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* le wis&kisx, proprietor, j ? |nb*ptorf Jfamilg JUtospptr. ?n % $mwtiw if % folitital, jjiotral, ^griraltaral aub Commertial |ntensts of % Sontj). | TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IIADYAKCE. VOL. 22. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 18Y6. NO. 45. - : i. > l"i i kit - ... ,{ .r. , .. . r.i ? ... . ' ??-U. jpfi pi RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PA8T. I'm thinking of the place, Tom, Where oft we used to roam, That little oot beneath the trees We called our forest home. And- would I know you'd ne'er forget, Whate'er our lot below, That dear old spot we loved so well. JuBt fifteen years ago. Fm thinking of the school, Tom, The master, too, so grim, And how when he would turn his back, We twain wonld mimic him. The master sleeps death's dreamless sleep, The bright green tnrf below? 'Our childhood's home has vastly changed, Since fifteen years ago. Last Summer I wandered, Tom, To where we used to play; The schoolhouse was not on the hill, The brook had dried away ; The old mill wheel had ceased to move, The cottage was laid low? The faces were not those we knew Just fifteen years ago. ' I wandered to the churchyard. Tom, And stepped beyond the wall; The graves were many, and the grass O'er them grew thick and tall; Upon the stones I road the names Of those who slept below. And they were names we used to speak .With saddened heart I turned ai^Hai^ And gained the dusty road, And from that spot so dear to me,* With rapid step I strode; I could not bear to look around. It made me sad to know That all was gone whom we had loved Just fifteen years ago. My eyes are wet with tears, Tom, They're falling while I write, \ Friends that I love are cold in death, And I am sad to-night; : BuL Tom, our sorrows soon will end, Life's stream will cease to flow, And we shall rest where erst we played ^jTuat fifteen years ago. 4 ' i %% |&ttf ?wwr. Tl^P~MEETINrSTOB?. "Now, Mrs. Wilder, 'bout them chickens?" "Just let. me knit to the middle of my needle, Draxy?l Draxy waii^d, her busy hands finding something to do intthe little pause. The things on the table were straightened, the daguerreotypes (it was$he best room) tilted more accurately on flieir open covers, a minute speck of dust aislodged from the mantlepiece?all before the gentle "click, click" of the needles ceasp, and Mrs. Wilder laid down her stocking, it "The chickens?let roe see. It was those six little broijf of the speckled hen's I was a-thioking of.Jind the pepper-and-salt roosters." Mrs. Wilder viewed chickens from a purely practical stand-point. "That'll be enough, wotift it?" "I don'L&now,"?doubtfully?"folks eat a heap atCffrnp-meeting." "80 they do. "Well, then, kill three of the black ftdaods and bake a pie. That'll make a plenty." "I gOess eo." Business thus disposed of, Draw, assumed a chair aod waxed confidential** 4*How many of our folks is a-goin\ Mrs. gilder?" a "You and me, and Nathan and Ellen? that's five; and Lucy's six." AATEuqf>* 17 r" 1 "Yes. Mr. Wilder said he guessed she'd better, aod brother Parker plead hard about i?. He thinks she is old enough to get religion, and ought to have it; and her pa says there's no harm tryin', only he won't have her flustered. I don't know what to say 'bout it myself, but I guess pa|s right." And Mrs. Wilder ended with a little sigh. "Mr. Parker!" There was a concentrated and conspicuous sniff in Draxy's voice. She said no more, and in another minute got up and left the room, her errand accomplished. There were few waste places in Draxy's life. Satan might have dodged around her for months, without finding one idle chink in which to practice his nefarious arts. Pretty soon the door opened and Lucy came in?a girl of seventeen, with the shy beauty of a wild doe in her hazel eyes. The delicate, cameo-like outline of her face was of an expression of appeal. Not that there was anything to appeal against-in her life, the petted only daughter of this honest home. Some women possess that look naturally, and before it, when combined with youth and loveliness, the hearts of men go down like ninepins. Lucy as yet knew not the value of her dower, but such knowledge never lingers long. "Where have you been, dear ?" "Over to Esther's, mother. They're beginning the camp-meeting cake, aud 1 stayed to help beat the eggs." 'tDotell! I suppose they're making a great fuss, like all the rest of the folks." "Oh ! yes. Mrs. Robbins has killed a turkey and eight pairs of chickens, and had two pieces of beef boiled ; and Esther and Hepsey were making gingerbread, and raised cake, and all sorts of pies that you can think of? mince and apple and custard and Canadaplum?I can't remember half." "Land's sake I And who's going, Lucy ?" "Mrs. Robbins and the squire aud the girls, and James and his wife, and aunt Mirey, and?" here the happy, girlish voice sank a little,just a little; only a close observer would have noticed the inflection?"and Kane." "Elkanah ? I want to know! Well, it's time he got hold of something good. You'll have to help Draxy make our pies to-morrow, dear. The weather's splendid. I guess we're going to have a good week." This cantp-meeting about which all Ammonoosuc was in a stir, was a yearly affair, anticipated and planned for with eager and invariable pleasure. After the heat of the summer. and the toil of the harvest, when the bay was in, and the potatoes stored, the corn and the corn shucks safely housed?when the rye and the wheat had gone to mill, and the . "boarders" to their city homes?came, in the beautiful September weather, this holiday; which, half a picnic, half a religious exercise, brought neighbors together, brightened the links of church brotherhood and old friendships, and gave to soul and body alike, refreshment. But, oh 1 what a different thing it was to the different people who were looking forward to it. Mrs. Wilder, and other good matrons of her stamp, viewed it as a species of sober jollification, combining much good cheer with some comfortable preaching and praying. A time, too, for the exhibition of notable housekeeping?of pie-crust and fatted fowls, which duly partaken of, might impart to the occasion a certain toothsome solemnity^ . " Brothel* Parker, of the reroigewasset Conference, on the contrary, regarded it as a crucible in which souls should be melted and changed?a four days' opportunity, during which the doors of heaven should stand open for whomsoever knocked thereat In his thoughts he saw them enter, souls .stained and shrunken with tin, souls pure and spotless as Luc/Wilder's?for Brother Parker thought much of Xucy's bouI. 1 bad it been7eontained in a body jess fair, it had. perchance, occupied less of bis attention; but he was a man, though a good one, and having twice tasted1 the sweetness of married life, was naturally ready to try it again. Ooly?here he was firm; a minister's wife must be knbwn to be of ode mind with himself. She must belongto his church; and no temptation should induce him to lay such a snare and scandal in"the path of bit people, as to marry a woman without religion. So Brother Parker looked forward eagerly to the coming week. Elkanah Bobbins was equally eager. A j strong, brown, handsome fellow. <He had been a wild boy ; but of late bad grown so steady and so attentive to Bis farm that folks said, ''Bane must Be thinking of !s?ttling only where, or with whom nobody knew. To Lucy and other girls the camp-meeting was invested with a delightful vagueness, in which merry meals, rustling tree-boughs, sleeping under canvas, whispers, laughter, "good times" generally, mingled. In more than one young heart another and more select element of bliss was consciously or unconsciously recognized. In Lucy's it was? Kane. The brown, fearless boy and the fair girl - . t * !! -t bad grown up togetner as playmates 1111 tnat dark day when, "for his badness," the neighbore said, "Kane was sent away to Uncle Elkanah's, at Swift Water, for a year, which year had lengthened .into five. It was three years now since he came back; tall, bronzed, strange, yet familiar; and during those three yeareL womanhood, had crept unaware over the little maid who 'had shared -his baby sports. Playmate no longer, Lucy was very shy; but in her secret heart she was proud of him; proud of the strength that could tUieave the heavy timber up, which her brother Nal?anltV0lded>^e^4i)^ks^Ttmt~coutd tame the wildest colt She was sure be would always be good hereafter. The four days' dwelling in a grove with him was a delight so great that it almost frightened her. So the day came. AH Monday the committees were at work arranging the tents in the form of a hollow square, beneatlKthe shelter of the trees. A bright little/Stream curved around two sides of Che encampment In its centre arose a covere<b?p&tform, to which was affixed a derrick painted peagreen, whose top supports da sharp-toned iron bell. RankB of rough benches confronted this stand, in the midst of which and directly "ndor >lia nlnffnrm Wftfl ft emftll hftnched in closure forjhe use of the "anxious," who were expected to resort thither at thecloseof every service to listen to the prayers and appeals of the brethren. Nor was the carnal man forgotten. Besides the eating saloon, opeu to all, each tent bore a long table, duly spread three times a day with amplest provision. These tents represented each a village, and sheltered by night and by day a whole neighborhood. The name of the place?"Pemigewasset," "Stowe," "Lacon"?was lettered upon the front, accompanied by some floral device or text of Scripture. Upon the Ammonoosuc tent was the inappropriate recommendation to "Watch and Pray," aroond which, by way of antidote, a wreath of flowery hope was garlanded. The space within was gorgeous in its appointments, and boasted, besides a small bookcase of religious reading, a round table with a red cover, which supported a huge nosegay of flowers and gave the whole a tasty effect, as Mrs. Wilder exultingly remarked to Mrs. Bobbins, equalled by none of the others, of which effect Ammonoosuc was justly proud. And so the camp-meeting began fairly. All day Tuesday, people were pouring in. Each one-seated wagon brought three and a baby ; each two-seated, five and two babies. By night hundreds were assembled. The moon was brilliantly full, and the singing and prayer masting rohioh inaugusataditheaMoai bly, so spirited and satisfactory, that Brother | Little rubbed his hands and remarked to TO sv* Crt. tknf Uo'rl knnn frwfu /ui m HQ I uiuiuui oiiiitu mat uv u utou w *?/* vj vwim|#u in his time, but, iD his opinion, this was going to be the greatest yet. "How funny !" whispered Hepsy Bobbins, as they watched the bustle inside the tent. "See, Lucy, the beds this side are for us, and that side for the men-folks. Don't it look queer?" "But who sleeps on the table ?" laughed Lucy, as a roil of rustling mattresses was lifted up. "Don't you know ? Why, the elders and deacons, of course. That's to keep people in order, and stop any skylarking and frolicking among us young ones. Say, Lucy, which bed will you have ? Here, take this one next to mine." llT " oaII/WI ItA* mAfknw on/) QKO ti/hIQ. UUUJ) UQ1ICVI LJUI UiUblJCt 9 uuu guv tiuio pered, "here's your place, next to me. I dou't want you down there with those girls, for you'll talk and chatter all night, and not be fit for a thing in the morning. Just slip off your frock there behind the curtain, and put on your double-gown, and I'll fix you." So, like Christabel, "her gentle limbs she did undress," so far as gown and hoop went; and pretty soon, in her neat, gray wrapper, she was lying ^comfortably tucked up in the bed her prudent mother had provided with pillow and quilt. Sweet, musty smells filled the air from the hay-covered floor. The straggling moon-rays, the flapping curtain, the chewing and champing of the horses tethered close by?all was odd and novel. She could not sleep. Rv.an/I.tiv tho mon ramp in anrend their "? "J ?? ? " -r quilts and blankets, and subsided into repose. Good Elder Adams occupied the eod of the table nearest to Lucy's couch. His righteous slumbers quickly became audible, and peeping round to look at him, Lucy saw a pair of eyes intently fixed upon her. A strange thrill came over her brain as she met them. Only the width of the narrow table and the elder's boots separated her from Kaue 1 She blushed uncomfortably, and dropped her eyelids not to open them again ; but, for long after, fairy lights and visions seemed to dance before her and trouble her repose. At dawn the camp awoke. Small chance was there for late sleeping. Thin blue smoke began to curl from early fires. Horses whinneyed for their corn. Impatient hands waited to pack away the beds and restore the tent to daytime order. By eight o'clock breakfast was eaten and dishes washed ; and white-haired Elder Adams took his place, Bible in hand, at the head of the long table, to lead in prayer. Lucy sat just without the door. The stillness, the beautiful peace of the new-born day, seemed reflected in her face. One golden beech leaf fluttered down and lay upon her fair braids. Kane wasn't given to poetry, but somehow a line came into his head as he looked: "Oh! my Love is like the morning!" i Ho Haft soon it anmpwhprp nilH hp t.hrkllCrht it *-iv- ? O was true?about Lucy. At ten o'clock the clanging bell announced general service, and the crowd assembled. Truth to tell, it was not a picturesque crowd. The American of the rural districts is rarely a handsome animal. He is lean. He is brown. He loses his teeth early. Hard work - and soda soon transform the loveliness of youth into palor and sharp outline. Saleratus claims its own. Here and there one sees a sweet, young face, or an old one with fine, strong lines deep-cut and inscrutable, like a carving in stone; but personal beauty is the exception; Beauty apart, however, we may be proud of our multitudes. For decorum, for good-humor, for general neatness of ap* pea ranee, for civility to strangers, for a sense of propriety which almost ranks as dignity; it would be hard to find their parallel in any other country. At this Cadiz camp-meeting, even the babies caught'the spirit of the occa* : sion, and* sucked their thumbs contentedly throughout tfte service withoat a'cry. / Thirt teen ministers occupied the platform. With - able generalship the lesser lights were first r brought forward, leaving the greater for the ; third day, when the excitement was expected ' to culminate. The sermon was a quiet one; i the W?W and beautiful songs of the Methodist hyraual blended with the soft rustling of the trees above, and the morning sped quickly away. Great cheer was held in all the tents at noon, and unlimited quantities of pie eaten? fit preparation for the after services. Pie usually precedes repentance, as pie-eaters know. In the evening, under the blaxe of the harvestmoon, brother Parker arose for the first time. A tall, thin man, with a sallow, tender face, and emotional nature. His sermon was unusually fervid. A certain thrill moved over the assembly, and, at its close, a number of persons passed quietly and without excitement into the "anxious seatas candidates for the prayers of the congregation. Some were parents who carried their children thither; some, members of the church, who felt that their ?ULj.J _ j j All iuilu xmu auuoreu a uovauouvo. au n?s welcomed and rejoiced over by the good brethren, and mention was made of the fact that still there was room for others, further urgency being held in reserve for the next day. , It was then, after two long and "searching" discourses, that Brother Parker had "flxed" to have Lucy succumb. He came to heraraong the throng and pleaded earnestly. He even took her hand and strove, with gentle force, to draw her to the front. To his surprise, she resisted. The girl had her own reserve of character, her own thoughts as to spfrHdkr~tbtngs^_ The small inclosure of rough boards, withins'wiii?ii4t8eemed to him so important that she shoulcT"ko ^l, was to her no sacred place. To her, GodKaS appeared often nearer?in the woods, on the i hills, alone in her little room. Even the spec- J tacle of her friends, Hepsy and Esther, con- , ducted weeping to the "anxious seat," failed to move her. "I cannot; it would not be honest." Such was Lucy's creed; and her flower-like beauty concealed an underlying strength, even as beneath the mountain- I slopes, enamelled with butter-cups, spreads the indestructible granite. By the afternoon of the third day a widespread excitement had seized upon the camp. A rugged and reserved people like those of New England, are most formidable when un- { der the influence of unexpected emotion. The ' very novelty of sensation and expression as- I 1 ' O. LI 1 I tounus mem. oixoug meu auuucu , wuuicu became hysterical; young girls rushed forward and fell upon their knees; the elders went to and fro among the crowd, expostulating, explaining and entreating. Over- all rang, at intervals, the voice of the choir in wild, sweet snatches. A dark thander cloud, for a moment, hid the sun, and one low peal shook the air. Brother Parker stood again by Lucy; he held her hand. She was excited and in tears, but she was firm. Just then a stir took place near them. A young man with bowed head was hurried past by two of the elders. His face was hidden in his hands, bat Lucy could not mistake. A sudden tide of emotion shook her soul. If Kane yielded?if Kane was going to that place? then she should go too.Was not her place by him?in time and eternity? Brother Parker felt the fingers quiver in his grasp, the resistance slacken. Another moment be had led her forward. She was kneeling, kneeling by Kane's side; and this victory of an earthly affection, which was to him an heavenly one, had power to bring tears, like raiu/down the good man's cheeks. Sweetly rang the hymn over them, th? cloud flpntpr* paaC-piaac auaajunaairgany ed in and bathed the place, and Heaven seemed to smile upon the scene. To our young lovers?who shall say? To some hearts Oud has revealed himself in this , manner. We may not dare to question. But with their deeper thoughts mingled the strange sweetness of being there side by side?the earthly blending with the unearthly, as it will do while we are things of earth. . "Don't let her converse with any one, Sis- ; ter Wilder," said Brother Parker, as he res- j tored the agitated Lucy to her friends. "Keep her aloof this evening. Let no vain conversation or gossip arise to disturb the impression 1 on her mind. To-morrow I will talk with her 1 further." I Oh ! Brother Parker, had you noticed the i hand-clasp, warmer and more lingering than | became those who met merely upon a spirit- ( ual platform, exchanged between your young converts? Did you hope to make matters quite safe for the important conversation of the morrow? O, Brother Parker, who shall guess or compute the moral blindness which Cupid can throw over even a good roan's 80ul? So Mrs. Wilder kept Lucy "aloof." Poor Kane, hovering about the family group for the chance of a word, found onfy downcast ' lashes on the part of his idol, and discouraeriner looks from the rest. Father, mother, , brother Nathan, sister-in-law Ellen, and faithful Draxy?all were determined there should be no "philandering" that night at least. So the flame in Kane's soul, thus repressed, 1 burned more hotly than ever; and at "mirk ! midnight" he was still lying, unable to sleep, i and longing for the dawn, his eyes fixed on i the fair head not a yard from him. A slight movement showed him that Lucy ( too, slept not. In a moment, prudence and propriety alike forgotten, he had gently pushed his pillow some inches nearer. "Lucy 1" Such a tiny whisper 1 Smothered by Deacon Alleu's hearty snores, it would scarcely have caught the attention of Fine Ear; but Lucy heard. She half turned, her face dyed with scarlet ? * * ^t- - 1? 1J I 1 Diusnes as sue saw uie uuiu imau ou ucm. "Oh! don't," she breathed; "somebody will hear." .t t : 1 "They are sound as dormice," whispered Kaue. "They wou't wake. Do let me speak, Lucy. I shall die if you won't listen. This afternoon, when I knelt there, you know, I said to God, 4Oh! Lord, I will be a good man and a ohurch member with Thy help; but how can I be anything good unless I have the girl I love to go along with roe ? Oh ! let me i have her, Lord.' And just then, Lucy, your dress rustled, and you came and knelt down by me. I knew it in a moment, though I did not open my eyes. And then I felt that the Lord was as good as tbey say, and I took it as a sign from Him that I was to have my heart's desire ; and I prayed, Lucy?I prayed with all my might, for the first time in my life. Did you pray, too, darling ?" "Yes, Kaue." "And for me ?" "Yes, Kane." "Oh ! Lucy, is it real ? Could you really care for me ? I have loved you always, dear, did you know it? But till to-night I could not speak it out. Will you really be my love and wife, Lucy?" "Yes, Kane." Never sounded words so sweet as-those three "Yes's," breathed in that fairy whisper. Kane put out his hand?little fingers met and clasped it; and just then somebody stirred, and Deacon Atwater, at the far end of the tent, gave a species of snort, and half raised himself. With frightened haste the locked hands uncloaed. In half a second Kane and Lucy, to all appearance, were fast asleep. And from, that time till morning not a sound broke the stillness of the teni. Brother Parker was perplexed next day at the attitude of mind .in which he found his young disciple.' She was very sweet and gentle ; bqre his. questionings patiently. And when he asked, "Did she feel as if she loved God?'? she said "Yes; and she hoped always to love Him now, for He had made her very happy." But when the further inquiry was propounded, "Was this feeling so strong that she felt justiBed in becoming the wife of a minister of the Gospel ??the answer was "No I She could never have married a minister, any way; and besides?" "Besides what H She had promised Elkanah Bobbins to marry him. But when had this promise been made? Long and sorely did Brother Parker puzzle over the matter; and so did Mrs. Wilder, who, in the heat of her astonishment at "that child's thinkin' of a husband," was heard to ? ? 1>a? AA?f oka AAiiMn^f fktntr knttt Btkjf tuai, IUI UUl uaiV|Oiiw wuiuu * vuimm uvn they got at each outer! Lucy and Kane kppt their own counsel, and the affair in time got to be spoken of as "happenin' at the camp which fact made it more than usually interesting to the neighbors. Small and transient opposition bad our younp couple to contend with. They were married the next year. Both are members of the church now, and Kane was on the Conference Committee for the last camp-meeting. When people ask if he got religion at Cadiz, he is wont to answer that "that's- a matter between him and the Lord ; but if not, he got something most as good,"?his eloquentjlanna 1 ;,ip *' tence. Eider Bobbins will be an indulgent friend to the next generation in Ammonoosue. And if heshould ever lie in tabled state, and bear a little silvery confabulation break in upon the silence of the "guarded tent," we may be pretty sure that he will be conveniently blind and deaf to what is going onremembering how sweetly once his Lucy's voice broke the stillness with, "Yes, Kane." jpstovg of ?. <toliit&TTTBfHAIIT/1 A T OWPnTIVfl lUOXVAibOii BAfilVIUIB I OF THE "1 Early Settlement of South Carolina. BY REV. ROBERT LATHAH. BATTLE OF FI8HDAM FOBD. When, in September, 1780, the British loramenced to advance into North Carolina, Colonel (afterwards General) Sumter, with the remnant of his troops which had escaped Tarleton at Fishing Creek on the 18th of August, was encamped on Clem's Branch. Co the approach of the British, Sumter found it necessary to move his camp. He was not able to resist the onward movement of the 3nemy, and wisdom dictated to get out of his way as soon as possible. Before the movement from Clem's Branch mmmenced, Col. James Williams, with a imall force which be bad collected in North Carolina, joined Sumter. Williams, it is said, had, but a short time previous, received i brigadier general's commission from Govsrnor Rutledge, of South Carolina. Williams claimed the right to command the whole ? .i -._J? o?.? r.?i ... force, out too iueu uuuer ouiuwi muicu tu iubmit to him. The whole forces, notwithstanding the bad state of feeling which existed among them on account of the claim set up by Williams, marched together and crossed the Catawba at Wright's ferry. Rawdon find Tarleton were pressing them closely. So aear were the two armies together, that the Americans had scarcely effected the crossing.. of the river when the British appeared on the other side and commenced firiug. To settle the dispute between Sumter and Williams, a 3onvention of officers, with Colonel William Hill as chairman, was called. The convention decided to send Richard Winn, Henry Hampton, John Thomas and John Middleton as commissioners to Governor Rutledge, who was, at that time, some where in the neighborhood of Salisbury,. North Carolina. These commissioners were instracted to lay the facts before Governor Rutledge and rort/\rt hia Hpniuinn Tn thA meantime. Sum " r ??? ? ? ? ter was to retire from the army and the command of all the troops, except those brought by Williams from North Carolina, devolved upon Hill and Lacey. What decision Governor Rutiedge made, if auy at all, never, so far as we know, was made public. The battle of King's Mountain occurred soon after, and Williams was mortally wounded. At King's Mountain we hear nothing of any claim set up by Williams as an officer of higher rank than Campbell or any one else. On the contrary, if any one was first in command at King's Mountain, that . # it iitmi? n one was, by the consent 01 an, w imam tumpbell, of Virginia. After the battle of King's Mountain, the troops from western North Carolina and Virginia returned beyond the mountains. Hill and Lacey led the remainder of the army down to what was then Wright's (now Wm. Burns') mill, on Turkey creek. Here the patriots lay encamped, when Tarleton, who had been sent by Cornwall to look after Ferguson, lay encamped for two days on the hill west of Ross' (now Robert Carnes') mill. On the 16th of October, Tarleton was ordered to join Cornwallis at the Nation Ford on Catawba. Sometime about the first of November or last of October, 1780, Sumter joined Hill and ? - ? ? r? _? Lacey, then encamped at wnat is now x>urriB mill. The brave and patriotic Williams was dead, and all cause of dispute among both of* ficers and men was removed. Sumter, by general consent, took the command and led the troops against the British and tories on the west side of Broad river. In order to keep open communication between Camden and Ninty*Siz, the British had erected small stockade forts at several points in the counties of Union and Spartanburg. These posts, Sum* ter and his men annoyed greatly. They gave the British and tories no rest. The heroic Elijah Clark, John Twiggs and Andrew Pick* ens, with small parties of Georgians, were in the same region operating in a way similar to that pursued by Sumter. On meeting Clarke and Twiggs, it was determined to unite the South Carolina forces, under Sumter, with the Georgians, under Clarke and Twiggs, and make an attack upon Ninety-Six. Each of the three officers agreed to furnish a certain number of men. Sumter found that before he could meet his engagement with Clarke and Twiggs, he must raise at least one hundred and fifty men. On consultation with the officers of his command, it was de* termined to send a number of individuals on a recruiting expedition into what is now the counties of York and Chester. The inhabit* ants of this region of country were known to be true Datriots. who neither asked for Brit* ish protection nor accepted it when offered them. As the settlers were all, or nearly all, of Scotch-Irish descent, foornatiTe born Irish men and Edward LaceJ. were sent out to beat up the needed recruit. The names of the four Scotch-Irish recruiting officers were Billy Wylie, grandfather Dr. A. P. Wylie, of Chester; Jimmy Johnson, the grandfather of James E. Johnson, of Blackstocks, Chester county, S. C.; Patrick McGriff and Jas, Martin. The selection was made with great ! wisdom. Billy Wylie was a man of great good sense, joined with a droll manner; Jimmy Johnson was a witty Irishman who took everything easy; Patrick McGriff was brave to a fault; and James Martin was prudent. Edward Lacey was one of those impetuous creatures who never do anything by halves. Whatever be undertook, he did with all his might; daringly reckless, but admirably suited for the kind of warfare in which he was engaged. On the 6th of November, 1780, these five recruiting officers set out to raise one hundred and fifty men. They were given three days to accomplish the work. The arrangement was that, in the mean time, Sumter would act as if he were about to advance in the direction of Camden, but would, in fact, camp at Fishdam Ford on Broad river. At this time, Cornwallis, with the main body of the British army in the South, lay at Winnsboro. On hearing of the operations of 8umter. he determined to send out a detachment to cut him off The Indi vidual- chosen to pot this determination into execution, was Major Wemyss. The troops put under his command for the capture of Sumter, were the 63rd Regiment of foot soldiers and forty of Tarleton's Cavalry. All were mounted, and on the evening of the 8th of November, 1780, the detachment set out for Sumter's camp on Broad river. The intention of Wemyss was to make the attack upon Sumter at the dawn -of day on the 9tb, but having procured good guides find-l^hories being fresh, he arrived at Fishdam j^ord-about one o'clock. ^Tate in the afternBmiof the same day on which Wemyss left WinnsBiJto, the recruiting officers sent out by Sumter, returnedaccordiug to previous appointment. As the new recruits I were on their way to camp, it was ascertained that there was a barrel of whisky a few miles west of the site of the present town of Chester. Men and officers all agreed that they were entitled to their share of this whisky. Their course was soon turned in that direction, and on arriving, the barrel was, without any great deal of ceremony, rolled out; and to expedite matters, it was raised up on one end and the head knocked out of the other end. Every man was instructed to help himself. V.ery little ceremony was observed. Any kind of vessel that would- hold whisky was pressed into service, and every man helped himself as liberally as he saw fit. A halt of only some thirty minutes was made, but many of the men were full. The order was given to mount This was promptly obeyed, and men and officers dashed off at a brisk canter for Fishdam Ford. A few miles before reaching the camp, a squad of British scouts was discovered. No one knew how many British there were, or any thing about th6m. So far as either the men or officers knew, the whole of a British brigade might be in the neighborhood. ft made no difference whether there were many or few. The men, and officers too, no doubt all felt the effects of the whisky they' had recently drank, and no sooner were the British sooutsBeen, wana deafening si out-: was raised and away all dashed in the utmost confusion. The British took to flight at once, and no doubt thought they were ruined. Farm horses were urged on by their spirited riders, over the Sandy river hills, at such a fearful gait, that it was not long till they were completely exhausted. The British scouts got out of sight, and the new recruits reached Sumter's camp without a scratch and flushed with victory. By some means Sumter had received an intimation that he would probably be attacked on the night of the 8th. Colonel Thomas Taylor, who, after the fall of Charleston had joined Sumter at Clem's Branch, was connected with Sumter's army. To Taylor's vigilance is mainly due the repulse of Wemyss. Sumter had no inclination to lay plans by which he might entrap his enemy. He was a brave man and dashing soldier, but not remarkable for strategy. So soon as it became probable that Sumter's camp would be attacked, Col. Taylor began to make preparar tions for its defence. The horses were all saddled and tied some distance in rear of the camp. An order was made to have the guns all freshly primed. Taylor was placed in* command of an advance guard of twenty eight men. At a short distance from the camp of Sumter was a small field. On the border of this field, Taylor had large fires kept burning from an early hour in the evening. Behind the fence, and at gun shot distance from the fence, the vigilant Taylor placed his picket of twenty-eight men. Sumter lay near the river with his horses bridled and saddled, ready for whatever might be required in tbe event the British made an attack. All was silence. Sumter's men were waiting with sleepless anxiety. About midnight, tbe sound of horses' feet, in the distance, were heard. Taylor's pickets were wide awake. Their commander ordered them not to fire until the signal was given. When Major Wemyss came in sight of the camp fires, he saw that bis plans of operation could not be carried out. He expected to come upon Sumter off his guard, as Tarleton bad come upon him at Fishing creek, two months before. But for the sleepless vigilance or Thomas Taylor, this, no doubt, would have been the case. 80 soon as Wemyss discovered that the Americans were apprised of his approach, he determined to make the attack at once, and not wait, as had been previously arranged, until daylight He feared that by postponing the attack, Sumter would cross the river, doring the night, and by morning be out of his reach. At one o'clock, Major Wemyss, at the head of his detachment, charged the pickets under Taylor. An order had been given not to fire until the enemy came in full view. The moment the British came within gun shot distance, the order was given to fire. The keen crack of five rifles was heard echoing among the Sandy river hills. The aim bad been unerring. One ball entered the arm, and another the knee of Wemyss. The British were thrown into confusion and dashed in among the blazing fires of Taylor's pickets. This brought them into full view, and volley after volley was poured in by the pickets concealed behind the fence. The British could only discover the biding place of the Americans by the flash of their guns. They fired in the direction of the blaze, but only killed one man. Wemyss having counted certainly on victoryrhad not communicated his plans to any of his subalterns. When he -fell, the' command of the detachment devolved upon a' lieutenant,-who ordered a precipitate retreat, and hastened, with the party, back to Winnsboro as fast as possible. The British left on the field twenty-three men killed and wound ed; two officers wounded?Major Wemyss and Lieutenant Hovenden. The Americans lost but one man. Weroyss was not found till the next morning. He was greatly exhausted from the loss of blood. In his pocket was found a list of the patriots he had banged and the houses he had burned. No/withstanding his notoriously brutal conduct on a multitude of occasions. his bleeding wounds were bound up, and at bis own request, the document which contained an enumeration of his infamous deeds, was destroyed. About the time that the British, after having been disordered by the fire of the Americans, were preparing for a second charge, an accident took place which contributed to the advantage of the patriots. By some accident, a cart load of cartridges became ignited. The burning cartridges kept up a continual cracking which the British mistook for platoons of Americans. They could hear nothing but a continual roar, and could see nothing but a continual blaze. The cart -load of7g^ nited cartridges frightened some~ oTthe new recruits among the Americans. These fled to the river and concealed themselves beneath its banks. Making a similar mistake with the British, they concluded the battle was still raging when it was only the exploding of burning cartridges. This little fight threw the British camp in Winnsboro all. in confusion. Cornwallis wrote immediately to Tarleton, who was in the low country looking after Marion, to return. In his letter, which is dated Winnsboro, November 9th, 1780, he begs Tarleton "to return immediately." Evidently, he began to fear not only for the poet at Ninety Six, but for the no less important one at VVTtmsboro. He began to feel that his own carcass wa&nudanger. IpSfdlMesujT^rMing. AN ADVENTURE IN THE APPENNINES. I was journeying among some of the romantic and rugged scenery of Italy, when my guide suddenly stopped, and by his amazed looks, plainly indicated the presence of danger. It was past midday, and we were impatient to reach our destination before nightfall. I had scarcely asked the postillions what had occasioned the stoppage, when a bullet whizzed past us, and, looking in the direction whence it came, I saw half a dozen or more fierce fellows with presented rifles, taking aim at as. Perceiving death to be so near, and desirous of averting the danger, I signified to the brigands my perfect readiness to give up all I possessed, and only required the preservation of our lives. My words had the effect of arresting the brigands' purpose, and they came down from tbeir position, informing us, however, that we must accompany them to the commander, who solemnly swore to kill every Englishman that fell into his power, in order to revenge the death of his brother, who bad fallen in an action with a party of Englishmen some days before. This was not pleasant intelligence: only BpaWlor*&otdeQt, Mr the brigands assured me that their chief was implacable, and my guide bad previously entertained me with some narratives of the ferocity of Michael Barossini, the recollection of which served to corroborate the testimony of the robbers. I afterwards learned that this savage chief bad ordered his men to bring every Englishman they found on the road before bim, that be might have the luxury of putting them to death himself, and that two days before he bad sacrificed a fellow-countryman of mine to his revenge. I was blind-folded and conducted through glades and ravines for some considerable time, and then the handkerchief was taken from my eyes, and I found myself in the presence of the dreaded brigand, Michael Barossini He was a man of herculean proportions, with large, dark eyes and matted locks thickly falling over bis sunburnt cheeks. He eyed me with savage ferocity, but there was still something noble in his appearance which led me to expect that my appeal to his mercy would uot be ineffectual, nut tne aeatn or his brother was too young in his memory, and all my words were of no avail. "The Englishman's blood must be shed," he cried, "to satisfy my murdered brother." Entreaties were of no avail; he was firm and resolute, and haying given me a few moments for preparation, be turned away to fondle bis child, a boy of about three years old, who came running towards him. I thought it strange that after deciding upon snch an atrocious apt, and with the expectation of slaughtering a fellow creature in his mind, he could caress his child and display so much of human emotion. At lentzh. potting the boy from him, he turned savagely towards me, and ordered his men to conduct me to the place of execution. This was the brink of a precipice which it was fearful to look down from. "Gracious Heavens!" I cried, "jou are not going to dash me down this precipice!" "Not alive," growled the banditti; "you will fall down when the captain has nicked yon, and spare us the trouble." The few moments that ensued were solemn and awful. I stood upon the brink of eternity ; the savage herculean brigand was preparing his rifle for the death shot, and the brigands were gathering around him anxiouq for the horrid sight that was to ensue. At length everything was ready; Michael Barossini took his position and ordered the men to stand away from him; the rifle was uplifted, and the savage eyes were taking aim ai my heart At that moment the brigand's child, who had no knowledge of the dreadful proceedings going on, came dancing towards me. A , thought struck me that this child might be made the instrument of my preservation ; I darted forward, snatched the boy in my arms, and then cried to the brigand to fire I fkn rJfla foil fmm BflroRsini's hand, and he came running towards me as if for the purgrce of tearing the child from my breast, ut I drew towards the precipice, and holding the child stretched over it, demanded my life as the condition of the safety of the boy. Barossini, stung to the quick, seized upon his rifle, and was presenting it again, when his wife rushed upon him, held bis arm, and besought him to save her child. The scene was solemn and striking. The natural feelings of the man were combating with the savage ferocity of the brigand. ?a* rossini remained with bis eyes fixed upon me and his child, who remained suspended over the precipice, crying aloud for htt father to save him; the mother hung Upon the bli; gand's arm and endeavored to move him from his purpose-l Nature triumphed, and he cried-? v';'' -1 - ftt'i i'-i i "Give ine my-child, and go.". v* '?"And what security shall I have for my safety ?" I inquired. . "The brigand's honor," was,the reply. . Seeing/that I still hesitated,'Baras^joci^ ! "Toil do not know me. Ton have.not heard of Michael Barossini, or yod would known that; brigand though he be, bis word has never yet been broken. But here, stranger," he continued, throwing a dagger towards me, "take that and the boy with yon, until my men shall have placed joa again in safety." - >. . The nobleness of . the action was in striking contrast with his previous conduotr I took the dagger, and gave my word of honor that the boy should be returned in safety. .. "I expect it," said Barossini; "so long as the bov is safe, you are safe, also." He looked at the bov as if wishing to erabrace him, but evidently thinking the action might make me suspicious, he mastered his feelings. But the mother oould not assume suoh heroism. She saw the boy in my one huid, while the other held the brigatad's dagger, and she came toward me, beseeching me that I would permit her tokiss her child. The look, the tone, the action of the woman were all so touching, that what little heroism I may have possessed forsook me, and placing the trembling boy in his mother's arms, I cried? "Barosini, I will not take away yonr child." The brigand's features relaxed not; bat, after regarding me for some seconds, he remarked: "Yon shall not lose anything, Englishman, -hy yonr humanity and respect for the feeling of the mother or my child." - < Then turning toward Ms men,he gave ihem some directions, and as they departed, he entreated me to remain with him afhw moments. "I am glad to see yon have so much confidence in an enemy, he said. "Yon have won my admiration. For yonr sake I make peace with all your countrymen." The brigands now returned, and Barossini informed me that they.were ready to conduct me to the road* and that they should attend me so far as there might be tha least danger of falling in with the brigands of hisparty. I thanked him, and asked one favor; that he wonld retain some miniatnres. which were among the property oaptotod. * <? - ,i "They will return them to you," was Baros sini's reply. "Farewell" I ki?ed the little urchin that bad been the instrument of my preservation, and departed. On my arrival in the road, I found the chaise exactly on the spot where it had been stopped, -jvith the guide and postilions in waiting. BuTwTh^fiurpriBed me most of all was to find that not an article of my propertv was mis* sing. The brigand had rettesed. the whole. JURBIAGE SUPERSTITIONS. Since marriage became an institution, there have been certain signs and superstition! that have clang through its celebration through' all ages and in all countries. Even to-day in the most civilised nations we have not entirely rid.our .minds of these superstitions, and we warrant there is never a bride but indulges herself in looking for some happy omen. Few people are dauntless enough to be married on Friday, and we all have the most unlimited confidence in that old shoe thrown after the newly-wedded pair. Nearly every bride of to-day wears about her when she is married some trifling thing bpnrowed from some lady friend, and all know that "Blest is the bride on whom the sun doth shine," and all are equally certain that "To change the name and not the letter Is a change for the -worse and not for the better." So on; quite indefinitely, it is wonderful how these ancient signs are handed down from generation to generation, and how impotent reason is to ao away with their hold uwu iub uuuieii IU1UU. LAl W of the olden beliefs concerning marriage superstitions. In the earliest weddings we read of among the Jews, we find that the fourth day of the week was considered the unlucky day to wed and the fifth for widows. The Romans also believed that certain days were unfavorable for the performance of marriage rites, aod these were the calends, nones and Mm nf arrant mnhtli tVlA whnlfl mnnt.hu nf February and May, and many of the festivals. Jane was considered the post propitious month of the year for matrimony, es- * pecially if the day chosen were that of the fall moon or the conjunction of the ran and moon. The month of May was especially to be avoided, as it was nnder the influence of spirits advene to happy households, and for centuries this superstition seemed to prevail in Italy against May nftrriages, ana even to * this day prevails in some parts of England and our country. In China marriages are positively prohibited at certain times and sea 80118 on account of their being nnlncky. There was at one time a superstition current in England against marrying on ' Innocent's day, December 28th,'a day of ill-omen, because it was the one which, commemorated Herod's massacre of the children. And it is still thought unlucky to marry in Lent. "Marry in Lent and you'll live to repent." An old line also says: "May never was ye month of love." Another: "Who marries between ye sickle and ye soythe will never thrive." The old rhyme that we have all heard tells us to marry on "Monday for wealth, Tuesday for health, Wednesday the best of all; Thursday for crosses, Friday for losses, Saturday noluok at all!" At one time it was thought that all those who married on Tuesday and Thursday would be happy. Among the Romans no marriage was celebrated without an augurer being first consulted. .v . In the middle ages it was considered an ill-omeo if the bridal party, in going to church, met a monk, priest, hare, dog, cat, lizard, or serpent, while all would go well if a wolf, a spider, or a toad were encountered. It is lucky if the initials of a wedded oouple spell a word. In the south of England it is said to be unlucky for a bride to look in the glass after she is completely dressed before she goes to the nhnrrth OA * o1n*A AV lAfllA At.h.lT article is put on afte the last look has been taken at the mirroiS* Gray hones at a wedding are lucky. It is supposed to be unlucky if a wife does not weep on her wedding day.. * In 8cotland it is considered an unhappy omen if a couple are disappointed in getting married on the day fixed for that purpose. In the Isle of Man it is believed that it insures good luck to carry salt in the pooket when going to be married. At Half it is considered unlucky to go in one door and go out at another when a person gets married. Whoever goes to sleep first on the wedding night will die first. . If there is an odd number of guests at a wedding, one is sure to die within the seconding twelve months, jar A valuable elephant was recently killed at Beigamo, Italy. It belonged to a menagerie ana was in the last truck of a train, and when near the end of the journey, becoming uneasy, it forced out the baok^part of the caget and fell out upon the liue/A&vjts foot waafsstened to the floor by a strong chaiiL the beast wai dragged, and when the train ar-w rived at its destination is was dead. l?^There picnic among tbte mothers pie" fo^dinner that day. Itturned out, hpwwer, to be^ the printers mistake Ibr