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lewis m,gbist, proprietor.| ^.ii litbqpbtnf Jfamilg fhtospapo:: Jfor f|j? ^romofifftt jf t{i? ^clitical, Serial, ^griettltaral anb (Janramral $trtmsts of % jJmrfjj. |terms?$3.00 a year, inajoyance. " - VOL. 22. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JULY 27, 1876. JSTO. 3Q. jto original jisrg. Lost and found ? OB, THE WHITE FAWN OF THE FOREST. 4 BY MRS. HENRY DEAS. CHAPTER IV. There was little sleep on this night in the emigrant band, except among its juvenile members. The minds of the elders were all too much disturbed by doubts and fears to admit of their finding repose. No slumber closed the lids of the sick girl, whose eyes, shining with unwonted brilliancy, turned with ague, restless glances from One to another of the faces near her, but dimly visible in the faint light of the candle burning in one corner of her narrow-curtained chamber. Her fever was at its height, and her mind had begun to wander?a symptom which filled the anxious' watchers with fresh alarm. She scarcely noticed when they spoke to her, or made irrelevant, half-broken replies. "Water?water 1" was her ceaseless cry,' and as she eagerly swallowed the draughts which they could not refuse her, a terrible fear filled them, lest the precious liquid should fail them utterly, and the want of it prove fatal to her. It was a night of unsurpassed beauty ; myriads of stars shone in the calm vault of the heavens, looking down as if with compassionate, friendly eyes on these poor disheartened pilgrims, as they looked on many another touching scene, and on many happy homes and happy hearts as well. The long line of wagons, duskily outlined in the faint starlight, extended for many yards over the ground. The worn out horses and mules, eased from their burdens, slept singly or in groups around them. Within the shelter of the wagons most of the company reposed, ?L:,~ ?man olnmlv nflnincp 11 n pnfl W111IC BUU1C Ul tUO UiEU, oiumj -j. down, alternately kept watch. The Indians, as was their custom, had withdrawn to a distance, and stretched themselves in their blankets on the ground. Their dark forms, scarcevisible, appeared like mere undulations of the earth, or stems of fallen trees. It was Graham's turn to play the r6le of sentinel. Absorbed in thought, he paced to and fro, his eyes bent upon the sand at his feet, and but seldom directed to surrounding objects. At last, however, as if by a sudden impulse, he raised them and looked toward the spot where their Indian guides had made themselves a bed. To his surprise, he no longer discerned the outlines of their forms. The dusky heaps had disappeared, and the bare ground alone met his gaze. "They must have chose another resting place," .he said to himself, and he looked eagerly round to see where they had gone. But nowhere could he discover them, and filled with sudden anxiety and fear, he hastened to seek them in the rear-wagons, which contained the?supplies for their journey. His { ? ^ tnfallty rlieon. I Bttsnju WK) VtMU utc^ uau (Uwan^ uuiu^ peared. What could this mean ? Graham speedily aroused some of his companions, and informed them of his discovery. It was impossible to resist the suggestion of treachery on the part of the guides, which immediately presented itself to their minds. Yet there was still a chance that they might have gone off alone to explore the way, and would return by morning. Morning came, however, without bringing them, and when, after the lapse of some hours more, they still did not appear, the comf>any was fain to conclude that the wily creatures, having missed the road by which tbey had undertaken to lead them, and not caring to confess their mistake or their inability to rectify it, had quietly decamped, thus leaving them in the lurch, without apology or explanation. This was a serious misfortune to them. However, they had not time to stand still and lament over it. All they could do was to push on and find out the road, the best way they ? ' ?i frt M iliAnnoo] nOQ UJJgUty 1U1 lUCUIOUl TVO. Dispirited enough, they once more set their train in motion, giving little utterance to the fears they felt, yet feeling them none the less keenly for that Half a dozen of the men rode on in front as a sort of advance-guard, for the double purpose of keeping a look out for any impending danger, and of being the fint to discern signs of their approach to their desired goal. About sunset they espied, in the far distance, some undulations that looked like a line of hills. This awakened fresh hope in their hearts. Thty had been told that they were to cross some hills before reaching the river, and it was probable that these might be the very ones in question. Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, they resolved to travel on as rapidly as possible, while the advance party should ride forward and satisfy themselves as to the correctness of their surmise, and return after doing so to bring word to the rest. All were now full of eager expectation. Even the Scotts, though distressed at the critical condition of their suffering child, trusted that the fresh food and water they hoped soon to procure would produce a favorable change in her. How slowly the lumbering wagons seemed to move! All the efforts of the drivers could not urge the jaded beasts that drew them into a faster gait than a walk or a slow trot In fact, as it was necessary for them all to keep together, it was impossible to go at all rapidly, for the more heavily-loaded conveyances would, in such a case, have been left behind. Meantime, Graham, and the others who had gone on ahead, rode as fast as the tired condition of their horses would allow ; and just about nightfall they came to the fjot of the hills, which still had to be crossed, or at least ascended, before they could discover what lay beyond them. Leaving the horses and a couple of their party below, the rest scrambled up by what appeared the easiest ascent, and endeavored to get a view of the surrounding country; but it was now so dark that it was impossible to satisfy themselves with any degree of accuracy, in regard to it. They fancied they saw water at some distance, but were not sure, and finally concluded there was nothing to do but to wait until daylight before prosecuting their search. This was a severe trial to their patience, especially as they felt considerable solicitude respecting their fellow-travelers in the rear. The latter also suffered all the pangs of anxiety and suspense, and were more than thankful when, at length, the long hours of the Dight drew to a close, and the early gleams of dawn once more struggled into life. The recoDQoiteriDg party were now enabled to see distinctly what lay before them. The ground, though still sandy, was less barren than that over which they had passed, and bore green patches scattered here and there o ? upon its surface. This appeared to be a favorable indication, and though no water was yet visible, as they had imagined, it was likely that it was not very far off. They judged it best, however, before proceeding farther, to wait for the arrival of their companions, and busied themselves in finding out the easiest route across the hills pver which the wagons could pa98. In due time the rest of the train came up, bringing a discouraging report. Carrie Scott was much worse, and another of the party, a young man by the name of Stanley, in delicate health, had begun to sicken, apparently of the same disease. Mrs. Scott's infant was also ailing. The poor mother could no longer nourish it, and it was with difficulty they could persuade it to touch the flour-p^p which was the only food they were able to prepare for it The stronger spirits among them still continued to endeavor, by cheering words, to strengthen and comfort the weaker; but the effort was almost a fruitless one, and it was with sad faces and sinking hearts that they nnn another rest. Droceeded on their way. About noon-day Mrs. Scott came to Mary Graham, who was minding her baby and at the same time keeping watch over her own little girl, in another wagon, and hurriedly exclaimed? "Mrs. Graham, for mercy's sake, come and see what you can do for my poor Carrie. I can't manage her at all; she's got quite wild and won't listen to a word I say. She wants now to jump out of the wagon and walk." "Can't her father do anything with her ?" asked Mary, transferring her two little charges to another friend, who at the same moment, came up to offer her help. "I persuaded him to go on a little way ahead, he seemed so sorrowful and worn out. He was watching Carrie all night, and didn't get a wink of sleep, and I thought a little talk with the others would cheer him up. I left Rhoda with Carrie; she's about as strong as I am. But oh 1 Mrs. Graham, my heart misgives me that my dear child will never see the end of this journey?it's marked on her face." So Mary thought, as she came to the side ' ~ 1,1 ? - - x1__ _1 1 Qt tbe little sunerer, woo was greauy cnaugeu for the worse since she had seen her last, but an hour or two before. She did not add to the mother's grief, however, by the expression of her opinion; but tried, with gentle persuasion, to quiet the excitement under which the invalid was laboring, and induce her to re* j main still while she bathed her parched lips j and brow. "The river! the river! take me to the river," moaned poor little Carrie, looking imploringly up into the kind face bending over her. "Oh ! I'm so hot, I'm all sorched up! I want to see the river?will we soon be i there?" "Yes, yes, dear, we'll soon be there," said Mary, soothingly. "Lie quiet and try to sleep, and when you wake up, perhaps you will see the cool water close by." "And the shade?the cool shade. Will there be trees like those in our big yard at i home ? Oh ! mother, please let us go back home!" "I'd give millions, if I had them, if we had never left it," murmured the mother, whose [ tears were dropping fast. In these trying hours, many sucb lodgings for what they had J left behind rose in the hearts of not a few | among their number.' But of little avail j were regrets and longings now. They were too far advanced on their journey to turn I AiAm analfJnrt fKn nrnmloorl 1 ur LU l/CQOC 11VU1 luu viumvu land. More hills appeared after a while, not lying in their direct route, but stretching away to the eastward. After some deliberation, it was decided that the wagon train should stop, while its leaders rode on to make fresh explorations, thus avoiding the risk of taking the whole cavalcade uselessly out of the way. The hills, on nearer approach, were found to be green and pleasant. A few trees, unutterably refreshing to eyes so long dazzled by the glare of the desert, grew near the summit, aod with exclamations of joy, the exploring band rushed forward, and with eager steps climbed up the steep slopes. As the first man reached the top, a wild cry of thanksgiving Krnto frnm hia linn? "The river! the river! just down there, on the other side." Yes, there lay the river at last, a placid stream, gliding between reedy banks, with the I shadows of gray cliffs and overhanging trees | darkening its blue waves. These poor, foot! sore, sun-parched, thirsty pilgrims hurried : down with swift steps to its brink, plunged their hands, their heads, into the blessed liquid depths, drank long eager draughts, more sweet than nectar to their craving lips, laughing aloud with childish, irrepressible glee. In j the first moments of joy and relief, it almost ! seemed to them as if all their troubles must ! be now at an end. The welcome tidings were quickly borne to their waiting companions, who set out with all possible speed to join them. As twilight j drew its dusky curtain over tne plains, ana the first watchers of the night sparkled above ! the hill-tops, the wagon train, winding through ; a narrow defile, came to a halt upon the river i bank. To one of the weary band, alas ! rej lief and refreshment came too late. Little ! Carrie Scott's fevered lips had but tasted the cool draught for which they bad yearned, when the long-struggling soul escaped, triumphant, from its prison-house. For this one tired traveler, at least, the toils of the journey were past, and the safest bourne of all was happily reached. But there was no comfort in this thought to the bereaved ones, in the first moments of bitter desolation and woe. CHAPTER V. For seven days the emigrant band lingered on the bank of that pleasant river, where they found a grateful resting-place in the shade of the trees and hills, and slowly regained health and strength in this interval of repose; while ?o ? tbey made sundry needful additions to their store of supplies, which they procured from a straggling settlement not far off. But for the one melancholy occurrence which had cast a gloom over them all, they would have found much cause for self-gratulation in the favorable turn affairs had taken. Even as it was, they could not but be thankful for the relief afforded them, and the brightening of their prospects for the continuation of their journey, the worst of which, as they believed, was now over. Three or four weeks more of travel, unless some unexpected drawback should occur, ought to bring them to their destination. They made a grave for poor little Carrie in the shadow of the hills, and laid her there | with reverent bands, one of the men reading ! aloud the burial Bervice from a prayer-book they had with them. A solemn service it was, held in that lonely spot, so far from kindred and from home; the sad yet beautiful words, though familiar to most of those present, falling on their ears like the strange echo of something past and forgotten, so completely did they feel themselves cut adrift from their old life, and everything belonging to it. it seemed as though the stricken mother, who had been called upon to make so costly a sacrifice to their enterprise, could scarcely make up her mind to turn away from the solitary grave, and leave it so far behind her. But the pang, bitter as it was, had to be endured at last; and with lingering looks, the pilgrims bade adieu to the spot now consecrated to their hearts, and set their faces once more toward their sunset shrine. For the next few days they had a comparatively easy time. The nature of the ground was favorable to travel, and both they and their animals, recruited by rest and fresh food, were able to make more rapid progress than before. After that they entered a wild and solitary region, peopled by no white settlers as yet. Here and there they encountered a straggling savage, who glowered at them with no friendly eyes,but glided away, as 11 m iear at their approach. They redoubled their vigilance by night and day, to guard against any unlooked-for^tftaok*.. They were well provided wijJ^firfrairms/and felt no serious apprehensions, yet there w?s always danger in being unprepHfaad.^ Mothers kept their little children closer to them, as they penetrated the unknown recesses of this wilderness. The night-watch was doubled, and one or two trusty dogs, they had with them, were kept constantly on the alert. As they went on, even the signs of stray Indians ceased to appear, and all around them seemed a vast unbroken solitude, trodden, it might be, by no mortal foot before. One day, however, they came suddenly upon the evidence of former travel over this very route?ghastly evidence, in the shape of some human skulls and bleached bones, scattered on the ground. How had they come there ? they woudered. Had some wanderers, like themselves, overtaken by starvation or disease, perished miserably, thus remote from human aid, or had they?still more horrible thought? fallen victims to Indian cruelty, or to the assault of wild beasts? With a chill of unspoken mistrust and awe, they looked upon these mute relics ; and, prompted by an impulse of humanity, gathered them together in a heap and covered them away frura sight beneath the sand. They passed on their way with heavier hearts than before, speaking in subdued tones. A sort of nameless foreboding seemed to have surrouDded them as with a cloud. A week more, and they emerged again upon the open plains. One more long barren tract must be crossed, and JUien they would come in sight of the home they were seeking. Here the ground was not all level and unbroken. Straggling chains of hills sometimes crossed their way, and occasionally they espied clumps of stunted, wind-gnarled trees. They had not more than half crossed this tract, when symptoms of disease began to appear among the horses. Two of the strongest and best of them soon became entirely useless, and many of the others were more or less affected. This involved a delay of some days, which they could but ill afford. However, it was absolutely necessary to allow the animals ta rest, in order to give them a chance of re covery. Several of them died, notwithstanding the care with which they were treated, thus throwing a double burden upon the reBt, and considerably diminishing the rate of daily progress, when able to start again. Once more they began to watch their stbres with anxious eyes; yet they still had enough, provided no farther delay should occur. The weather was no longer oppressively hot. The sun was still warm during the day, but the night-winds blew chill and sharp, and the travelers were glad to wrap themselves up warmly when they retired to rest. .. L_r.ll lL. Tko ADotner amicuou ueien mo uwno, little baby, who had been for some time ailing, suddenly drooped and died ; another grave, a tiny one this time, was scooped out in the sand, and the second little victim to the hardships of the route laid at rest, and left behind with aching hearts by those who still had those hardships to endure. "If I had known what was ahead of me," said poor Mrs. Scott, "I'd have cut off my right hand sooner than give in to Eli's wish to leave home. Oh ! if we had but stayed. What matter if the farm didn't yield quite as much profit as we wanted it to, so as we all were together, and kept well ?" "Nobody knows what might have happened even if you had stayed," said Mary Graham, trying to comfort her. "Sickness and death come to us everywhere." "Ah 1 but they come lighter on us at home. At least, if the grief is the same, it's easier to bear. It's a hard thing to lose children anyi where. I've lost two before this, in my early married life; but when you can lay them along side of one another, and of all the family that's gone, in the church-yard where you 1 so every Sunday, and keep them near you, and tend the flowers you plant over them, it don't seem as if you'd let them go so far away. But to leave one here and another there, miles and miles away from any of our folks, iu this big desolate country, I tell you, it cuts deep iuto the heart." "After all," said Mary, gently, "we must remember that, in reality, it matters little where the earthly part of them is laid We must think of them as being all together, and happy, in another world." "I wish, for my part, .1 was there with them," said the sorrowful mother. I am wellnigh worn out with this wearisome journey. I wasn't over-strong when we started, but my husband was so crazy to come I could not bear to hold him back. It seems years since we left the farm. I feel old and broken down." "We shall soon be in our new homes, now, T hnno." reioined Marv. "and there we can r 'I J -r ' rest and get back our strength." "Rest! There'll be little rest for any of us, for a good while to come. In a new country there's always enough to do to keep your hands aud feet goiug from morning till night. Not that I'm afraid of work, however. I've been used to it all my life. You don't look as if you had," she concluded, with a glance at her companion's face. "Not all my life; but I know what work is," said Mary, her thoughts going back to the dreary life in New York, and the struggle for bread, in the attic of the dingy boarding-house. And then her memory carried her to earlier days?days when she had, indeed, not known the meaning of work, and bad lived a petted child in her parents' house, with servants to minister to all her wishes and save her trouble, and no responsibility but that of dressing well and helping to entertain ber mother's guests. A strange difference there was in her life now. Yet with her husband and child still to love and live fo$, toil seemed light, and the future full of hope. And so the days wore on, and the sun set in the level horizon, and rose' again to light them on their way, and set again as the stars rose up to watch over their repose. Still they journeyed on their way, weary* yet patient, ever looking forward with anxiouB longing to the goal before them, growing nearer by slow degrees. One night the sky grew black with clouds, and before they could reach the shelter of some wooded hills and rocks ahead, a sudden storm of wind and rain broke over them, beating with such violence into the wagons that it was with difficulty their occupants could keep themselves dry. Unfortunately, too, their guns and ammunition were drenched, and so were some of the barrels of supplies, for so unexpected was the storm, after weeks ef dry clear weather, that tbey were totally unprepared for such a catastrophe, and suffered proportionately in consequence. They drew the wagons up in a defile between two rocks, where they were comparatively safe. But they were in a state of sufficient discomfort to be heartily rejoiced when morning dawned upon them, and they were able to take some measures to repair the damage which had been done to their belongings. The storm subsided almost as suddenly as it had arisen; but not so easily remedied were its disastrous effects. Tbey found it necessary to remain stationary that day, while they spread out their soaked flour aud biscuit in the sun to dry, and took the same measure in regard to the fire-arms and powder. There were torn awninga to be mended, and broken harness to be repaired, and all bands found ample occupation in helping to get matters again to rights. Their little camp was still in confusion when night fell upon them; and wearied with the exertions they had made, all the party, except the guard, sought repose at an early hour, and yielded themselves to a sounder sleep than usual. It was in the dead hours of the night, when the fatigued travelers, wrapped in profound slumber, were dreaming, perchance, of dangers past and the winning of happiness and prosperity in a golden future, that a fresh peril, all unlooked-for, aud greater than any which had yet befallen them, was stealthily coming near. Along a narrow trail up the hill-side, in the faint light of the stars, a band of dusky figures crept?no friendly messengers they, or guides to lead the emigrants forward to their goal. Edward Graham, slowly pacing to and fro with his comrade of the watch, and talking in low and earnest tones, paused suddenly as a slight noise fell upon his ear, and touching his companion's arm bade him listen. The noise grew more distinct. It was unmistakably that of approaching footsteps. Each man grasped his gun, but before they could arouse the camp, a terrific sound rent the air, sending a wild thrill to every heart. It was the Indian war-whoop. In another instant their foes were in their midst; and shriek after shriek of affright, mingled with prayers and cries for help, filled the night with clamor and dismay. It was an uneqal conflict, and could not last long. What, with the suddenness of the attack, precluding all possibility of any adequate defence, and the damaged state of their ammunition, the men were in no condition to resist their savage assailants, who rushed upon them with the ferocity of wild beasts. With the butt-end of their guns they succeeded in beating down a few, but this only increased the fury of the rest. Blood flowed like water, as victjm after victim sank beneath clubs and tomahawks, the bodies of women and children being added promiscuously to the heaps of slain. Distracted mothers saw their little ones torn from their arms, slaughtered before their eyes, only to suffer themselves the same fate a moment after. No sentiment of pity moved these savage breast9, no relenting impulse stayed their cruel hands. Alas for the emigrant band 1 No home in sunny field, or by pleasant hill-side, was to be theirs. The hopes which had led them far away from the places of their birth, from the long-accustomed haunts of childhood, and youth, and maturer age, to seek their fortunes in the golden Western land, had but lured them.on to find a fate too fearful to record ! ** ** Some five years before, an exploring party had set out from Washington, for the purpose of locating claims in some uncultivated land in Arizona Territory. When about fifty or sixty miles from their destination, they hired a small band of Indians to conduct them the rest of the way, as they had missed the direct route and were fearful of getting lost. The Indians were friendly and faithful, and performed their part of the contract to the best of their ability ; but being overtaken by a severe snow-storm?for it was in early spring, and travel was difficult at that season?the whole party were forced to halt in a desolate valley, where they suffered severely from exposure, fatigue, and want of food. Quarrels ensued between the white men and their guides, many of the former asserting that the ' i r . 1 _ i j Indians naa oeeo guuiy ui ireaenery, iu.ieauing them to this spot with a view to delaying them unnecessarily on their way, and that had they gone by a shorter route they could have accomplished their journey before the storm set in. The Indians indignantly resented the accusation, and one was overheard to mutter threats, of a nature somewhat alarming to their accusers, who knew not how large a hostile force might be brought around them, at a moment's notice, for their destruction. The bead of the exploring party, an ex-officer of the army, named Dwight, undertook to settle the difficulty and restore amity among the beligerents. "See here, Oconosh," he said to their chief guide, "you fellows are quite wrong in getting angry in this way. Consider how we've all suffered. It was no wonder we said hard things at first But its all right nov, and we believe you have acted fairly by us. So we will just go on as before." "Oh! it's all right, eh?" responded Oconosh. "Yes, maybe so; but white man call Injun dam bad name. Injun he no like that Injun not tell lie." "No, of course not. I tell you it was all a mistake, and we were wrong to accuse you. Come, let us make friends. You get us out of this scrape, and we'll pay you as we agreed to?that's all fair and square." "All HahL" Raid Oconosh. "But if white man call Injun such heap bad name any more, Injun leave 'em on the road and go." Now it was somewhat doubtful in what form they might be left on the road, should the threat be carried out; and our explorers, not relishing the idea of being found scalpless by any other party who might chancft to come along afterward, were careful to keep on excellent terms with their dusky guides until all danger was passed, and they were safe in sight of their goal. And what did they do then ? Well, they held a private council, and agreed that it was decidedly a risk to let these fellows go. They had been stirred up into ill-feeling against them, and it was proverbial that Indians dever forgave injuries. No doubt they had made a pretence of restored goodwill, and fulfilled their contract, in order to obtain the promised payment for their services ; but what was more likely than that they would return with reinforcements and slaughter t.Viem all ? fin in order to Drevent such a catastrophe, they fell upon these unlucky red men in their sleep, and put them every one to death?"in self-defence," as they afterward asserted in telling the noble tale. I said they were every one killed ; but Oconosh, though they believed him dead, was not mortally hurt, and after some time was able to crawl away from his butchered comrades, and tell his tale among their tribe. A terrible oath was taken to execute vengeance without mercy on the next party of whites who should come in their way, irrespective of condition, age or sex, no matter how long hence such an event might occur. Innocent blood had been foully shed, and innocent blood should be shed in payment for it. And now, after the lapse of five years, this oath had been fulfilled. [To be Continued.] pstetg (toliiw. HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE Early Settlement of South Carolina. BY BEY. BOBEBT LATHAN. CORNWALLIS' ADVANCE TO CHARl.OTTR. The utter overthrow of General Gates and dispersion of his army at Camden, followed by the surprise of General Sumter at Fishing creek, placed South Carolina in a condition ; which beggars description. Had the region olncountry nowembraced in the counties of Rowan and Mecklenburg, North Carolina, and Lancaster, Chester, York and Fairfield, been settled by any other class of people, Cornwallis could have marched from Camden to New York, and the stars and stripes would never have floated over a few people. The part which the inhabitants of the region mentioned acted, has never been fully understood, or at least it has never been clearly stated. A006"6*0 liberty was born in the South. The first man that ever advocated absolute independence, was William Johnson, a blacksmith of Charleston, South Carolina ; and the first blood that was shed to water th^ree of liberty, was shed at Alamance, North Carolina. William Johnson and Christopher Gadsen advocated, in Charleston, American independence as early as 1766, and the inhabitants of North Carolina fought and bled and died for American liberty in 1771. mi r A JLne region 01 cuuuiry ueiweou mo xaumu river, in North'Carolina, and Broad river, in South Carolina, was settled by the same kind of people. Their religious creed was the same, and in political sentiment they were a unit By their enemies they were stigmatized as "pugnacious and pertinacious." For centuries they had been regarded as troublers of kings. Slow to be moved, patient under suffering; but when once aroused they were as furious as an enraged lion and as impetuous as a tornado in its maddened course. Their religious creed may be summed up in one short sentence: "Whatever the Bible teaches is right, and whatever it forbids is wrong." * n i i-11- il rnysicauy, raorany ana meniany, mcjr were a strong people. On all questions they claimed the right of thinking for themselves. In every house there was a family altar, upon which the head of the family offered up the morning and evening sacrifice. Such, briefly, was the kind of people that Cornwallis found when he arrived in the upper region of South Carolina. With them Sumter fought at Rocky Mount and Hanging Rock, and with them he lay near the mouth of Fishing creek, on the 18th of August, 1780. After the defeat of Gates and surprise of Sumter, Cornwallis began to make preparation for the subjugation of North Carolina. The original intention of the British was to enter North Carolina farther east than Charlotte. In the region of Fayetteville, there was a - - - i ? i 1 <ni Scotch settlement wnicn was ioyai. iu? uosign of the British commander was to enter this Scotch settlement and afford these loysl Scotch protection from the assaults of their Whig neighbors. The success with which the British arms had thus far met, induced Lord Cornwallis to change his plans and move directly into North Carolina. The want of supplies and the condition of his army, prevented the British commander from commencing his march immediately rffter the success with which he had met at Camden and * Fishing creek. The prisoners taken at these places had to be disposed of, and various posts had to be fortified. The British had gained a series of victories, but they were not bloodless victories. The racks of the army had been greatly thinned. Many British soldiers had slept the sleep that 1 ?? ? L: ? mnnli rtraafor num. KUUWB uu nn&iu^, auu a uuvu ber were wounded and worn out with hard fighting and harder mbrching. The weather was intensely hot, and Cornwallis could not advance until his army was reinforced. To effect this, Major Patrick Ferguson was sent to the western section of the State to enlisl the loyalists of that section. Runners were sent iuto various sections of both the Garolinas to urge the well affected to the British government to join the*British army. Detachments were Bent out in every direction to plunder the country, to capture the scattered Whigs, and to cut off or capture all supplies designed for the Americans. After the battle of Camden, or rather during the battle, General Gates, panic stricken, set out for Charlotte. Incited either by fear or cruelty, he rode so rapidly as to kill three horses. Late in the night he arrived at Charlotte, and took up lodging at the house of the widow Mason. Here, having taken a seat on the piazza, he called for a pipe, smoked and raflaAtad nnnn the terrible misfortune which bad befallen him. From Charlotte, he set out for Salisbury; thence he went to Hillsboro, and on the twentieth of August, four days after the battle of Camden, he wrote to the President of Congress thus: "In the deepest distress and anxiety of mind, I am obliged to' acquaint your excellency with the defeat of the troops under my command." Genera] Sumter, after the surprise at Fishing creek, made his way to his old camp on Clem's branch, ten miles east of the Nation ford. Colonel Lacey, who was with him, was sent back into the counties of York and Chester, to gather up those who had made good their escape from Tarleton, at Fishing creek, and to secure recruits for his regiment from the Scotch-Irish of that region. Lacey was successful, and soon joined Sumter with a respectable regiment of mounted infantry. Maj. Davie, with a small force, was with Sumter. Colonel James Williams, about the same time, with a body of North Carolinians, encamped in the same region. The Whigs had met with ?? ?? ? /liunnMUMil ThflV QUIT? ICVCLOCD} UUl ITUIO liUV uaovuuiugwii determined to throw every obstacle in their power, in the way of Cornwallis. On the.eighth of September, Lord Cornwallis having made, as he thought, all necessary arrangements, set oat for Charlotte. Cornwallis thought that so soon as the results of the late engagements were folly known throughout North and South Carolina, that the loyalists would be made bold and the patriots awed into subjection. In this he was mistaken. From the Savannah river to the Atlantic ocean, and from Charleston to the mountains, and even beyond the mountains, small but active and determined partisan corps were in the field annoying the British posts whenever a favorable opportunity was presented. Tarleton, whose military- judgment was scarcely inferior to that of Cornwallis, was not in favor of advancing into North Carolina by the way of Charlotte. The place was known all over England. Every officer in the British army- had heard of the "pugnacious and pertinacious" disposition of the people. Cornwallis had made every provision that he could for the undertaking. The several British posts in the State were put in proper condition. General Patterson, on account of bad health, being advised to leave Charleston, the command of that poet was assigned to Colonel Balfour. Brown was left in command of Augusta; Cruger, of Ninety-Six; and Turnbull, of Camden. Redoubts were constructed to defend magazines and keep open free communication between the up country and Charleston. Evidently, when the time arrived to act, the undertaking assumed dignified proportions. From Camden to Charlotte was only a short distance, and the only foes who stood in his way had been twice routed. The territory between Camden and Charlotte bad so often been traversed by both armies, that it was well nigh a desert. In order that the army might suffer as little as possible, during the march, from the want of supplies, Colonel Tarleton was ordered bv Lord CornwalliB to lead his command over the Catawba river, at the ferry opposite Camden, and to march ap the west bank of the river as far as Landsford, and then to cross. Cornwallis himself, with the 7th, 23d, 93rd and 71st regiments of infantry, the volunteers of Ireland, Bryan's and Hamilton's regiments of loyalists, four pieces of cannon, fifty wagons and a detachment of cavalry, marched op the eastern bank of the Catawba river. The particular route followed by these British chieftains possesses much interest to the student of history. Vhe difficulty of tracing it with absolute accuracy, makes it still more interesting. From Camden, Corn* wallis directed his course to Hanging Rock. At Pleasant Hill, a short distance from Hanging Rock, be took to the left, passing between where Lancaster village is now situated, and the Catawba river. One mile and a half above Landsford, was the mill of John Blair, the uncle of General James Blair. Cornwallis took possession of this mill. Tarleton followed the trail of Sumter as far as Fishing creek, and then followed the road leading by Union Church as far as Willi? " .1 tlTl ?.!_ Ax TITJllLtf JL lord's mill?men wniies. -ivt wiuiioruti mill, he took the road leading to Landsford. On the march, Tarleton took sick and the command of his corps devolved upon Major Hanger. On the 22nd of September, Cornwallis ordered Tarleton tt cross the river at Blair's ford, near Blair's mill. The sick and a small guard were left at Blair's mill; the remaining force moved forward for Charlotte. The route chosen was up what is called the Sugar, more properly, "Sugaw creek" road. The distance from Landsford to Charlotte, in a direct line, is about forty miles. The distance was comparatively short, but it was attended with serious difficulties. Majors Davie and Davidson were in the field, collecting supplies for the remnant of Gates' army, and in preventing the British scouts and vanguards from depredating upon the inhabitants of the country. Many of the people fied as the British advanced, and not a few took British protection. Men who, heretofore, had been regarded as staunch patriots, on the approach of the British, so far deserted the cause of their country as to accept protection from Lord Cornwallis. Of this unhappy number, was Colonels Ephraim and Thomas Polk. Fear, momentary fear, and the desire to save their property from destruction, impelled these men to desert the cause of their country. Afterward, when the cause of their fears was removed and their property saved rrom destruction, they renounced their allegiance to the British crown. We are sorry that we are called upon to record this dark spot in the history of men of high position in society, and exercising great influence over their neighbors. Those were times that tried men's souls. The Polks were rich. They owned a large landed estate near Pineville, on the Charlotte, Columbia and Augusta railroad. The house of Thomas Polk was only a short distance from Pinerf ville, on the east side of the railroad. With Davie and his men, the thing was different They regarded property as valueless without t liberty. On the twenty-first of September, the day before Tarleton crossed the Catawba, Davie jeanjed that some toriee and British were at Captain Walknp's (also written Wahab) plan: tation, in the north-eastern corner of Lancaster county. The caa p of Davie, at this time, was in the Providence country. Early on the morning of the twenty-fir* of September, he completely surprised the tory party, killing and wounding sixty of the men and capturing ninety horses and one hundred and twenty stand of arms. This was a brilliant affair. Davie lost only one man, and marched sixty miles in a day and night So soon as the captured horses and arms were secured, Davie beat a retreat Captain Walkup, who belonged to Davie's corps, | stopped a few moments to speak to his wife and children, who ran out of the house so soon a: the firing ceased. When the British and tories, who had fled on the approach of Davie, saw that Davie and his men were gone, they roshed back to the house. Captain Walkup barely made his escape. On looking back, he saw his house in flames, and his wife and little children turned adrift without a shelter. When the British set out from Landsfbrd for Charlotte, Sumter, who was in camp in the Providence country, set out for Salisbury, 1 leaving Davie, who had lately been promoted ' to Colonel, with a few volunteers, under Maj. Graham, to watch the movements of the British. Davie and Graham hung around the British army and captured several prisoners. On the 26th of September, the British arHny reached Charlotte. At that time Charlohecontained lees than twenty houses. It could boast, however, of a court-house constructed of stone. This edifice stood at the intersection of two streets. On the right of the street, leading in the direction of the approaching enemy, was a plat of land thickly set with undergrowth. On the left of the same street was a field. The gardens and other enclosures of the village extended as far as the plat of undergrowth. Davie and his men determined to give his lordship a warm * reception. The cavalry, were dismounted and placed in front of the courthouse, behind a stone wall, breast high. The infantry and Graham's volunteers were posted eighty yards in advance, under cover of the village enclosures. Tarleton was still sick and nnahle to lead his leeion; but Major Hanger, at the head of the legion, soon made his appearance in the plat of undergrowth. On the part of the British, every movement was made with great circumspection. Hanger formed his men in regular order of battle, and made every preparation, as if an ambuscade had been laid ibr him by all the Whigs on the American continent No sooner had the British reached the suburbs of the village, than the militia began to shoot at fTiam wifjj tiiQU-n/jnirffll gong. Hanger having arranged his men for action, gave the signal to charge. The British column moved slowly andxauliously towards the Aiaeiicaus; 1 As they advanced, the Whigs received them coolly. Hanger made a rush towards the court-house, where he was received by Davie with a volley of musketry. Hanger turned back and formed again in the undergrowth. The Whig infantry, on the right of the street, fought like veterans, but were forced to give back, when Colonel Davie recalled those on the left The British infantry continued to advance, and the fight was renewed on the flanks The American centre held their fire in reserve for the British cavalry, whioh had gone back to format the plat of undergrowth v> near the village. When they made a second charge, they were a second time driven back in confusion, xne inraniry 01 mo woui; continued to advance steadily, and succeeded in gaining Colonel Davie's right flank. Colonel Davie drew off his men from the courthouse to the east side of the village. At this time Cornwallis rode up and abused the cavalry for bad conduct. A third charge was ordered down the street. Soon they were met by Davie's men, now mounted, and a third time forced to re-' tire. Davie, seeidg that the contest was unequal, retired, in good order, along the Salisbury road. Cornwallis tried to cut off Davie whilst retreating, but no sooner Lad the supporting company of Davie fired into his pursuers, than they retired and returned to the main body. The Whig loe was Coi. Locke and five privates killed; Major Graham and twelve privates wounded. The British loss was, in killed, twelve non-commissioned officers and privates. Major Hanger, Captains McDonald and Campbell, together with a very considerable number of non-oommissioned officers and privates were.wounded. ti?wia and hi? men literallv covered them selves with glory. Lord Cornwallis was at* terly astounded. He did not expect a kind reception by the citizens of Charlotte, but he did expect to march into Charlotte in triumph. He had heard much about the fighting jaton pensities of the Whigs of Rowan and Mecklenburg; but he never dreamed, that a few; backwoods militia would dare to face a well ordered British force. The British officers saw at once that they had arrived at the wrong place to live in peace and quiet CONDITION OF TfcE COTTON CROP. The official report for June of the Agricultural Department, gives the following in formation respecting the cotton crop : Cotton in the first week of July is in a condition of healthy growth, less forward than in July of last year; well cultivated and reasonably clear of grass. During the last half of June its growth was rapid, and blooms were freely reported in the more Southern belt. No complaints of drought are received; rains have been frequent, and in a large area in excess of the requirements for the nigh^st condition. In many districts upland and sandy lands give better promise at present than the bottoms in 8outh Carolina and Florida. The storms were especially severe be tween Jane 11th and 18th. In Sooth Carolina there were seven days of continuous fain. In comparison with last year, North Carolina, Georgia and Texas report higher condition ; all the other States lower figures than in July of 1875. The general average in 1875 slightly exceeded 100; the present average of condition is 97 6-10. - The unit of comparison being a normal growth and unimpaired vitally. In comparison with the report of June, the States that have made improvements are Nq&li Carolina, Florida, Alabama, Mississip- -? pi, Louisiana, Texas, Arkansas a ad Tennessee. Georgia has held the high condition of last month. Sooth Carolina has decline from 98 to 90, in consequence of exoesns# moisture. The figures for condition are as follows: North Carolina, 104; South Carolina, 90; Georgia, 103; Florida, 98 ; Alabama, 100; Mississippi, 84; Louisiana, 92; Texas, 99; Arkansas, 97; Tennessee, 103.