Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. orist, proprietor. | |ititjr?tirtnl Jfantilg JUtospjtr: Jftr % ^romotiira irf % political, Social, ^griniltnral anb dommerrial |ntertsts of % jJmrt(|. | TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ABVANCE. VOL. 92. ~~ YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1876. NO. 36. '' jta Jftorg. LOST AND FOUND ? 'n . mtfcsr i'j .. THE WHITE FAWN OF THE FOREST. BY MRS. HtiNRY DE AS. CHAPTER XIII. In blissful ignorance, our young hero dreamed on; for very odd dreams, indeed, were mistily floating about his brain, and the oddest of all was this? He thought he was on foot, traversing a vast plain, with his cousin Charlotte on one arm and Amy Carleton on the other. In front of them was a mountain which they were en ? Am _mmmL kut mki/ik AAngtanflo m. UDHTUnug I*/ 1CAUU, uuv nmvu -ceded from t'aem, so that their most strenuous efforts brought them no nearer to their goal; and this moving mountain shook the earth with its weighs while a curious noise proceeded from it, like the hissing of a furnace, far off, yet distinctly audible to their hearing, and occasionally a hot breath seemed to sweep o er them, as if from some hidden subterraneous fire. Suddenly, Charlotte grew heavier and heavier, as she leaned upon his arm, and as he turned in amazement to look at her, she loomed up into a shadowy figure of immense proportions, while a grumbling voice uttered these words?surely not Amy's: "It is only the African jackal you were reading about the other day?hear how heavily he sighs!" and at the same instant the huge mass, which was Charlotte and yet not Charlotte, fell prone upon him and trampled him to the earth. The shock awakened him. He opened his eyes, stared confusedly about him, and for a moment turned as cold as ice, as he became aware that his dream was not altogether a dream, but had stern reality for its basis. The big shadowy mass assumed a tangible form. It was not Charlotte, but a weighty, hairy paw that pressed upon his arm; two fierce little glittering eyes were Llinkino aananolv of Kim nnii ?. Knt hrAftfh UIIUAIU^ OU f W" h*m*| ?^ W stole over his face from between two parted rows of viciously-gleaming teeth. Charlotte and the moving mountain had together melted iqto the unpleasant form of a large and evidently hungry grizzly bear. Arthur was not a coward; but taken as he was at so thorough a disadvantage, it was not surprising that the realization of his peril, as it flashed over him, should make him quail. There was no time, however, for deliberation. Instinctively he made a desperate clutch at hisgun?which was luckily loaded?struggling at the same instant to his knees. Bruin, disconcerted by the suddenness of the movement, stepped a pace or two backward, and as he did so Arthur fired?quickly, almost without aim?the shot grazing the ugly cheek of his foe. The brute roared, more with rage thau pain. Bang, went the second barrel, just as he was making a lumbering plunge forward, and this time with good effect, for he went rolling over on the ground. This gave Arthur an advantage. He sprang to his feet and whipped round the tree he bad been sleeping under, reloading his gun as he did so. Bruin was not desperately wounded. Directly, he scuffled up again, and with a world of malice in his grinning face, came'flying at Arthur, uttering terrific growls. The mist had cleared away from the young man's eyes now, and his native coolness came to his aid. He took a good steady aim and planted a load of buckshot in the grizzly's forehead, where it went crashing among his frontal bones with stirring force. But it was a horribly tough forehead, as it appeared. Had the shot entered his eye, it would have had a more satisfactory effect. Bruin's temper, never a mild one, was worked up by this last assault to a furious pitch. Again he plunged at his enemy, whose agility in keeping himself screened by the trunk of the tree, alone sf>ved him from a fatal hug. Arthur attempted to fire for the fourth time, but the gun snapped. He lifted the weapon and dealt a blow with all his force upon the brute's face, and in doing so lost bis balance, and fell over a gnarled, slippery root on which his foot rested. He uad a consciousness of a suffocating pressure upon his prostrate form, and then he knew nothing more. Had he retained his senses?which were not dazed by fright, but literally squeezed out of him?he would have heard a ringing report over his head, and have experienced the satisfaction of seeing his shaggy assailant torn an awkward somersault and stretch ont his clumsy limbs in tbetbroes or a tmai struggle. Bruin was slain, and the peril past. The next moment a light form, graceful as an antelope's, emerged from the thicket, a slender hand was laid on Arthur's arm, and a pair of dark eyee, anxiously and inquiringly, sought his unconscious face. He was startled by this unexpected vision, when the fresh air, blowing revivingly over him, restored his scattered wits, and brought him to a knowledge of bis unlooked-for salfrnm tha groahml iUngnu I?d CVCr been placed in in his life. He thought it must be a dream and rubbed his hand confusedly over his forehead, muttering something about "Amy?come out to look after him?gun missed fire, or the bear never would have got awaythen checked his incoherent speech, and gazed in mute inquiry at his deliverer. This good fairy, or guardian angel, who had. come so opportunely to bis aid, was in the shape of a slim, dusky-haired girl, wearing the garb of an Indian, yet of a more delicate and beautiful countenance than he had ever seen among the daughters of her race A short, brown skirt, curiously embroidered in gaudy colors, hung to her knee, and waf met by a pair of buskins bound with scarlel ribbons. On her ankles and wrists were glittering circlets, either silver or its imitations and chains of beads of various sorts were wound about her neck, and fell over the breasl of her short, scarlet jacket, which was trimmed with silver fringe. Her long hair wat braided and fell below her waist, and on hei head she wore a sort of tiara of feathers, in terwoven with beads; this, and the general richness of her dress, leading him to the con elusion that she must be the daughter of s chief of renown, and, probably, high in rank among her people. Arthur's glanoe fell upon the earcass o: his late adversary, and then reverted grateful ]y to the countenance of his pretty rescuer " You killed him 1" he cried, with a suddei comprehension of the truth. "You saved mj Jife." She laughed delightedly and clapped hei slender hands. "Ah ! you speak?you are not dead," she exclaimed, in a clear,, silvery voice. "I < thought he had crushed the breath out of you, ; at first" Her good English surprised him. He looked admiringly at her, taking note of the symmetry of her form, the delicacy of her features, the oval outline of her soft, brown cheek. Here, at last, was a realization of the i poetic yisions which had been so rudely dis- 4 pilled by the plain and uninteresting realities he had hitherto encountered. "Will you tell me your name 7" ne asfceci. 1 "I am called Manitara," she answered. "They name me also White Fawn, because I i am fairer than the others of my race. It i9 the name I like the best, only it is trouble- 1 some to speak always." 1 "Are you the daughter of a chief, Mani- < tara ?" "I have no parents; but a great chief calls j me bis child. And, Oh!" she added, her i bright face suddenly clouding over, "that re- , minds mq of the errand op which I was sent It was to the good white man, the missionary ; in the valley which lies beyond this wood, i My father chief lies sick at home, and he bid me seek the missionary and bring him to his j cabin, for he would speak to him of a matter j which lies heavy on his heart." j "The missionary in the valley I w nyf it is at his house that I live," said Arthur. "I will return to it with you. Where do you come from, Manitara ?" "From the new reservation, where my people have gone to live. My people are the Crows, from the Spring Vale. My father chief has been a great warrior and has many scalps at his belt, but he is sick and feeble now, and can fight no more. He says, himself, that he will soon be chasing the deer in the hunting-grounds of the Great Spirit. He will hunt no more in these forests, for he is stricken, and his limbs are weary and his sight is dim." Her tone, as she uttered these words, sank to a plaintive murmur, and her large eyes filled with tears. "Perhaps he may yet recover," said Arthur, kindly. He had become impressed, as she spoke, with a conviction that she must be the maiden of whom Panther Joe had spoken to Mr. Carleton, and acknowledged to himself that his description of her beauty had even fallen short of the reality. At the same time he felt that it was great presumption in Joe to aspire to the honor of ber hand, so immeasurably superior to that uncivilized giant did she appear, no matter what his intrinsic merits micrfit he. , "He will never recover," said Manitara, { sadly. "The Great Spirit has laid his bands < upon him, and he will not arise any more. When he is gone, Manitara will be alone." t "Have you not other friends ?" asked Ar- y thur. . "I care not for them ; and I have no kindred to keep me here. I would not stay. I j love not the place where I now live, and to my old home I cannot return." . r."Whfiffi^hfn will ynq go ?" wknd the ynnifr? man, whose interestest in this picturesque child of the forest deepened with every word s she spoke. "I do not know," she seriously replied. 1 Then, after musing a moment, a smile rippled j like sunshine over her face, and she added ^ with an arch glance, "I will follow the flight of the birds." j "But you have no wings." "I shall not need wings?my feet will carry C I ~ Uiwrla trnatr ma trail fKflV Will flv * UIC , CIIC UI1UO ttUWn IUU nvn ( .u.y ..... ?J before me to lead the way." Arthur could oot make out whether she was iu jest or earnest. She caught his puzzled ( glance, and laughed merrily, like a child; j then she grew quickly grave again. "Ah ! my poor father chief waits for my return, while I talk idly here," she cried. "Let us make haste to reach the missionary's house. t Have we still far to go ?" "Not very," replied Arthur; "but you J cannot return to-day. Even if Mr. Carleton could start with you as soon as we reach his ( house, it would be dark night before you reached your home." "I fear not the dark," said Manitara. "The Great Spirit leads me by the hand, and o I cannot go wrong. But perhaps the miss- ^ ionary will be afraid. Then I must return ; alone." "No, indeed, he is never afraid. But why not stay at his bouse until to-morrow morning ? | You could set out before day-light?as early as you pleased." The Indian girl shook her head. "I dare ( not delay. It may be that the Great Spirit I will call mv father chief awav even before my return ; and I promised to go as quickly as I < could." I They were now walking in the direction of ] the valley. Arthur, for all his manly strides, i could scarcely keep pace with the light, swift I steps of his companion, whose feet seemed to I skim the ground, rather than tread upon it, < as she walked. f "Are you the son of the missionary ?" asked Manitara, with an upward glance into Ar- < thur's face. He thought, as he looked down ' into the liquid depths of her eyes, that he had never seen lovelier eyes or a lovelier face, even ' among the fair-hued damsels of his native i city. i "No, I am only the missionary's guest. He ' has no son. I am going back soon to my i own home." \ ) "I live in New York?the city of New i i York. You have heard of that, have you i not?" i "Not that I know of," said Manitara. "Is I it where the Great Chief lives, who sends or- ? . dere to us that we must obey ?" i I "You mean the President," said Arthur, i i "No, he lives in Washington ; that is a dif- i t ferent place. You would like to go to New < ? York, Manitara. You would see ojany beau, tiful things there. Suppose you come back i when I go?" t Manitara smiled. "You jest," she quietly replied. "What i would the Indian girl do in that far-off r place ?" : "You could live with us?in my uncle's I house. He has a larere house, with plenty of room. I have a cousin living there too?my i cousin Charlotte. She would be company for : you. But you would have to wear a different dress. This would look strange out there, f though I think it very pretty indeed ; much - prettier than some the city girls wear." "What are city girls ?" asked Manitara. i "The girls who live in New York city." r "And how do they dress ?" "Have you not seen some American people r out here? Ladies and girls I mean ?" "J have seen the white soldiers' wives and daughters. I thought them all ugly, and their dress too," said Manityra, with some scorn in her tone. "Well, you have never sett the missionary's wife and daughters, have you ?" "No, never." "I am sure you will not think them ugly. Mrs. Carleton is lovely, and so are all the little girls. They have been so kind and good to me, I love them all dearly." . "Are they only little girls ?" "Well; Amy is not a little girl, exactly. The others are." "Are they prettier than me ?" asked Manitara, with naive seriousness. "Not a bit," promptly replied Arthur. liT'll *a!1 ?*ah fwnfU " Ka aonnfirliifl ? 11 ten JUU bUO UUDU) u<u UUUVM) VVUMWVU tially. "I never met any one prettier than you, anywhere." Maaitara's pearly teeth shone for an instant in a bright smile of pleasure, at this compliment. She was as artless and ingenuous as a child, and not being versed in the ways of the world, took no pains to conceal her sentiments. Like all of her sex, she was susceptible to (lattery ; but she knew not of its snares. Luckily, in this case, it was innocent flattery, prompted by no double motive, and came from a heart more experienced, but almost as ingenuous as her own. "I can't help thinking," pursued Arthur, "what a mercy it was that you chanced to come by when I was having that tussle with the bear. Please tell me juBt how the whole thing happened. You know I was under the brute and lust my Benses. I knew nothing more until I saw you, like a good angel, standing at my side." "Oh 1 it happened this way," said Manitara. 'I was walking fast, and just thinking it would not take me long to pass through the wood I saw ahead of me, when I heard a curious noise, a sort of grumbling and stamping, ind then firing of the gun, and I said to myself right off, 'that is a bear-bunt.' I hurried cn, because I wanted to see it. I have chased bears often enough, myself?and just as I came in sight of you, you struck him with your gun and fell down, aud he sprang on you. You had wounded him, too, or he would cave done you more mischief; but before he cad much of a chance, I aimed and fired, and I vas so glad when I saw him roll over, and cnew he was dead. Oh 1 I was frightened vhen I came up, and saw you looking so vhite and strange!" "Were you sorry for me?" "Yes, I was so sorry ; my heart seemed to itand still. But almost in a moment, you >pened your eyes?and then you called me Amy.'" "I don't know what I said ; I was all in a naze," said Arthur. "But tell me, Manitara, vere you not frightened at the bear ? Supcose be had attacked you ?" "Uhll was not arraia, wun mis, saia tianitara, touching her rifle, which she carried wised on her shoulder. "I never miss my ,* I* 11 CD. "It was a Iiglit, dainty &?pon, just fit For" l delicate hand. Arthur looked at it, and hen he took the little brown band and raised t to his lips. It was no idle gallantry that >rorapted the act, but an impulse of gratiude, warm from the heart. For the first ,ime he now seemed to realize clearly the nagnitude of the danger from which he bad )een rescued, and the obligation he was unler to the fearless girl, who had been the initrument of saving him from death. He contined to ply Manitara with quesions?among others, why it was that she could speak English so well, while the generility of her people had such an imperfect knowledge of it; and she replied that a good vhite roan had taught her, her father chief lilowing her to "go to him for an hour every lay, when they lived on the old reservation. 'I am not ignorant," she added with some sride; "I can read a little in your books, and [ can write my name." They grew quite sociable during their walk, and by the time hey reached the missionary's house had become excellent friends. [To be Continued.] iistorg of toota. HISTORICAL SKETCHES of the Early Settlement of South Carolina. BT BEV. BOBEBT LATHAN. CAPTURE OF PATRICK MOORE AND HATTT.R OF PEDAR SPRINGS. i After the fall of Charleston, the main army )f th^British marched through the State, by ;he way of Camden, and thence to Charlotte, North Carolina. If we will lay a map of the State of South Carolina before us, we will see ;hat the route of Cornwallis was near the cen- j ;re of the Slate. His path led through a rich jountry, comparatively well cultivated, and ?ettled by as determined Whigs as were in America. In his march, he passed through jr near the counties of Williamsburg, Sumter, Kershaw, Lancaster, Fairfield, Chester and York. No other route could have been chosen by the British which would haveled them through as many and as strong Whig settlements. The Revolutionary record of Williamsburg is the brightest in America. Every other sec-, tion of the thirteen colonies had a few tories and loyalists ; but Williamsburg had only a jingle individual who was the friend of King George. As might have been expected, the march of Cornwallis through the State greatly encourJ .1? J 1 i:_,_ ?n agea me tonea uuu lujruuaw iu an ocuuiuuo u? the country. From the Savannah to the Potomac, joy and gladness pervaded the breasts of this class of citizens. The Whigs were made to suffer, but it can hardly be said that they were dispirited. It was a dark day, but the Whigs did not cease to hope. In fact, misfortune only nerved them to prompt and energetic action. Old men, whose heads were blossoming for the grave, forgetting the ravages which time bad made upon their constitutions, shouldered their rifles, and with the elastic step of youth, hastened to meet the foe. Beardless boys followed their fathers to the camp ; and mothers and maidens took hold of the bandies of the plow. Whilst the men and boys fought, the women tilled the fields and reaped the harvests. From the 12th of May, 1780, to the 7th of October, of the same year, the Whigs of Georgia, upper South Carolina and Western North Carolina, had been watching the British witfy the anxiety which a crouched lion watches his prey. After the fall of Charleston, the Whigs of Georgia and western South Carolina sought refuge?some iu what was then known as Mecklenburg and Rowan counties, North Carolina, and others found a safe retreat in the valley of Nollichucky, in the homes of Colonels William Campbell, Jobn Sevier and Isaac Shelby. These noble men opened up their homes for the reoeption of those Whigs ?l"> tio/J boon ma/1 ft homeless bv the foe. and. with their Whig neighbors, they longed for a fit opportunity to avenge the wrongs of their countrymen. So soon as Colonel (afterwards General) Charles McDowell, of Burke county, North Carolina, heard ofjjhe fall of Chaflnton and the contemplated advance of the British, he determined to raise a force and throw himself in front of the advancing foe. To effect this, he sent a requisition to Colonel Isaac Shelby, of what was then known as Sullivan county, North Carolina, (now Tennessee) for all the men be could raise. Shelby was in Kentucky surveying lands for Henderson & Co. When he beard of the fate^of the army under General Lincoln and the All of Charleston, he determined to lay hit compass and chain aside and again gird on his sword, never again to take it off until his country was free. In July, he returned to his home and found the requisition made by McDowell. He went to work with all the energies of his great soul, and in a short time raised a body of three hundred mounted riflemen in Sullivan county. On the 19th of March?two months prior to the fall of Charleston?the citizens of Washington county, North Carolina, had met and raised a force of one hundred men, to be sent to General Rutherford, to assist South I Tknaa fiwiiu ABItlff tl\ fho f?(lf \JVkl Ulliiai xucog VIW|/9; vmug w v>?v ?MW that General Rutherford was hurried off sooner than he was expected, did not leave Washington county. In the summer; they, with probably some others, under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel John Sevier, and the three hundred mounted riflemen from Sullivan county, under Colonel Isaac Shelby, joined Colonel McDowell, near the Cherokee Ford, on Broad river. Patrick Ferguson,- a Major in the British regular army and Brigadier-General of the loyal militia, had been ordered by Cornwallis into the Ninety-8ix district, for the purpose of arousing the loyalists and toriea to action. Patrick Ferguson was, by birth, a Scotchman, and son of the distinguished, jurist, James Ferguson, and nephew of Lord Elibank? Patrick Mury. During the siege of Charleston and at the battle of Brandywine, Patrick Ferguson had distinguished himself. He was a skillful and energetic offioer, and a braver man never lived, i , After Georgia, in 1779, fell into the hands of the enemy, Colonel Elijah Clarke, with about one hundred Whigs, fled from Georgia to the settlements beyond the mountains. Here, among the inhabitants of the Watauga and Holston,. Clarke and his confederates found warm friends. The glowing narrations of these refugee Whigs from Georgia, kindled into a flame the patriotism of the men who eugugod in ?'i^< '?/ baUlewitln Indians, on the 10th of" October, 1774, at the J mouth of the Kenhawa. With these daring spirits and his own followers from Georgia, Colonel Clarke returned to the scene of his former conflicts with the British. The enemys' posts were annoyed, their sentinels shot down,, and their officers picked off. Hence, although the British thought Georgia and South Carolina conquered territory, the officers commanding the posts of Augusta and Ninety-Six complained to the commander in chief, that "a body of rebels have assembled against the peace of this province." To annihilate Clarke and his men, and others operating in a similar way, Patrick Fergoson was sent out. When Shelby and Sevier joined McDowell at the Cherokee ford, in July, 1780, Colonel Clarke was with McDowell. Some twenty miles from McDowell's camp, at Cherokee ford, General Andrew Williamson had, daring the Cherokee war, built a fort on the waters of Pacolet river. From all accounts, this fort was advantageously situated and strongly built. It was surrounded by a strong abatis, and could be entered only by a small irate. D When Lord Cornwallis sent bis emissaries into North Carolina to warn the loyalists to be ready for action on his arrival, a certain Patrick Moore, of what is now Lincoln county, North Carolina, greatly interested himself in behalf of the British government. When Cornwallis reached Camden, Patrick Moore, thinking that the time for him to take the field had arrived, raised the royal standard. Multitudes of disaffected Americans in his neighborhood, flocked to his standard. He invited all the loyalists in the region of country between the Catawba river and the mountains, to join him. With bright anticipations, this Patrick Moore and his followers set out for the fort on Pacolet. On his march from Lincoln county to the fort, Moore met with no interruption. Here, he thought, no doubt, he was safe and in a favorable situation to render acceptable service to George the Third. Colonel McDowell determined that Patrick Moore should not quietly remain in this stronghold. So soon as he was joined by Shelby and Sevier, he detached these two officers and Colonel Clarke, with six hundred men, according to the American account; but according to the British with "two or three hundred banditti without cannon." Tho TtrWioh Annnunt. we are disDosed to think. *MV *"v,r?:?> r is correct, except that they were not "banditti." They were gentlemen then and afterwards through life, hot the inveterate haters of tyrants. At sunset, Shelby, Clarke and Sevier set out, with the detachment under them, for Patrick Moore's headquarters. As day began to dawn on the next morning, they had the fort surrounded. Shelby, who was first in command, sent William Coke to demand a surrender of the fort Moore replied that he would defend the fort to the last extremity. The lines of the assailants were drawn in to within musket shot, and preparation made for an immediate attack. To save the effusion of blood, Moore was again summoned to surrender. To this he replied that he would surrender on the condition that the garrison be paroled not to serve again during the war. This was granted. Ninety-three loyalists and one British sergeant were paroled. In the fort was found two hundred and fifty stand, of arms, all heavily'loaded. It was clear that Jtfatncic Moore was neither a good officer nor a brave man. The British charged Moore with cowardice. Both the men and officers were anxious to defend the fort, but Moore, after agreeing to defend it, went out and brought in the i ' . : : a American officers and put them in possession of the gate. , . About the time that Patrick Moore surrendered, Major Patrick Ferguson arrived in the Ninety-Six district His command consisted of one hundred choice regulars. The loyalists, to the number of more than a thousand, soon joined him. His camp soon became the rendezvous of all the desperadoes of the region. His name attracted swarms ef tories. Although his command at first consisted of only one hundred British regulars, he soon found himself at the head of an army of more ? a mi .i a. tnan two tnousana men. ine greater part u* these were natives, bat thej were decidedly better soldiers than his regulars. Ferguson was ordered to take possession of all the strong places in the district, enroll and discipline the militia, and, in one word, do everything in his power to strengthen the royal cause and crush the spirits of the Whigs, ^^fi^^his object, public meetings were callea^n^tne men and officers of Gibbs', Plum mar's, Cunningham's, Clairy's, King's and Kirkland's battalions of militia, passed resolutions that every loyalist must be ready, at a moment's .warning, to rush to the contest. Those who lagged behind were to be regarded as the common enemies of the loyal cause, and were threatened with the confiscation of their property. Those who failed to join their regiments promptly when called upon, were ordered to be forced into the British regular army. Everything appeared bright on the side of the British. The Whigs were silent from prudence, and the tories and loyalists were as mnch elated as if they bad not a fog in the land. The raoiditv with which Fer* ? ?? - ?r ~ f guson's army was increased, the zeal of the loyalists and tbries in the country, together with the acknowledged ability of Ferguson himself, as an officer, was sufficient to dispirit the Whigs. Sach, however, was not the case. Colonel McDowell had his eye upon Ferguson. He knew the record of the men in his command. Many of them had been warriors from their youth. They had met painted savages at the mouth of the Kenhawa; they had seen the British at Brier creek, Kettle creek, Augusta and Savannah. Many of them had been made homeless by fires kindled by an iuvading foe. With implicit confidence in Colonels Shelby and Clarke, Colonel McDowell'detached them, with about six hundred mounted riflemen, to watch the movements of Ferguson. The instructions given these officers were to hang around the camp of Ferguson and cut off his foraging parties. Ferguson was, in the meantime, watching for an opportunity to cut off Shelby and Clarke, and these men were no less anxioos to dash in upoo the foraging parties of Ferguson. Although Shelby and Clark were sent by McDowell for the same general purpose, with the understanding that they would act in concert, each seems to have acted separately and alone; but still in such a way as to be a mutual aid, the one to the other. This occasioned some confusion in the. narration pf tlje deeds accomplished by the party. What was actually accomplished by ClarFancT themen in his command, is sometimes spoken of as being the joint work of both Shelby and Clark with their united commands. On Colonel Clarke's march from Georgia, to join McDowell at Cherokee ford, he detached Samuel Alexander, with a squad of men, to scour the Ninety-Six region and learn the strength and operations of the British. Alexander joined his commander, probably very soon after Shelby and Clarke left McDowell's camp, at Cherokee ford. The report of Alexander was, in substance, that Major Ferguson, with a detachment of men, variously reported from two to five hundred, was out, in what is now Spartanburg county, on a recruiting expedition. The object of the British officer was to increase the number of his cavalry from the people of the country. To effect his purpose, many individuals who had been paroled and promised the privilege of remaining peaceably at home, were impressed. On receiving this information, Col. Clarke proposed to his men, all of whom, or at least the majority of whom, were Georgians, that they set out at once in search of this recruiting party. This was on the afternoon of the 30th of July, 1780. Clarke's command, which was about one hundred strong?all mounted?readily agreed to the proposition of their commander. All hands went to work, and preparations were soon ma^e for the exDedition. Guns were put in shooting order, and those that could, replenished their haversacks with food. About sun-set they were joined by Hammond, McGall and Lidde,each with a few men, amounting in all to about eighty. The whole force now numbered one hundred and sixty-eight The troops were mustered and the line of march was taken up through the woods and over mere foot paths. Nothing was heard of the enemy during the night Some time during the next day, it was learned that a scouting party of tories was plundering through the country, at some distance from the main command under Ferguson. Their horses were spurred on, with the hope that this scouting tory party might be surprised and cut off. The camp was reached, but they failed to surprise the tories. At a distance of some three miles, Clarke and his men rode round the tory camp, taking the road leading from Bobo's mill, in the direction of Berwick's iron works. At the iron works, tbey were joined by eighteen recruits. At the house of Captain Dillard, who was with them, they halted, and Mrs. Dillard entertained the party, as well as she was able, with potatoes and milk. From this point it was concluded that the party would change their direotion and cross over to the road leading from Ninety-Six to Green, or Cedar Springs. Having marohed through the woods for eighteen miles, they halted at Cedar Springs. Yidettes were stationed, with orders to make no noise should any discoveries be made; but to dash into camp and make an announcement of their discoveries. The men dismounted, but the horses were not unsaddled, and every man was ordered to keep his bridle reins in his hand. Shortly after Clarke and his men left the " ^ - r\?n i /-t_ i i T1 noose 01 uaptain uiuara, i/oiouei r orguauu and Major Dunlap, with a party of soldiers, arrived. They asked Mrs. Dillard if Clarke and his men bad been at her house daring the day. She replied that they had, bat had been gone for a considerable length of time. She was then asked tiHrhat point they had gone. She replied that she did not know. This, as we will shortly see, was not strictly true. Colonel Ferguson ordered Mrs. Dillard to prepare sapper for himself and Major Dunlap immediately. Making a virtue of necessity, she set to work to exeonte the task. Whilst preparing supper for these two officers, it was necessary that she pass frequently by the place where they were sitting. In passing back and forth, she heard them concerting measures for the immediate pursuit of Clarke. The bacon found in the house, or at least a part of it, was taken and given to the soldiers. Supper for the officers was soon prepared. After it was eaten, the plan was for Major Dunlap to take sixty cavalry and one hundred and fifty mounted riflemen, and pursue Clarke. By some means, the British had learned the plans of Clarke and the locality where he and his men would probably camp. Mrs. Dillard knew that Clarke had gone in the direction of Cedar Springs, and she heard one of the British officers inform the others that Cedar Springs was the point to which the Americans had gone. So soon as Mis. Dil- , lard had placed the supper on the table, she < slipped oat of, tbe house, ana hastening to tne ; stable, she bridled a colt, and mounting it, without saddle or blanket, proceeded with all possible 8peed to Cedar Springs. Here she arrived about half an hour before daylight '< The vidette took her at once into the pffesence of Colonel Clarke. She was at once recognized, and proceeded to warn Clarke and his 1 men of their danger. She told them they must at once get ready to fight or fly. At the same moment another Whig lady, Mrs. , Thomas, apprised the Americans. of the ap- ; proach of the British. The command was given to modnt In a moment, every man was in bis saddle and , ready to meet the advancing force. Before it was light enongh to distinguish friend from foe, Dunlap, with his tory band, came, charging into the America camp. He received a warm reception, and instead of surprising the ( Americans, he himself was surprised. The , contest lasted only for a little more than a < quarter of an hour, when the British beat a re- 1 treat The Americans followed the flying foe for more than a mile, when Dnnlap-was met by Colonel Ferguson with a strong reinforce* : ment The Americans returned to the scene of conflict, picked up their wounded and retreated, by the way of Berwick's iron works, , towards North Carolina. The British, under 1 Colonel Ferguson, pursued as far the iron 1 works and then gave up the chase. At the ' iron works two of the wounded American sol- 1 diers were left These fell into the hands of Ferguson, but he treated them kindly and ( permitted them to remain. 1 The American loss was, in killed four; and i twenty-three wounded. The British loss was < much greater. Of sixty cavalry, twenty-eight ' were left dead on the field, and seven tories. 1 The number of British wounded was never ao- j curately ascertained. As the men fought hand to hand, most of 1 the wounds were inflicted with swords. Col. 1 Clarke was slightly wounded on the neck. 1 The battle of Cedar Springs was fought on ' the morning of the first of August, and ex- < cept the snack of milk and potatoes received < atthe housed Captain Dillard, the men bad "j eaten nothingsince the evening of the 30th of j July. The horses had neither been unsad- i died nor fed. j IgisccllMeousi grading. j THE WORLD'S FAIR. I The Centennial of American Independence | has brought with it the greatest advance that < the civilization of the world has ever produced. Historians, travelers of the Old Wiarld, i stand in awe and admiration, when visiting j the magnificent splendor of the World's Great j Show, now being held at Philadelphia. It | has been asserted that it was a financial spec- | ulation, and a political move I Such ideas, j however, are soon banished from the mind of ' the visitor as he gazes upon the grand and j gorgeous display that meets his eye upon eve- ( ry side, from his first entrance into the Main j Building to the last gate on the north side of j the grounds. The grounds cover 230 acres, and are all beautifully laid off in magnificent walks and avenues?dotted off with all kinds . of shrubbery, flowers, fountains, lakes, brook- , lets, bridges, arbors and narrow-gauge railroads ; and so tastefully and artistically ar- 1 ranged that the visitor meets something new ! and interesting at every turn. Men spend j hundreds and thousands in traveling to for- 1 eign countries, and in educating their children, ] while a careful observer could acquire more knowledge of the habits, manners and cus- ; toms of the nations of the world in a two 1 months' visit to the Centennial, than could be 1 acquired in five years' traveling over the world?for all the world has brought to this ( grand exhibition samples of its progress in ! science, art, mechanics and products?dating back to the dark ages, for over 4,000 years? from Egypt, the oldest, to the United Slates, ' the youngest nation of the earth. Visitors who have attended the London, 4 Paris and Vienna Exhibitions, acknowledge ' the superior grandeur of this, our Grand Cen- . tennial Exhibition of America. All stand in J awe and admiration of its beauties and supe- 4 rior arrangements, attractions and grounds. 4 THE MAIN EXHIBITION BUILDING j is 1880 feet long (over one-third of a mile) c and 464 feet wide; built of stone, iron, wood i and orlaM. It cost 81.000.000. covers 21-47 acres, or 936,008 square feet in floor room, projections and galleries. In this building can be seen the products of over forty nations and countries of every part of the globe?embracing in Department I.?Minerals, Ores, Stone, Mining Products, Metallurgical Products and Mining Engineering. Department II?Chemical Manufactures, Cemarics, Pottery, Porcelain, Glass, Furniture, etc., Yarns and Woven Goods of vegetable or mineral materials, Woven and Felted goods of Wool, Silk and Silk Fabrics, Clothing, Jewelry, Paper, Blank Books, Stationery, Weapons, Surgery, Medicine, Hardware, Edge Tools, Cutlery and Metalic Products, Fabrics of Vegetable, Animal or Mineral Materials, Carriages, Vehicles and accessories. Department HI.?Educational Systems, Methods, Libraries and Organizations, Scientific and Philosophical Instruments and Methods, Engineering, Architecture, Maps, etc., Physical, moral and social condition of man in all parts of the world. A distance of over eleven miles must be traversed to see the exhibits in this building. THE ART GALLERY, J or Memorial, Hall cost $1,500,000. It ie a fire \ proof building,fault of granite, glass and iron, 1 in an artiatic and imposing style of architecture. It is 365 feet long, by 210 feet wide, ( and has a beautiful dome surmounting it Its I contents are classed as t Department IV.?Embracing Sculpture (in 1 stone, metal, wood and iron, etc.,) Painting ? (in oil and water colors, on canvass, Porce- a lain, enamel, metal, etc.,) Engraving, Lithog- t raphy, Photography and Photolitography, In- ] dustrial and Architectural designs and Mo- 1 dels, Decorations, with Geranie and Vitrious ? Material, Mosaic and Inlaid work. In this boildingcan be seen the Jewelry Plita and i Rings worn by the Egyptians thousands of J yean ago, and the masterpieces of sculptors and artutsfor many generations of many nations. To'the lover of art a week could be spent in admiration, bnt oar space and lime will not permit of any details, so we will move on to MACHINERY BALL, , ' which embraces Department V. This contains all conceivable machinery and. tools used for the miner, manufacturer and chemist?from the Little Steam Engine ?.which stands on a gold anarter of a dollar, mid can be hid under a little girl's thimble, to the Pn.Ku Vnmnfi nf 1 4/Vl knMA TVtVa iUmilUiVIU W44MJO UU^IUV V* A7BVV mvsvw ^w -? er and that terrible war engine, the famous Krupp Gun. This bailding is constructed of stone, iron, wood and glass, and stands in a, straight line doe west of the west front of the main bailding?distance 542 feet; the building cowers 14 acres. It is 1402 feet long and 360 feet wide; its cost of construction was $800,000, and it takes oyer 5 miles of travel to see the exhibits. The Machinist and Meohanie can spend weeks and even months in this building, and see and learn more of mechanical appliances that he would otherwise in a lifetime of travel?many of them being in actual operation, turning out the products for which they were built, such as the manufacture of the finest silk fabrics, the manufacture of Watohes, Jewelry, Type, Printing Paper, to the coarse work of the blacksmith shop and the Miner of ores and metals. The hqm and bun of the machinery in turning out all kind of work operated by the -world's most skillful mechanics, make this a busy building and one of special interest THE AGRICULTURAL BUILUJlHI*. Id this bnilding can be seen all the vast products of the soil as well as the various machines, implements and tools used by all nations in its cultivation?from Loosiana's Cotton,-Sugar and Bice, to China's prodncts of Silk and Tea. The building is 826 feefriongby 540 wide, covers over 10 acres, cost $300,000 in its conit; notion, is boilt of wood and glass/and requires a travel of nearly 8 miles to see its exhibits. The building is supplied with many thousands of feet of hose, always attached to the large water pipes whioh ran tinder every part of the building. This is to guard against fire. horticultural hall. This building, and the beautiful grounds surrounding it, contains all that is lovely and beautiful in nature in the way of trees, shrubbery flowers, plants, etc.-<-many of the Exhibitors having made their exhibits in the [>pen air, on the grounds, in the display of fine flowers, in artistic and fantastic designs, showing the prodncts of nature from all parts af the world and from all so: and climates. The bnilding is cohstracted cntefly of Glass, ? * __ J Si . :x supported dy iron, tt ooa auu otuuo, u. ? 383 feet long, by 198 feet wide, embellished with several fine fountains suitably arranged tn different parts of the building. The above embrace the five leading building?excluding the Government Building, Women's Pavillion and many of the other fine buildings used for Restaurants; those built by Foreign nations, the different States, and the fine structures put up by large exhibitors. The grounds, buildings, avenues, etc., oan best be seen by getting aboard of the Narrow Gauge Railroad,which traverses the ground at a cost of five cents for the round trip. This gives a person an idea of the magnitude of Ene exhibitions. The main building and ate* ones cover over 75 acres; the number of buildings and inclosures upon the grounds will reach close on to 200, whioh will give our readers a faint idea of what is to be seenJBk the visitor. ^0' The grounds border on the beautiful river a-t- t ||,A 3COUJ1KIII, W1I1UU U?U UC UTCriinikcu uvui auu towers of the Main Building as well as other slevated points. A company is running some ten steamers apon the river, some ten miles op through Fairmount Park, stopping at eight or ten landings?the charges for the round trip being thirty cents; or, one can get aboard .of the boat at the east end of the Exhibition grounds ind ride down to the Reservoir for ten cents. Fhese boats run every five or ten minutes, and furnish delightfbl trips to parties wishingio see the beautiful scenery in the Park ana on the river; also the magnificent bridge which span the latter. HOTEL ACCOMMODATIONS. , The. leadinor hotels at the srounds are the United States, American plan, $4.00 per day; Transcontinental, $5.00 per day; Globe, $5.00 per day. The United States will, no doubt, suit most ]>eople, as it is a first class boose, a little retired, and its appointments of a*smfortable nature, and there, travelers wift feel more at home than at either of the others. There are several other honses, such as the Alias, Elm House, which charge from $1 to &2 per room?meals at the restaurant, the guest paying for He orders. The hotels down in^e main part of the sity, conveniently located to the street cars, rod on wide streets, are the St George, on Broad and Walnut streets, $5 per day; La Pierre, on Broad, below Chestnut, $3.50 per lay ; St. Cloud, 709 Arch street, $3.00 per lay; Bingham's,'on Market, corner Eleventh, $3.00 per day; Commercial, 826 Market, $2.00 per day. The Continental, corner of Chestnut and Ninth, is considered the leading hotel in the lity, bnt the narrow streets on which it stands rod the dauby appearance of the house inside rod out, do not entitle it to the claim of a Srst class hotel, when compared to the Windtor, the Buckingham, the lfffftnan House, rod others, of New York, as a standard. There are many other hotels and a large lumber of private houses, where rooms and loard can be secured at reasonable rates, and ?those who propose to study economy, we ' vould suggest that they secure a room at a lotel kept on the European plan and get their neals at the restaurant; or else secure a room it a private house with breakfast and supper, it a certain rate, per day, or week, and then ake dinner on the grounds, at the restaurants, as the charges are reasonable and the 'are that of the very best. Such arrangements can be made at from $8 to $15 per seek, and good accommodations secured at ;hat price. The street railroad cars run from iveiy part of the city right to the Grounds; ;he North and South lines exchange tickets rod transfer passengers to lines rnnning to ;he Grounds?the fare being seven cents, or UU1 blLAVUO 1U? ( \jUUA Wt To give oar readers an idea of the magniude of the Exhibition, we famish the follow g table of the leading Industrial Exhibiions that the world! has heretofore held: VHKRE HELD. YEAR. ACRES COVERED. COST. London ??.. ...... 1851............. .20.. .? .* .$1,484,000 Sew York -.1853 6|... - 500,090 Paris.... 1855 80 4,000.000 [London 1882... 24............ 2^800,000 Paris. .:... 1887.."..........-40*.; 4,596,763 Vienna ...1878 ........50..... 9,850,000 3hi1?HAlnhift 75.. 8.500.000 It i? estimated that between 60,000 and 70,KX> exhibitors are at Philiw3el^ia-r70,000 wing the number that were at Vienna^ and he largest number ever gathered at: aa*3ttlibition. The Paris Exhibition in 18d? had >,800,000 visitore?the largest number ever Mending any world's lair; and it is Estimated hat from 16,000,000 to 12,000,000 will visit Philadelphia?-the hot weather during July teeptfcg thousands away who will come in September, October and November. For further particulars .visit the Oentential Grounds at Philadelphia, nod see for