Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor.! itiirpeitltenl Jfamilg Itetospaper: Jftir t|t promotion of t|;c political, Social, ^gritnltaral aitfr dUmrntrcial interests of % Sont|. | teems?$8.00 a tear, in advance. VOL. 22. YORKVILLE, 3. C., THURSDAY, APRIL 13, 1876. ... NO. 15. Jkii ?rigittal Jttng. THEIRON CHESX BY AN OLD CONTRIBUTOR. CHAPTER VI. My mother yielded to Rudolph's wish, and they resided together in the old family mansion, whilst I, with unabated ardor, pressed my scholastio career. I was eager to distinguish myself, and to this end worked with an ardor and diligence which gained for me the highest honors, but which were somewhat detrimental to my already weak health. This, however, I did not regard. Long after every other light in the college was extinguished, I would sit np poring over my books far into the nigfa t, until my throbbing pulses and fevered brain would warn me to desist and seek a few hours of brief repose. I was not very popular among my companions. This, I think, was owing to my reserve, which I could not shake o? One or two kindly spirits sought me out; but with one only I ever felt at my ease?a young Yorkshireman of the name of Selwyn ; and having once accepted his overtures of friendship, I soon admitted him to the closest intimaoy, and we became almost inseparable companions. Selwyn was three years my senior, and in many respects a very engaging and attractive youth. I have used these terms because to me he appeared singularly fascinating; yet I do not know that others regarded him in the same light, though he was sufficiently well liked by both teachers and scholars. He was both thoughtful and clever, with a clear, well balanced mind. He was fond of the studies in which I delighted, and this formed a strong * 1 L-1 ? U,.? nk.f itkarmiut mo DO LIU oeiwwu UB. Jt/Ub nuai. vuwwv. uv most waa his sympathy with that part of my nature which usually found least favor in the estimation of my own sex. Unlike my brother, and the generality of youths to whom I was accustomed, he had no pleasure in rough sports and severe bodily exercise, but rather inclined to a quiet and meditative mode of life. And though a graceful horseman, an excellent swimmer, and an unerring marksmap, he placed mental culture on a far higher pinnacle in his esteem than the most perfect physical training. Feeling assured, therefore, that my backwardness in that respect excited no oontempt for me in his mind, I was entirely at my ease in his society, and yielded him my confidence and affection the more readily for the want of sympathy which existed between myself and others; for my nature was naturally affectionate, and craved some outlet for its pent-up yearnings, especially now that I was away from home. He was a very handsome fellow ; tall, though not muscular, with a well-sbaped head and brow, large grey eyes, which looked black under the shadow of his sweeping lashes, and straight, clearly-cut features?a great contrast in appearance to UIJwJI1! UIJ W?U ? m m A |i.l?, I cant face always being a subject of mortification to me, that is, when I allowed myself to think about them. Selwyn always spoke slightingly of personal beauty?at least in men. He acknowledged that he was an ardent admirer of it in women?but this, I fancy, was from motives of generosity. Not long before my first college term was completed, I received news from home of quite an unexpected and interesting nature. My mother wrote me that she had received into her family a young orphan girl, lately bereft, by a sudden accident, of both her parents, distant connections of ours, whom we had but seldom seen. This young girl, who was about my age, she described as possessing a very lovely disposition, and as she seemed to rejoice in her companionship, and anticipate much comfort in haviug her constantly with her, I could not but feel gratified at what afforded her satisfaction, though I had, at the time, no personal interest in the matter. Her name was Olivia Marchmont, and she was, but for her newly-constituted guardian, quite alone in the world, having neither brother nor sister, nor intimate friend. I thought but little about her until I was on my homeward way to spend the first college vacation. Then, as I neared our countryplace, I began to feel my natural shyness asserting itself, at the anticipation of encountering a stranger. Our meeting came about unexpectedly, yet quite simply, and was robbed of the embarrassment with which I had pictured it in my mind. Alighting at the gates of the Park in order to walk the rest of the way to the house?for I was cramped with my long sitting in the chaise which had been sent to meet me?I had not proceeded many yards when I perceived a slight figure, in black, slowly approaching from the opposite direction. It was, as I readily divined, that of my unknown relative, and my first impulse was to retreat, especially as I saw that she was AncrmwiAd with some knitting or other fancy work in her hand, and was not aware of my vicinity; but before I could execute my intention, my large greyhound, a favorite pet who had accompanied me from home, and was now at my side, bounded forward with a quick bark, and she looked hastily up, retiring a stepor two in some natural trepidation at the same time. Courtesy overcame diffidence, and I advanced quickly, calling to my dog, who immediately obeyed the summons. "X am sorry he frightened you," I said, feeling myself blush, but resolving not to lose my reputation for politeness. "He would do you no harm, though he is a little rough." "Thank you, I was not frightened, only surprised," was the quiet reply, and the young girl's clear eyes rested frankly on my face as she spoke. "I?we did not know you were coming so early. Cousin Clara thought you would not be here until the afternoon." She guessed who I was, then. This saved me the trouble of introducing myself, which I would have done awkwardly enough, no doubt, bad there been a necessity for it. She had held ont her hand to me, as she made her little speech, quite simply, as a child would have done, and I took it for an instant, perceiving that she did indeed look scarcely more than a child, with ber slight, rather diminutive figure, and innocent, pale face. Her eyes were deeply, densely brown, with the longest and blackest lashes I have ever seen. Her face a pore oval, and ber hair, which was a dark chestnut, carled wavily, not in ringlets, about her brow and neck, beneath the shadow of her broad straw hat She was dressed, of coarse, in the deepest black, and this, unrelieved by even a bit of white anywhere, enhanced the pallor of her clear white skin. There was scarcely a tint of rose in her face, except on the delicate mouth. She pleased my somewhat critical eye far better thus than had she been a rosy, blooming beauty, such as fascinates the generality of tastes. Her simple and youthful air reassured me in a moment, and I felt quite at my ease in her pressence; and as we walked along?she turning back to accompany me to the house, just as if we had long been acquainted?we fell easily into discourse, though of what we talked I cannot now recall. She went on with her fancy work all the while, her slim fingers moving deftly in and out among the meshes of the thread. There was not the slightest shade of embarrassment visible in her manner, nor the faintest touch of coquetry, nor apparent effort to please. She was at once naive, childlike, and perfectly self-possessed. When we reached the lawn in front of our house, to my surprise, she stopped. "Are you not coming in ?" I asked her. "No, not now; your mother will like to see you best alone, and besides, I like the open air. I come out fcr a good while each day." She tamed away toward a little arbor that stood at the entrance to the shrubbery, and I ran in, to be clasped in my mother's welcoming arms. Rudolph, as usual, was not indoors, though, my mother said, had he expected me so soon, be would certainly have been in the way to meet me. There was much to be asked and told about college life on the one hand, and home affairs on the other; but presently I spoke of our yoang cousin, and mentioned that I had met her out of doors. "Yes; I send her a good deal in the fresh air. She is a little delicate, and needs braciog. I suppose you recognized each other ?" "Yes, by instinct. What a grave-looking little girl she is." "Little girl!" repeated my mother, smiling. "She is fully as old as you; and taller, is she not ?" "No, certainly not," I replied, piqued. "I quite looked down into her lace. Why, mother, I have grown three inches since I left home." "You look stronger, dear," said my mother, laying her arm fondly over my shoulder, and kissing my cheek. I was her "little mw nwAmntlAn UUJ OLUlj UUliTTlVilOMUUlU^ Uij puuivvivu j and I knew this, and the knowledge waB not pleasant to me, dearly as I loved her. While we were speaking my brother came in. I noticed with a pang how tall and broad and noble he looked. Aoy one would have imagined him to be at least five years my senior, instead of only two. He was a splendid specimen of health and strength, sunburnt, manly, and joyous-looking. His greeting to me was most affectionate, and could not but awaken a responsive cordiality in mine, notwithstanding my momentary dissatisfaction. "Why Phil, old fellow, I {tad no idea you were here, until Olive told me!" he exclaimed. "How jolly it is to have you back! You can't imagine ho^Tve missed you while you I g I am"?- 1 "Thank you," said I. WI have missed you too, Rudolph, though I have been in a strange place." "And there you've been acquiring wisdom L - '1 l.-lfA.ll T I uy tue suen-iuu, wniist x nave iurgiateu mc little learning I ever possessed. Never mind, you'll do the brain-work for both of us, won't you? It's lucky that one of us will be a credit to the family; I never shall." Complimentary as the speech was, and quite sincerely uttered, there was something in it that jarred unpleasantly upon my sensitive feelings?an indefinable assertion of superior age and manliness that seemed to put quite a space of years between us. Nothing was farther than this, I am sure, from Rudolph's intention ; but like my mother, he evidently regarded me as very young?as indeed I still was, though with many of the hopes and much of the ambition of a man. I felt more than ever the want of congeniality between us, and already thought regretfully of Selwyn, as the one companion between whom and myself there existed no such drawback to the pleasure of our intercourse. "It is luncheon-time," said my mother, consulting her watch. "Did you see Olive'in the grounds, Rudolph ? t wonder she does not come in. Ah ! there she is, crossing the lawn now. She entered the room a few moments later, ' looking as placid and serene as when I had parted from her. Taking off her hat, which she threw, school-girl fashion, on a chair, she now gave me a better opportunity than before to judge of the contour of her features, and I remarked that her brow was very beautiful, having an almost angelic m Idness of expression, reminding one of the Kadonnas of Raphael. But for her mouth, I should have thought her face lacking in force; but that mouth, small and dainty as it was, and quite as sweet as the brow, condensed in its quiet i curve the elements of firmness and decision unmistakably, corrobated by the outline of the delicate but resolute chin, where a tiny dimple lurked. This dimple?not one that played hide-and-seek, but a -stationary one? was the single element of archness in her face; but serious as that face was, it could beam with smiles, and very brightly too, as I soon discovered when we were seated around the t.ahle nn which a more elaborate luncheon than usual bad been spread in honor of my return. A good deal of playful raillery went on between Rudolph and herself. They seemed very much at home with each other, and I was half inclined to resent the comparative reserve of her manner to me, not taking into consideration the length of time she had been domesticated under our roof, and thus brought into intimate companionship with him, while our acquaintance was scarcely begun. After luncheon she sat down to some drawing she was engaged on, and my mother and brother both having left the room, I found an opening for laying the foundation of greater sociability between as, without any interruption to distract her attention. "How nicely you draw," said I, assuming a slightly patronizing air, to counteract any disadvantageous effect my youthfulness might have upon her. "Did you ever take lessons ?" "Oh ! yes, I learned two years from quite a good teacher, and cousin Clara likes me to keep it up." "Do you play also ?" "A little, on the harp only." "Whata pity we have no harp here!" was my comment "Why, I have one. I brought mine with me, and practice on it every day," she rejoined. "Oh 1" said I, somewhat disconcerted. "You see I have not been at home long enough to find out about everything yet." "No. How long shall you stay ?" "The vacation lasts six weeks." "I suppose you are very glad to have holiday." I flushed red at her tone, which was one 1 she might have employed in addressing a little boy of ten; but she went on drawing with ; such perfect unconsciousness of having made < a faux pas, that I was obliged to swaltdw my vexation, and answered with some additional stiffness, that no doubt I would find a rest acceptable after being kept busy for so long. < "Do you have very bard lessons ?" she went j on, in the same provoking way. "I am going through the usual collegiate < course," was my dignified rejoinder. "Yes, I know; but I meant, was it trouble- i some? However, I ought not to ask you ' that question," she added, looking up with a < frank smile.which immediately disarmed me. "Why, not ?" said I. "You may ask me | i anything yon please." "Oh, because I know how clever you are. I have heard so from cousin Clara and Rudolph, over and over again, so I know it must be true." "I shouldn't have thought Rudolph would have troubled himself to talk about it?he does not care a pin about book-learning," said I, rather slightingly. "Not that I consider myself entitled to any special praise, however." "Oh, but I have no doubt you are. And you are mistaken in thinking that Rudolph does not care; he is very proud of you, I assure you." "Is he ?" I rejoined carelessly. "Yes, indeed. And when he gives praise you know he does it generously. And he has so little self-appreciation?he really believes that he is not clever at all, and is quite unconscious of his own merits." I could not but admit his generosity, though again a feeling of dissatisfaction crept over me as I agreed with her. "I think," she went on earnestly, though A?Am Kni? n?A??lr nrkt/iK oKfi nil P. UCVOI jsauotug 14UUI uc& "Via, "Uiwu uuv y%m? 4 sued with conscientious diligence, "that Ru- i dolph has one of the finest dispositions I ever < saw; he is always thinking or doing something for the good of others. He is so strong, ] and yet so gentle; so full of fun, and yet so , careful and kind." , "You seem to have a high opinion of him," | I remarked. "Of course *1 have," she replied simply. , "How could I do otherwise, knowing him so ( well ? You know I have lived here for three months now, and I am his adopted sister." "And mine also," I quickly added. * She gave me a brief, half-searching glance , from beneath her long laBbes. "Yes; but I hardly know you yet. You scarcely seem to j me like Rudolph's brother." "Howso?" I asked, not knowing whether , to be pleased at her tone or not. "Oh! you are so entirely different; but then, of course, he is older." , ?"WbtiU umhxj tilm ju iumL mine agum -j ble," I retorted. "Well, Miss Olivia, as there ( is but two years' difference in our ages, perhaps I may hope in two years' time to mount to as favorable a place in your regard." And with a degree of pique that was truly juvenile, I rose hastily, and on some trifling pretext ] left the room. I have, thus minutely recorded a very un- , important conversation, because it may serve to give an insight to the state of my feelings at that time, and to show how the foundation , was laid of still more deeply rooted jealousy, j self-love and mutual misunderstanding, which led to fatal consequences in after years. ] 1 ce:apter viii. When I next met Olivia, it was in my mother's room. She looked at me with a deprecating air, and my mother, extending her hand to me, said kindly? "Why, Phillip, how is this? I find Olive 1 quite distressed at having unintentionally ! given you cause of offence. She says she has 1 offended you, she knows not how." "Offended!" I repeated, blushing scarlet, ' and feeling very foolish ; "that is quite a mistake?how could I be offended ?" "Why, you looked so," said Olivia, quick- J ly. "You called me 'Miss Olivia,' and jumped 1 up in a hurry and went off. I could see by 1 your manner that you were put out with me, * though I could not imagine for what; and it 1 has troubled me ever since." 1 "Then pray let it trouble you no more," 1 said I, forcing a gay tone. "My looks must 1 have slandered me. And as to calling you f Miss Olivia, I am sure I did not know what ' else to call you." ' " Olive, of course?cousin Clara and Rudnlnh do. So vou are not vexed with me. af 1? J ' terall?" She looked infinitely relieved as she spoke, and frankly held out her hand ; 1 and I took it, feeling that I had acted the part fi of a simpleton, and resolving never to betray my weak points so palpably again. 1 did not get over the memory of this liftle episode for sometime; but as soon as her explanation was made, Olive seemed to discard all thought of it from her mind. In the afternoon she appeared equipped in a riding habit, and at the same moment a servant came to ask me if he should have my horse saddled. "Won't you ride, Phillip?" asked Olive. "With you?" "With Rudolph aud me. We go every day." "Thank you,I am a little tired; and I am not particularly fond of riding." "Are you not ? I'm sorry," Bhe rejoined. Rudolph presently joined us. The horses were brought to the door, and I stood at the window and watched them ride away, feeling somehow that they had no part with me, or I with them. I sought my mother's room, and my seat at her side as of old, and an hour or two of her loving converse soothed my ruffled feelings, and restored me to a more amiable frame of mind. For some time after this, no more misunderstandings occurred between Olive and my- ( self. We were thrown much into each other's society, and bood grew intimate; yet I fan- cied that she was never quite as frank and unreserved with me as with my brother, ' though she was always very cordial and kind, > She certainly seemed to value his opinion more than that of any one else, for she was 1 constantly appealing to him, even on the most ] trifling subjects. He, on his part, appeared < very fond of her, bat treated her as a child ; sometimes petting, sometimes teasing her, but i always ready to do something for her pleasure. 1 He treated me somewhat in the same manner, t which piqued me; but though I resented it in- i wardly, I made no outward demonstration of the fact I longed, though?oh I bow bitterly! I to grow large and atrong' like him, that I 1 might teem as near him in age as I really was. I was at this time a little over fifteen?just Olive's age; but a girl always appears older than a boy of the same age, and though very youthful and simple in some ways, she had a quiet dignity and self-assertion of her own which was quite equal to that of a woman. The weeks passed quickly by, and my vacation was drawing to a close. The long rest, combined with change of air and scene, had greatly recruited my strength, and I felt in better health than I had done for a long time past. My mind, too, hadjmquired a more healthy tone, notwithstanding the jars which my sensibilities occasionally received, and which, indeed, were quite as much the result of my own fancy as of any carelessness or unkindness on the part of others. In fact nothing could exceed the kindness and tenderness which were lavished upon me; and if I still felt that I was regarded as too much of a child, yet I could not but experience a sentiment of gratification at being the object of so much attention. T' 1 ' '1 - 1--1 1- -/* ? it was during me last wbok ui my oiaj, that the harmony which had lately reigned among us was disturbed by an untoward ocsurrence, which happened in this wise. I had been teaching Olive chess, a game of which she knew nothing but the moves; and we were one afternoon engaged in playing, when Rudolph came in. He stood by us in iilence for awhile, until a false move on my part made him utter a sudden exclamation, and Olive looked up. "What is the matter ?" she asked. "Nothing," said I a little sharply and Rudolph laughed. "But it is something," she persisted. "Did [ make any mistake." " You did not," be replied, still laughing, but in a very good-natured way. The emphasis of bis reply made his meaning clear, and ihe, of course, directed her attention especially to the position of my piecee; and although not yet very expert, she almost immediately discovered the mistake I had made. "Ah I" she cried gleefully, "note I see. I bave you, Mr. Phillip?here goes your }ueen !" and suiting the action to the word, she pounced upon the luckless queen and bore her off in triumph. "Now I shall get the game," she continued, with much satisfaction ; "shall I not, Rudolph?" "If you play well, you will," he replied. "Help me, then," she said, coaxingly. 'Phillip won't mind, because I am so ignorant of the game." I was secretly much vexed, but I put on as indifferent a manner as I could assume, and continued to play, with a negligent air, pot- J iing my hands in my pockets in the intervals )f moving, glancing out of the window, and iccasionally yawning slightly, as if to express ivearinesa; not very polite conduct, it must t>e confessed, ulive, however, either did not )r would not notice it. She chatted as pleas* ^ intly as possible, appealing frequently to Ru* ^ iolph, and eliciting Borne gay reply, until I laid sarcastically? ^ "I thought chess was a silent game, properly played." j "So it ought to be?I forgot," she replied. 'Come, Rudolph, don't make me laugh any ^ nore." j "Why, does Phil bind you down so strictly ;o rules and regulations ?" he rejoined. "That sn't fair, as you are only learning." "I suppose," said I, "if a thing is worth earning, it is worth learning in the right >? ^ *ay' r "That is true," said Olive, amiably. "I ^ '* follr onrr mnro tKnn " rvvu W U?IA ?*UJ UJITIV) vuvu* ^ All this time, though feigniog indifference, v [ was playing ray very best, and putting forth ^ strenuous efforts to win. For I was nettled j it Rudolph's championship, and resolved not ;o let it benefit my adversary if I could help t. Usually I rather strove to give her the ad- ^ rant&ge over me, and was gratified at her ( luccess; but with their joint forces against me, [ was quite determined to carry the day. For lorae time the game was undecided ; Rudolph played very nearly as well as I did, and now I nade some excellent moves, or rather Olive did it his suggestion. My queen, however, was gone, and this put me at a disad -image, which fully counterbalanced whatever supe ior skill I might possess, and I soon became ( iware that I was losing ground. I grew irri- t ated, and made another rash move?got my- v lelf into an inextricable dilemma, and Olive, f slanting her castle in front of my king, tri- t sraphantly. exclaimed, "Checkmate!" o "Bravo, Olive," said Rudolph, clapping his f sands. "You did that famously." s "Well, but I can't take mucli credit for it t ifter all, because you helped me, you know," c ihe replied. c I engaged myself in replacing, with forced a :almness, the pieces on the board, though e without any intention of playing again. My v seart was beating tumultously with passion, o ind I was obliged to occupy myself to con- o :eal my feelings. Her winning the game, mri aha rinnp it without heln. would have, bv V )o means, disturbed me, but it was my broth- b jr's interference which I so greatly resented, e "Shall we try another game, Phillip?" asked I ny pupil, quite unconsciously. c "No," said I, in a trembling voice. "I c ihink, if you desire to play again, you had r >est take Rudolph for your adversary?I t nust decline the honor." o My words, and still more the tone in which i ,hey were uttered, of course betrayed the vex- c ition I felt. Both my companions glanced at c ne in surprise. Then Olive turned red, <,nd ( [ saw her <?ive Rudolph an appealing glance, t "Perhaps, though," I continued, my temper r ising more and more, "he would not be wil- 1 ing to accept the post?he would be more v eady to fight on your side, even though the c jonsequence should be an unfair victory." f "Unfair!" repeated Olive, and the flush leepened on her face. g "Come, come, Phil, don't be foolish," said D.. "* >!?% ? as iional fa tonn fko nnoAO , RUUUipiJj aUAiUUO, oo uouaiy I/U ?VU|/ vuv |/vwwv. ^ 'If you minded my helping Olive, you should ] lave said so, and I would have stopped ; but t it was all fun, you know." t "Singular fun," said I, bitterly. "Inter- s ference of that sort is not usually called fun? i [ have heard of men fighting duels for a less :ause than that." c "I hope you don't intend to fight a duel i ibout this," said Olive, rather tremulously ; t but laughing at the same time, apparently re- i iolved to follow Rudolph's cue, and turn it off j into a jest. 1 "There are a couple of old broadswords in t ;he attic," he added, joining in the laugh, 'but I don't think either of us know muoh ibout the exercise, do we, Phil? and I could lot consent to fight with pistols, because I enow you are a bad shot, and I would have joo at a disadvantage." "As you have me in most things," I retortMi. "Jest as much as you please?I was born a be made a butt of, no doubt; only remember one thing, Olive, never ask me to play :hes8 with you again unless we are alone." "I' shall neither ask you, or expect you, ;hen or at any other time," she returned with ipirit; "but I must say that I think you are he most ill-tempered boy I ever saw." She *ose from the table and turned away as she ipoke, looking greatly offended. Rudolph iouched my arm with a reproachful glance. "Phil," he said in a low tone, "you owe her m apology for your last speech. I'd make IP T ? jlie, u x were you. "I shall make none at year bidding," said [, wrathfully. I'll submit to no dictation xom yon on any subject whatever." "All right," said my brother,.coolly. Olive eft the room, with her head erect I knew ;bat I had misbehaved, and was already regretting my absurd conduct This, however, [ would have died rather than admit just ihen, so I retired in a dudgeon to a sofa and l book, while Rudolph went off whistling as f nothing bad happened. -1 felt wretched all hat evening, but when we were assembled in he parlor as usual at tea-time, I put on an inusually lively manner, and talked inceslantly to my mother, relating the most amusng anecdotes I could recall Olive brought >ut her drawing after tea, and bent over it in in wonted silence. I glanced at her from time o time, and thought she looked disturbed, it the usual hour we separated for the night, >ut I lingered to searoh among the books in ;be library for a particular one I wanted. I sas thus occupied when I heard a light footitep, and turning, saw Olive standing near me. "Phillip," she commenced directly, in a very gentle tone, but with perfect composure of nanner, "I am come to say that I know I lid not behave right this afternoon, and I am ? * ? i . rery sorry. 1 beg your paraon ior naviog rexed you." "My pardoo !" I stammered, quite thrown >ff my guard ; I had certainly not expected in apology from her. "Yes?I mean, for letting Rudolph help ne; it was not fair, though I did not think of t at the time. And I am sorry I called yon U-tempered, too; it was exoessively rude." I was terribly embarrassed. I knew that I lad much more to apologize for than she had, re11 could not curb my pride sufficiently to >wn that I had been wrong. She stood waiting for me to make an answer, however, and [ was obliged to speak. "Of course I did not think you rude," I said, jlumsily; "you have nothing to ask my parIon for." "I know I was," she rejoined. "At any mtu) juu >LuUfcli>X JH i?'i* jfaiiljj fm rou said so, and you were quite right. Will rou forgive that ?" "Certainly," said I, and after a moment I idded, with an effort, "you ought to know, )live, that it was not you I was angry with." "It should have been me," she replied, "for [ alone was to blame. But I won't detain 'ou any longer?good-night." She gave me her hand with quite a regal ittle air. She had certainly had the best of hat colloquy; and before I could find any nore words, she withdrew, leaving me in no inviable frame of mind. Next morning her nanner was just as usuaL Neither did Rulolph show any signs of vexation; and as my nother's unconsciousness of anything having lappened tended to act as a healing element, larmony, at least outward, was restored. It pas not again broken before I left to return o college ; but we had no more chess-playng, for it had lost its charm for us all. [To be Continued.] ItatsvjJ of <$. toaliua. HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE Early Settlement of South Carolina. BY BEV. BOBEBT LATHAH, THE ATTACK ON CHARLESTON. *" * * /^l lit . "T* l'be diBcomtiture or ijenerai A8ne at x>ner >eek, exposed South Carolina to the British, >otb by land and sea. As already stated, it ras the intention of the foe to lead bis armies rom the South to the North, and thus crush he rebellion. The reputation and influence f General Howe was demolished by his deeat at Savannah, and General Ashe quit the ervice after his surprise at Brier Creek. By he want of generalship in these two coraoanders, the country was placed in perilous ircumstances. By the surprise of Ashe, the rtny was reduced more than fifteen hundred aen. Only a few of these, comparatively, rere killed or wounded ; but those not killed r wounded fled to their homes. The militia if the country was terribly demoralized. General Prevost Bhowed very great skill in lis management of the whole affair, and had le followed up his victory he might have litrally ruined the country. General Benjamin jincoln, of Hingham, Massachusetts, was in ommand of the Southern army. He was a can of great moral worth and considerable ilitary reputation, but with littJe military aleot. He bad been appointed commander if the South in September, 1778, and arrived n South Carolina in December. His head[uartera were at first at Furysburg. The herished object of bis heart was to rescue Georgia from the hands of the enemy. For his purpose he sent Asbe over the Savannah iver and down its western bank as far as 3rier Creek. Notwithstanding the reverses vith which his army had met, General Lin:oln still contemplated driving the British rom Georgia. In view of the peculiar circumstances of the Jtate ofSouth Carolina, John Rutledge was Lgain chosen Governor. To him and his iouncil were granted extraordinary powers, it became evident that a vigorous effort must w pat forth, or the State woold soon be in he bands of the enemy. The Qeneral Amenably enacted more stringent laws concernng the discipline of the militia. A knowledge of the position of the troope if both armies is necessary, in order that we nay understand the oritical condition of bings in the States About the time that Sarannah fell into the hands of the British, Maor Gardiner was sent to Port Royal Island, rhis point was about sixty miles from Charleson. This movement indicated very clearly what the intentions of General Provost were. He designed, so soon as an opportunity offered 1 itself, making an attack npon Charleston. Gardiner had about two hundred men in his ; command and three field pieces. To dislodge i Major Gardiner, Colonel Moultrie, the hero < of Sullivan's Island, was sent with about two i hundred Charleston militia and two field : pieces. Gardiner was boldly attacked, on the i morning of the 3rd of February, and driven i an mm fVio H?ir?nnaK intn The near city of ammunition prevented Moultrie from i annihilating Gardiner and hia whole com- t mand. As it was, Gardner lost most of his officers. Having driven Major Gardiner oat < of the State, Colonel Moultrie joined General Lincoln at Purysburg. On the twenty-third of April, General Lincoln, with foor thousand men, moved toward Augusta. Colonel Moultrie, with one thousand men, was left fbr the i defence of the country in the region of Parysburg. Governor Rutledge, by the sdvioe of his Council, had established a military poet at Orangeburg. Here he was enrolling and disciplining the militia of the middle and upper sections of the State. At the time that General Lincoln moved toward Augusta, the Legislature of Georgia was in session at that place. It was important, General Lincoln thought, that that body ?.-.-j ?i li. a- j_i:i 06 so protected hbw ue auie to ueuuerato with reference to the state of the country. General Prevost felt that it would be to the interest of his majesty's cause in America to thwart Lincoln and the Georgia Legislature in their plans. This Prevost oould have easily done, had he boldly attacked Lincoln. Prevost was more than a match for Lincoln, and the troops of the former were regulars, whilst those of the latter were militia, who, in all probability, would have thrown down their 1 arms and fled so soon as the enemy came fairly in sight. Heretofore, General Prevost had displayed very considerable military talent, but from this time he began to fail Instead of boldly attacking General Lincoln, he croesed the Savannah river opposite Purysburg. Whether 1 this movement was designed by Prevost as a feint, in order to draw Lincoln away from his undertaking, or whether it was designed to attempt an attack upon Charleston, in its ex- 1 posed condition, it is, at this period, hard to tell. One thing is very manifest, General Lincoln and General Prevost were unable to decipher each other's plans. General Lincoln, with the main body of the American army, marched down the Savannah river, on the Georgia side, in the direction of Savannah. General Lincoln's ob ject was to drive the British from Georgia. Whatever may have been General Prevost's object, he drove Moultrie from Purysburg. Colonel Moultrie was obliged to retreat or be cat to pieces. He bad only one thousand men, and this number constantly decreasing, whilst General Prevost had two thousand regular^ besides a large number of loyalists 1 and Indians. All that Colonel Moultrie could do was to keep out of Prevost's way. At Tulifinny bridge, he made a stand and a skirmish ensued. Little was accomplished. At Coosawhatchie bridge, Lieutenant-Colonel 1 Laurens, with eighteen continental soldiers and some militia, came in contact with some of Prevost's forces. The enemy had the ad- 1 vantage in position, and Laurens was obliged to fall back on Moultrie. It now became evident to Colonel Moultrie and Governor Rutledge, that General Pre- | vost's point of destination was the capital of South Carolina. To this point both Moultrie and Rutledge hastened with all possible speed. Dispatches were daily sent to Gen. Lincoln informing him of the progress of Prevost, and ( urging him to come at once to the rescue. For some unaccountable reason, General Lin- ' coin continued his march toward Savannah, | but sent three hundred light infantry, under n i i tt a. _ ir ;.a ooionei narris, to mouitrie a mjmoumue. Such was the condition of Charleston that Prevoet could have taken it on the first as- 1 sault, had he marched directly on to the city. On the land side it was not fortified, and the only impediment to be overcome was Moultrie and his few men. When Moultre was on his way to Charleston, near one-half of his men left and returned to their homes. This dispirited those who remained. Unfortunately 1 for Prevost, and fortunately for the capital of 1 South Carolina, he made a halt of forty-eight hours at Pocotaligo. The reason assigned for j this delay was some conflicting reports which f he is said to have heard. What these reports i were we do not know. 1 The people of Charleston were aware of the | threatened attaek, and in the absence of the , Governor, Lieutenant-Governor Bee and the t Council exerted all their powers to pat the < -* _r r i?_ i City ill a Butte ui ueiauuc. auo iviva uuum Moaltrie, Rutledge and Harris arrived in the city on the ninth and tenth days of May. Prevoet encamped on the south bank of the Ashley river, on the night of the ninth of May. The ferries on the Ashley had been fortified to retard or prevent his further progress. ?The forces in the city numbered about three thousand one hundred and eighty. Provost's force was three thousand three hundred and sixty. Prevoet bad a large amount of troops, and they were better provided for and in every way superior to those under the American commanders, if we except the fact that the Americans were fighting for liberty, whilst the troops under Prevost were fighting for conquest. Instead of appointing one commander, both Moaltrie and Rutledge claimed the right to command his own troops. Colonel Moultrie took the command of the Conti- ' nental forces in the oitv: whilst Governor 8 Ratledge claimed the right to command, in * person, the militia. It seems harsh to censure those brave men who bore so mnch that they might be free and bequeath freedom to their ohildren; but we must remember that they were but men and not only liable to err, but actually did err sometimes. So soon as the forces arrived in the city, every one thatconld handle a pick or use a spade was put to work. Every body went to work. Men and women, boys and girls, worked night and day. On the morning of the eleventh of May, General Prevost, with nine hundred British regulars, crossed Ashley river and marched within cannon shot of the American works; During the afternoon of the same day, Count Pulaski, the brave Pole, who hat) espoused the cause of the Americans, came from Mount Pleasant with a body of infantry and cavalry. Scarcely had Pulaski's troops crossed the Cooper river and entered the city, when it was announced that the vanguard of the British army was then crossing Ashley Ferry. With weary horses, Pulaski dashed out to oppose the approach of the British. The onset was furious, and die brave Count came near losing bis life. After having lost most of his infhntry, and Colonel Kowatch, the second officer in command, Pulaski retreated back to the American lines, under cover of the cannon of the fortifications. Prevost left his heavy baggage, and the main body of his army, on the south side of the Ashley river. Tmmadifttalv on crossinc the river. Provost summoned the city to surrender. The civil anthorities replied favorably. They signified their willingness to surrender the city on the condition that it and the State should remain neutral during the war, and that the termination of the contest between Great Britain and the colonies should determine the final condition of South Carolina. This condition of surrender was rejected by Prevoet, and tV next day he advanced within a mile of the American works. Here a brisk fire of the cannon was opened upon him. Again he demanded the surrender of the city. The same terms of surrender as those ofibred before were again made and rejected, Prevoet insisting that the garrison should surrender as prisoners of war. Twelve hours were 'spent in passing flags between the two armies. Still the work on the American fortifications went on. It was certainly expected by Monltrie that so soon as the correspondence would close, that the works would be stormed. z The evil of two commanders was in a most afflicting manner demonstrated td the Americans. Governor Rutledge discovered a breach in some part of the fortifications of the city, and, without informing Colonel Moultrie, sent out Major Benjamin Hnger and a party of men. in the nightLto repair them. They were discovered by Moultrie's men and "mihiaken for a party of the enemy and fiftd: upon. Major Huger and twelve of his men were killed. This was on the night after negotiations respecting the surrender had ceased. Fearing an attack at any moment by the enemy, the Americans kept up the fire, commenced by mistaking HugeFs party for British, until morning. Every one felt certain that when morning dame the British would storm the American works; but when morning oame the British were gone. In the night they had recrossed Ashley river and were preparing to go back to Savannah* The cause of Prevoat's precipitate retreat was the fact that he had intercepted a Tetter from General Lincoln to Col. Moultrie, dated the 10th of May. At that time ^Lincoln was only fifty miles distant, and he begged Moultrie to hold out until he would arrive with the main body of the American army." Prevost intercepted this letter some time daring the night of the 12th. Wisely he concluded that it would be perilous for him to softer himself to be fired upon both from the front and rear at the same time. No doubt Pre ' ? t .1 aL _ vost was gl&a to mase nis escape, ana me garrison and people of Charleston were {glad lam griftipi Fulaail, with ha cavalry ^porsued him; bntheandhiB troops were over the Ashley river before Pulaski reached it. With regard to this whole affair, there is something very unmilitary. It seems strange that the privy counoil of the State would have made so disgraceful a' proposition as to surreoder the city and State without making an effort first to defehd it It is said that it was a ruse, designed to gain time for the arrival of General Lincoln. Supposing this was the oase, what would the privy council, of which Governor Rutledge was chief, have done had Provost accepted of the proposition ? Truth and honesty would have forced them to surrender. Three members of the council, were violently opposed to it. Their names were Gadsden, Ferguson and Edwards. Colonel Moultrie and John Laurens were also opposed to it. A; threat was made that in the event the proposition was oarried into effect, it vauM Ami the council their lives. The strangest thing of all, is the rejection )f the proposition by General Prevost. Had lie accepted the offer made by the privy council, he would have rained the State. Prevost icted with no promptness His delay at Pojotaligo and his delay in exchanging flags, ifter he had crossed the Ashley river, and finally his rejecting the terms of surrender pro* posed by the authorities of Charleston, showed ihat he was only a second-rate General. Sayings of Children.?"Mother, have I jot any obildren 2" asked an urchin of eight rammers. "Why, no 1 what put that into jrour head ?" "Because I read in the Bible io-day about children's children." . Little Alice was crying bitterly, and, on being questioned, confessed to having received i slap from one of her play-fellows. "You ihould have returned it," unwisely said the questioner. "011 returned it before," said die little girl. A little boy of four years, standing in the noonlight by his sister, aged six, said to her, 'Isn't God a good man, Nelly, to give us suqh i beautiful moon V' "0, Freddy I" aaidiCbd lister, in earnest remonstrance, "don't call jrod a man, for if ever there was a gentlenan, I'op sure that God is one I" "What am I made of?" asked a little girl resh from her first Sunday-school lesson, as ihe essayed to show off her knowledge to a rounger sister. "I don't know," was the hornet answer. "What does mamma sweep up rom the floor?" was the first speaker's next rial in the Sooratio method. "Pins, needles, ind hair-pins," was the prompt but unexpect d response. We overheard a queer thing the other day rom the lips of two little girls not over nine rears old. r Each of them had a baby in her inns, when the elder of the two said to her lompanion, "Sally, can yon tell a tip-top ief "You bet. Why?" says the other. 'Why, yon take yoor baby and I'll take mine, ind we'll go around begging. Yon tell peo>le we are widows." Age and Memory.?While arguing a ase before the United States Supreme Court n Washington, a few dayB ago, Mr. Albert ?ike made a clever reply to an objection of Attorney-General Pierrepont. The AttorneyGeneral had questioned the evidence of one ?f Mr. Pike's witnesses, on the ground of the extreme age . of the man?seventy-three rears?and presumptive failure of his families. ; "Well, your honors," said Mr. Pike, "I lon't altogether like that, myself for I am >ixty-six yean old, and in, a little time I shall >e seventy, and even seventy-three, and I am lomewhat sensitive about old men with no memories, I see on the bench before me one ustice hearing this case, who is sixty-nine rears old, another * hp is seventy-two, and I vould like to ask with what fqeie the Attorley-General's argument striken them, that a nanhapno memory at their qgss." Mr. -Pierrepont yielded the point. Curiquay enough, the client for whom Mr. Pike vu irguing was ex-Governor Rector, bf Arkanias, with whom he had onoe fought a duel...