Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor. | |itbej}rnbent Jfamilj Itetospaper: Jar tjje ^romotiim orf tjje political, Social, Agricultural aub Cammerrial Interests uf tjie jJontj;. TERMS?$3.00 a YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 22. YORKVILLE, S. O., THTJRSDAY, AIJGHJST IP, 1876. lETO. LOST AND FOUND; OR, THE WHITE FAWN OF THE FOREST. BY MRS. HENRY DEAS. CHAPTER VIII. It chanced that Arthur Leslie, on leaving Mr. Johnson's office, took a fancy to go to a circulating library where he had a ticket, to see whether he could obtain a certain pamphlet which had not been in when he had last gone in quest of it. The library was on the upper floor of a book-store in the same street as the residence of Sophia Wells' father; and thus it came to pass, as he emerged from the bookstore with the pamphlet in his hand, that he espied at a distance his cousin Charlotte, at that instant ringing Mr. Wells' front doorbell. As it was over an hour since.he had left her, he felt some surprise to find that she had but just gone to pay her visit, but supposed that she had found some other errand to delay her; and perceiving that she sent t in her card and turned away, he quickened his pace for the purpose of overtaking her, p? that they might walk home together. She walked so rapidly, however, that he was unable to accomplish his object, and being nearly two squares in advance of him, she presently disappeared from view. Nothing was more natural, on his meeting her at tea-time in the parlor, than that he should allude to this circumstance, asking her, at the same time, whether she had discovered that she owed any other visits, that she had left that particular one until so late ? To bis great astonishment, this simple question seemed to overwhelm her with embarrassment. She colored violently, and being quite thrown I off her guard, was unable, for an instant, to reply. "Why, Lotty, how guilty you look!" he exclaimed, not without a mischievous pleas-* ure in teasing her, for he had yet to overcome ^ that boyish propensity. "Any one would suppose you had been up to some naughty prank that you didn't want found out?some clandestine meeting, perhaps!" This unexpected hitting of the nail on the head completed poor Charlotte's confusion. She gasped a faint "Oh !" and glanced helplessly towards the door, as if deliberating on a means of escape. But Arthur had no intention of letting her off so easily. "Come, confess," he went on tormentiogly. "You had a private engagement?an appointment to meet one of your admirers, and didn't want ma to know anything about it,, That's why you tried to put off going with me to do my shopping until to-morrow! Oh! Lotty, to think that you could be so sly !" Arthur had not the faintest idea that His nretanded aurmi.se was such a correct one. He did not believe in bis secret heart that | ^narioncever aa<i ttafl, or coold have, an admirer in the world. But to her it seemed as though it were impossible he could bring such , an accusation against her out of sheer fancy. By some means or other, she thought, he must have found her out Possessed with this idea, and absolutely incapable, from the force of I the shock, of uttering a word in her own defence, she stood for a moment speechless, then burst iuto tears. "My goodness alive 1" cried Arthur, more mystified than ever, and, to do him justice, somewhat dismayed also at the effect of his jesting words. "Have I made you angry, Lotty ? Why, you oughtn't to miud a little chaff?a fellow can't always be serious, you know. I'm sure I beg your pardon, if I've k hurt your feelings at all." "It isn't right of you to speak so," sobbed Charlotte, not exactly sure of her ground yet. You should not accuse rae of?of such things." "But, my dear, I was only in fun?I do assure you I was, exclaimed Arthur, with such unfeigned sincerity, that she was greatly com^ forted. "I should think you might have known that, without my telling you so. Why, Lotty, I'd as soon suspect the moon of riding a steeple-chase after the planet Jupiter, as to suspect you of doing anything clandestine or improper?I would, indeed. I'm amazed that you should have taken my nonseuse for earnest. Come, are we friends again ?" Charlotte, reassured, though feeling dreadfully guilty, willingly responded to his overtures of peace, and the tea-urn being brought j in, proceeded to fulfill the accustomed duties | o a i p nrwfKinrr Via/1 Konrvnnn^ T-T nr A ionl a tt nf ! ** UVD4I?*I^ UMVI UU|/^/VUVUl JLJIV4 UiO^/iWJ V* | agitation, however, had been too remarkable to be readily forgotten; and Arthur puzzled himself in vain during the remainder of the evening, to think of some reason why she should have yielded to such unaccountable emotion, on such trifling provocation as he had given her. Charlotte, herself, was thoroughly vexed at her own silliness, and full of apprehension, lest she might have laid herself open to suspicion, and thus increased the chances of discovery. She could have made herself easy on that score. Her cousin merely attributed her unwonted behaviour to some passing fit of ecceotricity, or depression of spirits, and having asked and obtained pardon for his ehare in the transaction, dismissed it, after that evening, completely from his mind. Not so the love-lorn maiden, who continued to brood over the occurrence until she convinced herself that her affaire du cceur had taken a very critical turn, and was liable, at any instant, to be laid bare to the gaze of prying eyes; and taking a sheet of rose-tinted paper from her desk, on the following morning, she indited the following note to her swain: "I write to entreat yoc., Alphonse, to be strictly on your guard. I feel tt.at we are on the brink of discovery, and the thought fills me with terror. TTN ? ? VvnfwnrT Vi*? oiflia** in ?y-?tt rvrOU X/U liUL uowoj ujr nuiu uj uikuvi m u?j w- | ence or otherunse, that any tie but that of mere acquaintanceship exists batween us. Neglect these Srecautions, and our hopes will crumble into ust and ashes. Our only safety lies in the most * absolute prudence ; should we cease to observe this, all would be lost. Yours faithfully, but in fear. C. D." The immense satisfaction which Charlotte ^ derived from the composition of this sentimental effusion, and from the subsequent agreeable little excitement of going to post it herself in secret, almosr. compensated her for the fright she had suffered, and increased the similarity which she fancied existed between her position and that of some of her favorite heroines of romance. For in spite of her matter-of-fact view of the every-day affairs of life, she was addicted to the perusal of high-flown noyels, and devoured with especial relish those relating the course of .unhappy love, and the dilemmas in which it involved its victims. Her pink-tinted note, and the warning it contained, did not affect the mind of its recipient as sensibly as it should have done. He merely muttered,"What's in the wind now?" and adding some irreverent remark about "stuff and nonsense," used the tender missive as a means of igniting his cigar. Mr. Chase, as time went by, gradually recovered bis strength, and on Christmas day was able to dine down stairs, for the first time since the commencement of the winter season. His nephew and niece vied with each other in paying him attention, and testifying their ?? ?* Vita toot r\ra f inn fn VllO nlftPft in thfi I picaouto ou uio awowiMwvu vv m>w -? family circle; while the old gentleman, on his part, secretly kept a vigilant eye on them j both, that he might judge from their manner to each other what chance there was of the fulfilment of his plans regarding them, of which he had spoken to Arthur during his illness. He made no farther allusion, however, to the unwelcome topic, perhaps judging it expedient to await the farther development of affairs without hastening its progress by any open effort of his own. Arthur had by no means relinquished the idea which he had imparted to Mr. Chase? that of going out West and there seeking to discover some traces of his lost relatives, whose fate was still shrouded in mystery. He knew that be would have great difficulty in obtaining his uncle's consent to this move, but thought that if he waited until he came | of age he might then, by persuasion, succeed in doiug so. He felt that he owed the old gentleman too much, wilfully to go contrary to his expressed wishes. He could not have experienced greater kindness and more affec' donate treatment from his own parents, had they been living, than he had received from his adopted father since he had become an inmate of his home, and he felt that it was his duty, as well as his pleasure, to render his declining years happy and comfortable by every means in his power. An unlooked for incident occurred at length, which did more to farther the accomplishment of his cherished plan than months of argument and persuasion on his part could have done. In one of the daily papers an account appeared, which created quite a sensation, of the unexpected discovery and identification of a beautiful girl who had, many years before, been supposed to perish in a storm which overtook a traveling party in the Rocky Mountains. She had been at that time a child of four or five years, and her parents, a brother, two sisters and herself were all reported lost, in company with the remainder of the * ? T*. V, r\ TTTQVTar fVl?f ahp hftfl (jarsj. XI apj/otn t<-I I uunufu>! >u?> , through what seemed a miraculous interposition of Providence, found shelter in the crevice of a rock, and after remaining there nearly two days, had been discovered and carried away by a mountaineer journeying westward, who kept her under his care, and brought her up as his own daughter. Now, after the lapse . of fen-el vo yoara, a. member of her own family, following the same track, had by a singular conjunction of events been led to the very cottage inhabited by this rough mountaineer and his adopted child, now a fearless, hardy but lovely maiden just blossoming into womanhood. Her history was related, dates were compared, her identity was established beyond a doubt, and the little lost waif, rescued from death and brought up by charity, was restor- | ed to her own home and her own people, and found herself one of the richest heiresses in that part of the world. The story went that her rough but kind protector, broken-hearted at losing her, had pined and died since their separation ; but that the ungrateful girl, less tender-hearted, revelled in all the enjoyment of her new-found wealth, and wore her pros- j perity with graceless satisfaction, apparently j bestowing no thought on him whose band had ' rescued her from a terrible fate, and guarded j her from harm for twelve long years. Arthur found his uncle one day studying this history with a grave and earnest face. He had already perused it several times, and it had evidently made a deep impression on his mind. "Arthur," said he, looking up as his nephew entered the room, "do you know, it strikes me I kof if kia annrtimt is t.PHP. which I See nO I KUCIII it VlliO HVVVVIUW ?W mm WW ? reason to doubt?there may yet be a chauce,! & faint chance, that some of that unfortunate ! emigrant band may have been saved in like manner?who can tell ? Some of the children, possibly?little creatures who could not I afterwards give an account of themselves, may have survived the others, and be now living." "Why of course, uncle," cried Arthur, eagerly. "That is just the idea that has occurred to me so often." "Not that I think," continued the old gentleman, "that there is much ground for hope. There is only the merest shadow of a possibility, and nothing more. Still, if there were any means of 6nding out?" "If I were only there," interrupted Arthur, "I am sure I might find out something. I would travel all about, and make the most diligent inquiries. I could advertise in all the papers, at every town I came to. Indeed, uncle, it would be worth the effort?let me go !" "My dear boy," said Mr. Chase with a troubled look, "such an undertaking would involve immense difficulties, though you speak of it so lightly. You can not realize the time ; and trouble it would cost you?the daugers j | that may stand in your way." i "Time and trouble would not matter, and i , as for the dangers, uncle, I'm not afraid of i them," said the young man, boldly. "I should | delight in the adventures I met with?and j 1 then think what might be gained in the end 1" i "And what might be lost," said Mr. Chase, j sadly. "I might lose you, Arthur. What1 would my feelings be if I suffered you to sac- j rifice yourself in pursuit of a chimera !" "But uncle, putting everything else aside, , ! I do long to travel ana see sometning or me world. I do not believe you would refuse to j let me go for a trip to Europe, if I wanted to?would you ?" "Perhaps not. But that would be a far: | safer undertaking than the one we are now . I considering. The West is still a wild, un- j | settled region, not yet reclaimed, through a 1 j large proportion of its extent, from its prij meval barbarism. You would encounter per- j ils from savages, perils from wild beasts, per-: ils from fatigue, hunger, isolation from your fellow-beings. Could you brave all these ?" "I should glory in them!" cried Arthur, with kindling eyes. Mr. Chase rose from his seat, and paced the room with agitated steps. "If I were a younger man," he said, "I would not deputize any one to go on this search. But, enfeebled as I am by long ill health, it would be vain for me now to attempt such an undertaking. O, why did I not attempt it before ? But I was hopeless. It never occurred to me that there was the smallest chance of success in such an enterprise. Even now, I dare not hope?I dare not hope! No, Arthur," he continued, suddenly stopping and confronting his nephew, "it would be sheer folly, worse than folly, tor you to go on* this wild quest. I can not consent to it. Stay at home, my boy, and be my comfort and happiness, as you have ever been. I can't part with you for such a purpose as that?no good could come of it. . If I thought there could, it would be different?" Arthur was sorely discomposed at this unexpected turn of his uncle's discourse, but he was not without hope that by dint of judicious argument he might again bring him round to a favorable opinion; and the surmise proved correct. After much fluctuation and uncertainty, Mr. Chase finally allowed himself to be persuaded into giving what Arthur so ardently desired?his consent that he should travel West, and make every effort to discover some traces of the fate of those so long mourned aa^ead. He acknowledged, with a sigh, that II did this as much to satisfy his nephew's eager longing as to set at rest any doubts he might himself entertain. It was most improbable that after such a long lapse of years his inquiries would meet with any success. * "Then I'll set off at once?this very month, snail I, uncle?" asked Arthur, when this point was finally settled to his satisfaction. "This month ! No, boy, wait until May? * If Ml ..M, L J __ 1? traveling win mm ue uuru su vauj iu tuo season, from the breaking up of the winter snows and storms. Take the first steamer that sails in May, if you like, and you'll have the whole summer before you. Please God I shall get you back before next winter sets in." . And on the twelfth of May Arthur embarked for San Francisco, intending from thence to travel inland and prosecute his search. There was no transcontinental railway in existence then, or he would have choRen that as his swiftest and easiest mode of transportation to the western shore. CHAPTER IX. It wae a brisk October morning. The sun, glinting over the crest of a mountain that rose majestic at the entrance of a wooded vale, shed its early beams upon a scene of tranquil and picturesque beauty. In the little vale, secluded from the outer world by a dense for est on one side and a broken range of hills on the other, nestled a few tiny cottages, each in its own bower of trees. Autumn had already shed its richest tints upon the foliage of these, which shone red and purple and gold in the clear early light, and gay autumn flowers bloomed about the doors. Wreaths of smoke, issuing from the chimneys, curled languidly upward in the quiet air, transfused in their ascent by golden sun-rays, and melting~away imperceptibly into pearly mist. Everywhere the diamond dew sparkled, upon the grass, the shrubs, the overhanging boughs. Shrilly and joyously sang the birds, blithe choristers of nature, hailing with exuberant glee the dawning of a fresh, beautiful day, a day gladJ i-jj ?: in 1 L i some ana giauueuiug aime lu utan auu aye. In one of the cottages just mentioned, a family group was gathering about the breakfast-board as a wooden clock upon the mantel chimed the hour of seven. There was the mother, a gentle-looking matron with silverthreaded hair shading a placid white brow, and features a little sharpened and worn by cares, yet comely and handsome still; the father, older, greyer, more care-worn, in a somewhat shabby clerical suit; and three children, all girls, the eldest about fourteen, the youngest perhaps ten years of age. They were all refined in air and manner, the children interesting-looking, the second girl quite a beauty. Their dress, as well as their surroundings, denoted straitened means. Everything was very plain and bare, but scrupu lously iieat. The uncarpeted floor, the oaken table, were polished with scouring and scrubbing; there was no tablecloth, but a snowwhite napkin was spread beneath each heavy delf plate. After the father and children were seated, the mother moved busily to and fro, seeing that everything was in its place, and nothing lacking to the comfort of the repast, until summoned by her husband to join them at the table. "Mj dear Millicent, we are all waiting on you?pray come and take your place." Then she seated herself in the wooden armchair at the end opposite her husband's, and after a brief but earnest blessing nad been invoked, the meal commenced. "Papa," asked Amy, the eldest girl, "how far shall you ride to-day ?" "I don't know, my love. It depends on the condition of the roads. If I find that the rains have made them very bad, I shall stop at Panther Joe's, and spend the night there." "I would do that in any pse," suggested his wife. "You can easily reach Fort Town by to-morrow evening, abd it will be dividing your jouruey more equally than if you go all 4... ?:n ? uie wa,y uu LU LUG una ^"Onlv, you- see, Joe may not be at home. Wffereas I am quite sure to find shelter at the mill." "Papa," said little Milly, "you promised to take me to the Fort some time, and you've never done it. Her father Smiled. "It would not be a very nice place for you to visit now, my pet. It is all full of rough soldiers, just arrived.'' "What! has a garrison been sent out, then ?" asked his wife. "So I am informed. I must own I am rather inclined to regret it. "It will make your work there harder, I am afraid." "That is what I apprehend. Yet, I am wrong to indulge in any misgivings. It may i .1 ^ - ?.u -c *? r..?:ti D6 mat a ueiu ui greater uociujucoo nui uc opened to me. At all events, whatever work comes to my hands, I shall not shrink from it." "Ah ! it is needless for you to say that, Julian. When did you ever shrink from any work that was before you, if it was in the power of mortal man to carry it through ?" "Say, rather, in the power of God?and what is beyond His power ?" gently responded her husband. "If He had not upheld me, my poor efforts would long since hate fallen useless to the ground. Even now, when I look around me, I see much?much left undone that I might have accomplished if I had worked harder. My spirit fails me oftener than it should." "Oh! Julian, see what you have accomplished ! No one, I am sure, could have worked harder or more faithfully," cried bis wife. Amy gave her father a loving, admiring glance. "Papa, when I grow up I shall marry a missionary, juBt like you," she said. "Mv dear daughter, I almost hope for a W _ better fate for you," he replied, with a smile. "I would like to think that your future life would have a little more sunshine in it than falls to the lot of missionary's wives in general." "Now, mamma," said Amy, "hasn't your life got plenty of sunshine in it ?" "Your father, and all of you, are my sunshine," was the quiet reply. "7 don't want to marry a missionary," gravely remarked Lucia, the second girl. "I would not like to live always in a house like this, and wear nothing but calico frocks. Amy, don't you remember Captain Evans' house at Redwood?" ~ "Yes," said Amy; indifferently, "but I did not care about it." "J did," said Milly; "there were such beautiful pictures there, and such funny carved furniture, and such nice thick carpets on the flpors! I pulled off my shoes and walked on the parlor carpet one day, it was so soft, and Mrs. Evans came in and caught me I" "And the beds! The bed you and I slept in, Amy, how delicious it was," said Lucia. "I didn't want to get up in the morning." "That shows what a disadvantage a soft bed would be to you," said her mother, half smiling. "You would not often reap the benefit of the early morning hours, I fear." "Oh ! mamma, it is so nice to lie in bed and sleep! Didn't you ever use to do it, before you were married ?" "I used generally to do it, Lucia, I am bound to confess; but I am quite sure that it did me no good." "Lucia sighed. "Well, I should like to," she said, plaintively. "I hate dressing so early." . "I am -afraid you would never do for a missionary's wife," remarked her father. "What should we all do, I wonder, if mamma were to keep on taking a comfortable nap until seven or eight o'clock every morning, and leave the duties of the house to take care of themselves?or us to take care of them ?" "I wish mamma tcould let me get breakfast," said Amy. "I could do it, I know." "My dear, you do your part," said her mother. "Who makes the coffee, and sets the table, and puts the room in order so nicely? I don't know how I should get on without my helpful Amy." "Mamma," said Lucia, somewhat abashed, "I could help you, too, you know I could, if you would only call me in time, or if Amy would. But I can't wake myself." "Never m|pd, dear," said her mother, kindly. "I get on very nicely with Amy's assistant She in nIHar than vou. VOU know. I You help me sometimes in other ways, and so | j does Millyr 'What," yoa ^ave not finished already ?" she added, addressing her husband, who was rising from the table. "You have taken no breakfast at all." "Yes, I have, quite as much as I care for. if I don't start early, I shall not accomplish as much of my journey to-day as I wish to. There's Whitefoot to be saddled, too. I haven't had a chance of doing that yet." "I would have saddled him for you, papa, if I had known?indeed, I will do it now. Sit down and eat some more breakfast," cried Amy eagerly, as she jumped up from her chair. "No, no, thank you, Amy. You would do anything and everything, I am quite aware, if we would let you," said the clergyman, laying his hand affectionately on her head as he passed her. It was easy to see that this eldest girl was the darling of her parents' hearts, and easy to imagine that she was a great help and comfort in every way to the household. This fact was exemplified by the quiet and orderly way in which, a little while afterwards, she joined her mother in clearing the table, and putting to rights the little room, which was parlor, sitting and breakfast room combined. Stopping in the midst of these operations to run out for some parting words t^ith her father, who, having stowed away in his capacious pocket a parcel containing some lunch, and a great bundle of tracts, presently set off on old Whitefoot, the patient bay horse which for twelve years had carried his master to and fro in the performance of hiB missionary labors. The breakfast things being washed up and ~ J ImUIa mUU Ifn Iaiom FOOD put av/ay, quu luc lauic, miu ilo tuouio-uivoo of green baize, wheeled into a corner to make more room, the three girls brought out their lesson-books, and prepared themselves for the study-hour which their mother, even in the mfdst of engrossing household cares, would never permit them to neglect. In this, as in all other employments, the several characteristics of the sisters plainly developed themselves ; Amy being serious and diligent, Lucia indolent and careless, and little Millicent, who was the brightest of the three, somewhat given to idleness and play, though quick in obeying when called to order. Mrs. Carleton, finding that they were ready for her, immediately put aside some work on which she was engaged, and came to fill ber post as teacher of the little class; it being one of her rules never to allow anything to stand in the way of this important duty. Though living an isolated life now, she looked forward to the time when her daughters might mingle in the social enjoyments from which she herself had so long been debarred, and spared no pains in her power to prepare them to take a fitting stand in society, if ever the opportunity should arrive for their doing so. Their father, when not too greatly fatigued by the cares of the day, or occupied with other duties, usually gave them a lesson also in the evening, and this was looked forward to as a great pleasure and privilege by them all. Sixteen years before, Mrs. Carleton, as a bride, had left the home-comforts and luxuries in the enjoyment of which she had lived from her childhood up, to seek with her husband the unsettled regions of the far West, and share with him the hardships and scanty pay of a missionary life. Six children had been born to them, but their first-born, a boy, and two little girls, younger than Milly, had died in infancy?a circumstance, perhaps, not to be regretted from a practical point of view, since it was hard work to feed the mouths still left them, but sincerely and tenderly deplored by the loving parents, who would willingly have redoubled their efforts, were this possible, to provide for their darlingB, had they beeu spared. No harder, or more faith ful worker could have been found among the number of those who were laboring without recompense?earthly recompense?in their Master's vineyard, than Mr. Carleton. And this statement implies a vast amount of selfsacrifice, abundant, large-hearted kindness, and unlimited patience and endurance, without which attributes no missionary can truly fill his post of duty. It cost him a pang, sometimes, to see the lines of care deepening on his wife's face, once so blooming and so fresh, and the silver hairs creeping in among her abundant brown locks, as the household * s ? J xt? i..:i i ? iaDors increased, ana me luu uure uiutc u?v ily upon her. Bat her cheerful, even temper ever flagged, and she was blessed with health, though far from robust or strong in appearance. Lucia, in her early childhood, had cost them much anxiety, from her exceeding delicacy of constitution, but that anxiety was in a great measure removed. She now seemed as well and strong as her sisters, though retaining some of the indolent habits and pettish ways that had been fostered by special indulgence while she continued an invalid. Mr. Carleton, himself, had more than once passed through a severe ordeal of suffering. Exposure to the cold, and wet had, one winter, brought on an attack of inflammatory rheumatism, from which he did not recover for months; and at another time, he had been prostrated by a lingering fever, which threatened his life, so greatly was he enfeebled by its effects. Then poverty had pressed sorely upon them, and often they had been forced to do without the bare necessaries of life, being supplied with such scanty means as could only procure them the food absolutely requisite for their support, and that of the plainest and coarsest kind; and being unable to keep a servant, except at rare intervals, all the household work devolved, as a general rule, upon Mrs. (Jarleton, until, as tne littie gins grew older, they lightened it somewhat by their assistance. But the fond mother could not bear to see them employed in drudgery, and reserved all the more laborious offices for herself, even when the willing Amy was old enough to perform them. Poor and hard-working, and isolated as they were, however, as much true happiness reigned in their little cottage as might be found in many a rich man's costly dwelling, for the spirit of peace and contentment was diffused among them. If, occasionally, a passing longing for unattainable comforts or luxuriss found place in the mind of any one of them, it was quickly banished by the cheerful example of the rest, or the remembrance, so frequently brought home to them,, of the still greater hardships that many around them endured. In Mr. Garleton's wide field there came under his notice many cases of unexampled wretchedness?poverty, in its most degrading forms; vice, from which it seemed hopeless to endeavor to reclaim ir.s victims. But no barrier, however, formida ble, stayed bis efforts. JNo nature was too savage, no heart too corrupt, for him to shrink from the endeavor to soften and elevate it, and many a dying bed, and many a penitent life, testified to the success of his ministry. Rough laborers, in the forests and in the mines; semi-barbarous Indians; social outcasts, men repudiated for their crimes; felons, escaped or released from years of imprisonment?such characters as these formed a large proportion of the flock he was Btriving to lead into the fold of safety. And if his soul was sometimes overwhelmed with the magnitude of the task, yet it was sustained by a Heavenborn courage and strength, and often gladdened as well as by the recompense of blessings and gratitude showered upon him, by many of the poor people, who regarded him almost as an angel of mercy, and loved and revered him with a fervor impossible to be J !L - J uescnueu. Surely, if there be one reward higher than all others, in store for God's ministers, it must be reserved for those who bear the glad tidings of salvation, and lead souls to Heaven, through euch thorny paths as these! Having given this brief sketch of the missionary's family, and their mode of life, we will now follow the kindly and patient clergyman on his journey toward Fort Town, a settlement some thirty miles distant Trom his home. This was, as its name denoted, a garrison-town, but owing to the peaceable character of the surrounding natives for some years past, it had not been thought requisite to employ a military force there. Lately, however, some difficulties had occurred with the Indians in the neighborhood, and the Fort, as Mr. Carleton had stated, was once more occupied by United States troops. Owing to recent rains, the road over which he traveled was very bad, and it was not until late in the afternoon that he came in sight of the cabin of Panther Joe. [To be Continued.] To Cement Iron.?A writer in the English Mechanic states that he has found the following composition completely successful for cementing iron railing-tops, iron gratings to stoves, and other similar applications, and with such effect as to resist the blows of a sledge-hammer, namely : Equal parts of sulphur and white lead, with about a sixth of borax, these being thoroughly incorporated together so as to form one homogeneous mass. In applying this substance to either of the purposes named, it is moistened with strong sulphuric acid, and a thin layer of it placed between the two pieces of iron, and these are then firmly pressed together to form a perfect union. In the brief period of about five days it becomes perfectly dry, all traces of the cementing compound having vanished, and the iron exhibits the appearance simply of having been welded together. ? A Good Glue.?An excellent marine glue, which can be melted at the same heat as common glue, can be applied with a brush, sets very quickly, is elastic, and perfectly soluble in water, can be made by dissolving two ounces of India rubber in half a gallon of mineral naptha. When the rubber is dissolved, add twice the quantity of shellac to the naptha, place the whole in an iron vessel, apply heat cautiously, stir till well mixed, and then pour on a slab to cool. Custard Pie.?Make a custard of the yolks of three eggs, with milk, seasoned to the taste; I bake it in ordinary crust; let the oven be of a moderate heat, that the custard may bake slowly, and not curdle; when done, beat the , whites to a froth, add sugar and spread over the top, and return to the oven to brown slightly. A pinch of salt added to a custard heightens the flavor; a little soda in the crust 1 prevents it from being heavy. BtaT The London Lancet deplores the spread of "morphia disease" in England and Germany. People are beginning to go far too often to drug-shops to buy opium in some form or 1 other, and the diseases resulting from its use baffle medical skill. pstfltg *rf JF. GMitt*. HISTORICAL SKETCHES , OP THE Early Settlement of South Carolina. BY BEV. BOBEBT LATHAM. INCIDENTS. During the Revolutionary war there were in America three classes of citizens. One class was called Whigs or patriots. This class fought against Great Britain for freedom. The second class was called loyalists, and was opposed to the war on principle. They thought the rebellion was uncalled for, and from pure motives they did not take part with the patriots. The other class was called to -1 - oaf riea. jluis uibbh wan ujbuo up ui u 0?i< u> uv?picable vagabonds, who had no higher aims than plunder. In the lower section of South Carolina, there were a great many loyalists, from the fact that Sc"*h Carolina had been a kind of pet with the English government, and many of the oitizens had been treated very kindly, and that placed them under lasting obligations to the British crown. In the up-conntry?especailly in the territory embraced by the counties of Lancaster, York, Chester and part of Fairfield, there were few loyalists, but a very considerable number of plundering tories. These tories were accustomed to make extensive journeys for the sake of plfinder. . For the sake of protection, they had congregated into settlements of their own. There was a considerable squad of them in the neighborhood of Mobley's Meeting House, on Little river, in Fairfield county. There was another squad near the present sitd of Chester village; another, a short distance south-east of Yorkville, on Fishing creek; and another near King's Mountain battle ground. It was often hard times with these tories. Frequently, they were forced to leave one neighborhood and fly to another for safety. In each of the communities mentioned, there were leading men among cne tones, ao me houses of these leaders the men of less note were accustomed to resort. These tories were regarded by the Whigs as friends of the British, and such was the case generally; but with most of them friendship and the love of country were nothing, and plunder everything. They were notorious horse-thieves. They would form into bands and camp out, and in small parties scour the country in search of horses. Bobbing parties would come from Newberry, and in conjunction with those settled on the east side of Broad river, steal and carry off every horse they could put their hands upon. On one occasion, & noted tory by the name of Peter Murphy, came from Newberry and camped near the spot where a man by the name of Hemphill now lives, on the road leading from John Mackrol's to the "old Glover place," in Fairfield connty^JJluii Peter Murphy had made very extensive horse stealing expeditions. He had extended his journeys as far as Jackson's creek. A band of Whigs collected and pursued him, and after a long pursuit, they came up with him, at what is called the "County branch," on the road leading from Chester to Winnsboro, on the plantation owned by William Dooglass. Here he was shot by a McCreigbt, the great grand-father of the McCreigbts about Winnsboro. From the "County branch" Peter Murphy was taken about three-quarters of a mile to the tory camp. Here the party was met by the wife or concubine of Peter Murphy. She was desperately enraged, and swore vengeance against all concerned in Peter's death. The grave of Peter Murphy is on the right hand side of the road, a short distance above where John Glover's overseer's house once stood, and about three miles south-east of Blackstocks depot, on the railroad leading from Charlotte to Augusta. Some time in September, 1780, a party of these fcoriea were passing through York county and stopped at the house of a man by the name of Stallions. This man Stallions, lived on the plantation now owned by Mrs. Isabella Steele,of Yorkville. The plantation is known as the "McCaw Fishing creek place." A brother of Stallions' lived on the plantation owned by B. T. Wheeler, about fifty yards north of the bridge on the road leading from Wheeler's saw-mill to J. T. Lowry's plantation. Both the Stallions were tories. The Stallions that lived on the plantation, now owned by Mrs. Steele married a sister of Col. Love, the great grand-father of Dr. R. L. Love, of McConnellsville. Notwithstanding this fact, both Colonel Love and his sister, Mrs. Stallions, were true Whigs. By some means, Col. Brandon, of North Carolina, and Col. Love, who lived within a short distance A T rtaninnav nnv liuPfl lpflmP.fi U1 YTJLIQ1 O ZJL# U? jyariuuvj uvn wwj ? w? that a band of tories ?vere at Stallions'. Brandon and Love gathered up a few men and surrounded the bouse of Stallions. The tories were desperately frightened and kept themselves as close as possible. Several shots were fired into the house, but no one was killed. At last Mrs. Stallions, seeing that the tories w.ould be taken, and perhaps all shot, her husband amongst the rest, partially opened the door for the purpose of surrendering the house into the hands of the Whigs and begging her brother, Colonel Love, to spare the life of her husband. Mrs. Stallions had a man's hat on her head, and just as soon as the head was seen a ball pierced it?she fell dead. What makes the thine more sad is, that it was generally thought that the shot which killed Mrs. Stallions was fired by Col. Love, her brother. So soon as Mrs. Stallions 1 fell, Stallions leaped into the yard, and in a frantic state of mind cried out to Col. Love? "Yon have killed my wife I You have killed your sister 1" Sorrow and anguish filled the hearts of the Wbigs, and they retired. Stallions was permitted to remain at home undisturbed. At the house of the other Stallions, on another occasion, a party of toriee was attacked by the notorious Jack McCain, and two were killed. Jack McCain was a true Whig and one of the most shrewd and most successful foragers among the patriots of that day. He was an adept at capturing horses from both the British and tories. Unfortunately, what he learned during the war, he was inclined to practice in time of peace. Some time in tbe montb or j one, i vcu, a party of British and tories?mostly the latter?were sent ont by the British commander at Rocky Mount, to burn Hill's iron works on Allison creek, in York county^ -it is probable that Captain Christian Huyck, who fell at Williamson's on the 12th of July, 1780, led ^jgnarty. These iron works were justly regarded by the British as of great value to the patriots. When they were burned, the Whigs in all the upper section of South Carolina, and of the adjoining counties of North Carolina, regarded it as a sore calamity. Some idea of the value set upon these works can be obtained from the following anecdote: Some time, whilst the struggle for independence was going on, the good people of a portion of Eutherford county, North Carolina, set apart * a day for public prayer. A Scotch-Irishman, by the name of John Miller, an elder in the Pn?kir?a>ian /iVitlrnVl AaIImI llnfin tO IpflH aiwujwimu vuu?vmj n?w ?w?v? in prayer. With reverence, and in his native tongue, the venerable man proceeded as follows: "Good Lord, our God, thou art in Heaven. We have great reasons to thank thee for the many favors we have received at thy hands; for the many battles we have won. There is the great and glorious battle of King's Mountain, where we kilt the great Gineral Ferguson, and took his whole army; and the great battles of Ramsour's Mill and Williamson's ; and the ever-memorable battle of the Coopens, where the proud Qineral Tarleton run doon the road helter-skelter; and good Lord if ye had na suffered the cruel tories to burn Belly HeWs iron works, we would na have asked any mair favors at thy hands." Not only was iron for agricultural purposes made at Hill's works, but also ordnance for the army. The party entrusted with their destruction set out from Williford's Mill, on Fishing creek, and proceeded up the Catawba as far as the place now known as Indian Hook. Here they commenced the work of destruction. On the plantation now owned by William N. Simril, there lived at that timfe*. man by the name of James Simril. In tro orchard of William N. Simril stood the barn of James Simril. This, together with four horses, was burned by the tories. This accomplished, the party Bet out for the iron works. On their way, they forced a man by the name of Henderson, (the same man that was accustomed to kill deer at the Adickes corner in Yorkville,) to show them a ford on the creek below the works. The people had been, for some time, expecting that an attempt 1 j i ? /laatmv fho wnrlrfl anil had j WUU1U IA3 LUOUO %AJ UVOKIVJ ?MV ** w mmmmj taken most of the cannot balls and thrown them into a hole in the creek not far below the works. These balls are in the creek yet. After Henderson had piloted the part;y across the creek, and given them all the information they desired, they stripped him and whipped him severely, and then went off and left him tied to a tree. William and Robert Hill, sons of Colonel William Hill, part owner of the iron works, determined that they wonld resist the attempt of the British to burn their father's property. Although but boys they prepared a swivel, which carried a pound'ball, and mounted it on top of n stump on the high hill north of Allison creek. When thesg brave boys learned that the British were approaching, which fact was announced to the whole neighborhood by the burning of Simril's barn, they took * i * their stand behind their swivel ana waiteu iur . the advancing foe. They thought that the tory party would advance to the iron works from the direction of Allison Greek Church. In this direction they had pointed their loaded swivel, and in this direction they lookeq^for the tories. Before they were aware, the pfcrty noiselessly advanced up the creek and they were surrounded. They were made prisoners for the time, and their swivel was taken by the tories and thrown into a hole in the creek. Some time after the war ended, some one was fishing in the creek. His hook became en* tangled, and whilst freeing the hook, he found the swivel. Some twenty-five years since, this swivel was over charged and bursted. Fragments of it still remain at Mr. Alexander A. Barron's, near Clay HilL On the road leading from Dallas to Rock Hill, about ten miles from the latter place, between Rocky Allison creek and the residence of Mrs. Gillespie, lived Colonel Samuel Wat? son, the grand-father of Rev. Samuel L. Watson, the present pastor of Bethel congregation. The house was, for that time, a substantial buildup, Joeing constructed of brick and at/mo with, as was the case with most of the houses of that time, a cellar beneath. From all accfests, Colonel Watson was a man of sterling integrity, and a true Whig. In consideration of his uprightness, he was made, by common consent of his Whig neighbors, a kind of commissary, and his house was a depository for any supplies that the Whig organizations might have on hand. Salt was very scarce in the country, and any quantities of this article that might be captured from the British were sent to Colonel Watson to be distributed. A peck was, by some arrangement, allowed at one time, to each woman whose husband or sons might be in the army. Women were accustomed to x and ridfl frnm the lower LUUUUlr bUCIl livtovo KLiu edge of Cheater county to Colonel Watson's, after their share of salt. After the defeat af Huyck at Williamson's, the mother of Captain John McClure, in company with some of her neighbors, set out for Colonel Watson's. Mrs. McClure was, at the time, between seventy and eighty years of age. When the party of women come to the grave of Huyck, Mrs. McClure said to Mary Johnston, the grand-mother of James Johnston of Blackstocks, Chester county, South Carolina: "Mary, as old as I am, I feel like getting down and dancing on that grave; but that would be wrong. God is just, and will avenge his own cause." Xs Tarleton and his men passed through the country in search of the heroes of King's Mountain, they visited the house of Colonel Watson, killed all the geese, and one of the officers having scratched with his sword his name on one of the stones of the chimney, remarked that after the war was over and the Whigs, were conquered, he intended to come to America and live in that house. The Whigs were not conquered and the officer never returned. The bricks which composed part of rirtiftnai WatoAn'a linncia wArp taken awav and rebuilt, and form the walla of the lower story of the house of Mr. Lee Williams, known all over York county as the Red House, six miles from Yorkville, on the Charlotte road. # I#" Hen's eggs hatch in from nineteen to twenty-one days;, turkey's from twenty-six to twenty-nine days; ducrsin twenty-eight days; Guinea fowls in from twenty-five to twentyseven days ; pea fowls' in from twenty-eight to thirty days. Freeh eggs wiil|*ateh one or two days sooner than thos^ two weeks old.