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1 - - " t lewis m. grist, proprietor. 2U |itlitptttbtnt Jamilg ftetospper: Jfcr t|t |ramii!r"n fff % folifital, Uncial, ^griraltoral aitl) Cummtrrial Interests of t[ie Sotrtji. j terms?$3.00 a year, in advance. . VOL. 22. . YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MARCH 9, 1876. NO. lO. J^s Original jiletg. A THRILLING STORY OF WESTERN LIFE. I BY MRS. HENRY DEA8. CHAPTER XIX. Let us, now once more, eoter the prison walls at Valladolid, and revisit the cell where Manuel Gonzales is confined. Some months have passed since his last interview with General K?, and he looks now even more worn and ill than he did on that occasion. Languor and depression mark all bis movements. He sits idle most of the time; even his old occupation of writing has ceased to interest him, and his books lie nnoDened on bis shelf. Leaning with one elbow resting upon the table, his head supported by his hand, he sits thus dejected and unemployed, when his celldoor is opened, and his American friend, unexpectedly, appears before him. The first joyful surprise of the meeting being over, the prisoner speedily relapsed into his former listless state. But his visitor, with an eagerness of manner denoting him to be the bearer of important news, roused him from it by exclaiming, as he laid his band upon bis arm? "Manuel, I have good tidings for you, my friend! Can you bear them f" Manuel quickly raised his head, and his inquiring eyes met those of the General, which sparkled with irrepressible joy. A responsive gleam kindled upon bis own features, yet shadowed by uncertainty and doubt, as he replied? "Good tidings for me, General 1 It is so long since I have ceased to anticipate them, that they will come, indeed, with something of a shock npoo me. Yet I think I can listen to them with fortitude." . "Then I will begin with my most important point," said the General. Your brother has been found!" "My brother?Edowardo !" cried the prisoner, rising to bis feet, while a flush suddenly crimsoned his face. "Impossible! How? Where ?" "In the United States?his hiding place, as it appears, for many years past?where he has been living under an assumed name. His capture, of course, implies a full discovery of his own guilt, and your own exculpation. Do you realize that ?" The unwonted flush faded as suddenly as it had risen, from Manuel's brow. He sat down agaiu, trembling from head to foot, and concealed bis face in his hands. "Come; bear it like a man," said the General kindly, pressing his arm as he spoke. "I fear I have agitated you uselessly, by my abruptness. I should have prepared you in some way lor wis unexpected flew. 'liU'l, UJUWpr tnv heart was so full of it, that I could not contain myself any longer." "Would to God," exclaimed Manuel, "that my innocence could be established in any other way than through his shame, which must thus become publicly known. He is my own brother?ray only one ; the companion and play-fellow of my childhood." "And your base betrayer in later years," rejoined bis friend. "Can it be possible that any sentiment of sympathy, of tenderness for him, moves you at such a time as this ?" "I am so bewildered," replied Manuel, passsing his band across his brow, "that I scarcely know what I feel. At one moment, an overpowering joy fills me, only to be mingled at the next with bitter pain. Forgive my weakness, my kindest friend ! To you, I owe a debt of gratitude which I can never re*? pay. "For assisting in capturing your brother ?" asked the General, with a half-smile. "You must know that 1 was in command of the par ty who took him." And, as briefly as possible, he gave a sketch of the affair alluded to, to which his companion listened in silence. * "You, of course, acted as was incumbent upon you," said the latter, with a heavy sigh, when the recital was concluded. "Yet, Oh! General, it causes me bitter grief to think that my freedom should be purchased at such a cost! Better had it come in that other way which I anticipated; better bad I been released by the hand of death ! But tell me," he added, anxiously, "is there not a chance of obtaining his pardon?or,at least, a commutation of the punishment in store for his crime? banishment, imprisonment?" "His crime, you say I Alas, my friend, his erimes are too numerous and too black to be classed under a single head. Believe me, your sympathy for him is as uncalled for, as it would be unappreciated by his base and ignoble nature. He would but mock you for it, and regard it as childish folly; a weakness of mind resulting from long imprisonment, and seclusion from the rest of mankind." "Is he, then, so wicked as you describe him to be ?" asked Manuel, with a shudder. "He is, indeed ; but I will not pain you now by a recital of his deeds. You will learn them all at some future day. It may be a consolation to you to learn that bis conduct to you, base and unworthy as it has been, will call less loudly for punishment than many of his other and more recent atrocities. But, dear friend, let us not look now on this dark side of the picture 1 Let us rather rejoice in the prospect of your speedy restoration to liberty, that liberty of which you have been unjustly deprived so long. Consider the odium which has rested upon your name, and the joy of having it removed." "I do consider this; but, as I said just now, mv thoughts are in a whirl?everything seems unreal and confused. And, after all, General, what is there worth having, in this liberty you haVe procured for me? I know it seems ungrateful to speak thus; but consider how little joy in life can be in store forme. What claim has the world upon me, or I upon it ? I am bound by no family ties?my wife, my child, are dead ; my sole living relative a condemned felon, soon to pay the penalty of his sins 1" "Stop a moment," said the General. "I have yet other news for you. Did I not tell you that I bad begun with but one point ? I premise you that the next will bring you nothing but joy, and invest with brightness (this future which now seems blank to your Anticipation." Manuel looked incredulous. Yet a flicker -of hope once more played over his face. "How can that be?" he responded, sadly. "I am about to tell you. You said just j dow that you bad no living relative, save the 1 one who has disgraced your name." < "And is not that true?" "I have always thought so, until lately; i but I have, within the last few weeks, received s a valuable piece of information, which leads i ; me to a different supposition." t "You speak enigmas," said Manuel, look- < ing perplexed. "Is there, then, any distant brauch of my family?" g "No distant branch," replied the General, 1 his natural impetuosity overcoming his resolve ( ; to be very guarded and deliberate in his 1 I method of communieation; yet anxiously i watching his companion's countenance as he * ' spoke, to judge whether his words would have i too startling an effect. "No distant branch, * Manuel; but a near and dear relative still 1 lives?one whose interests are closely bound t up with yours, and for whose sake you will, I j am sure, set more value than jou now ao upon ? your restored liberty and unblemished repu- 1 tation 1" * "I do not?cannot understand you," said * Manuel, in an agitated tone. "I entreat you s not to keep me in suspense!" "Then listen to me calmly," Baid General 1 K?, trying to steady his own voice, which i shook with emotion. "I almost fear, now, that I am acting rashly, in bringing too much 1 excitement to bear upon you in your present 1 unnerved state; yet it seems that you need a 1 dose of pure, unadulterated good news to 3 cheer your heart. Dear friend, you said both * wife and child were lost to you. In that, you 1 were mistaken." i "How ?" cried the other, in astonishment, 1 rising as he spoke, and laying his trembling 1 hand on the General's arm. "Did I not, with v these eyes, see my beloved Louisa stretched a r corpse before me ? Did I not watch them bear 1 away her senseless form, over which I had * shed the bitterest tears ever wrung from hu- v man woe, and which I had not even the mourn- 8 ful privilege of following to its last restingplace ?" "You did," said his friend ; "but the child, the little girl ! What of her ?" j "She was, as you know, placed, through the a kindness of friends in an orphan asylum. s For though one wretched parent lived, she t was in a state worse than orphanage; and I received, not six months afterward, advices of her death 1" v "But not authentic ones. They, like many z other tidings with which you have been delu- a ded, were but a base invention. Your child a did not die, but was stolen away from the i refuge where she had been placed, and a re- g port of her death spread for the benefit of all j who took an interest in her welfare." "And is she living yet?" cried Manuel, y "Oh 1 if this be indeed true?" 1 "She is living, and happily circumstanced t at present; but her lot was a hard one for t j many years. She was given in charge to an t j old couple who taught her to call them ber j s i grandparents, ann wnro were pild JO!1 brFl/g-! 1 | ing her up as their grandchild and keeping j i from her all knowledge of ber real station in t life. She received most unkind treatment' f at their hands, and was growing up ignorant 1 and degraded, when fate threw her into the g bands of people whose care and kindness have v compensated her for all past suffering, and c made her what she now is?a lovely and attractive girl; yet still ignorant of her parent- t age, and believing herself to have sprung c from an inferior class. Manuel what is this? j not tears, my friend!?oh, I have been too j rash!" j s " ll! i;u. ! l or the poor, oroaen man was soDouigiiKe c a child ; sobbing in uncontrollable agitation at the recital he had heard. Yet the out- c | break did him good, relieving his almost j bursting heart of its pent-up emotions, aud I easing the pressure on his fevered brain. t "Then I am not all desolate," he said, when d he could find words for utterance. "I thank fi God for tbis great mercy ! Tell me, where iB my child ? I long to see her?to hold her to t my heart? Why did you not bring her to a me?" "She shall see you ander happier auspices z than these," said the General. "I left her in o California, with the friends whom I told you of?and I am looking forward with scarcely g less eagerness than yourself to the meeting j c which is in store for you." v "Even now, though I believe all you tell n me, it seems utterly unreal," said Manuel, j 1 "Give me more particulars of this strange, in-1 ii comprehensible story. Let me hear every j t detail, that I may arrive at a fuller compre-1 hension of its truth." j " Thus urged, General K?, composing his j own feelings in order the better to fulfill the i 11 task before him, proceeded to relate, as mi-1 ^ ^ ?--A - 1 ? ' "11 , V. " niHAM .mofonnAa r\f I II | uuteijr no uo uuuiu, an tuo uibuiuocauv&o v? the case in question ; circumstances but recently brought to his own knowledge, wrung ? as they had been, partly from the confession s i ox the criminal Edowardo Gonzales, hitherto 0 ' known under the soubriquet of Pedro Alas- r quez to our readers, and to others by various v aliases adopted to suit his purposes at different c times ; and partly from information given by , his quondam accomplice Juan, and from pa- j1 pers given up by the latter to the General, 11 sufficiently authentic to leave no doubt of the ^ correctness of their statement. The child, c Picciola, was indeed the long-lost daughter of 8 Manuel Gonzales, mourned as dead by her un- j 1 happy father, consigned in infancy, by her j guilty uncle, to a fate from which he had an- ! v ticipated no release for her, in order to destroy j 1 I all chance of her inheriting a property which s he desired for his own. It bad been through his instrumentality, as the reader has doubt- \ less already discovered, that his brother had a been imprisoned, on the suspicion of a grave ! c political crime?nothing Jess than a partici- j | pation in certain insurrectional measures e threatening the safety -of the Spanish govern- \ ment, yet never proved on him, through j long years of investigation and doubt. Edo-! c wardo's hntred of his younger and unoffending brother had arisen partly from jealousy ; t partly from anxiety to become the possessor of a fortune greater than his own. But his meas- i ures for obtaining this were suspended, by the ? sudden discovery of his own share in the plot t in which he had accused Manuel of participating, and which had obliged him to fly the e country for safety, since when every effort to 1 discover his place of concealment had been vain. His succeeding career of infamy was i one too long and intricate to be entered upon g here, especially as in many points it does not t bear upon this recital. His fierce natural i passions, and cruel and violent disposition, t freed from all restraint by his outlawed state, i seemed to gather force and attain to a greater g height as years went on, until crime became i t lis sport, and all fear of God and man were squally lost to his heart. i "You have not yet told me where he is, : low," said Manuel, as, haviDg satisfied him:elf as to the reality of the happy tidings just mparted to him, he recurred to the former ; opic of their conversation. "Is he in this sou n try f" ' "No. He is imprisoned in California, the icene of his most recent and startling crimes. 1 His trial, in the courts there, will come off at in early day. Have you any desire to see lim ?" "That question I am not yet prepared to i mswer," slowly rejoined Manuel. "If his i eeling toward me are still those of hatred i ind anger, it would do us no good to meet. < But if, as I venture to hope, some softer emo- i ion may be stirred up in his heart?" "From what I know of his character, I ] ear I can not encourage you in any such i ione." said the General, shaking his head. r , w 'And in any case, I do Dot think an interview 1 vould be productive of satisfaction to your- < lelf." ' i "Nevertheless, if he should express a desire 1 o see me, I could not refuse to grant the vish," said Manuel. i "Of course you are the best judge of what ' t would be expedient to do. But I must not 1 inger here too long, my friend, for there is i nuch to be attended to. I am forgetting that ] rou are not yet outside these gloomy prison- i vails ; though, of course, it only now remains ] 'or certain preliminaries to be accomplished < n order to attain that result. In less than I wenty-four hours, you will once more tread i he earth a free man ! And then I trust there rill be little delay in our return, or rather i ny return, in which you will accompany me, o America. I long to witness the meeting 1 etween you and your daughter, and the joy vhich I am sure you will feel, in finding her I o worthy of your love." 1 < CHAPTER XX. 1 It was a dark, sombre night. Heavy clouds ( mng low in the sky, portending a storm ; . ind the wind, now rising iu fitful gusts, now ^ inking to a sobbing, melancholy wail, seemed j o utter a prophecy of woe, a warning of some | ivil to come. It swept around the walls of the jail in , vhich the notorious prisoner, Edowardo Gonads, was confined, as though striving to find ] in entrance through the solid mass of stone ( md brick ; bearing, perchance, to ears that mderstood it not, a message of dire import, a , olemn presage of approaching, unexpected " >eril. of a frightful doom near at hand 1 i , 0 I Hark ! What sound is that, as of hurrying ret cautious footsteps drawing near? Is that ow murmur the gathering of the tempest, or he sighing of the sea as its billows break upon he distaut shore? It is the gathering of a erupest, the tempest of fierce tumultuous rage tirring in many hearts, resolute hearts beatnjifVuri a nxea ana gloomy pur^/ose which lothiug now can shake. Nearer and nearer he footsteps come; and now a mass of dark orras gather around the prison gates, the ight of fiaring torches bringing into view a ;roup of dark, stern faces, and eyes glittering vith vengeful eagerness for the accomplishnent of the task iu view. A low whisper of consultation runs through he crowd ; then a clear, loud voice rises in lommanding tones? "Jailer, open these gates I" There is a pause, a moment of breathless ilence, while awaiting a reply; but none lomes. Again the clarion voice is beard, ringing ut an echo of the former summons. "Jailer, open us these gates, and let us in 1" Presently a light is seen moving in the inerior. Then the noise of a bolt being with Irawo is heard, and the jailer, with a pale } ace, comes to answer the call. f "Gentlemen," he says, in an expostulating ^ one, "what is the meaning of this disturb- j ,nce? On what errand do you come?" "We are come to seek the prisoner Gon- ( ales?Alasquez, as he is called. Bring him ut to us at once." j The speaker, a tall brawny man, with shag- j ;y brows and iron-grey hair, and features ast in an adamantine mould, is the same one j pho uttered the summons. He stands fore Qost, aDd seems to be the' leader of the group. ?he jailer, shading his lamp with his hand as t flickers in the wind, looks at him through t he bars. j "I know you, Amado Henriquez," he says. fl An old man like you ought to be ashamed o head an expedition of this sort. Now take ( ay advice, all of you, and go home peacea- c ily. If you make a riot here you will pay for ^ I; depend upon it you will." His voice, as he gives them this counsel, is ^ irm enough ; hut there is an uneasy expres- t ion on bis face, as he glances from one to an- c ther of the countenances before him, and fi eads in each one a plainly written resolve, r vbich no words of his, or of any other mortal : an, can shake. g "Come ! you know you are talking folly," mpatiently rejoined the first speaker. "What ? 3 the use in wasting words over the matter? Briug out your prisoner, I say. We have ome to get him, and we mean to have him, tod the quicker you comply with our demand he better for you." ( "I can accede to no such unlawful demand," 1 vas the reply. "I am responsible for the safe- 1 ceeping of the prisoners. I kuow my duty, , ind I mean to stick to it." "You hear that, men?" said Henriquez, vith a glance around. "He knows his duty, I ind he means to stick to it. We all know our } luty, do we not ?" "Yes?yes!" rose in eager answer, from ( ivery lip. ( "Are you all prepared for action?" Again the ready affirmative came in con- ? :ert from his followers. ( "Than tn wnrk at once! Once?twira? ^ hrice?now!" 1 As he uttered the concluding word, the j whole crowd, with a fierce yell, rushed at the ;ates, which swayed beneath the force of the ( issault. < "The first man who breaks through," shout- 1 id the jailer, falls by ray hand ! I warn you, ' [ am armed." A derisive shout, accompanied by another < 'ush, and the fall of heavy bows upon the jates, was all the answer given. And now c he gate^ahook and tottered beneath the press- J >re of the living mass, and the missiles which 1 hey brought to bear ujKHIlh^m- A moment j nore, and there was a crash ; tbe^STf^had j ;iven way, and the attacking party sw&plJ-f hrough the entrance thus forcibly opened. I A shot was fired. It missed its aim, for it came from an unsteady hand, and went whiz- ( zing harmlessly above the beads of the crowd. Resistance was vain. The jailer, and the few frightened assistants who had gathered around him, were powerless to oppose the assailants, E who carried everything before them by storm. They were speedily bound, and possession taken of the keys, which the jailer carried on bis person. "What cell ?" demanded Henriquez. d "I shall tell you nothing," was the reply, p "Fool! Can we not easily discover for our- r selves? But it will be the worse for your e other prisoners if you refuse to answer my tl question, for they will all stand a chance of 8 escaping. We shall unlock every door in v turn!" With this threat before him, there was no a resource for the powerless captive but to give t them the required information, which he did ji with much reluctance; and quickly entering a the building, Henriquez led the way through e dark corridors, along winding passages and t: up various flights of steps, in eager pursuit of tl his prey. n In a narrow cell, heavily ironed, sat Gon- b tales, meditating gloomily on his situation, e when the noise of the approaching party attracted his attention. Engrossed as he was r in momentous thought, it at first made but si little impression upon him ; but as the foot- d steps came nearer and nearer, and finally c paused at his door, a feeling of wonder enter- p id his mind, and he raised his head and lis- g tened, with a vague expectation of something t unusual about to happen. p "Number 93," said a voice. "Here it is ; r ill right." d "Open the door, then," said another voice, tl 'We have do time to lose." * Gonzales rose to his feet, and gazed in as- n tonishment, as the heavy key turned in the c lock, and the opening door discovered his un- b pec ted visitors to his view. What did it I ill mean ? Had they come to his release ? s If such was the first suggestion that flashed icross bis brain, it was speedily enough baD- t ished. Many of the faces before him were \ familiar ones ; and bold as he was, he quailed n Inwardly beneath the savage glances that met A a x ? ? _lj j :* i. 318. A secret voice wmupereu to mm mat it n was do errand of mercy upon which these fi visitors had come. r "Strike off his chains 1" commanded Hen- h riquez, and a dozen powerful hands obeyed o ;he mandate. "Pedro Alasquez?Gonzales?whatever f, pur name may be?you come with us!" g "Henriquez! muttered Gonzales, fixing v 3is eyes upon the speaker. "You here?" v "Ay?I am here. Here to see that justice a jets its dues?to revenge the foul murder of fc ny child!" v "And I am here," cried another, thrusting j limself forward. "I have not forgotten the d icofe I was to have settled with you four years v frgg, T'll br? that it is paid up now to tlje X T ' b "And so will I?and I," cried a dozen voices. Gonzales stood glaring at them like i wild beast brought to bay. His black eyes b glittered like a basilisk's, his sinewy chest c, leaved, and as they laid hands on him, his d white, gleaming teeth, showed themselves in a e, marl of fury and defiance, as he flung them ^ )ff and rushed toward the door. Strong armB e, received and held him fast, gigantic as he a ivas. Even his strength was but as weakness g igainst the combined force of so many. jt Clasping and wrestling with him as he strug- p ;led in their hold, they dragged him from the *jell, his mighty form writhing helpless in their j dutches. With cries of exultation, with fierce p md cruel joy, they bore him along, down to tj he lower floor, out through the entrance, into v ;he wild black night. n "Whereare you taking me?" he muttered jj loarsely, to those about him. His brute cour- w ige was failing him now, and his face showed jf vhite and ghastly in the Jur$ torch-light as y t flickered upon it 0. "To the Murderer's Tree!" shouted the n jrowd. A cold sweat covered the prisoner's limbs ; lis teeth chattered, and bis voice, when next ~ 81 ie spoke, was faint and feeble in its utterance. "For God's sake, let me go 1 Take me ^ jack to the jail!" j Again the hoarse response rose in concert? ^ "Never?never 1 We'll never let you go 1" "The blood of ray child cries to me from ai ,he ground," said Henriquez, in hissing, pantng accents. "Do you think I'll scruple to ipill yours t" g, "Murder?rapine?arson?foul guilt and pi liBhonoron every side 1 This record is yours, ioes it call for mercy now ?" cried another j, roice. ^ "Mercy?mercy!" groaned the miserable vretch. Again he was answered by vindicive yells and cries. Still the remorseless prosession went on its way. On, on, with ever Lccelerated speed to their fearful goal I It ^ ises before them at last, a solitary black ob- ^ ect standing in spectral relief againBt the ^ ^ 8fi "Bind him to it and set it on fire," shrieks ^ i voice. "Cut him limb from limb1" "Hanging's too good for him !" P' "Tear the heart out of his body!" "Silence!" commands their leader, his pow- a jrful voice rising above the maddening tu- 01 unit. "We are not a parcel of hyenas, but i T nen?we'll do our work, and we'll do it like ! le nen. Say your last prayer, Gonzales, for^g, pour hour has come." ! * * * # * j P I S1 Let us draw a curtain over the scene that followed. It vauishes from us into the dark-itr less ; a frightful picture best obscured by the a /eil of night, and buried in oblivion forever, w Just as the crowd was dispersing, two gen- a] leraen on horseback rode up. They were | ^ jteneral K?and his friend Manuel. "There seems to have been a commotion of | iome sort here," said the former, as he mark-1 w id the quickly retreating figures. "Those Si ellows have been at some wild work, or I m tm mistaken. Hallo! what is this?" gi "Good Heavens!" cried Manuel, shudder- vj og. "There has surely been an execution? "Lynch law," said the General, riding up ;o the fatal tree. But the next instant an ixclamation broke from his lips, as quickly b< -epressed, as he turned back toward his com- tt janion, who had reined up his horse a short Jj, iistance off. ec "Manuel, let us go on," he said hastily. 'You and I can do no good here!" Thus it was that the brothers, so long part- ai id, came into each other's presence once more. w But the guilty one had expiated bis guilt, si; tnd the innocent one knew it not. He did lot kntf* then, or ever afterwards, whose ^ orm iti^fia thftt.hung, a dim, unsightly obect, from the boughs of that fatal tree, as j^ifeed it on tbe road. f^nolheion next Week.) P fistofjr jr. Carolina. HISTORICAL 8KETCHES OF THE iarly Settlement of South Carolina. BY BEV. BOBEBT LATHAH, THE INVASION OF FLORIDA. During the Revolutionary war, or at least .uring the early part of it, Florida was a ilace of general rendezvous for British, toies, loyalists and Indians. Hon. John Stuart, arly in the struggle, fixed his headquarters here, and in conjunction with the loyalists of iouth Carolina and Qeorgia, he laid plans by ?hich he might serve his royal master. Shortly after the battle of Fort Moultrie, n expedition was planned for the purpose of hwarting the designs of these faithful sublets of the English government and bitter ad treacherous foes of the patriots. The xpedition was to proceed against St. Augusine. Major General Charles Lee, who was ben in command of the Southern departlent, approved of the plan, and sent out a ody of troops under Brigadier General Rob{t Howe. In the month of August, 1776, Howe eached Sunbury. The weather was excesively hot, and the preparations for the expeition bad been poorly made. Howe had no annon, and was in every other respect illy prepared to proceed further. The troops bean to sicken, and Lee was forced to abandon he undertaking. The failure of this contemplated expedition infused spirit into the toies, Indians and loyalists. In turn, they etermined to make an expedition against he Whigs. Richard Winn, in honor of rhom the county seat of Fairfield county is amed Winnsborough, bad been placed in ommand of Fort Mcintosh. This fort was milt on the north side of the Saltilla River, t was simply a stockade, one hundred feet quare, with a block house in the centre. On the 7th of February, a large body of ories and Indians made an attack upon Vinn. For two days he was successful in maintaining his ground; but on the third day, lajor-General Provost, coming up with a arge force, and renewing the attack upon the ort with energy, Winn was compelled to surender. Two of the officers were retained as ostages and sent to St. Augustine. The rest f the garrison were paroled. The surrender of Fort Mcintosh, like the ailure of the recent expedition against St. Auustine, inspired the enemies of the patriots rith confidence in themselves. Preparations re re made to invade Georgia from the south nd west. The tories of the Ninety-Six region egan to collect in bands and cross the Saannah river. The aiders and abettors of the English government in Florida, and the Inians of the West, began now to menace Saannah. The Whigs of South Carolina saw jwt-ia-thfl ?veat that Georgia, fell . into th? ands of the enemy, South Carolina would hen become a frontier State. Robert Howe was made a Major-General y the Continental Congress, and placed in ommand of the Southern army. It wasevient that unless prompt measures were resortd to, Georgia, and possibly South Carolina, rould, in a short time, be in the bands of the , nam ir T.af/va Ka/jiM nf Inufllidtfl Rrit.Uh 14Vtujt AJUlgV WVMfVW W? ?wj wawvwy >>?? | nd Indians, were collecting on the St Mary's, t. John's and at various other points, and reiforcements of British troops were daily ex- ( ected. "ITowe, notwithstanding the previous failure, | etermined to make another attempt to invade 'lorida. The exigencies of the times, it was j lought by both Howe and his military ad- | isers, demanded that this be done. Savan- | ah was made Howe's headquarters. He , ad only five hundred and fifty regulars who | ere fit for service. At Savannah, he was ( tined by the regiments of Colonels Pinckney, | tr:11: n.,11 ftornAH W Aiiofnnn ? imaiJJOuu auu jljuij* viwviuui uuuobuuuj i f Georgia, furnished three hundred and fifty lilitia. Although miserably prepared for such an speditiop, Howe was certain that he would icceed. Many circumstances conspired toether to cause him to cherish such a hope, he expedition met with the approbation of II the Whigs, both in Georgia and South arolina. Hence, Howe felt that whilst he as not fully prepared, so far as men and rmy supplies were concerned, still he bad the rmpathy of all the Whigs. In addition to this, Lieutenant-Colonel amuel Elbert, who had been stationed at ort Howe, had, but a short time before, ade an attack upon a body of the enemy at ort Oglethorpe. Although Elbert had but tree hundred men, and a small detachment f artillery, still the garrison abandoned the irt and took refuge in their boats. Amongst ;her valuables captured by Elbert was a brigatine, on board of which was three hundred uiform suits, which had been sent from harleston to Savannah, for Colonel Pinckay's regiment. These uniforms had been !nt out in the sloop Hatter, and whilst on t le way were captured by the enemy. Encourged by these circumstances, Howe ushed on to Fort Tonyn, on the St. Mary's, n the approach of Howe, the enemy fled, fter having rendered the fort useleiBs. Howe rdered all the troops to rendezvous at Fort ouyn. On his arrival at Fort Tonyn he arued that twelve hundred meu and two alleys, having on board a number of field ieces, had been sent from St. Augustine to t. John's, to operate in conjunction with the oops at that point. It was also learned from deserter that the effective ficfrce of the enemy as about fifteen hundred. In order that the rrival of the forces from St. Augustine might a anticipated, great promptness was absoitely required. Howe called a council of ar, consisting of the three Colonels from outh Carolina, Governor Houstoun and Comlodore Bowen, who was in command of a few illeys. Whatever were Howe's hopes pre- i ious to this time, they were now suddenly e lasted. I Governor Houstoun absolutely refused to j a commanded by Howe, or any one else; j le same position was taken by Colonel Wil- ? amsoo, and Bowen refused to be command- i 1 by a land officer. The success of the en- 1 rprise depended upon union of sentiment \ id promptness and energy of aotion. There t as no union of sentiment with regard to who c lould be commander-in-chief. Houstoun, r Williamson and Bowen determined to do as c tey pleased. a The army, numbering about two thousand ( en, lay around Fort TonynJpr some time, <3 rovisions were scarce, the men were exposed, t / and the country was unhealthy. Sickness set in, and the soldiers died at a fearful rate. Howe saw that it was, under the circumstances, impossible to advance; hence it was determined by the officers to retreat Pinckhey, with what remained of his regiment, returned by water to Charleston. Howe had under his command, when he set out on the expedition, about eleven hundred men. Sickness and death had reduced the number to three hundred and fifty. With these he marched to Savannah. Thus ended the second expedition against Florida. It was a complete failure. More than half the army was lost and not a gun was fired. On whom the blame should be placed for its failure, it is hard to say. At the time, General Howe was severely censured by certain individuals. Chief among these was Christopher Gadsden. In a letter written by Gadsden, the failure of the enterprise was ascribed to Howe. Howe demanded of ^ * V .1 . V 1 .1 A. 1 Lradsden eitner coat ne wouia retrace or apologize. Gadsden refused to do either, bat declared that his mind had undergone no change. Howe sent a challenge to Gadsden, which was accepted. Bernard Elliott acted as second to Gadsden, and Charles Cotesworth Pinckney acted the same part for Howe. On the 13th of August, 1778, they met near Camden and fought with pistols. The only damage sustained by either party was a scratch upon Gadsden's ear. Gadsden did not aim at Howe at all; but fired his pistol in a different direction. From all the facts in the case, it is almost certain that Houstoun and Williamson were the cause of the failure of this second attempted expedition against St. Augustine. The subsequent course of Williamson would seem to favor this conclusion. Christopher Gadsden was an impetuous man. A true patriot as he was, he no doubt censured Howe without a cause. His after course justifies this conclusion. When required to retract or apologize, he would do neither; but sfill he would not shoot at Howe. Not only so, but after the duel was over and Howe was satisfied, he and Gadsden were good friends. So far as the actual result was concerned, it matters not who was censurable; the expedition was an absolute and disastrous fail wa l i 1 1 .1 - f* ?1 .i? rr are. iiimooiqenea 07 ine rauure ui jaowe, a party of British regulars and loyalists made a raid into Georgia. The garrison at Sunbury was commanded by Lieutenant John Mcintosh. The enemy advanced toward the fort in two divisions; one commanded by Col. Fuser, and the other by Mark Prevost. Fuser sent a message to Mcintosh demanding the surrender of the fort Mcintosh's laconic reply was, "Come and take it." Fuser was nonplussed by this bold reply, and concluded that it Vas safest to let the fort alone. Fuser had in his command six hundred regulars, and could have taken the fort without much difficulty, but the defiant reply of Mcintosh chilled the ardor of his spirit. The di vision under Prevost, now strengthened by a band of tories commanded by McGrith, commenced to skirmish with the Whigs. Having abandoned the idea of capturing the fort at Sunbury, they proceeded until met by Col. Elbert, with two hundred men. Baffled in their purposes, they wheeled about and laid the country waste through which they passed. Nothing escaped them. Dwelling houses, barns and churches " " T o ; ? , ; ; , 4 were burned to ashes. Up'to this period, the war had been carried 3D mainly in the northern and middle States. More than three years had elapsed since the Brst blow had been struck for independence. Battle after battle had been fought, and the rebellion was more formidable now than ever before. It was now determined by the British to obange the field of operations. The failure of the Whigs to invade Florida, encouraged the British to hope that they might be more mccessful in the South than they had been in the North. Savannah, the capital of Georgia, was regarded the weakest point; or it may be they had not forgotten their defeat at Fort Moultrie, and hence determined to make an attack upon Savannah. Near the end of November, 1778, Sir Henry Clinton sent out Col. Campbell with more than two thousand troops, consisting of the 71st regiment, four battalions }f Provincial troops, two battalions of Heslisns, and a detachment of artillery. Sir Pear Parker accompanied these land forces with i part of the British fleet Orders were sent ;o General Prevost to march, with all his ivailable force, from Florida to Savannah., (Then the news arrived in Savannah of the approach of the British from the North under Dampbell and Parker, and of the British, lories and Indians from Florida, under Preroat, Howe was encamped at Sunburvt. He lad only about seven hundred men with which ,o meet the formidable army of the invaderj. i [mmediately, he went to Savannah and made ill the preparations the limited time would >ermit. On the 23rd of December the fleet ... ;i ? (1 i i ' i 11' ) tl t i .i I'2 ll irrived at Tybee Island. On the 29tb, the roops were landed three miles below the city. Elowe bad less than nine hundred men, whilst I he British numbered more than two thousand. By some means, Howe was mistaken' with 'egard to the actual strength of the enemy. , r? 1? J j.L_i u:? _>y some mistake ub auppuaou i,uai mo uwu , 'orce, which amounted to less than a thousand | neu, was equal to that of the enemy, or so learly so that he could defend the town. The own was almost entirely without fortifications; lence one party possessed as much advantage is the other. When Howe learned more accu ately the number of the enemy, he called a souncil of war. The British were at this moDent, forming for the attack. It was resolved )y the council that they would first fight and hen retreat if necessary. 1 In the disposition of his forces, Howe made tome blunders; or rather he omitted to station ( ;roops at important points. From the point i it which the British landed, there was a 1 jauseway with a ditch on each side. This 1 jauseway led through a swamp near half a 1 nile, and terminated on firm ground. Oppo- ( lite to the point at which the British landed, < s an eminence called Brewtoo's HUL The i gallant Colonel Albert suggested to Hove the i r ? _ r iL( )ropriety 01 eiaiiouiug a airuug turue uu ui? sminence, and offered to defend it frith hi* ! egimeot. Howe thought the posijtipnqpe of J ittle importance, believing that, the British ( vould advance directly against the town. At j he end of the causeway> Howe drew up bis < entre. Colonel Huger was placed on "his ight and Colonel Elbert on his left In front if Huger was a swamp, and on hi* flank was ' i swamp covered with trees. . At this point ' Colonel Walton was stationed with one hun- j Ired Georgians. Colonel Albert'* force ex- < ended down to the river. Captain Smith i was sent, with a few men, to defend Brewton's Hill. Howe commanded the centre himself. Abont three o'clock, the British took possession of Brewton's Hill and then formed, and advanced to within seven or eight hundred yards of the Whig lines. Here they baited and seemed to be making preparations for attacking the centre and left wing of the Americans. This, however, was only a feint Through the swamp, on Howe's right, there was an obscure path. The British learned this fact from an old negro by the name of Qnamino Dolly. Sir James Baird, with a considerable force, was ordered to pass through toe swamp, and thus gain the Americans' rear. Quamino Dolly acted aa guide, and the rear was gained. Sir James Baird attacked Walton, both on the rear and on the flank, and Colonel Campbell attacked Howe's forces in front. In a moment the American forces were thrown into confusion, and Howe ordered a retreat. The troops had to pass over Musgrove's swamp on a causeway. To keep this way open, Colonel Roberts had hastened with the artillery. The enemy were there in force as soon as Roberts. The centre and right crossed, after suffering severely; but when the left, under Col. Elbert, came up, they fonnd the way blocked. An attempt was made to escape through a rice-field, but the creek was so deep that none escaped except those who could swim. Numbers of the soldiers were drowned, and some taken prisoners. The American loss was, in killed, wounded and prisoners, five hundred and thirty-eight; the British only twenty-six. This was a sad affair. The British had now, to all appearances, a firm foothold in the South, It was enough to dishearten the brave patriots; but it did not Selling the Old Farm.?There is a constant buying and selling of farms going on. from year to year in our country. This resti?? *u? . x- A? icaoucoo uu mo pait ui tuc xai iuxji? auu vuia ucsire to change a present location for another one hundred miles off, is so frequently witnessed in our day, that we cease to wonder at it. In the time of our forefathers, when a man was settled on a farm, he commonly continued through life, and then left it for his son. In times gone by the same farm was first occupied by the grandfather, and so on by the son and grandson. Then the good old homestead was reverenced, and the occupancy was esteemed .a privilege. 'Jhere was a satisfaction felt by the successor, that his predecessor was his relative, cultivated the same fields, wandered by the same brooks, traversed the same hills, and ate of the fruit of die same orchard. Then there was a home feeling, home associations, and home attachments. Now the farmer looks more to his pecuniary gains, and when offered a large price for his mud, hesitates not to sell. He quits his beautiful home, his well cultivated acres, and emigrates to the far West, and commences a life of hardship that he never dreamed of. It can be safely said that where one man succeeds in * ? this undertaking, man? fail. If he could only sell bis new farm, how gladly would he hie back to the old home now occupied by strangers, and the enclosure containing the craves of his kindred going to ruin. J With the advent of spring many will dispose of their farms and remove to a far off country to undergo the privations and troubles incident upon establishing a home in a new country. Our advice is to remain where you are; if you are comfortably off, be content to remain so; do not exchange a certainty for an uncertainty, unless powerful reasons are brought to bear upon you to seek a new settlement in a distant region. 8tick to the old farm, for it has never faded you in the time of need. 11 The Wonders op Wooing.?-In olden times it was the fashion of a suitor to go down on his knees to a lady when he asked her to become his wife,'which, with very stout gen tlemen, was an uncomfortable proceeding. The way in which Daniel Webster proposed to Miss Fletcher was more modern, being at the same time neat and poetic, t: Like many other lovers he was caught holding a skein of thread or wool which the lady had been unravelling. "Grade," said he, "we have been nntying knots. Let us see if we cannot tie one which will not untie in a lifetime.".. With a piece of tape he fashioned half a true lover's knot, Miss Fletcher perfected it, and a kiss put the seal to the symbolical bargain. .1 ;u . Most men, when they "pop" by writing, are more straightforward and matter-of-fact. Richard Steele wrote to the lady of his heart: "Dear Mrs. Scurlock fthere were no misses in those days,) X am tirea of calling you by that name; therefore, say a day when you will take that of madam. Your devoted, humble servant, Richard Steele." She fixed the day accordingly, and Steeled her name instead of her heart to the suitor. The well-known brothers, Jacob and William Grimm, were exceedingly attached to each other, and had no desire to be married. But it was thought proper by their friends that one of them should become a husband, and Jacob being the elder, it was agreed that he should be the one to enter the bonds of matrimony. A suitable lady was found, but Jacob declined to do the courting,-requesting William to act as his agent. William consented, but soon found, he was in love, and wanted the lady himself. He could not think, however, of depriving his brother of such a treasure, and knew not how to act. An aunt kindly delivered him of his difficulty by telling Jacob, who willingly resigned the damsel to his brother, and went out of the way until she bad been made Mrs. William Grimm. -How to Hang Pictures.?No picture ought to be hung higher than the height of the average human eye when the owner of the eye is standing. It is the almost uhiver sal rale in our bouses to hang pictures much above this level, and they cannot be enjoyed there. If the picture is a portrait, or if it have human faces in it, its eves should look as nearly into ours, as possible; and if there be no such simple guide, perhaps a good rule will be to have the line tnat divides the picture horizontally into equal parts level with the eye. If one starts in hanging pictures with the determination to place them so that they can be easily seen and enjoyed without Btretching the neck the least, or stooping the body, he will be pretty sure to do well In remote farm-houses and country taverns we often see pictures, particularly portraits, skyed as high as if their owners had been Acadamy Hangers, and the painters young rivals of a new school I suppose the reason is that the simple-hearted owners think a picture mch a precious thing it can't be hung too securely out of. the reach of meddling hands. They are often not clear in their mindsas to what a picture is meant for, and not finding in it any practical relation to human life and society, thev treat it with reverence, and putit where it will disturb them as little as possible. But,as people come to enjoy pictures, and get jome intellectual spiritual nourishment out )f them", they want tbem as they want their books, where they cansee them and use tbem. the foundations of solid piety are not Laid,hetimeB in sound principles and virtuous dispositions?if we neglect, while strength and rigor last, to lay up something ere the infirmties of age overtake us?it is a hundred to >ne odds that we shall die both poor and pricked*