of their presence. Charley Gilbert received his well-earned re- j rard, and the money enabled him to complete ! is house handsomely, and stock the farm, I ver which Sarah Gilbert presides as mistress. A Revolutionary Incident.?A most hrilling reminiscence in the American Revolution, is related of General Muhlenberg, ihose ashes repose in the old Trappe Church, j fontgomery county, Virginia. When the! ,'ar broke out, Muhlenberg was the rector of ' Protestant Episcopal Church in Dunmore i ounty. On a Sunday morning he adminis-! ered the communion of the Lord's Supper to j is charge, stating that in the afternoon of hat day he would preach a sermon on "The j uLies men owe to their country." At the I ppointed time the building was crowded with : \ nxious listeners. The discourse was founded ( n a text from Solomon, "There is a time for ! very purpose and for every work." The ermon burned with patriotic fire ; every sen-1 ' euce and intonation told the speaker's deep 1 arnestness in what he was saying. Pausing 1 moment at the close of his discourse, he re- c eated the words of the text, and then, in ' j ones of thunder, exclaimed : "The time to ? reach is past; the time to fight has come!" ; y nd suiting the action to the word, he threw j rom his shoulders his robes, and stood before I 8 he congregation in military uniform. Drum- 1? ling for recruits was commenced on the spot, | I nd it is said that almost every male of suita- ? le age, in the congregation, enlisted forth-! j rith. ! f ? j The Little Stranger.?A little baby ; t tranger came to a family in Augusta last week, s nd a bright five-year old child in that house- g old was brought to see the new comer. He reeted the little one with apparent pleasure , nd delight, patting it playfully under the hiu and smoothing down its soft hair. Then ' 11 at once came the inquiry, "Say, how was : t iod when you left ?" I t pstow af JF. toelma. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. HISTORICAL SKETCHES OP THE 3 ( Early Settlement of South Carolina. BY BEV. BOBERT LATHAK. (CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.) It is a pity that the history of a nation is so often nothing but a narration of its wars with its neighbors; of its rebellions and civil strifes. In the history of the human race, war holds the most prominent place, but by no means the most important place. The carnage of a battle field is an awful sight, but a sight which human eyes desire to see. The shouts of victory often drown the cries and shrieks of the widow and the orphan. The conquerer excites the admiration of the humble peasant, and the tale of his blood-bought victories kindles the ambition of the humble sons of toil. The fame of the military hero is borne, by every breeze, to the remotest nooks of the globe. School boys, with sparking eyes, tell of his reckless daring, and blushing maids sing his praises. Great as may be the worth of him who leads battling armies to victory, infinitely greater is he who subdues the forest or converts the swamps into a cornfield. -He who constructs a fort, from whose walls death and destruction are hurled into the columns of his country's foes, deserves to be held -in remembrance by all who love liberty and hate oppression. We should not, however, let the glitter of the warrior consign to oblivion him who, in his rude workshop or on his humble farm, does something which ameliorates the condition of society. The first settlers of South Carolina, although often engaged in war, were not savages. They did not come to America that they might satiate a thirst for blood. It is true, that for a number of years, every man was a soldier. This was the case until after the revolutionary war. The mechanic went to his shop, the farmer to the field, and the worshippers to the house of God; each armed and equipped as a soldier. The circumstances by which they were surrounded demanded that each man be a soldier. Spaniards, Indians, French and pirates, watched them as the eagle watches its prey. It would not be too much to say that for more than two hundred years, a people had been undergoing a process of training which terminated in the establishing of American liberty. It may be that naittav tko oatt1oi*o nf Pornlina nrtr thpir LltsIbll^A til V UIOW EJV biriUl O W i x/mi v?*uwy mw? wn hands. In 1742, eighteen and one half >oundsof raw silk were exported from South Carolina to .England*. The Swiss at Purrysjurg, and the French in what is now Abbeville county, continued to devote some atten,ion to the culture of silk for a number of pears. The descendants of the French coloty that settled on the Long Canes, in Abbeville county, continued to cultivate silk, for lomestic purposes, as late as 1830. It is vorthy of note that European judges prolounced the silk made in Souih Carolina exjellent. "It was remarkable for its beauty, irmuess and strength." The fact that the ore8ts of South Carolina were covered with he mulberry tree, the leaves of which consti,ute the principal food of the silk worm, Bug- I jested to the early settlers the idea that the J :ouotry might be well adapted to the culture i if silk. The first experiment was made with-' n less than ten years after the settlement of he State. Prior to the introduction of cotton, indigo i vas one of the staple productions of South i Carolina. So favorable were the soil and cli-1 nate to the production of this dye, and so ;reat was the income accruing from its proluction, that it become a matter of Euglish egislation. Indigo is a native plant of Hinlostan, but it was, for a long time prior to its ntroduction into the South Carolina colony, mltivated extensively in that portion of the A"est Indies subject to France. Wild indigo, l plant which very much resembles indigo, iroper, and possessing the same properties, >ut in a less degree, grows in all parts of the State. It isfouDd in almost every field. As lie mulberry, growing in the forest, suggested o the first inhabitants the probable fitness of he country to engage in the culture of silk, o the wild indigo, growing in the fields, suggested to them that indigo might be cultivated vith profit in the same territory. Nothing, lowever, seems to have been done in this mater until the year 1741. George Lucas, at hat time was Governor of the island of Anigua. At the same time, he owned and had cultivated a plantation a short distance west of Charleston on the Wappoo. Here his family resided. His daughter, Eliza, a young woman of energy and also a great lover of nature, devoted her spare moments from the wheel and cards, to the cultivation of useful and beautiful plants. Her father gave her i every encouragement, and, at different times, | sent her various tropical plants and roots, with which to experiment. Some time during the winter of 1740-41, he sent her some indigo seed. Some of these seed she planted with her own hands in the month of March, 1741. They came up, but the young plants were killed by frost. She planted again in April. These also came up, but were cut down by a worm. She did not, as some girls and most modern boys would have done, become discouraged ; but tried again aud was successful. The plant grew and matured to the satisfaction of the cultivator and her father. Governor Lucas now determined to make a business of the cultivation of indigo. More seed was purchased, and a practical indigo maker procured from the island Montserrat, and sent to Carolina to superintend the culture and manufacture of indigo on George Lucas' farm, on Wappoo. The name of this superI intended was Cromwell. He engaged in the work at first with apparent good will. Vats were constructed and every thing put in preparation for the work of making merchantable indigo. Cromwell fearing, no doubt, that if this experiment proved a success it would be injurious to the French colonies in the West Indies, declared that indigo could not be grown in Carolina. To dishearten Eliza Lucas, who still continued to watch the experiment with intent interest, he put too much lime in the vats and thus destroyed the indigo. Eliza Lucas discovered his treachery and dismissed him, and with the assistance of a Frenchman by the name of Deveaux, she went to work and disfVio mKnla nrnniwa nf mnlrinrr Indian. WUVCl CU llUV n "U1V I/IUVWW v? >? .QV. Other individuals in the neighborhood now began to cultivate small quantities of indigo for their use. Not long after this, Eliza Lucas married Charles Pinckney, commonly known as Chief Justice Pinckney. In 1746 she became the mother of Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, the man who said "millions, for defence?not a cent for tribute;" and in 1750, of Thomas Pinckney. Two noble sons of a noble mother. After her marriage, her father gave the indigo farm, which she had watched with so much anxiety, to her husband. All the growing crop was permitted to go to seed. At the proper time the seed was gathered. Some was distributed amongst the neighbors and the rest planted. Every one became interested in the production of indigo. It was not long after its introduction into the colony by Eliza Lucas, until it became one of the principal articles of export. It proved, says an old writer "more profitable to the Carolinians than gold mines did to some of the other European colonies in America." Indigo continued to hp oultivatpd with profit finth to the colony and the mother country. In 1747 the merchants of England, who traded in Carolina, petitioned parliament that a bounty might be allowed on Carolina indigo. This petition was favorably received, and an act passed in 1748 allowing a bounty of six pence?about twenty cents?on every pound of indigo produced on any of the British plantations in America. It now began to be cultivated in every settlement, and its cultivation continued until several years after the revolutionary war. It was rooted out by cotton. It is probable that indigo would have been able to withstand its rival, cotton, had it not been for the ingenuity of Miller and Whitney. These men devised a saw gin which enabled the cotton planter more expeditiously to seperate the lint and seed. It is probable that even Whitney's gin, as originally constructed, would not have been sufficient to cause cotton to superceed indigo, had it not been for the ingenuity of a woman. Miller and Whitney's gin, when first constructed, had no brush wheel. Mrs. General Green, while watching the gin in operation, saw this defect and removed the lint by the gentle motion of her fan which she held in her hand. This suggested the brush wheel. It was made, and as a woman had introduced indigo into the State, so a woman, by a stroke with her fan, did that which drove it out. It was a proverb once often repeated in the State, that on an indigo farm every thing looked as if in a star ving condition. The same may be said with respect to cotton, which, as a money crop, has taken the place of indigo. In summing up the details of events which transpired during Governor Bull's administration, we must not forget to mention the great fire which occurred in Charles Town in the year 1740. On the 18th of November, the wind blowing a stiff gale from the northwest, at two o'clock in the aftornoon, a fire broke out on Broad street, near its western extremity. With fearful rapidity the flames were hurried in a south-easterly direction from one building to another. Soon it seemed as if the whole city wasiu flames: Theair wasfull of blazing fagots, carried by the maddeued wind. The inhabitants were panic struck. The screams of women and children rose above the cracking flames and falling houses. Property was abandoned to be devoured by the fire. The houses were all wood and the stores were , filled with tar, pitch, deer skins and powder, , all of which added fury to the flames. No , effort was made by the citizens either to stop 1 the progress of the fire, or save their property. An effort was made by the sailors, but for six hours the work of destruction continued, until , the flames were arrested by the Cooper river. ( Ateighto'clockin the evening the wind calmed and the fire ceased to make farther progress. Its work of destruction was done. Three hundred of the best houses in the city, togeth- , er with vast quantities of merchandize, were reduced to ashes. Only a few lives were lost, but hundreds were without a shelter. Over the scene of desolation a wail of anguish went ( up. Those who escaped the devouring flames, kindly welcomed the unfortunate to their homes and shared with them their comforts. The British government, in the exercise of its love and pity, generously contributed one hundred thousand dollars for the relief of the distressed. [to be continued next week.] No Christmas Tree.?"My son," said an old gentleman to a little boy, "would you not like to come to Sunday school, to sing and pray, and hear about Moses and Aaron, the whale and the fiery furnace, Joseph's coat of many colors, and put your penniee in the box ?" "Be you going to have a Christmas tree?" asked the child. "No," answered the old man; I "but we are going to spend the money that i would be spent for candy and oranges in send- < ing tracts to the little heathen children in?" I "That'll do," answered the rude boy, as he j took a sight at the good man, "I don't train j with no such Sunday schools as that." 1 Miscellaneous Reading. THE SOUTH CAROLINA CONFERENCE. This body is now in session at Orangeburg, and the Charleston News and Courier seizes the opportunity to print short pen sketches of a number of the more prominent members. We extract the following: REV L. A. JOHNSON was born in Edgefield county, South Carolina, April 7, 1822. He joined the Methodist Church at the age of fourteen, and was con- J verted the following year while at prayer in the 1 woods. He was received on trial in the South Carolina Conference in 1848. On account of 1 a throat affection he was compelled to resign ' the pastorate in 1861. The following year 1 he entered the Confederate States army as ( captain, and continued to serve both as officer and preacher, until the close of the war. Since then he has been serving the church as | far as his physical disabilities have allowed. ( Much of his effort has been directed towards ( the material improvement of the work com raitted to bim. Id building new churches, improving old ones, and aduc&tifig the people up to the Bible standard of benevolence, he has been specially successful. rev. o. a. darby is a native of Charleston, S. C., and a graduate of the State Military Academy. After his graduation he taught for one year in the academy ofB. R. Carroll, Esq., of Charleston. He was admitted on trial in the South Carolina Conference December, 1851, and has served thirteen years on stations, nine on circuits and two on districts. He is now presiding elder of the Greenville District. Mr. Darby is a cultivated, genial Christian gentleman. His pastoral qualifications are of a superior order, and win for him the love and esteem of all with whom he is associated. His pulpit performances are usually above the average; and when he discards the use of the manuscript, (which he is more inclined to do of late years) his sermons are very effective, .and oftentimes powerful. He looks well to all the details of his work, and generally leaves a charge in an improved condition, financially and spiritually. rev. john w. kelly was born January 29,1825, in Union county, S. C. His early educational advantages were partial and irregular. He was converted at Cave creek camp-meeting in September, 1841, and admitted on trial in the South Carolina Conference February 18, 1844. In 1851 he was sent as a missionary to California, where he labored with zeal and success until his return to South Carolina in December, 1853. Since then he has filled efficiently some of the most important appointments in the South f'oPANna flnnfuponno and hao hapn hnnnrpri VUt Ul IU? VVUIVIVU1/V) MUV* MMW wwww u on several occasions with a seat in the Geoer- t al Conference. Mr. Kelly is a strong man, f physically and intellectually. He is an in- ^ defatigable worker. He has a luxuriant mind, ? which, by extensive reading and the careful ? study of men and things, he has stored with a t vast deal of general information. Had he t enjoyed the advantages of severe mental dis- i cipline early in life, lie would no doubt have t ranked among the foremost divines of the ? country. He is a ready debater on the con- g ference floor, and his pulpit performances fre- j quently give evidence of more than ordinary 1 intellectual and spiritual power. r REV. ffM. A. CLARKE Lt was born in York county, S. C., August 3, s 1827. He enjoyed oniy the usual educational v advantages afforded by country schools, with i the exception of a short time spent under the r tutelage of Rev. R. L. Abernathy in North 1 Carolina. He was converted and joined the c Methodist Church in 1846, under the minis- e try of Rev. John A. Porter. Soon after he e u?na ftnnnint.prf class leader. He was licensed rrv...- * ^ to preach in 1859, and admitted into the South t Carolina Conference in January, 1851. Since i then he has been an effective itinerant preach- f er. Mr. Clarke is a clear, logical and forcible f preacher. Mis manner in the pulpit is earn- 1 est, positive and dogmatic. He preaches as r one who firmly believes the truth of what he < utters. Mr. Clarke looks well to all the in- i terests of the church committed to him. He t is more particular to develop and improve r than to spread out and enlarge. s WONDERFUL DEXTERITY. \ A traveler tells us something of the singu- v lar weapon used by the natives of Australia, c the boomerang. He saw them used by the r natives. They ranged from two feet to thir- r ty-eight inches in length, and were of various a shapes, all curved a little, and looking as he t describes them, like a wooden new moon, t They were made of a dark, heavy wood, and c weighed from one to three pounds. In thick- r ness they vary from half an inch, and taper f to a point at each end. f One of the natives picked up the piece of s wood, and, poising it an instant, threw it, giv- t ing it a rotary motion. For the first one hun- o dred feet or more it went straight ahead. ( Then it tacked to the left and rose slightly, f still rotating rapidly. It kept this latter s course for a hundred feet more, perhaps, but p soon veered to the left again, describing a broader curve, and a moment later fell to the earth six or eight feet in front of the thrower, having described nearly a circle in the air. a Another native then took the same boomer- r ang and cast it, holding it with the same grip. \ It took the same course, but made broader C curves, and as it came round the black caught k it handsomely in bis right hand. g A nntl?Ar nat.ivfl next threw it. and lodged it ii on the ground about twenty feet behind hira, j after it bad described a circle of two hundred tl yards or upward. After him they all tried it, j o and but one of them failed to bring the weap- j fi on back to the spot where they stood. I r< Carnboo, a native, then selected from the o heap of boomerangs another one, and cast it | a with a sort of jerk. It flew very quickly for a forty or fifty yards, whirling like a top. Then tl it darted into the air, mounting fully one hundred feet, and came over our heads, where it h seemed to hang stationary for a moment, then j n settle slowly, still whirling, till he caught it. | tl Two others of the blacks did the same thing. j tl Meanwhile I bad, with my knife, shaved a j n little of the wood from the convex side of one j o of the boomerangs. This was now offered to ; a one of them to throw. He took it without | I noticing what I had done, poised it, but stop- r ped short, and with a contemptuous glance at b my improvement, threw it down and exclaim-: h ed: "Bale budgery!" (no good). i s The others then looked at it cautiously, but I b it was a bale budgery also to them. No one ! tl could be induced to throw it. si Myers asked them why they did not use it, j tl but they could not give a definite answer. It1 e was plain they did not like the way it poised p when in the band, yet I could not distinguish b any difference whatever, between this and the f< other weapons. p Burleigh then walked to a distance of two hundred feet or more from the blacks and bid h Caruboo throw to him. The native looked at tl him a moment rather curiously, then compre- q bending what was wanted, he selected one of U the heaviest of the missiles, and, turning half si around, threw it with great force in a direc- n tion almost opposite from that where Burleigh g stood. tl The weapon sped smartly for sixty or seven- a ty feet, then tacked in an instant, and flew di- ? rectly at Burleigh, and, had he not most expe- ti iitiously ducked, he would have received a V hard thump, if nothing worse. It struck the b ground twenty or thirty paces beyond. This Feat brought out a broad grin and something 01 ike a chuckle from the whole of them. Cam- n: boo even intimated that he would like to try another cast, but Burleigh expressed himself fully satisfied. Mr. Smith, however, offered to take 'a shot,' but not at too short a range. We were standing in front of one of the storehouses. Carnboo placed Smith in front of the door and stood with his back to him, with Smith's hand on his shoulder. None of us knew what sort of a manoeuvre he had in mind, not even Myers. Standing in this position, the black threw the boomerang straight ahead. Immediately it curved in the air. Then it disappeared around the corner of the building, and, before he had time to guess what was meant, it came around the other end (having passed completely around the store-house) and gave him a sounding slap on the back, which made his eyes snap. JERUSALEM. rry* 1 . /? V T 1 1 me population or moaern Jerusalem nas been very differently estimated?and no loubt it increases by some thousands at the season of the annual religious feasts?but 18,000 appears to be the most probable average population; and while the Mohammedans are the masters, the Jews form the deciied majority, being, it is likely, not far short of 8,000. They come in a constant stream from every part of the world, many of them on pilgrimages, by which they hope to acquire a large fund of merit, and then return again to their native country; the greater cumber that they may die in the city of their fathers, and obtain the most cherished wish of their heart by being buried on Mount Olivet; and it is remarkable that they cling with a strange preference to that part of the city which is nearest the site of their ancient Temple, as if they still "took pleasure in its itones, and its very dust were dear to them." They are fond of inscribing touching passages from the Old Testament upon the most conspicuous places in their synagogues, such is that in the one hundred and thirty-seventh Psalm : "By the rivers of Babylon, there we iat down, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. * * * If I for;et thee, O, Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my nouth ; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy." The Jerusalem synagogues, however, are not adorned like many of those in iur European capitals, such as we have seen it Leghorn and Frankfort, probably in order ;o avoid tempting the cupidity of unscrupuous Moslem rulers. It is indeed remarkable n how many ways the Jews keep hold of ;heir country as with a trembling hand, and ire reluctant to let go the traces and records >f a glorious past. At a later period we visited, with a learned lew, remote mountain villages in Palestine, ar out of the common track of travelers, vhich contained the tombs of old rabbis ind learned men, some of them going back sven beyond the Christian era, and we found hat lamps were kept burning before those orabs night and day. What an amazing telacity of life there is alike in the people and heir faith ! We visited several of their syntgogues, and had brief conversations with ome of their chief men; and three things )articularly struck us as shedding incidental ight upon the Scriptures. Thus, it was cuious to notice the close resemblance between he order of religions service in those Jerualem synagogues in our own days and " - ^ vhich is described in Luke's Gospel as havng been observed in the synagogue at Nazaetb on that memorable occasion when our Lord was invited to become the teacher. The lorrespondence was, in fact, complete at eviry point, as if the thing had remained sterotyped down through the eighteen centuries. A roll of one of the books of the Old Tesament was carried by a servant from a recess n the wall and put into the hands of the jresident or reader, who was elevated on a )latform in the centre of the synagogue. ifVhile the Scripture for the day was being ecited, both the reader himself and all the songregation stood up; but at the close of the eading all the people took their seats, and he reader, seated also, proceeded with his ningled exposition and exhortation. It was carcely less interesting to observe that the ittendance of the Jews on the different synagogues was regulated by the countries to vhich they owed their birth. Jews from the toasts of Africa and from the south of Euope usually frequented one synagogue; Gernan and Polish Jews were to be found in mother ; and so it was with other nationaliies. But when we turn to the narrative in he Acts of Apostles, we find the same state if things existing in Jerusalem at tbe begin- 4 ling of Christianity. Among those who disluted with the youthful Stephen, when "bis ace shone like the face of an angel," were orae from the synagogue of the Libertines? hat is, freed men from Rome and other parts f Italy; some from the synagogue of the tyrenians and Alexandrians?that is, Jews rom Northern Africa; and others from the ynagogue of Cilicia and the neighboring irovinces?that is, Asiatic Jews. A THRILLING SCENE. An incident occurred on a recent trip, says correspondent, over the Union Pacific Raiload, that may be of interest to our readers. Ve were rolling along between Salt Lake aud )maha, when I made my way into the sraoing car to enjoy a cigar. I noticed a group nilinKa/) in fKn nontrn nf flia nar an/) nrnwH. avu^l^u 444 VUV VVUViV V* Viiv VMI y M4J u v* V II v* Qg my way up, saw two men gambling. One was a well-dressed man, but bearing be general appearance of a black leg ; the ther was a veritable miner, just as he came ? - " rom the mountains, with long, grizzled beard, ough, coarse, and dirty clothes, but with lots f gold. The play was for quite large stakes, nd I heard whispers that the gambler was bout to fleece the miner, and much sympaby was manifested for bim. The game?draw-poker?still went on, with ardly a word spoken by the players; till fially, when a large sum was on the board, be gambler, being called to show his hand, brew down three aces and two queens, and eached for the money; the miner stretched ver and held his hand, and laid down two ces, showing, of course, five aces in the pack le then reached back, and drew a large navy evolver, cocked it, placed the muzzle directly etween the eyes of the gambler, still holding is hand. Not a word was spoken, but each looked teadily into the eyes of the other. Soon the and began quietly to move from the money, be form of the gambler to draw back, and till the revolver followed. He stepped into be aisle, and here the scene became so unintersting to me and several others that we droped under the seats. The gambler slowly acked toward the door, with the revolver fllowing till the door was reached, and he assed out. The miner coolly let down the hammer 01 is revolver, replaced it in his pocket, swept be money from the board into his pouch, uietly lighted his pipe, and settled , back in3 his seat as if nothing had happened. The vvn svf fkn wUaIa kltomaaa miaa fVnf L/l OUgWk pal b U4 IUC nilUlO UUQUiCOQ TTOO tlJAU ota word was spoken . frota the time the ambler laid his three aceS-dri the board till be time he passed out of th? car door. I took seat near the miner afterwards, and chatted ith him about his experience in the mouniins, and he seemed pleasant and intelligent. Ve did not refer to bis little episode with the lack leg. I have never witnessed such a thrilling scene r one in which such extreme coolnesss was lanifested as that by the miner.