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lewis m. obist, proprietor.! Jjalttjptat Jfamilo BctospajKr: Jfor tjtt ^promotion of t(jo political, Social, ^.gritaliaral anb Comntfrtial Jntmsfs of f|t Soaf|. TERMS?$3.00 A TEAR, IN ADVANCE. "VOL. 22. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MARCH 16, 1876. NO. 11. Jto Original Jfarg. A THRILLING STORT OF WESTERN LIFE. BY MRS. HENRY IDEAS. CHAPTER XXI. When Picciola returned to her mistress, she had feared to impart to her the probability of Raymond still beiDg alive, and of his speedy return to her, lest her information might prove incorrect, and the consequent grief and disappointment be greater than Esther could bear. The latter asked no questions in regard to the subject, not supposing that Picciola would be able to answer them ; and so absorbed was she in the delight of her child's restoration to her, that for the time all other considerations seemed banished from her mind. The kind-bearted Mariana and her old fathom akarttf] the inv nf the beautiful Seflora. in whose welfare they had come to take so deep ' an interest And in her new-found happiness, Esther opened her heart more freely to the former than she had ever done before, quite delighting the good woman, who had __ been troubled all along by the exceeding reserve her guest had always displayed toward her. * It seemed as though Esther could not bear to trust her newly-restored treasure for a moment out of her sight Morning and night she watched over him, scarcely able to close her eyes in sleep for the excitement of her still scarcely-realized bliss. In the evening, when he fell asleep, she and Picciola sat together by his basket-bed, feasting their eyes upon him as he lay in his dimpled beauty among his pillows, all unconscious of the strange perils through which he had so lately passed, talking, meanwhile, low and softly, over the many events which had so stirred up their lives, and of the probable future which lay before them. On the second evening after Picciola's return, while sitting thus, the noise of horses' feet approaching the house was beard. Esther turned pale, for she was quick now to apprehend danger, and instinctively drew nearer to little Paul, as if to afford him protection ; but riccioias neart Deat oign r/icn tne suaden hope of good tidings at hand. Directly after, voices were heard below, and then there came a knock at the door, and Mariana, putting her head cautiously in, mysteriously beckoned to Picciola and whispered something to her. "Who is it?what is it ?" asked Esther, nervously; but Picciola only gave her a quick, bright glance, and vanished without replying. A few moments passed, that seemed like ages to the anxious mother, as she sat, still cherishing an undeBned fear, while a silent prayer trembled on ber lips. Then the door re-opened, and Picciola, quickly entering, knelt at her feet and threw her armB on her face. "Sefiora?dear Sefiora!" she said, in an agitated voice, "I have good news for you?can you bear to hgar it ?' Esther trembled violently, but had found no words to reply, when a second step was heard outside the chamber-door?and Picciola crying out, "He has come !" sprang and ran to open it. As a tall form appeared on .1-- .1 1? i j - i i e T IQB turesuuiu, a imut buiibil uiuilc huuj xjbther's lips ; and in another instant she was clasped in her husband's arras. Who can portray the ecstasy of that reunion ? To the long-bereaved wife it seemed like a dream ; the bliss was too great to be real. But as she clung to Raymond and looked in his face, and listened to the farailar tones of his voice, the comprehension of his actual return forced itself upon her, and broken sobs and tears burst from her heart, overcharged as it was with the burden of a joy too exquisite to find relief in any other way. "Oh I Paul, my own Paul; but how ill, how worn you look. You are changed?you have suffered," she cried, as she marked how thin and pale he had grown. "Suffered 1 Could it be otherwise ? But, dear love, we will talk now only of happiness. I will tell you all my story afterward. You too, my Esther, are changed. These months of; separation have told as heavily on you as on me. Now Heaven has restored us to each other, we never will part any more, on this side the grave! And now show me our child. You know I have never yet seen him. Where is he ?" "Here," said Esther, and hand in hand they approached the cradle and bent over the sleeping child. Tears of unspeakable emotion filled Raymond's eyes and fell upon the brow of his baby-boy, as he pressed his lips upon the little fair face in one long, silent kiss. Happiness too mighty for utterance choked his voice, and seemed to bring a glimpse of Heaven itself to his heart. When the first agitation of the meeting was sufficiently abated to allow them to think and speak with some degree of calmness, Raymond remembered General K?, who had accompanied him, and was now waiting below. The kind old soldier, full of satisfaction at this joyful consummation of events, was in no wise impatient of the long delay to which he was subjected, but whiled away the time in a chat with Mariana, who was filled with admiration of hia appearance, his courteous manner, and the fluency with which he conversed with her in her own language. He was not the less pleased, however, when Raymond and Esther came down together, and the latter, holding his hand in both of hers, thanked him in a tremulous voice, and with a grace aod simplicity of manner that sprang from the deep earnestness of her heart, for the part he had taken in saving her husband from his enemies, and restoring the vanished happiness to her life. A warm and close friendship sprang up thenceforth between them, which was destined to last through all the coming years of their intercourse. The General's interest in both Raymond and herself was already vividly aroused, through the circumstances which had led to his knowledge of them, and it never afterward diminished, but increased and strengthened as years went on, and time and opportunity afforded them all a more ample knowledge of each other's characters, and drew closer the tie already established between them. On the following day, Raymond and his family returned to their home in the valley. With what different feelings did Esther now enter it, from those with which she had looked upon it, as she turned back to utter her last .adieu I Then, her heart had been borne down with the weight of a hopeless grief; now it bounded with renewed and increased delight, v and a sense of overpowering thankfulness for a the blessings which had been lavished upon h her. a She was greatly shaken, however, by a re- to cital of the various startling occurrences con- a nected with the career of her dreaded, but now & powerless foe, whose true name and station tl were for the first time made known to her, h though giving her as yet no insight to the re- t< lation they bore to the welfare and interests of ft her orphan charge. Raymond used every ef- f( fort, by turning her attention to all the de- o tails oftheir domestic life, to divert her mind from annoying and distressing thoughts, and a as time passed on, and they gradu illy return- f< ed to the quiet daily routine of existence, she tl ceased to dwell upon the past, and the sooth- * inc influence of her surroundings restoicd the p ~o - . . peace and tranquility of her feelings, whiwk I E had been so rudely broken, and so long marred o by a continuance of misfortune and anxiety, d It seemed as though they had gone through S sufficient excitement and agitation for a life- je time, and unbroken calm in the future was a the most desirable thing on earth; but the list b of their startling experiences was destined to t1 be still added to, in a manner less disastrous, ^ yet as wonderful and unexpected as before. w Some weeks had elapsed, during which p General K? had been absent in Spain, on the h visit which he had spoken of in anticipation p to Raymond. Events had been brought to o light of a deeply important nature, affecting r< alike the interests and future of persons hitherto kept widely apart, but soon to be drawn ^ together by a common tie. | It was a bright day in early winter when ^ the General, accompanied by hiB friend Sefior Gonzales, now restored to* the enjoyment of liberty, and to the full confidence and esteem ? of his fellow-countrymen, made his appearance at the Raymonds' house, and received, it is needless to say, a warm welcome, which was also extended, for his sake, to his companion. After some preliminary conversation on general subjects, the General, in an earnest man- 81 ner, announced that he was the bearer of a 0 communication of importance, relating to his friend now present, and also to a member of 1 the household whom he did not see among a them at that moment?the orphan Picciola. 81 "Picciola 1" was echoed in surprise from the fcl lips of both Raymond and his wife. ^ "Yes, Picciola," replied the General. "You will be doubtless surprised to learn that her n true parentage has been at last discovered, ^ and is of a very different nature from that 61 which it has been hitherto supposed to be." "Did not I say so ?" exclaimed Esther. "I u always knew she must be superior to the class ^ she was taken from! But tell us quickly, r* General?who is she, and where is she from ?" , tl "She is a scion of one of the first and oldest families in Spain," was the reply. "Indubitable proof has been received, through careful * investigation, of the reality of this fact, and of identity with the child sent away, fourteen v years'agflrjtbm The pflson Where she was'oorn," to be placed in an orphan asylum, after her . mother's death, her father being confined for an indefinite term of years for a supposed crime. For all these long years, that father, tC unjustly deprived of his liberty, has languish- 01 ed in those prison walls that witnessed the death of his wife and his parting from his n child?the little girl herself being also report- c< ed dead : but in reality hidden away in an ob- * scure retreat, far from her home, in charge of n some pretended relatives, with whom she grew P up igDorant of her name and birth. You will have no difficulty, my friends, in crediting the w truth of my statement, when I tell you that " her father is here to answer for it himself." The eyes of Paul and Esther were simulta- a neously turned upon Manuel, who, pale with emotion, had risen from his seat, and was standing before them. "It is all true," he said, rapidly, in Spanish, J turning first to one and then the other, and ^ speaking in eager, excited tones. "The child zi you have so generously befriended iB my own? al ray only and long-lost daughter, whom I have 01 mniimoil <?a rWH those manv vears. Mav I 01 UlUIUMVX ? J ! - ?1 not see her?will you not bring her to me, now? Astonishment, mingled at first with what ^ was almost incredulity at this unexpected 1C news, seemed to hold bis listeners spell-bound. ^ But the General, quickly bringing to their u notice a few conclusive facts, which settled ^ the matter, beyond dispute, in their minds, ai put an end to the uncertainty and hesitancy w in Esther's movements, and with a heart beat- C( ing with strangely conflicting emotions, she went in quest of Picciola, who was taking m charge of little Paul, in the garden, at the rear of the house. n "Go in the parlor?you are wanted," was all she could find voice to utter. And Piccio- S: la, reading unusual excitement and agitation S in her manner, hurried in, not without appre* T hension, to discover the meaning of the sum- h mons. Manuel started forward, with uncon- c< trollable eagerness, as she entered. He would have clasped her in his arras, but the Gener- w al, gently restraining him, took Piceiola's ! p hand, and briefly told her the whole story. 11( The young girl listened as if petrified. At | w first she could not comprehend the reality of j tl what she heard, and her dark eyes turned ap- J sj pealingly, from one to the other of the faces | A around her, resting at last, with a wistful gaze j ? on that of the new-found father, from whom I a 7 I . she had been so many years parted that her j is childish memories of him had long since fa- j tl ded into indistinctness, and his image had be- i ri come but a shadow to her mind. But when ' b Manuel, drawing her close to him, poured out i u in broken words his joy at finding her, and u pleaded with her for her confidence and love, S the conviction of the truth seemed to dawn tl upon her, and faltering out his name, she re- j tl turned his embrace with tears. The obscure d orphan, dependent on the bounty of friends, d was now transformed into a descendent of the nobilttyof a country which prides itself upon tl the "blue blood" flowing in the veins of its tl aristocratic sons, and the heiress of an almost: V princely fortune; but it was long ere she ! a could fully comprehend the total change of T her position. Her first thoughts, indeed, were a those of sorrow at the idea of parting from her t< beloved Sefiora; but when relieved on this . K point, by the information that it was her fath-1 er's intention to establish himself in her; li adopted country, as his own was invested with G too many painful associations to make hiB re- C turn to it desirable, she could yield her mind w more freely to the consideration of all that a) was before her, and to a fuller appreciation of ti her good fortune. ? Years have passed since then ; Sefior Gon- fii zales holds an influential position in Califor- st nia, and turns his wealth to the profit and ad- c< ancement of the State whose interests he has lade identical with his own. His life, which e once thought forever blighted, is chc.j?d nd gladdened by the affection of his daughsr, who has never left him, though her beauty nd her fortune have won for her the address3 of several of the sons of our soil. None of tiem 6nd favor in her eyes. It is rumored, owever, that a Spanish gentleman who is ofm a guest at her father's house iB a successjl claimant to her regard, though it remains )r time to prove whether the report is correct r not. Paul Raymond and his wife live near them, nd between the two families the waribest afjction subsists. Manuel has effectualy aided se former in carrying out many schemes 'hich, without his aid, would have been imracticable; and Raymond is now a rich man. [e talks sometimes of taking his wife and son q a visit to their eastern friends, but so weded are they to their home in the "Golden tate," that it seems doubtful when this proset will be carried into execution. Uocle and unt Pembroke are both alive, and a toleraly regular correspondence is maintained beween tbem and tbeir absent niece; but not'ithstanding the accounts of the good fortune 'hich the latter enjoys, aunt Lizzie cannot be ersuaded that she has not wofully sacrificed er life, and always speaks of her with comassion, as of one cut off, irretrievably, by her wn rash act, from all the enjoyment of the sfined and civilized world. ^ [The End.] fistorg of J>. Carolina. "historical sketches " OK THE !arly Settlement of South Carolina. BY BEV. BOBEBT LATHAH. THE WAR IN GEORGIA. The fall of Savannah was followed by the irrender of Sunbury. In order to join Col el Campbell, General Prevost left St. Auustine about the time that Campbell sailed om Sandy Hook. His army consisted of bout two thousand men, together with a nail artillery force. It was a mixed multilde of British regulars, savage Indians and >ries, who had fledfrom South Carolina and feorgia. On the sixth of January, Prevost jached Sunbury. Major Lane was in comtand of the American forces at that point, [is force was not one-tenth of that of the iemy. Still, when Prevost demanded an nconditional surrender, Lane, withoul hesiincy, refused to comply. Prevost placed his >rces in order and commenced to open upon le fort with his cannon. Lane saw at once it. was nttflrlr imDossible. with two hunvJ red men, most of whom were militia, to ithstand the force of the enemy. After he ad lost in killed, one Captain and three priates, and seven wounded, Lane agreed to mnaiidwi tiling faU iato ie enemy. Two American galleys lay in thfe ver. These the crews took to Assabaw Isind and there burned them, and attempted ) escape in a sloop to Charleston, but were iptured and brought back to Savannah. To all human appearances Georgia was lined. The whole territory of the State was impletely in the power of the British. Flush1 with victory, and no doubt confident of nal success, the officers of the royal army roceeded, without delay, to establish civil overnment in Georgia. Cruelty was mingled ith lenitv. The Drisoners held bv the ene ly were crowded in the ships where they ied; some of disease, but more of neglect od hunger. Commodore Hyde Parker acti the part of a vile monster. Wives and aughtera, whilst pleading for mercy in bealf of their husbands and fathers, were viler insulted, and the dead were thrown into le swamps to be devoured by dogs and buzirds. Colonel Campbell was more lenient, od his policy was more injurious to the cause f the Americans and more favorable to that f his royal master. Loyalists flocked by ie hundreds to the British standard, and the rdor of some, who before had been regarded 3 staunch Whigs, began to cool. This was, i fact, "the time that tried men's souls." [any of those brave men who had fought nder Moultrie at Sullivan's Island, bad left leir bones in Florida ; others were prisoners, nd the remnant of that noble little band ere hotly pursued by a foe exulting on ac)unt of their misfortunes. Campbell was commanded, by Prevost, to tarch in the direction of Augusta, that he light be joined by thetories of South Carolia. Military posts were established in the inirior, and agents were sent into the Ninetyix region to urge the loyalists to arm themlives and assist in crushing out the rebellion, his was joyful news to the loyalists. They ad been quiet for a long time only from nejssity and policy. General Robert Howe was ruined. He as unable to do any thing to impede the rogress of the enemy, or to awe and keep the )rie8 in subjection. General Elbert, together ith Colonels Twiggs and Few, attempted to lwart the plans of Colonel Campbell, but in site of all their efforts Campbell reached LUgusta on the twenty-ninth of January. tere he found the noted loyalists, Brown nd Lieutenant Colonel McGrith of the Brith army. Brown was placed in charge of le garrison stationed at Augusta. The toies, both from North and South Carolina, had een collecting in great numbers under Coloel Boyd. A body of eight hundred tories, nder Boyd, collected in the western part of ?...u n ! UULii vaiunua, tuaituc<i aiuug tuc nuunci ui ie State, plunderiDg and destroying everyling within their reach and barbarously murering every one who dared to object to their epredations. Georgia, and in fact the western section of ie up-country of South Carolina, was beneath ie heel of the invading foe. Many of the irhigs of Georgia crossed over th? Savannah nd found temporary relief in South Carolina, 'he British and Tories burned their houses nd destroyed their property. Many, unable > get away, took the oath of allegiance to the [ing. We are not to conclude that the cause of berty was abandoned by all the people of leorgia and the adjacent region of South 'arolina. There were several partisan leaders ho watched the movements of the enemy, nd were only waiting for a favorable opporinity to pounce down upon him. Colonels llbert, Dooly, Clark and Pickens, were in the eld. They were determined to dispute every ?p of the enemy's progress and ma'ke his rejnt victories as worthless as possible. Major Hamilton, a vigilant soldier under Colonel McGrith, had made his headquarters at Carr's Fort. This position he had chosen as convenient, both for himself and the surrounding country, for the purpose of administering the oath of allegiance. Pickens and Dooly united their forces and determined to < besiege Hamilton. They succeeded in cutting off the supply of water from the garrison, and everything was favorable for a speedy 1 surrender ; but about ten o'clock on the night J of the 10th of February, 1779, Pickens re- ' ceived a dispatch from his brother, stating 1 that the tory, Colonel Boyd, was on his way I toward the Savannah river. < Pickens thought it important to meet Boyd i as soon as possible. Fort Carr was full of ' women and children who bad fled thither for ' safety. Pickens, not wishing to jeopardize the 1 lives of these, raised the siege and proceeded 1 A? ? ? AwnaoA/1 fkn Qotronnak 1 j MJ LUC til JUUJTU. XUOJ IIVWGU bue uafHuuuu near where ?road river empties into it, oppo- ] site the present county of Abbeville. Boyd j hearing of the approach of Pickens and Dooly, , hastened up his march and crossing the river . on rafts, continued his march in the direction of AugUBta. He was pursued by Captain An- * derson, who overtook him in a canebrake. 1 Boyd lost about one hundred men, whilst the i Americans, under Captain Anderson, lost j only thirty. . This was very encouraging to the Whigs, and frightened Boyd and his Tory band. He now quickened his gait, and on the morning 1 of the thirteenth of February crossed Broad I river in what is now Oglethorpe county, Geor- t gia. Pickens, Clark and Dooly were in his \ wake, but he seems to have been ignorant of j the fact. The American force numbered only . three hundred. On the 14th of February, Boyd, glad that he was out of tho reach, as ( he thought, of the troublesome Whigs, halted < on Kettle Creek. The horses were turned out | a nitmkAM finn Knncno wKinK , ! ku jjiakc, auu a uuuiuci ui uuu uwius nuiwu , be and his men bad stolen, were driven np ( and slaughtered. The men were busily en- ] gaged in preparing a bountiful meal. In this condition the Whigs fell upon them. Pickens 1 commanded the centre, Dooley the right wing, 1 and Clark the left wing. On the approach of I the Whigs, Boyd's pickets fired and fled to ] the camp. In a moment all was in the great- j est state of confusion. Boyd and his men ( began to retreat, or rather to run in disorder. The battle lasted about two hours. Boyd was 1 mortally wounded, and seventy-five of his I followers lay dead on the ground, and about I the same number were taken prisoners. The < rest fled in every direction. The Americans lost, in killed and wounded, thirty-two. The Tory prisoners were taken to South Carolina, ^ and there tried for high treason and condemned ; but only five, who were regarded as 1 the mostdesperate of the gang, were executed. ' This was the beginning of a series of evils I which ended in the total ruin of the Tories and i their cause. It made them timid. They saw ( that there were men who would dare to dgbt , and capture them, and then condemn and hang them for high treason, notwithstanding the presence of the British troops in the State. ^Things began now to assume a different aspect. The Tories were dispirited and the Whigs were encouraged. From the beginning of the Revolutionary war there was no concert among the Tories in action, and no ability to endure reverses. The contrary was true respecting ttie w Mgl! It was the intention of the British, when Colonel Campbell was first sent to Savannah, to procceed northward in the conquest of the country. It was known, that so soon as it was thought practicable, the State of South Carolina would be invaded. General Lincoln had been placed in command of the Southern army. His headquarters were at Purysburg. Troops had been collecting in the region of South Carolina, near Augusta. Generals Ashe and Rutherford were in South Carolina at this time. The former was with Lincoln at Purysburg with fifteen hundred men, and the latter was stationed at Black Swamp, a few miles above Ebenezer creek. Rutherford was in command of seven hundred men. Gen. Williamson was encamped with about twelve hundred men, on the South Carolina side of the Savannah, nearly opposite Augusta. Lincoln was anxious to strike the enemy whilst his troops were fired with zeal, on account of his discomfiture of the tories under Boyd. To effect this design, he ordered Gen. Ashe, with his North Carolina militia and what troops remained of the Georgia Conti nentals, to march from Purysburg and rein- e force General Williamson. It so happened f that General Ashe arrived at General Williarason's camp on the evening of the 13th of February. The battle of Kettle Creek took place the next day. The arrival of Ashe and o the news of the defeat of Boyd, induced Colo- c nel Campbell to break up his camp at Augus- a ta. He was evidently alarmed. The evi- j dence of this was the fact that he left a large f amount of his provisions, amunition and some of his arms. About fifty miles below Augus- E ta he baited and seemed as if it was his intention to make a stand. This, however, he t did not do, but continued his march to Sa- i vannah. t On the 16th of February, General Lincoln ^ sent an order to General Ashe to pureue Colonel Campbell as far as Brier Creek. On the E 25th, General Ashe crossed the river, and two v days after reached Brier Creek. He found n that Colonel Campbell had destroyed the v bridge over this stream. General Rutherford c toas encamped about five miles above, on the opposite side of the Savannah. Col. Marbury, with a few Georgia cavalry, was posted a 8 few miles up Brier Creek. Ashe's forces ^ amounted to less than two thousand men. g Having given direction for the forming of his a camp, Ashe crossed the Savannah river, for 8 the purpose of consulting General Lincoln. On the 5th of March he returned and was disappointed to find the bridge over Brier Creek not repaired. Hands were set to work r upon it with all possible speed, but it was too & late. t A despatch from General Williamson an- t nounced the fact that General Prevost had t crossed Brier Creek and had already gained a the rear of General Ashe. Prevo&t had made a circuitous route, and, unobserved, gained his object. In a deplorably unpre- 8 pared condition, the American forces were E attacked and routed. The .North Uaroliua t troops fled at the first fire. The whole army <j soon become panic struck and fled in every E direction. Some rushed to the Savannah g river, over which some swam, others crossed on rafts, and many were drowned. The gal- ? lant General Elbert and many of his men * were taken prisoners. The American loss in r officers was very great. The total loss of the n Americans in men was one hundred and fifty t killed and drowned, and oue hundred and j ninety taken prisoners. The British lost only sixteen men. Nearly all the artillery, provision, ammunition and baggage of the Americans, together with five hundred stand r of arms, fell into the hands of the British, or a were lost. n The real loss to the cause of the Americans a cannot be estimated. Both Carolinas were now opened up to the inroads of Indians from the West, and Indians and tories from ' Florida. In this unfortunate affair there e were a number of men from York county, n Only a few of them escaped. | At the time General Ashe was severely censured, and even court-martialed on account of his conduct at Brier Creek. He was acquitted of the charge of cowardice and * inability,' but censured for a want of vigilance. 11 Things were now in a worse condition than A when Savannah fell. s i ?hr ^totg Written for the Yorkvllle Enquirer. VINCE BLACK, A STORY OF UPPER SOUTH CAROLINA. In the latter part of the summer of 1851, my business led me to make a tour through t je middle and upper sections of South Carolina. I had two objects in view! The?one was to recruit my health ; and the other was io look out some spot where there were few lisadvantages and many advantages. Really, [ was not sick; but I had spent the previous part of the year in idleness, and had become tired of the occupation. My surroundings were such that I could get into no business at borne, and I determined to take a trip for, I may say, no other purpose than simply finding a home. The only piece of property which I possessed was a horse. I had but little money, and, consequently, could not travel by public conveyance. Making a virtue of necessity, and having bid an adieu to ?"? f?ion/lo T mnnntail mxr tinraa And baI. nut 1UJ uiguugj JL UtVUUWU UIJ UVI uw ww? WW | For, I did not know where; nor did I care a great deal. From the outset, it was my fixed determination to make the trip as profitable as possible. I did not contemplate earning any actiial cash; but it was my purpose to travel as Far as I could, and see all that was to be seen For as little money as possible. Having often leard that politeness and gentlemanly coniuct would come nearer supplying the place )f money than anything else, I determined to but the matter fairly to the teat. I treated ivery one courteously with whom I came in contact. Like the ancient Scythians, I stopped ny day's march wherever night came upon ne. I asked politely, but not beggingly, for antertainment for the night, under the humble roof of the poor man or in the stately balls of the rich planter. I invariably asked For my bill in the morning, and, strange as it nay seem, I was uniformly told "nothing," or nrhich amounted tp the same thing, "If ever pou pass this way again, call and I will tell frou then." The weather was pleasant, and I imrwpH t.hfi frin finplv ' j "j ? -r j An hour before sundown, on Tuesday the L8fh of November, I baited at the gate of a aeat but unpainted farm house. The road ran round one side and end of the dwelling louse. There was something very remarkable about the appearance of the place. There were two gates by which the premises were sntered, and a stranger was at a loss to decide which was the front gate. Near one of the ;ates stood a house, which I at first took to be the dwelling of a family of negroes, but it turned out that I was mistaken. It was the jook kitchen. I was in some doubt as to what I should do. I hesitated for some time whether I would halloo to the inmates of the louse, or go on. I was in a kind of dread cat I should be found ballooiug sfttre"wrong ride of the house. Soon, however, to my ;reat relief, two little gi ' evidently sisters, *an out of the house into the yard, to a point iut a few rods from where I was seated upon ny horse. Here they began to arrange somehings in a play house. Intensely engaged in -i? ..I?. ? ? T lion piajr, tucj uiu uuii uuoomo iuo. x vanou o them aud asked if their father was at iome. Promptly, the larger one, about ten rears old, replied, "He is in the bottoms lauling corn; but will be at home in a short ime." I then asked if her mother was at iome. "Yes," was the prompt reply; "she is n the kitchen helping Aunt Rose to get sup>er." Whilst this conversation was going on, a ;entleman made his appearance at a short listance. "Father is coming now. I will go ind tell him to come here," said thesame litle girl. Away darted both to meet the faber, who on being met by bis children, quickned up his gait and was soon in my presmce. After the usual salutations, F asked or lodging for myself and horse for the light Without a moment's hesitation, he called mt, in a loud tone, for bis little daughter to ome aud open the gate for me. "The hands re all in the field, and when I am traveling, want to either feed my own horse or see him ed." This was the only reply that he gave oe to my request to spend the night with him. With a genuine hospitality, but without he least semblance of formality, he led me ntn the Int.. alicrhtad frnm hia horse and came o take the saddle off mine. I thaoked him or his kindness, but insisted on doing this yself. I was'then pointed to the well, near phich was a trough, from which I could give ay horse water. I was shown a stable in vhich to put my horse, and pointed to the orn pile in the lot from which to procure whatever corn my horse might require. So oon as the work of staoling and feeding my ioree was done, my host said, "we will now ;o to the house and have supper. I make it > rule, "said he," to eat my breastfast just at un-up; my dinner at twelve, and supper at un-down." We walked up a slight elevation and soon cached the house; not at the front side, but ,t the back. The house was elevated above he ground some six feet, and the ground on he back side of the house was sloping; hence he ascent into the house on that side was by , flight of some ten steps. As soon as we ntered the house, my host turned round, and taring me directly in the face, asked me for my tame. I gave it without a moment's hesitaion. I had not as yet learned his name, nor lid he give me time to make the inquiry, for 10 sooner did I tell him my name, than he, in , very polite manner, asked me to walk into T i:..i J e : .L.. upper, x was a nine agiuiieu, m&nug iunt , a stranger, would be taken into the dining oom and nonplus his wife. It was but a uoment, and we were in the dining room in he presence of his wife and the two little girls had but recently seen in the front yard. The wife, a good-looking lady of perhaps orty, was seated at the bead of the table diectly facing ub as we walked in, and on eaeh ide of her was one of the little girls. The aoment we entered the door both the lady nd the little girls, with a grace and dignity rhich I did not think could exist in the back roods, rose from their seats and directed their yes toward the gentleman by whose comaand I had been ushered into their presence, le having filed to the right and then facing oward me said, in a very gentlemanly tone of oice, "Mr. Johnston, allow me to introduce ou to my wife, Mrs. Potter." I was then atroduced to the two little girls as Jane and ilary. Mrs. Potter then pointed me to a eat, and Mr. Potter having aitked a blessing upon the bounties provided for our nourishment, the meal was dispatched in regular th planter-style. After supper we were seated?all of us?in pr a large room in which was burning a cheerful of fire. My host, whose name I had learned to be Potter, I soon discovered to be a great th talker, and also a man of extensive informa- mi tion. Various subjects were brought up and da discussed. It was in the days of secession wl and cooperation, and political questions were on discussed with warmth by every body in in South Carolina. There were no harsh words su spoken, for my host seemed to be on his guard th lest he would mortify my feelings; not know- ca ing whether I was a secessionist, cooperation- ea ist, or what I was. The time passed away th pleasantly and, to me at least, profitably. About an hour after supper some one ne knocked at the door. "Come in," was the in answer given to the call by Mr. Potter. A in boy, apparently about ten years old, opened th the door and walking up to the fire, was sa- ra luted by the family under the name of Vinee. th After beiDg seated for only a few moments, he do made known his business to Mr. Potter and Vi then bade the family an adieu and retired. ve Turning to me, my host said: T1 "Did you see that boy, Mr. Johnston?' I p? replied that I did. m< "Did you see anything peculiar about him ?" "Nothing very particular." "Well, sir, that boy is to be pitied and ^ feared." ha My curiosity was now fairly aroused, and I of asked, with no small degree of interest, what ex was remarkable about the history of the boy 00 "I tell yon, sir, that boy is just as much like m< his father as one human being can be like. &Q | another. I am sorry for the child. He can fB] not help it, but I am filled with fears and mj anxieties every time he comes to the house, as I have no objection to rendering any assistance de in^my power to his distressed mother. She is a good woman. I am sorry that she was ever 0 so silly as to marry that boy's father." gjt My host was evidently excited, and I must toi own I felt that there must be something trag* dil ical about either the boy or his father, or la< perhaps both. I was impatient to hear the tale, be it what it might, and asked who the gj boy was. . tk "That boy's name is Vince Black. That we was his father's name, and although I have in no desire to have the name perpetuated, still ha that boy is rightly called Vince Black, for of he is the very image of his father. Did you look at his face T" he asked. Pj I replied that I did not particularly exam* fr( ine it. ch< "It is," he continued) "a strange face, and tw vountr Vince's face is the very Dicture of old w? J O V Vince's. It seems to combine all the cunning of the fox, the ferocity of a hungry ?P wolf, and the courage of a lion. That was just the kind of a man old Vince Black was. * J He was more sly than a fox, more ferocious jj than a wolf, and nothing could scare him." of Mrs. Potter saw that I was greatly interest- 8t< ed in the conversation of her husband, but a? unable to get him to state the facts upon ^ which he based his conclusion. To relieve ^ me of my anxiety, she asked her husband to give me a history of Vince Black. At the tal suggestion of his wife, Mr. Potter began: Tt "Old Vince Black, the father of the boy 001 who came in here a few moments agfr, was born in this community about the year ^ 1 1806. Hence, you see, that were he living at this time, he would be onlv about forty-five for years old, In the community he is called sig "Old Vioce," in order to distinguish him from ' bis son, who sustains the same name, and 7?' more particularly on account of his most int - am famous crimes. aft "His parents were in moderate circumstan- 8je ces. By this I mean that they were not what the is usually called rioh. Still, they were by no fin means poor. His father was the owner of a farm of considerable size and of most excellent quality. He also possessed several slaves ^ and a reasonable amount of the comforts of wjj life. This was notall. Vince Black's father He and grand-father, both by his father and soc mother, were respectable. It was always said in that there were some of the stock that turned ' out badly. When Vince was growing up, he Jh was regarded as a smart boy, and in order to ^ give him all the advantages of education, his Q0 father sent him off to school. Some said it yf] was the intention of his father to prepare him tbi for one of the learned professions. When on< Vince was only about sixteen his father died, fr0 and soon after his mother. They had but two m children?Vince and a sister two years older .1 tbfliD be. "The property left by the father, at his death, jDg was, by his will, to remain undivided during chi his wife's life time, at which time it was to be sot equally divided between Vince and his sister. Vince had just arrived at the years of legal manhood when he was put in full possession ** of his estate. His sister had married but a 0f few months before. < "The educational advantages which Vince gei had enjoyed, and the fact that he was in full possession of a home and several hands un- ??c incumbered with debt, caused him to be regarded as a young man of some importance. ^jQ At that time he was thought to be a young ^h man without any bad habits. With a fair ter name, and, withal a good address, he gained sto admittance into the first families in the neigh- 8^( borhood. Finally he married the daughter 0J*( of Colonel Morgan. The Colonel was, it was whispered, not altogether satisfied with the yel .1 i? a ii_ ii Li. % . maicn, uui toe ueiguuurs geuenuijr luuu^ut qj that be was doing very well in getting Vince 1 Black for a son-in-law. dew "Not long after the marriage of Vince Black *b and Colonel Morgan's daughter, it became a matter of common talk in the neighborhood that Vince Black bad gone to gambling. He ren was often away from home. Sometimes he ? would be gone for several weeks, and on one Bli occasion he was absent from home for two not months. No one, not even his wife, knew anything about him. Thus things continued for a period of four years. His wife never ^ complained, but it was evident to ail that she a ^ was dying by inches. Finally, Vince left and dai never did return. His wife still remained on the the place, but it had passed pot of Vince's the possession into that of Colonel Morgan. 'jj6 "Where Vince went, or whatfceflfttt doing, je no one ever heard until witbin the last month. , It seems that having quitted this region, be ^he went to the West where, by adroit words Hki and actions, be succeeded in marrying the coc daughter and only child of a rich widow la- ^ dy. Here lie planned and executed a crime ^ too shocking to relate." , Here Mr. Potter seemed as if he wonld , stop; but his wife again requested bim to exi complete the story. bis "I fear our friend is already tired of the ing, and I will leave it off," he said. "No, I am not tired," said I; "and if it is oper, I would be glad to hear the remainder Vince Black's history." "Well, then," continued Mr. Potter, "in e community in the West in which Vince &rried, there was a widow lady who had two .ughters just about grown. The family, in lich Vince married, and this family were the most friendly terms. As is customary the country, they often visited, spending at cb times a whole day with each other. As ey were both in good pecuniary circurastans, a sumptuous dinner was prepared and ten at twelve, and then a supper just before e visiting family returned home. "It so happened that on one occasion this ighbor widow lady visited Vince's motherdaw, and, of course, Vince too; for all lived the same house. About three o'clock in e afternoon a thunder storm came up. It ined heavily until near night. Between e two houses there was a large creek, with * bridge over it The oreekiwas in sight of ince's. It was soon discovered to be rising rv fast, and was in a short time impassable. # / ' le visiting lady became very uneasy. She rsisted in swimming the oreek. Vince, his ither-in-law and wife, all affirmed that she uld not possibly cross the creek. She in* ted on making the attempt, declaring that r daughters were alone, and were easily ghtened at night She also said that she ,d but a few days since received a large sum money, which had been sent her by the ecutor of her father's estate. Night came and the lady was obliged to remain until )rning. "Early in the night the clouds passed away, d the moon and stars shone brightly. The nily retired at an early hour, 'that they ight have breakfast as soon in the morning possible, so that the widow lady, who was tained over night, so much against her in* nation, might be able to set out for her me by sun-up. __ "Nowcontinued Mr. Potter, "sinceyond?e to know the whole of ViucB-BfaCE's'hisry, I must tell you something about the conLion of affairs in the family of the widow ly who 1 have said was visiting Viaee ack'a family. It is a matter of very little qsequence, so far as the history of Vince ack is concerned ; but we may as well menm the fact that the lady's name was Car* in. She was of English extract, and lived fineatvle. I mentioned before that she d two daughters just arriving at the years womanhood. "The dwelling-boose was in some aspects ther old-fashioned. It was a two-story use, about forty feet long. The stairs lea >m the sitting-room to the apper-story. At b foot of the stairs was a door. There were o rooms on each floor separated by a single ill./ * "On the afternoon of wbioh we have been eaking, a gentleman came to the; hoose of re. (Curwen. He was carrying on his arm pair of leathern saddle-bags, such as are mmonly used by travelers on horse-back. b asked the young ladies for the privilege sheltering himself from the threatening >rm. This was granted. The rain came on d continued to fall in torrents. When ght began to approach, he then asked for bring during the night. The young ladies flhrfsrmed him that their mother was from |Vanfl it would not be proper for tbem to stranger into the house in her absence. -u J te gentleman then gave them a short acunt of himself. He was a resident of one the Southern States, who had taken a tour rough the west in search of a home. Two to before his horse had taken sick and died. i was then attempting to make his way on it to the nearest stage line, by which he dened to return to his home. "It was, after some hesitancy, agreed by the ling ladies that the stranger might remain ring the night. The traveler being tired, d his feet blistered by walking, retired soon er dark oame on. He was put up-stairs to Bp. He was soon unconscious. Late in ) night he was awakened by a shriek. At it he thought it was the howling of the ids, but looking out of his window he saw ) moon was shining brightly. He listened a moment and all was quiet. He then ned over and prepared to go to sleep'again, en he heard another shriek, and a' moan, i rose up in the bed and heard a sound as if ne persons were grappling with each other the room below him. 'He had a braceof pistols under his pillow. ese were grasped, and carefully be started wn stairs. The stair door was ajar. As passed down, step by step, so as to make noise, he could see a faint light in the hall, hen he reached the bottom step, he looked oogh the crevice of the door and saw some . 3 lying on the hall floor, only a few feet tn where he stood. The blood was running streams all around the body. Ten tbousI strange thoughts rushed through his mind a moment He could scarcely believe his n eyes. He thought possibly he was dream;, or possibly he was insane. The light mged position, and he thought he heard ae one walking in the hall. What could this mean? Again he looked at the A iody human form that lay before him. He s sure he was not mistaken. Soon he' ird the jingling of keys and the opening a drawer. 'That he might be prepared for any eiqericy, he drew back the hammer of his pistol * J? xr^ , 3 gently pnsnea open me suur uuur. aiu mer was the door opened than a man rashat him from a bureau, which stood in one ner of the hall. He had in his hand & tody knife, and his eyes gleamed with fury, e traveler fired, and the monster fell?uted a moan and died. There the stranger od. In front of him waa the man he had >t through the heart, and at his feet was 3 of the young ladies of the house with her oat cut. In the adjoining room lay .the ler in the same condition. Life had aotfas ; become extinct in either, but both wefcer ing. 'A v 'Almost frantic, the stranger rushed to the >r and called the servants, and told them at he had done and what bad been done, servant was placed on a horse and disiched with all possible haste after Mrs. rwen. The other servants were bidden to aain in charge of the premises. 'So soon as the servant arrived at Vinee ick's mother-in-law's, it was found he was - ? Aimnan an/1 fka r UU tUO picuJioco, vui nou oifv ?uy e of Vioce Black accompanied her to her ne. On entering the hall an awfal specie was presented to their view. There Kha stranger, still in his night clothes, with listol in each hand, and there lay the two ightera of Mrs. Curwen cold in death, and re lay Vioce Black. In the stillness of night he had risen from his bed, without knowledge of his wife, and for the sake of i money of Mrs. Curwen, brutally murderber two daughters., That," said my host, Mr. Potter, "was i end of .Vinoe Black, and that boy is Just 9 bis father; and I fear no good will ever ne of him." ify curiosity was excited, and before I ugbt, I asked what became of the stranger o killed Vince Black. 'The stranger," said he, "gave himself up * the authorities, and after the matter tols unined.into, was permitted to proceed on journey."