Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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Vr I r) Y \/ I I n fT v |\| o I :1 I r) r" n j UJ-i A V J _,LjL U J J y U J j~1 ii, xL lewis m.Proprietor.j A" Jnirpcniicnt /aiuiln Jlctospapcr: /or tlje promotion of tlje political, Social, Agricultural anir Commercial Interests of tlje Soutlj. jTElttls?$3.00 A YEAis, ix advance. VOL. 22. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, J AN? ARY 13, 1870. NO. 3. JU (Original Jdovg. A THRILLING STORY OF WESTERN LIFE. 15 V Al ItS. HEMtY Di:.\S. CHAPTER IV. All this time nothing lmd been seen or heard of Alasquez, and Esther had almost ceased to remember him and the fears she had at first eutertaiued of his drawing her husband into an intimacy inimical to his welfare. One day, however, as she was sitting by her open window, engaged with a book, while Picciola was occupied in putting the room in order, she chauced to raise her eyes, and, to her equal surprise and discomfiture, perceived a horseman approaching their gate in whom she could uot fail at once to recoguize their quondam compauiou of the ship. A disagreeable shock, such as that experienced by a person who suddeuly receives a dash of cold water unexpectedly into his or her face, thrilled her at the unlooked-for apparition. And very slowly and reluctantly did she prepare to go uowii to meet the visitor, while castiug about in her mind by what uieaus she could manage to make his stay in the house as short as possible. She seut Picciola to answer the knock, which was speedily heard at the door. And t he girl brought up a card, 011 which the name, "Pedro Alasquez," was written in a remarkably free and graceful hand, and a message to the effect that as Sefior Kaytnond was out, the gentleman would be glad to see the Sefiora on a matter of very particular importance. Esther went into the parlor, and there found the object of her aversion, looking not one whit changed from the time when she had seen him last, except that he was more carefully and richly dressed. He saluted her with an air of the most profound respect, and inquired minutely after the health and welfare of her husband and herself. The instinct of politeness and hospitality due to any one under her own roof, enforced a civil, if not a cordial response ou her part, and the benor having taken an otiered seat, was soon pouring forth lluent remarks in regard to the weather, the beauty of the scenery through which he had passed, and his delight at finding his hostess so charmingly and happily established. "For doubtless, Sefiora," said he, "you lead a happy life here, surrounded as you are by so many of Nature's most attractive features, and by an atmosphere of purity and peace which must be most congenial to a heart like yours." "I am quite satisfied with my home, in every respect," she rejoined rather coldly, "and find nothiug to complain of." "Your tranquil valley," he resumed, "reminds me of a hallowed shrine at the end of a toilsome pilgrimage; greeting one with its serene and smiling aspect, after the fatiguing road over yonder mountains, which are picturesque enough as a matter of scenery, but do not ofler the best facilities for travel in the world." "Did your road lie through the mountains ?" asked Esther." "For a great part of the way?yes. I have been on a sort of exploring expedition, among some of the most difficult mining regions of our country." "Arc you int.-reeled in the mines?" "Not personally, but indirectly. I have some intimate friends who are extensively engaged in directing?and I may add, profiting by ?mining operations. Does the Sen or Raymond'nterest himself in these lately opened sources if wealth ?" "Not verjmuch, I believe,'* replied Esther, who was not desirous of entering upon any miuute discu?s,u respecting her husband's views and coemptions. "llis owu particular business takes u. most of his time and thoughts." Kayin,,d did, she knew, cherish glowing expectatioi concerning a certain claim which had oee.. , , A. . i i- j . recently located; but this tact she did not CiK:.i.p ;t . bluer it necessary to communicate. J "I have news to impa;;s||im?.||icli trust, prove acceptable, ,,tinuwi A| "1 have lately had an in . , 1 friend General K , ana WU 1 him for the pleasure of an the Seuor Raymond, to which 0 . c ,UD to ward with anxiety. In fact, the .??, s. .or" of my visit here to-day, which ? ? 'Jec* might otherwise regard in the ligl ^.?u . of an intrusion, is to arrange a visit, in co . . your husband, to my distinguished i j 1 1 cording to an agreement we made Ion. ' !lcj* Esther constrained herself to reply husband would no doubt be obliged , . for his consideration, though inwardl)11? ing a sentiment decidedly opposed to pleiV * at the thought of the expedition in qties'' It was now luncheon-time, and she had no source but to offer her guest some refreshm after his long ride. .She therefore called i ciola, and desired her to hand a tray of cuits, fruit and wine, which she did with accustomed native grace. "What a strikingly beautiful young you have as your attendant, Senora," c uicnted Alasquez, in a low tone, when she left the room. "Did you procure her in neighborhood ?" "Mr. Raymond was fortunate iu-finding for me at a small settlement some miles I here," replied Esther. "She is a very j girl, and I find her services quite satisfac "She reminds me, in appearance, strongly, ofsomeone I know, or have kno said the Spaniard. "Though at this mo I cannot precisely trace the likeness t correct source. She is not American-bo cl,??" "I do not know her birthplace," replie ther; "but I believe she is of Spanish des< Then feeling an instinctive reluctance t< sue the topic farther, she changed the c< sation to some indifferent theme. The instinct, which she could not define, mat refrain from recalling Picciola when lun was over. She herself removed the from the room, and at the same time p by the opportunity to set the young girl in another part of the house, which she would keep her occupied for a consii length of time, and probably prevent 1: ther appearance while Alasquez was b the same roof. Raymond returned, as usual, at su which was their customary dinner h<i I his business kept him abroad all day I Ksther could not repress a feeling of vc I when she saw how cordially he greote I visitor, and how really glad he appear* I to meet him. Alasquez soon made k I him the object of his visit, and his h I profuse in his thanks and aeknowled I "Vou will remain here to-night, of I Sefior, and to-morrow, if it will si I convenience, I shall be delighted to I panv you on the proposed expedition, ft The Spaniard glanced at Ksther. thought," he answered hesitatingly, iriff a lodging at the nearest settlem it" my staying hero will eniau uv ience on the Scfiora?" m "Oh, by no means," said Esther, fl her husband's eye, and feeling const H second his proposition, though sorel her will. "It will be too late for y farther to-night." "And besides, you would experi< flH difficulty in finding a lodging anyw j^fl in eight or ten miles of this plac Raymond ; "except, perhaps, in son ed hole whore you would find no accommodation fit to speak of." "As to that," rejoined his guest with a smile, "I have long been accustomed to rough ' it, when occasion required, and can sleep al-, most anywhere. The hard ground has often made my bed, ami the branches of a tree, or the open sky, my canopy; but I will not deny that I gladly relinquish the prospect of such doubtful comforts, for those which you so kindly tender me in their place." ; Esther felt somewhat ashamed of her own tardiness in having offered him the hospitality which he seemed so highly to appreciate ; and while the dinner was being made ready i to place on table, she went to see that their one spare chamber was suitably prepared for his reception. At dinner Sefior Alasquez made himself very entertaining; discoursing on many interesting topics, so fluently and so well, that even Esther found herself listening and replying with some degree of pleasure. She began to conceive a rather ruore favorable opinion of him than before, when she found that he addressed himself chiefly to her husband, and was less marked in his attention to herself than before, though equally deferential and . polite. It was arranged that he should set out with his host, at an early hour in the morning, and Raymond begged his wife to have breakfast prepared by sunrise, that they might travel, | with less fatigue, during the cooler hours of the day. General K's residence was some twenty miles distant, and though they would endeavor, to return before nightfall, it was possible that they might be detained until the ( following day. "1 shall not willingly leave you alone all . : night," said Paul to his wife, when they were alone ; "but if I am constrained to do so, I j ! will feel no apprehensions on your account, j since I know that the servants are perfectly trustworthy, and that there will he nothing to disturb you. You will not be afraid, will you, dear, if I am prevented returning?" "Not at all. Once on a time I would have been ; but now I feel perfectly safe here. But I do hope, Paul, for many reasons, that you will not be detained. 1 have no doubt I am very foolish?or that you will consider me so?but I cannot tell you how reluctant I feel to have you go on this journey !" "Why, Esther, I thought you had overcome that feeling." "Indeed I have not, though I have tried very hard to do so." To his surprise he saw that her eyes were full of tears. "My d arling," he exclaimed, taking her in his arms, "I had no idea that my going would cause you so much pain. Tell me, truly, what it is that distresses you, if it is not my leaving you?you say that you do not mind that?" i "I would not mind that, under different circumstances. But going iu this way?in company with that man?" "Still the old prejudice, dearest!" "It may be prejudice. Call it what you will, it is an instinct that warns me against him?that bids me distrust him and his pretended good-will. Paul, he is no safe friend." "Now, Esther," said Raymond in a serious \ tone, "this is real childishness on your part, i Because the man's appearance and manner ?... oro h... iX I KZ U la l? 1 IW ? v?u, vwt? b.. lieve everything that is bad of him. My dear child, don't you suppose that I have had oxporionuj oncu^li, in IIJ V uitcituutaC Willi liij fellow-men, to distinguish the bad frotu the good ; or at ativ rate to keep clear of danger in the contact? You talk as if J were a verdant boy, at the mercy of any impostor who might choose to make a tool of me. Don't you give me credit for a little prudence and common sense?" "Of course I do, Paul. But?oh, it's no use for me to talk," said Esther, half impatiently turning away. "1 know all I say seems very childish, and very silly, and so forth, and you don't put one bit of faith in my judgment, though I tell you in this case it is better than yours." "Don't put oti that injured air, as if I were doing you some great wrong, Esther! Come, now ; shall I break through the compact and stay at home? Say the word and I will do it?provided you let rue give the Sciior my reasons for doing so !" "And tell him wlrnt a spoilt, tyrannical wife you have! No, thank you," said Esther, with a heightened color, for she was a little hurt by his tone, which had a touch of sarcasm in it. "Go, by all means, if you want to, and stay as long as you please?I am not going to say another word to prevent you." "If Senor Alasquez is going to make us quarrel, 1 shall wish him at the antipodes," said Kavmond. "I bate doing anything that 1: I':I. . . u..t .. 1:1.? .1.: T you uimikc ; inn j11 a case iim uiis, miciu i feel that real good will result from my carrying out my plan, I think you ought to let. me exercise my own judgment a little. You ought to know that I would not willingly ani nov you. I am sure I have always given you .'tproof of my anxiety to fulfil your slightest biffish." lift Of course Esther yielded, and of course the le dispute was amicably settled, and full girl mediation made ; for nothing would have :om- fesed her more than a coldness arising hehad ^1 herself and Paul, and she began to this tu'hat, after all, he must know best, and jn ^e herself of unreasonable persistency, ; her jjvas, perhaps, an unfounded opinion. Front worr1 on a cheerful air and agreed not Tootl \,Kl*\self any more about the matter, tory. SIUjlL.5]iaymond, delighted at her restored very at. the lenced talking of his satisfaction wn," friend, f01 ?f making General K? his incut accrue to" the advantages which would 0 its lo enter iiom such a friendship, she tried i m, is readily as his views, and to respond as , < from tlie fir. had sympathized in them i d Ks- They all b i ;ent." morning; ami themselves early the next 1 pur- patched, the lwi as breakfast was dis-, 1 - i ? i i . . .i... i . ? Miver- and Uaynionu s.re orougiu iu me mini, same part. The fornoguest prepared to dele her der !i leave of hisilready taken as ten- 1 icheon to lie absent a ye: though he expected waiter the Spaniard, apphad of a (lav; and rulited hye, hent low over h* to hid her gondii ta.-k "A thousand thanhrcd hand, knew piinlitv, Sefiora! lh^ur gracious hoslerahle will not scon he forgott* your kindness ier far- some future time to reply | venture, at leneath tear of wearying you wiUjKjt) without "Certainly," replied l'X;sence ?M ndown, tone as she could commaml?a cordial a air, for friends are always welcome, husband's And "Then 1 shall look forwa. xation, uess of seeing you again at no. },;lppj. d their shall not return with Seiior Hay. I ?d to be this visit to tne v ifiiiTJn, i.* I 1 r Tom nown to urged me to do so, except so iar*.fl()|v ost was lie together. Business calls tne, lU(|s Ignients. imt, in a different direction. I^nis,,,s. course, now say adieu." .e lit your "(iood-hye, Sefior Alasfjuez," r< ' i accoin- hostess, relieved to hear that he wa, return. "I hope you will have a pleasaj "1 had Tliey mounted and rode oil", and "of seek- standing in the door-way, waved a icnt; but farewell to Raymond as he turned in neonven- die for a parting glance. At the sai ment Alas<piez alsotumed, and as ho 1 i meeting hat and bent his head until his long ;rained to most touched the saddle-how, she fane V against she could detect a sinister and exultai ou to ride in his glittering black eyes. "He is absolutely hateful/' she mi L'tice great to herself as she re-entered the sittit here with- "though Paul almost persuaded me t< e," added otherwise. I have a presentiment up< ae wretch-' some evil. Heaven grant it may he idle fancy ! Heaven keep my husband and bring him safely home!" And yielding to a sudden and irresistible impulse, she bowed her fuee upon her hands and wept. "Why does the Sefiora cry?" asked a soft voice near her, and looking up she encountered J'icciola's loving and wistful gaze, as the young girl drew near her side. "Has any evil happened ?" "No, Picciola," replied her mistress, checking the uncalled-for tears. "I do not myself kuow what troubles me ; but I feel very sad to-day." "It is not good to be sad," said Picciola shaking her head. "If we think of misfortune we may make it happen." "Who told you so ?" asked Ksther. I used to hear m v grand mother say bo?and I believe it, for I have seen it come true." "That is only superstition," said Esther. "Come, I will not be sad any more. l^et us go to my roorr^ and I will teach you your lesson at once?that will divert my thoughts." CHAPTER V. The day seemed very long to Esther ; yet she tried, by employing herself in various ways, to maintain her cheerfulness and ward 1 oil' the uuaccuuntable feeling of unrest and anxiety which oppressed her; unaccountable, because, on self-examination, she was obliged to own that it was mere prejudice, as Ray- j mond had said, which so powerfully influenced her against the Spaniard, since he had really done nothing to awaken her mistrust or susnicion. Dislike to him she might feel, vet it I ' # W # . was surely unjust to believe any evil of a person of whose character she literally knew nothing. Reasoning thus with herself, and recalling all her husband's arguments, she almost succeeded, at last, in arriving at the con- ' elusion that she was foolishly tormenting her- ! herself about nothing, and that the beneiit | which Raymond would derive from an introduction to the person whom he had gone to ! visit, would quite compensate her, in the fu-1 ture, for the (to her) disagreeable cbaunel j through which it was obtained. J?he schooled herself into the persuasion that her husband would not be able to return that evening, so as to avoid disappointment should this prove to be the case. And yet, ; when twilight came, she could not help sta-; tioning herself by a window, which commanded a view of the road, and anxiously watching and hoping for some sign of his approach. She had the table spread as usual for two, deferring her own meal in the hope that he might arrive to share it with her, and placed his easy chair and slippers in readiness at his corner of the fire-place, where a cosy I little fire, more for the sake of cheerfulness than warmth, was kept burning; but still the hours wore on without bringing him, and at last she was forced to partake of her dinner alone, though feeling small appetite for any of the viands placed before her; and even when she had finished, she would not allow the cloth to be withdrawn, but had the table | kept ready so that Paul might be quickly served if he came in late. "The.Sefior will not come to-night,Senora," i said Picciola, when she saw these prepara-1 tions. uUM * O" 1. ~ J 1.^ \> IIJ lliH I aiht'U uer mimruaa. "Because the roads over the mountains : yonder are dark and lonely, and dangerous nfiei nightfall. If lie could nol reach the valley while it was yet light, it. was wiser in hint to wait until the morning to return." "He knows all these roads so well," said Esther, "that I don't think they would be dangerous for him to travel, even as late as ! this." "But Sefiora, there are some fearful chasms and steep slides there, where a person might fall and perish, and no one would ever know j their fate; and there are wicked people, too, who wait there sometimes in the night to rob i and murder travelers. I have heard of many such." Esther shuddered. "Do not speak of such dreadful things, for heaven's sake, Picciola," ! she exclaimed. "You make my blood run cold." "Oh ! Sefiora, I did not mean to frighten you," said the girl earnestly. "I thought you knew about those dangers before. I only want to show you how much better it is that the Sofior should not venture to come at this hour. He is wise, and knows how to avoid risking his safety. (Jo to bed early and sleep well, Sefiora, and you will waken to-morrow i to see him return safe and sound." "I wonder when he will come," sighed her ! mistress. "IIow far off is it?" asked Picciola. "Twenty miles or so, I believe." "Then he will be here before noon, unless he should spend part of the day there, and leave in the afternoon. Then he will be here at twilight." "I know he will come as early as he can," said Esther; "because he was very unwilling to stay away to-night, if he could have avoided it." "Yes," said Picciola; "I think he will conic by twelve o'clock." Cherishing this hope, Esther at last persuaded herself to retire She knew Raymond could easily obtain an entrance whenever he came, though alter what Picciola had told her, she now devoutly hoped he had postponed his homeway journey until the following day. ; She slept brokenly until near morning, when a deep .-lumber overtook her, bringing with it, however, a vision which she would gladly have kept awake to avoid. She dreamed that she was walking in a lonely place, along a road bordered on one side by a steep wall of rocks, and on the other by one of the fearful precipices which Picciola had spoken of. She walked for some distance without seeing or hearing anything, until suddenly her own name, uttered in a loud imnlorinL' voice, fell upon her ear. Start Ii'il, she hurried on ; theory was repeated,and this time she recognized her husband's voice. On she went, impelled hv a nameless fear, before her was a bend in the road, and as she reached it, she saw before her a tableau which seemed to freeze the life-blood in her veins. At the very edge of* the chasm knelt Paul, and over him, in a threatening attitude, stood Alasipiez, clutching him firmly in one powerful hand, while with the other he brandished aloft what looked like a sort of huntingknife, as if ready to plunge it into his body. There was a brief, desperate struggle. She sprang forward to interpose her aid ; but ere siie could reach her husband his antagonist had triumphed, and with an exulting yell had precipitated him into the yawning space below. A wild cry broke from tier lips. In uttering it she woke, with a cold dew breaking from every pore, and found the early sun shining into the window of her room, as if to reproach her, with its cheerful aspect, for the groundless terror which had seized her. Intensely relieved at the removal of so dreadful a burden from her heart; yet still trembling in every limb from the agitation rdie had felt, she quickly* arose, and having ^^rformed her toilet, hastened down stairs. nc was a lovely morning. The sky was blue clear, and the scent of the flowers in the ban, front, garden, and the song of birds in ied Surrounding trees, came in through the at ligys which had been raised to admit the vir. I'icciola had already spread the irmure<^ table and placed in the centre of ig-room, oloth, a vase of flowers, which she 1 believe ^re(j Everything looked cheerful )ii me of ^ y as she loved to see it. only an early, I'icciola," she said, with a e young girl, who was carefully arranging some books and papers on a sidetable. "And so are you, Sefiora! Did you sleep well last night ?" "I cannot say that I did," replied Esther. "Hut I feel quite well this morning. Come, let us get through breakfast and everything else as quickly as possible. I dow't feel like being idle a moment to-day." In spite of her assurance; that she felt quite well, there was a ilush upon her face, and a restlessness in her movements, that betrayed a degree of nervousness which she would not acknowledge to herself. I'icciola's watchfulness, however, detected it, and she tried by every affectionate art in her power to direct her mistress' thoughts into a cheerful channel, for though she acted in the capacity of a servant, yet from her gentleness, her warm heart and sympathetic nature, her refinement of feeling, and above all, her ardent attachment to Esther, she stood more in the position of a companion and friend than of a menial; and the latter often found her society most acceptable, especially when left, us she was so often compelled to be, otherwise ulone. The morning passed by in its accustomed routine of occupation, and noon came; but Esther's heart sank with a feeling of disap-, pointment when she found that Raymond did not arrive. "I will keep lunch until one o'clock," she said. "J f he does not come by then I shall not j expect him before sundown." "Yes, he will come at sundown," said Pic- I ciola in a confident tone, "unless he is obliged j to stay away another night." "That I am sure he will not do," rejoined her mistress. The afternoon wore on, and when the sun grew low, Esther took her hat and walked out | toward the end of the valley, in order to meet her husband on his approach. 8he now felt quite assured that he would soon arrive, and her heart rejoiced in the prospect of a speedy j re-union, qven after so brief a separation as | theirs had been. After strolling on for some distance, she grew weary and sat down on a rock, by the wayside, to wait. Longer and longer grew the shadows on 1 the grass, fainter and fainter became their out- j lines, until at last they faded entirely, as the crimson and gulden sunset hues merged into i pearly gray, and the soft twilight mist crept ; up the valley, shrouding rock and tree and 1 shrub in a transparent veil. The song of the ! birds was hushed, and only the plashing of a streamlet near, and the occasional distant cry ; of a coyote, or small California wolf, prow ling in the woods, was heard, to hreak the silence | which reigned almost oppressively over the 1 scene. Esther's hopes, so ardent a little while j before, gradually died away out of her heart, which sank, lower and lower, under the weight of renewed and bitter disappointment and ! anxiety. For sometime she could not prevail upon herself to leave her post of'observation ; ' but at length she heard her name called, and : looking up, saw Picciola rapidly approaching. | "Dear Keiiora," cried the girl, in an earnest ; UJIH', Ull IJIIL oiny UUL ail/ lUligUJ , uut uuiuu i back to the house. It is getting late and cold j out here. You will grow ill, and what sort of a welcome will that be for the Senor, when he ! returns?" "I fear something has happened to him," . said Esther, in a faltering voice. "Unless he had met with an accident, he never would have stayed away so long." "But he may yet come a little later," rejdhd Picciula hopefully; "or else something unexpected may have happened to keep him? some business that he (lid know of before. At any rate, it will be better waiting for him in tin; bouse than out here." Esther rose, and with a last lingering, but vain, look down the valley, slowly retraced her way home. She kept her face averted from Picciola, that the latter might not see the tears, which she could not repress, stealing slowly down her cheeks. But the young ! girl detected her as she furtively raised her ' hand to wipe them away, though with native ! delicacy she forbore to make any comment on ; what her mistress so evidently desired to conceal. They walked home in silence, and when there, Esther sought her own room and locked the door, that she might give vent, unperceived, to the agitation over which she no longer had any control. Horrible fears haunt- j ?.i i i". v. T> .1 uu iiui iiiiuu , uiiii iuiyuhjihi iniyiu ; have encountered violence or some fatal acei- i dent on the lonely road ; and her dream re- ' turned with harrassing distinctness to her memory, adding, though she was naturally far from superstitious, to the disquietude she felt. She was so wrought up now that even trifles had weight with her; and the evening i wind, which had sprung up with some force, , sighing with a melancholy sound through the J boughs of a tree near her window, made her : shudder and tremble as though it had been i the voice of a warning spirit. Paul did not come. All that long night she sat up. scarcely expecting him, yet unable to seek repose. The morning found her looking ' pale and haggard, yet it brought her some renewed hope, and she said again to herself, I "He must surely come to-day." But the day ; passed like the former one, in fruitless exper- ! tation; and when night returned, and still no sign of the absent one appeared, her fears amounted almost to agony. The hopelessness i of obtaining any information in regard to her husband made the suspense harder to bear. She had no means of sending in quest of him ; 110 neighbors of whom she could make inquiry. She felt sure that 110 busi- ; ness, however important and unlocked for, j would have induced him to stay so long away ' without sending her sotno word of in forma- , tinii. some evnlanntiiui of his absence. lie . hud given her too many proofs of his consideration for her to suspect him of wilfully ' causing her such pain. What, then, was she ! to suppose, but that some evil had overtaken him ? 1'ieciola, though she still tried to cheer her ; mistress with words of hope, secretly joined in J her fears. She had heard too many tales of horror and bloodshed ; some false, some exaggerated, hut many true, to be able to discard the suspicion that Raymond had fallen a vie- j tiru to a fate similar to that of which some of these told. Yet she dared not breathe a word of this suspicion, but concealed it under a pretense of cheerfulness, which Rather was almost too wretched to observe. Five days had now elapsed, and the last spark of hope was extinguished in the breast of the unhappy wife. On the sixth, she rose up with a new resolution in her heart. "I'icciola," she said to her devoted attendant, who now <1 id not leave her day or night, "I am going in search of my husband." "Oh ! Senora," exclaimed the girl. "How. will that be possible?" "1 will make it possible, returned her mistress. "I cannot endure this torture any longer. If I do not find out something about him I shall go mad." "Hut consider, the way is so long, and so lonely?and you do not even know it! Who will guide you there?" "I must obtain a guide of some sort. Picciola you know something of the country about here?cannot you help me find some one, some person in whom I could place sutlieient confidence to assist me in this dreadful strait?" Pieciola shook her head. "Senora, the' men I know are all worthless, trustless. I would not have you place any reliance on them. And they would not know the place you want to go to, most likely. Is it a town, or settlement of any kind ?" "I do not even know that?I never asked," said poor Esther. "But if I told them the name of (leneralK they might possibly know!" "If he has never been in this part of th( country, the people that I know have mosi likely never heard of him?they are poor ant ignorant, Sefiora, and never leave home. Yoi know what a poor place I always lived in, be fore I came here." "(lad help me !" said Esther, sinking dowr in despair. "I am tied hand and foot?I car do nothing!" "Sefiora, you can pray," said Picciola in 8 timid voice. "You have taught me that the good Clod hears our prayers. Do you not be lieve that he will do so now ?" i "Pray! I have prayed, morning, noon and night," said her mistress. "Put pray for me now, Picciola, and I will listen to you. Pray that I may not lose my faith in the mercy ol Heaven, whatever may happea!" Picciola sank upon her knees, and in faltering tones, in her touching, broken English, offered up a simple but heart-felt petition, that (lod would send the Sefior home, or comfort her dear mistress in her trouble, and make her feel that He knew best what was right ?i i ami guuu. [To lie Continued.] MUstorw of J>. Carolina. Written for tin; Vorkvillc Knquirer. THE BATTLE OF KING'S MOUNTAIN RY KKV. RORKKT LATIIAN. (Continued.) After Laey's return to Sum]iter's camp, on Clem's Branch, Col. James Williams, who, as we have seen, was made a Brigadier General by Governor Rutledge shortly alter the bottle of Muse-rove's mill, arrived in camn. and having shown his commission, claimed the authority to take command of all the South Carolina troops in that section. On the 8th of .September Williams had been ordered, or rather "requested," by Abner Nash, Governor of North Carolina, "to go into Caswell county and such other counties as he might think proper, and raise a body of volunteer horsemen, not exceeding one hundred." With these and a few other troops, Williams came to Sumter's camp, on Clem's Branch. The South Carolina soldiers of Sumter's command positively refused to submit to Williams as a general. They preferred Sumter. The main objection that the soldiers had against Williams was that, having at one time been the commissary of Sumter's command, he had acted in sonic way or other so as to gain the ill will and even hatred of many of the men. What the facts in the case were, it is impossible, at this late date, to learn with sufficient accuracy to warrant its in saying who was to blame, Williams or the men. No doubt both were to some extent in tiie fault. Be this as it may, a difficulty sprung up between Sumter and Williams, and but for the presence of the enemy, it might have ended in something serious. Whilst the difficulty was pending, it was learned that Rawdon and Tarleton, with a large force, were making preparations for attacking them. It was concluded, by both parties, that they would cross the Catawba river at Biirircr's fcrrv (now Wriirht's.) Having crossed the river, :i council of officers was called to settle the difficulty. Col. William Ilill, who was wounded at the battle of Hanging Hock, was made chairman of this council. Whilst the council was discussing the matter. Kawdon and Tarleton appeared on the opposite bank of the river and commenced firing at them across the river. It was evident that the enemy would not allow them time to look into the matter, and their existence depended upon harmony among themselves. It was agreed to refer the whole matter, with all the facts in the case, to Governor Rutledge, then at Hillsborough, North Carolina. In the mean time, however, Sumter was to retire from the army until the decision of Rutledge was heard. Williams would remain in command of his North Carolina troops and Colonels Hill and Lacy would take command oi the South Carolina troops. Colonels Winn, Middleton, Thomas and Hampton, were sent as commissioners to Governor Rutledge; and Lacy and Hill, in the hope of forming a junction with General William J Jamison, Jed tlic army up tno t;atawba, and crossed at Tuckascge Ford. GovcrnorNasli, of North Carolina, had instructed Colonel Williams (then General) to proceed in any direction and operate against the enemy. Ilis instructions were very general, leaving the whole matter to the discretion of Williams himself. Whilst the army, then under the command of Hill, Lacy and Williams, were on the east side of Catawba river, in the neighborhood of Tuckascge ford, Williams' scouts brought the information that a body of the back mountain men were already on the east side of the mountain, on th"ir way to fight Ferguson. They immediately crossed the Catawba, at Boattie's ford, with the intention of going in pursuit of Ferguson. Here they were joined by Majors Graham and Ilambright, with about seventy-five men, and not long afterward by Colonels Hammond and Roebuck, and Majors Chronicle and Hawthorne. Williams had his scouts out watching Ferguson. He was the more prompt in doing this, from the fact that his home was 011 Little river, in what is now Laurens county. This territory was embraced in Ferguson's field ot operations. A consultation was held by Williams, Hill, Lacy, Roebuck, Graham, Hammond, Ilambright, Brannon, Hawthorne and Chronicle, as to what should be done. It was at once determined that a messenger should be sent to communicate with the hack mountain men, to inform them with regard to Ferguson's movements and hi.- place of encampment, and to make arrangements for the cooperation of the two forces. Colonel Kd ward Lacy, whose home was a tew miles northwest of the present town of Chester, and who owned a large amount of the lands on which the town of Chester is built, was chosen as the messenger. It was a good choice. Lacy was recklessly brave, and although a rough man, still a man of good address. lie was a sterling Whig. It turned out that the two camps were, at that time, sixty miles apart ; but Lacy never stopped a moment until, late at night, he reached the camp of('ampbell. This was on the night of the 4th of October. Lacy was seized by the patroling party, and. without ceremony, blindfolded. He begged to be taken, without delay, to the commander's ipiarters. He was at first regarded as a spy by all, and had he not been a true Whig, and shown it by every word and action, be would have paid the penalty in a few moments. That day Campbell and his mountain men had reached Gilbert Town, and finding Ferguson had decamped, and learning that lawns gone to Ninctv-Six, which had lately been repaired and reinforced, a council of war had been held but a short time before Lacy arrived, and it was concluded to abandon the chase. Lacy then informed them thnt. Fcrirnsim u'.-is in the neighborhood ot Cherokee ford?tlisit lie was not aiminjr to reach Ninety-Six ; but his point of destination was Charlotte, North Carolina. They were urfjed to annul the previous resolution of the ni?;ht, siml meet the troops under Williams, Hill and other leaders at a place called the Cowpens, on the sixth. This was done, and after Lacy had fed his horse, eaten a supper of what the partisan camp would afford, and enjoyed a few hours' sleep on the jrrotind, he was up and away to join his command, which was now on its way to the Cowpens. Let us leave the two armies and trace the ; movements of Colonel Ferguson. On the! t 4th of October?the day that Campbell and 1 his men arrived at Gilbert Town?Ferguson i had broken up his camp. The two deserters from Campbell's command had informed him of what was going on. He knew the men he i had to deal with. He had met some of them i before. Wisely, lie concluded that his safety ; depended on getting out of their way. It i would not be true to say that Col. Ferguson ! was frightened, for 110 braver man ever lived or fought or died on a battle-field; but he i most assuredly felt that he was in a critical. I situation. Corn wall is had already perceived ! ; the danger with which Ferguson was sur-;' ' rounded, and had ordered him to join him at j Charlotte. Ferguson now saw that it would ' require all his skill to reach that point. On breaking up his camp at Gilbert Town, he . < , sent two tories?Abe Collins and Peter j , i (Juinn?to Cornwallisat Charlotte, to inform j < that officer of his critical situation and to re-1 < ! ipicst aid. The messengers were hindered 011 | ; . ; the way by the presence of the Whigs in the ; ( j neighborhood, and did not reach Charlotte j 1 1 ' I - .1 .1 ! 1 j I : until me mi: consequently me am wu> nui re-; ( 11 reived. Ferguson, on leaving Gilbert Town,! : i made the impression that lie was going to 1 ! Ninety-Six, and when Campbell and his par-! ] ty arrived at Gilbert Town, they were told ] that Ferguson was distant litiy or sixty miles. ; This was a feint.' On the night of the 4tli | ] I of October, Ferguson camped at the Cow-j , . pens, about twenty miles from Gilbert Town, j ] On the iith, he crossed Broad river at Tate's i 1 (since Dear's or Adair's) Ferry, and spent the j j I night about a mile above the ferry. On the ' i (Ith, he pushed on up the ridge road between j. living's Creek and Buffalo Creek, until lie;, came to the fork. There lie took the right |, prong, leading across Kiifg's Creek, through j | | a pass in the mountain, and on in the direc- j, j tion of Yorkville. Here, a short distanceaf- | tor crossing King's Creek, on the right of the j j road, about two hundred and fifty yards from i the pass in the mountain, on an eminence | which he called King's Mountain, and which ! j still retains the name, he encamped, deter- J mined to remain until his reinforcements , from Corn Will lis would arrive. j | From Gilbert Town to King's Mountain,, he evidently was retreating. He felt that he | j had a terrible foe to deal with. He begged, , I he entreated the tories and loyalists to turn , out and render him assistance. Finding that ' ] gentle cmeasures accomplished nothing, he threatened to hang them if they did not | shoulder their muskets and march against the j rebels. His threats were as unavailing as his { entreaties. On arriving at King's Mountain, ( he granted some of the royalists and tories , permission to go into the surrounding country . i'or the purpose of heating up recruits. The inhabitants of the region surrounding ( King's Mountain, were, with a few exceptions, | ( tories. These recruiting officers of Ferguson | went to ]>lttndering their Whig neighbors. | Instead of hunting up recruits for the King's ( army, they went to robbing the gardens and ( killing the hogs of the Whigs in the eommuni- , ty. Here, strongly posted on King's Moun-1 ] tain, let us, for a' time, leave Col. Ferguson.j ] On the Oth of Oetober, according to ap- j, pointment, the troops under Williams. Lacy and Hill arrived at the Cow pens ; and about I, sundown, the hack-motmtain men under j Campbell, came up. All the weak men and ,, horses belonging to each party bad been left j ( behind, and only the best marksmen and the I best rifles selected for the occasion. The uni- i ( tod forces, selected for this hold enterprise, ( amounted to eighteen hundred and fnrtythrce, j ( Many of the officers were without commands. | occupying simply the position of men in ranks, ' ( It was raining and dark, but all were entbu- j, siastie. incy Usui set out to nnu rerguson. i ( 1 and fiml him they would. An hour was giv- j ! en the troops to rest, during which time two! beeves were killed, but the time was so short j 1 that some of the men did not get a mouthf'nl i ; prepared. There were several bands of to- i ' ries in the neighborhood, which they could ! have easily captured, but they were in search I of Ferguson, and they let the torics alone, al-1 though it was known that these tories were to j join Ferguson the next day. By eight o'clock | every man was in the saddle and on the trail | ' of Ferguson. It rained all night, and was I : dark. The guide got lost for a time. The i men, in order to keep their guns dry, wrapped i them up with their over-coats and blankets 1 when they had them, and with their hunting ' shirts when these were wanting. On the 11 morning of the 7th, just bel'orc sunrise, they reached Broad river, about a mile and a half below Cherokee Ford, expecting to find Fer- ( guson on the east bank. They crossed the river, and marched up its bank, and soon came to Ferguson's campofthe night of the j ">th. Here a halt was made, and those who , linil sinviliiiirr tr? nnf r>!it it jmrl thnsn who h:ld | nothing did without. The delay was only for j . j a moment. Although hungry, wet and tired, j l they pushed on with as nnieh zeal as if the! ( ! search had just commenced. Ferguson's trail | ! was fresh, and they knew that they would 1, ! soiin see who would do the hanging ! For a , ) distance of twelve miles, they saw no one hut | | ! their own party, and learned nothing of Per- j , I guson's whereabouts. When they had gone j j | about twelve miles, after crossing Broad river, j, j the advanced party met some persons coming , : from Ferguson's camp. At the same time, a jf | hoy about fourteen years old, by the name of i , Fonderin, was found in an old field. The |,, ] bov said his brother was in Ferguson's camp, j I The story of the men and boy agreed, and j from them it was learned that Ferguson's ! . I camp was only three miles distant. The lo-1 ^ j cation was accurately described by these men j I and young Fonderin, and the intentions of r Ferguson learned. A dispatch, which he had i sent to C'ornwallis for aid, was afterward in-; tercepted. From this his force was learned, and i' 1 also what lie thought about being able to de- j j i fend himself. In that dispatch lie boastinglv, i j or rather profanely, we should say, declared I that such was the nature of the place, he had j chosen for a camp, "that all the rebels out of 1 hell could not drive him from it." This disI i.'it/.li u-illt llm itvj.nl it Iimi /if llin ?t'itmilpnt (it ! I I '?H V I I I I IIV, V AV\ I'UV'il \J L IIIV I v. I j the number of Ferguson's force, was read | J j aloud to the men. The officers held a consul-1 j tilt ion on horse-haek, and concluded upon the j I mode of attack. j | It was agreed that since Campbell had come j1 ; the greatest distance, and had brought the j ! largest number of men, that he should be the ; commander-in-chief. It was now past twelve j J i o'clock. The rain had ceased, the clouds had j j passed away, and the sun wasshining brightly, j 11 j The pursuers of Ferguson had followed his ( i trail from eight o'clock on the previous night, ; ' ! and now they were within a mile of his camp. \ j The order was given ''to tie up over-coats and ^ : blankets, throw priming out of pans, pick touch holes, prime anew, examine bullets, and ' see that everything is in readiness for battle." [ They were now within a mile of the object for ! d which some of them had been in search for ^ | nearly two weeks. They were fully aware of !| the kind of a foe they had to encounter?a 1 brave man and a cool oliicer. Tlicv had to j( I..... ...1... 1.1 I t IiUT DIIIIMI W1IU UWll AH I ll.-ll ll | My. i , tlicm with bayonets ; ami tories who knew it i ? was victory or death. On they went, deter-1 t mined still to he free or die. They ascend- ( * cd an eminence on the western side of thejf mountain, and Ferguson's camp wa> in full, i view. They dismounted and tied their horses j J and prepared lor the conflict. The mode of \ attack determined upon was to surround the i ! mountain and pour in a deadly fire upon the ( enemy from all sides at the same time. t King's Mountain, upon which Col. Fergu! son was encamped, is a spin of the Blue t , Ridge. It is a narrow, oval shaped knoll, t having the general direction of the Blue { i Ridge,and terminates abruptly at its northern ' t extremity. It is covered with a kind ol'slate stone. The ridge, which is about one hundred and twenty feet above the ravines by which it is surrounded, and about a mile I on a1, is not more than thirty yards wide, and the sides, especially on the north, are precipitous. It is situated in York county, South Carolina, about a mile and a half from the North Carolina line. Many of the men in Col. Williams' command were Whigs, from the surrounding country. They had left their hiding places when, in the language of an old Revolutionary war song, "Old Williams came from Hillsborough, they flocked to him amain." These men understood the nature of the ground accurately. They had hunted deer on the same place frequently. In view of this fact, guides for the other troops were chosen from Williams' men. When the exact location of Ferguson's camp was learned, the army of pursuers marched iu four columns. Col. Campbell's regiment, with part of Cleveland's regiment, commanded by Major Winston, formed the right centre ; Col. Shelby's regiment, the left centre. Col. Sevier's regiment composed the 1 11 i ... /v i \\r:i right wing; ana tne troops uimer v.01. Williams ami the remainder of Col. Cleveland's regiment, comnianded by himself, formed the left wing. On arriving in full view of the enemy, and iiaving tied their horses and leaving a small ptard to watch them, the troops, commanded l>v Shelby, Sevier, McDowell, Campbell and Winston, were ordered to file to the right and mass round the enemy's camp on the mountain. Those under Cleveland,Chronicle, Hambright tnd Williams, were to lile to the left and pass round. Jloth parties were to continue their march without firing nntil they met. Then :he enemy's camp would be completely surrounded. The order was then to face toward the enemy, raise the Indian war-whoop, and rush forward upon the foe. It was near three o'clock on the 7th of October. The destiny of American liberty was in the hands of a few undisciplined militia. It never was in better hands than when it was mtrusted to those brave men who fought and hied and died ami won the victory over Col. Ferguson on King's Mountain. The order ' r\.. .1 ? ?!.? ,S given 10 inarcii. v/n uiey gu, \miii me steadiness of veterans. Every order is exe uted with as much promptness as if they lad been trained regulars. The British commenced to fire upon Shelby's men as the right wing passed round the Mountain. McDowell returned the fire, and lie action became general. The keen crack jf the deadly Deck hard rifle, and the Indian ivar whoop, heard all round the enemy's camp, innounced that every man was in his place. Ferguson ordered his regulars to charge jpon the right wing of the Whigs. This Irove McDowell, Shelby and Campbell back; but at this very moment Chronicle, Hambright, Cleveland and Williams had ascended :hc opposite extremity of the mountain and Iriven the British and tories behind their wagons. Ferguson was here himself. His men were falling on all sides. He immediately sent for DePcyster, who had led the charge igainst McDowell, Shelby and Campbell. As DePcyster passed back along the ridge, the knith Carolinians, under Williams, poured in a deadly fire upon him. His ranks were oon thinned, and the regulars thrown into confusion. They, however, soon rallied and made a dreadful push against Chronicle and Cleveland, driving them down tlie mountain. Here Chronicle was killed. The charge of the British upon the left of the Whigs was mistaken by the right under Shelby, McDowell and Campbell, for a retreat, and the shout was raised, "Huzza, boys, they are retreating. Lome on." On, on,the left wing of the Whigs in solid phalanx, rushed upon the enemy. Ferguson was now forced to meet the right wing. The left wing, as the right wing before hail done, mistook the charge of the British for a retreat, faced about and rushed upon,as they thought, the retreating foe. Thus each charge of the enemy was mistaken by the Whigs on the opposite side for a retreat. Ferguson galloped back and forth along his lines, encouraging his men with entreatiesand with curses. In spite of all his skill and the desperate courage of his men, his ground was taken from him and he was forced to occupy a small portion of the ridge near the northern extremity. He ordered his cavalry to mount; but this move proved unavailing. The men were shot down as soon as they mounted. He prepared for a last and desperate charge. The tories were ordered to .-harpen the handles of their butcher knives and fasten them in the muzzles of their guns, and, with the British regulars, charge vupon the rebels. This also was oi' no avail. The Whips were all around them, and confusion was in the British ramp. DcPcyster hoisted a white Hag. Ferguson pulled it down. DcPcyster raised it at the other extremity of the British :amp. Ferguson saw it and darted, at the full gallop, and with his sword, cut it down, wearing that lie would never surrender to militia. He had been wounded in the hand, nit in this wounded hand he bore a silver whistle, whose shrill sound inspired courage n the already vanquished. A ball from some mknown rifle, threw the hero from his charter, and DcPcyster again hoisted a white flag. The tories and British ceased firing, but the Whigs either not understanding thcimport of i white flag, or knowing that it had been loisted twice before and was pulled down, coninued to fire. The ollicors ordered their men ,o cease firing; but the blood of the Whigs was warm and fire they would. Col. Shelby hen ordered the British to lay down their inns, and the men would under.-tand this asa ign that they surrendered. This was done, md the British were ordered to leave their pins, most of which were loaded, and march o another place. The Whigs then marched in niul tinib nossession of the cnemv's camp. The victory was complete. Neither horse lor man escaped. The whole force of the iritish amounted to eleven hundred and wcnly-five men, of which number eleven hunIred and live fell iuto the hands of the Whigs. Twenty were out on a plundering expedition. )f the eleven hundred and live taken by the A'higs, five hundred and live were either dead >r so badly wounded as not to lie able to be uoved. The Whig loss was twenty-eight tilled ami sixty wounded. Everything perainiug to the catnj) of Ferguson fell into the lands of the \\ bigs, lle.-ides his provisions itul camp equipage, the Whigs got a number if splendid horses and fifteen hundred stand if arms, and a supply of powder and bullets. A'lieii the patriots saw what they had achievd. they raised a shout which was heard for .-even miles on the plain." The Whigs slept oil the bat tie field the rtfiAi. < I?a fii. ltf fP1*4? nnvf niiivtiiiiff tl??? MLlllL ill I t'l I I 1U il-llL. ? II* lllUlillllg lead were hurriedly huried, the wounded Yhigs cared lor, the enemy's wagons burned, ml the patriots departed. Lacy and Hill narched down into York county and etiamped on Bullock's Creek. Campbell and he North Carolinians took the prisoners and lastcned to get beyond the mountains. As hey had more prisoners than men, and as it ras important to save the captured guns, the lints were all removed and the prisoners nadc to carry them. At Biekerstatr's old field, a court martial vas held in order to decide what should be lone with some notorious tories. Thirty were ondemncd to be hanged ; but all but nine ol' he most notorious were pardoned. No victory ever was more complete than hat ol'King's Mountain, and none was more imely for the interest of A incriea. The Brit sh, tories ami loyalists were panic struck, and he Whigs encouraged.