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' i lewis >i. gbist, proprietor. | fitirtptittat Jamil}; ftepaptr: Jor % promotion of % political, Social, ^.gritollural anb Commercial Interests of % Sotrtji. | TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, III ADVANCE. VOL. S3. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1877. ' - NO. 6. . ate f8>te. KATE KENNEDY'S GHOST. BY MRS. HENRY BRAS. CHAPTER XII. < * 4 7 Glen Cottage, the quietest little nook .in the world, wore its most tranquil aspect, on the afternoon which witnessed the arrival ? the party from the Castle. The setting sun shed a mellow light on the time-stained walls and quaint brown roof, over whioh green moss and elinging lichens had crept thicker and thicker with advancing years, and cast long shadows on the grass, from the venerable trees which stood sentinel around it The most complete silence reigned around, broken faintly now and then by the tinkle of a distant \ cow-bell, as some herd-boy drove his charge V homeward ; by the burr of a grasshopper, or A .% cricket's evetoing chirp. It seemed as though 1 the spot were quite deserted by all human ft kind. ' m "There ought to be some one here," said M the Earl, as he cast a glance at the closely m harred windows and doors of the lovely old W dwelling. "I know an old man and his wife have it in eharge; but perhaps they can be Y found in some of the outbuildings. Judson, k do you go and explore the premises; and if you find nobody, return and take one of the carriage horses, and ride over quickly to the village inn, where, no doubt, you can obtain all necessary information." ' Judson departed on his quest, and presently came back escorting a very feeble old woman, whostered in great bewilderment at the unexpected guests waiting for admission. She was dreadfully deaf, and the Earl found it impossible to make his wishes intelligible to her comprehension. At last Geraldine came to the rescue, and without shouting nearly so loud as his lordship had done,' managed to explain who they were, and that they had come down here to pay a little visit. "A little visit! Lord, my lady, you'll find things all upside down," said the old dame, with a discouraging shake of the head. "My old man, he's got the rheumatiz dreadfully bad, and ain't been fit to see arter nothing for a long spell. Everything's going to racket and rein, but I can't hinder it. I told Mr. Peterson, the agent." "Never mind all that now," impatiently interrupted the Earl. "Tell her, Geraldine, fck- that all we want is to get into the house, and we'll see about arranging matters as well- as we can." "The dust is over everything, my lady, and the moths is that thick in the curtings and carpets that you could sweep 'em up with a broom." "Ask her if there are any decent beds in the rooms," said Lord Des borough. . "Beds ? Yes, my lady, there's beds enough, but the hangings is all torn and mildewed, and the rats is awful at night in the garret." "Never mind that?only let us in, please," said Geraldine. "You have the keys, have you not ?" , "Yes, ray lady, I've got .the keys." With much sighing and groaning, and doleful headshaking, the ancient dame at length unlocked the front door, and ushered them in. The interior hsd a damp, mouldy smell, and presented such a forlorn and uninviting aspect, that athrst sight it really struck one as doubtful whether It could be made at all habitable on such short nstice. Lord Desborough looked around with an expression of disgust. "This is even worse than I expected," he exclaimed. "You see, Geraldine, what a place I have brought you to I What do you say ? Shall we go on at once to the village, and take up our quarters there for the night ? I think that will be our best plan." "Oh ! I don't think that will be necessary," rejoined Geraldine, cheerfully. "With a very small amount of trouble, I believe we can succeed in a short time in making the rooms comfortable. The first thing will be to light fires everywhere ; then Judson can sweep and clean up the parlor and dining-room, and Alice and I will take the bedrooms in hand." "Alice and you,'Repeated the Earl. "It is out of the question, Geraldine, that you should fatigue yourself with work of this kind. It is not at all worth while." "Just leave ihat to me, my lord, and do not worry yourself at all about it I have a fairy at command, who will execute my orders without any trouble," said Geraldine, in a playful tone, as she motioned him toward the door. At that moment she looked pretty, and the Earl noticed it, and allowed his gaze to rest upon her, with mingled satisfactioq and surprise. The truth was, she felt delighted at the opportunity of proving to him bow willingly and how successfully she could exert herself for his comfort, and the little excitement brought a sparkle to her eyes, and an unwonted glow to her usually pale cheeks. Bidding Alice follow her, she made her way to the close, dingy back-rooms, and quickly throwing open the shutters, let the fresh even1 ing air rush in. B "Now Alice, light a fire in each of these B chimneys, as quickly as you can, and, meanH while, I'll see what can be done with these B worm-eaten old curtains. I'll pull them all ^ down, I think." It is surprising how much willing hands can accomplish in a short s^ace of time. Alice, incited by her mistress' example, worked with a will, and in less than an hour the two best bedrooms, swept, aired and warmed, and the furniture carefully dusted and neatly arranged, were ready for .use. Geraldine then, bid ding ber young assistant prepare another apartment for her own use, again sought the regions in the front of the house, to discover how JudsoD was coming on in his share of the work of reform. She found that functionary standing in the centre of the parlor, gazing around him with rather a disconsolate air. He had put things to rights to the best of bis ability, but still, in his eyes, there was more lack than his inventive genius could supply. "I don't see how to make you and my lord in any ways comfortable, my lady," he said, in a melancholy tone, which brought a smile to her face. "I've done my best?but still?" B "Oh! you have done very well," replied his mistress, as he came to an expressive pause. "I shall just put a little finishing touch here and there, which is all that is needed now. Where is your master?" "Walking up and down in front of the house, my lady. He said as how the horses and carriage should wait, as he supposed I you'd have to go to the "Bloxton Arms" for i the night, after all." "But you can tell him that it will not be j necessary for us to go to the "Bloxton Arms," j Judson ; and if he wishes you for anything now, you can attend to it at once. By-the-by, how about supper ?" "Oh ! I spoke to the old woman about that ray lady. She engaged to have some eggs and a rasher of bacon, and I'll make toast and tea after a. while, aod an omelette or two, if that will be sufficient." "Quite sufficient. Now do you go, Judson, aud leave the rest in here to me." Lord Desborough, who had quite decided in his own mind that it would be impossible for them to remain at the cottage that night, was : f astonished when he came in to 6nd how ad-! rairahly everything had been arranged. "You must, indeed, have a fairy at your I command, to have effected such a wonderful transformation," he said to his wife. "I suppose, then, I may as well have the horses put up at once, since we are to remain here; and then, in my opinion, the sooDer we have sup per the better, I, for one, am hungry after our long drive," 1 Never had the Earl and Geraldine parta- 1 ken of a more cheerful meal than this home- ^ ly but appetizing country supper, set out by a Judson in the most approved style. No stiff- b ness or reserve cast an unpleasant restraint t over their conversation. And no one would n have supposed, from their demeanor, that y ghost-hunting, or rather ghost-laying, was the s object of their expedition! Geraldine had, f in fact, forgotten for the time, all about the a ghost. She felt, this evening, a buoyancy of y spirit to which she had long been a stranger, a though she did not inquire of herself the if cause. In this simple and secluded dwelling, she felt in some way drawp nearer to her o husband than when surrounded by the state- r ly magnificence of their splendid and luxu- s< rious home. The little inconveniences they o had to put up with, the contrivances they 81 were obliged to make, were so many .sources of- pleasure to her, since they necessarily banished all formality, and created a delightful familiarity and freedom of intercourse between them. Never since her marriage had she felt so happy; consequently she had never yet . appeared to such advantage. And the P Earl fouud himseif wondering, as he looked P at her across the table, and caught the sparkle of her smile, how he could have ever thought w ... o her so very plain J ? They retired at an early .our,, for their v drive bad been a fatiguing one. Geraldine had arranged for Alice to sleep in a little ' chamber opening into her own, an arrange- .. raent very acceptable to the latter, who felt . rather timid ii> her new quarters, little dream- ^ ing, however, how much greater cause forapprehension her lady had; for Geraldine, of course, breathed no word in her presence, rel- ' ative to the real reason of their visit to the- J cottage. Fortunately for all concerned, the night passed without disturbance of any kind. On ^ the following morning the Earl strolled oyer to the village, and Geraldine and her little j. maid,' after accomplishing some more im- ^ provements in their temporary abode, walked together around the premises on a tour of in- ^ spection. Everything was in a tumble-down condition, but picturesque enough to delight ^ an artist?broken fences half hidden in clustering vines; roofless outbuildings with gay autumn flowers nodding in at the windows ; ^ hedge-rows that had not been trimmed for many a year; here and there a lovely bit of ^ woodland, or a stretch of grassy sward cross- ^ ,ed by a rippling stream ; and over all the j glorious October tints of vivid scarlet and ? orange and russet brown, mellowing and blending in harmonious contrast, ia the warm J sunlight and the crisp autumual air. To the orchard they went, where ripe apples and /-> pears strewed the ground in unregarded disorder, or bent the laden branches beneath their weight flushed and juicy, waited vainly u to be plucked from their stems. u "See, Alice, what a quaint old moss-grown 7 well,0 eajd Geraldine, pausing nfear the corner ef t^e fence. "I wonder if there can be any ' water in it now. It mast be empty, I think, . because the top is fastened down with such a great heavy stone. See how the chain has n rusted, and the moss has crept all over the P roof." b "I don't like the looks of it, ray lady," said t| Alice, who bad not an artistic eye. "What's Sl it fastened up that way for ? It looks like ^ something was bidden inside." t| "What could be hidden there? It is fas- t( tened up because it was dangerous, I suppose," Cl replied her mistress. "Any one walking near j( it in the dark might so easily fall in, if it were left without a cover." jj "It's an awful ruinous place anyhow, ain't Q it, my lady? Shall we stay here long, do you ti think?" ? "I cannot tell exactly?probably only for a few days. See, there is the little cabin Q< where the old woman lives who kept the keys. ^ Let us go there and ask how her husband is Q to-day." tj They emerged from the orchard through a ^ gap in the fence where a gate had once been, ^ aud crossing the road, stopped at the door of : ~ *"* ?n PoAnf AP tuKinK tKp AM a UlUgy lictiu ouauvj, iu uvuv v? nu?vu ?uv %,?* dame sat spinning. She rose to drop a curt- jc sey to her grand visitor, and asked her would a] she please to step in and rest herself a bit ? "It's a poor hole to ask you into, my lady, ^ but I tries to keep it clean," she said, apologetically, as Geraldine stepped across the ^ threshold. On a bed in a corner of the front g room lay the old man with the "rheumatiz," his wrinkled, and it must be owned, forbidding face, distorted by pain. Geraldine ap- j> preached him, and in a kind tone inquired w after his health. : "It's bad enough?bad enough, my lady," gt he answered, in a mumbling tone. "No wonder, though when the cold draughts blows in ^ on me through all them cracks in the walls, aud through the broken winder over yonder. w It's a bad thing for the rhuematiz, is a j draughty room." * "Could it not be made more comfortable? I should think the agent, or whoever has the ft place to look after, might attend to it," said (| Geraldine. d "The agent! He don't trouble*his self w about the likes of us. He don't look arter ^ the place no how, my lady. May be if the ]c master would say a word to him it might be d different." a "I shall mention it to Lord Desborough," p rejoined Geraldine. "If the agent does not tj do his duty, no doubt he will put some one rj else in his place." sl "There ain't many as likes to live about here no how," said the old man. "There's an jj evil spell hanging around, and it scares 'em p , ? "Ail evil spell l wnai ao you meau i a asked his visitor. h "Folks say as how the place is haunted, my lady.x I don't know uothiug about it ray- h self. I never seen nothing, only but onoe, ^ and that was of a dark night in the orchard." u "And what was that?" eagerly asked Ger- \ aldine. # ]( "A white figger, my lady, as I seen crossing n the fence close by the old well across yonder. My old woman she says to me, "John, it's a M sperrit, and don't you have no words with it." ? So I shut the wiuder in and didn't look out b no more, and that was the last of it." \\ "My lady," said Alice in a terrified whis- }, per, as she gently pulled Geraldine's sleeve, "please come away, and don't listen to such talk." a "What, does it frighten you ?" asked her mistress, turniug towards her with a smile, though her owu face was a trifle paler than j I before. "Well," she continued, addressing J y the old man, "at all events, I will speak to j h the Earl, and I am sure he will have your h cottage repaired, and see that things are more carefully attended to in future. You know C he has not been able to look after the place s< 1 1 n - ? *- T m 11 at rv nimscu, so ne irusteu uj iuc n^u?. * ? go dow, but I will try aud corae in again some & time while I am here. She put a piece of gold in his hand as she " spoke, and in passing out bestowed a similar h donation on the old crone, his wife, Both n were profuse in their expressions of gratitude. She could not help thinking within herself k that they were two of the least attractive jpec* n imens of humanity she had ever seen. I When Geraldine and her attendant were u out of hearing, the dame approached her husband's bedside, and addressed him in a can- t tious undertone? s "Lookee here, John, the mistress has got n an opeu hand. To my mind she'd be better v pay than the other one. What if I tells her all ?" "If you tells her, indeed!" roared the inva id in her ear. "What good would that do Lnd what could you tell, I'd like to know Yhat does you know, or does I know, arte: ,11 f We'd jusit be getting us-selves into trou ile, and be turned off, and what 'ud we d< hen? Starve, I reckon. Just you kee] aum, now, and mind your own bis'ness o; ou'll repent of it. So long as we're paid t< top here and keep watch, I ain't going to b ool enough to give up ray pay, though i in't very large. You shut up your eyes ant our mouth?your ears is shut up already? nd don.'t see nothing nor say nothing, ant ('11 be better for us in the end." And having finished this exhortation, thi Id man tumbled back on his pillow, quiti ed in the face and exhausted from sboutinj d loud, and sulkily refused to prolong thi onversation, which, indeed, under the circum tances, it was rather fatiguing to su^ain. I CHAPTER XIII. In the samelittle village of I^loxton, wbicl ly contiguous to Lord Desborougb's Esses roper ty,, there sat, in the upper 'room of i fain but respectable house, on the day afiei be Earl's arrival at the cottage, two men rho presented a singular contrast to each tber, as far as outward appearance went 'he one was a burly, broad-shouldered indi idual, with black hair and cunning grej yes, a florid complexion, and black whiskers losely cropped. His portly figure was at ired in a suit of black broadcloth of a rathei lunty cut, and on his little - finger glittered large diamond?whether genuine or not if latter of speculation?in an elaborate gold stting, while studs to correspond shone con picuously on his immaculate shirt front lis companion was a pale, gaunt-looking lan, with a strangely wild and wandering xpression of countenance. His features 'hich might once have been comely, were rorn and sharpened by suffering or disease lis long hair hung in straggling locks nearly ) his shoulders, and combined with his disrdered dress and restless glances, to give im the appearance of one not in his right lind, or, at least, of a very eccentric dispoaion. "You see, Mr. Clement," the first-described ersonage was saying, in an argumentative >ne, "this affair is pretty much run into the ronnd now, as the saying is. It's getting to e a little tiresome, considering how long it's een on hand. I've about come to the contusion that it's hardly worth my while to invest myself in it any longer. There's plenf of other business that has to occupy my ttention, and pays better, too." "Other business!?other business! Good rod, Peterson,, what business can be of ae luch importance as this ?" excitedly rejoined le other. "How can you tplk of giving it p, when you know how entirely it lies in our hands?when you know that my fate is lvolved in it! You, a man of honor, tc peak in such a way!" "Well, well?don't agitate yourself about said Peterson, coolly. "Of course, if you take it a matter of pounds, shillings and ence, and agree to raise my salary, as I said efore, I had just as lief continue to help you long as not. But you know well enough iiat I'm not a rich man?I have a family tc jpport, and I'm bound to consider them. ] on't'feel justified in neglecting other things nat come in my way, and that I might turn > good account, unless you are willing tc omDensate me for letting them go. I can't )ok after tweuty matters at once." ' But how much of your time does my busless occupy?" pleaded Mr. Clemeot "It* uly your couosel?your protection, in fact? irft I desire. That cannot prevent your atsnding to other affairs." "Can't it? You don't consider the worry f mind?the immense responsibility I have ) bear," said Peterson. "Just think of the umber of years I have been hampered with lis secret of yours. It's a regular millstone ung around my neck. Good Lord! it's as ad sometimes as if I'd done the deed myself, Imost." "Hush I?for Heaven's sake, don't speak so md?walls have ears," said the other, with a apprehensive glance around. "Pshaw ! there's nobody listening,", rejoini Peterson. He got up from his chair, and i an impatient manner walked up and down ie room, his companion meanwhile staring xedly af him, and nervously drumming on ie table with his fingers. "If you'll only consider a little, Peterson, m sure you will change your mind?yon on't press me so hard," said the latter, pleadigly, at length. "You know how my affairs aud. You know that I can juBt manage to ay you as much as I now do. Be just to ie, Peterson, and don't insist on more." "Just?" echoed Peterson, stopping in his _1l. ~ J t* * f on !n/Iif*nonf ai&j uuu rcgaruiu^ uiiii nuu au iuuagii?u? ir. Vl'd like to know what justice has got > do with it?" "Odly this, that you agreed to work for me >r so much?it was all settled between us at le beginning; and and you've raised your emands no less than four times already?alays pressing me harder and harder, no mat:r what difficulties I might be in. And as >ng as I had the money to give you I did it, enying myself everything that I might be ble to do so. Was that just, after all your retense of friendship ? Is it just now, when lere is no cause for your doing so?no fresh isk to run, no greater responsibility to asjme ?" "Now, that shows exactly how much you now about it, Mr. Clement," said his comanion, as he resumed his seat. "What, if I dl you that there is a fresh risk to be run? n immense risk, too?an immense danger anging over us, just at this present time?" Mr. Clement half started from his chair, is eyes rolling wildly, his lips quivering, 'hile an ashy pallor spread itself over his lready bloodless face. "What? Whatl Vhere?" he stammered, in a husky, tremu )us voice. "For God's sake, Peterson, tell le what you mean ?" "I mean this," said Peterson, slowly, and matching his face narrowly as he spoke, tc lark the effect of his words, "that Lord Des orough is now in this neighborhood, and kely to remain so, as far as I know, for an idefinite time." "Desborough here!?in this place?" "I said in this neighborhood?he is staying t the cottage." "At Glen Cottage ?" "Ay, sir, at Glen Cottage. He and Ladj )esborough aud two servants arrived thert esterday, and I hear they are having the ouse put in order. That looks as if thej ad come for something of a visit, don't"it ?' "What is to become of me?" muttered Mr Jlement, while his bony fingers clasped them' elves convulsively together. "I cannot re lain here. I must get away, and at once ihould I meet him, I am undone." "We can talk about that," said Peterson It is not likely that he knows of your being iere. If you keep close, you may avoid t neeting without much difficulty." "Do you think so? But what if he doa now? What,if he had traced roe out? Il nay be that which has brought him here \jterson, help me?advise me! You wil iot desert me, now t" "Mr. Clement, that just brings us back tt he point that we started from," said Peter on. "As I said then, I say now?I will dc oy best to help you, if you will only make i forth my while." "And what additional sum do you demand ?' Peterson fumbled with his watch chain foi - a moment or two, his eyes bent upon the ? ground, as if in consideration of the question. ? Then looking up suddenly, with an assumpr tion of great candor, replied? "Well, out of regard for the condition of ) your finances, Mr. Clement, which I'm aware ) is not very flourishingiust at present, I'll not r be hard on you. I'll keep things straight for ) a hundred and fifty paid down now, and a 9 hundred more as soon as convenient to you t to hand it over?say in six weeks or a couple 1 of months from now."; . "A hundred and fifty," echoed the other. 1 "Man, you are mocking me?I have not fifty pounds at my command; no, nor the half of 9 that amount, and thatyou know as well as I. 9 Where on earth am ^ to raise it f" I Peterson shrugged.his shoulders. "Where 9 you raised it before, I suppose?that is not my affair.' I don't pry into the Ways and meansyon may chobse to empjoy to raise money when you need it" "You had better saythe ways and means that I am forced to employ," said the other, bitterly.. "I have litjJechoics in the matter." "Well?well?it's a mere figure of speech, you know. However^that's not the point to be settled. Do you agree to my termaf or not?" . Mr. Clement leaned his brow upon bi& hand and sat for some moments in an attitude of profound dejection, ^while Peterson keenly watched him from beneiath his shaggy brows. When he raised his face again it had 2 c j I upon II an expression ui ueupnir muvu nuuiu ' have touched any but a flinty heart. ' | "Peterson, don't drive me to ruin," he ex1 claimed, imploringly. "Little by little you j ' have drained me of nearly all that I possess- j ' ed. What am I now but a miserable outcast, j ' subsisting on a mere pittance, scarcely suffi- ] cient to keep body and soul together ? Why < > reduce me to a still more wretched condition ? : Have you no feeling of pity for my sufferings ?" ( > "Mr. Clement, you exaggerate the difficul- j 1 ties of your position," said Peterson, coolly. "I know that your affairs are not so deplorable as you would have me suppose?financial- j ly, of course, I mean. I don't Bay but what i s you are to be pitied otherwise. And who ; says I don't pity you ?'' I "Show it then," said Clement "Proveyour i sympathy for me by giving me your aid now, i when I am in such dire need of it, without bar- i | gaining to wring the last penny out of my I 1 pocket as your fee. Heavens and earth, man, i think of the sums you have got from me at different times! Count them up and see what i a fortune they amount to!" i "Well, but I didn't propose to give youmy services for nothing," said Peterson, angrily. ? "Men don't undertake suoh jobs m this one, | for love, generally speaking. A precious I amount of botheration it has oaused me, sleep- j 1 less nights and what not, and yet you don't J consider that I am entitled to my pay I I j ' call that unreasonable." i 1 "SleptnleftH nights! Oh! heaven and earth. I ' how long is it siDce I have known a night of < 1 rest I" cried the other, in a voice of anguish> i as he raised his clasped hands above his bead. | ' "I lie on a pillow of thorns, and even in mv t ' dreams, I am pursued relentlessly by the dark t shadow that follows me whithereoever I turn. , In vain do I strive to escape from it 1 In j ' vain do I seek repose! Oh 1 for one hoar of 1 1 forgetfulness?one little hour of peace to my 1 ' tortured brain 1 But there is no peace for ' ' me on earth?none, none. Would that I might find it in^ha^rayjel" "Be cautious how you speak so loud," said | ' Peterson,- coldly. "As you remarked just ' now, walls sometimes have ears." "Yes, yes, yeu are right. I lost the command of myself fora moment," muttered Mr. Clement, instantly sinking his voice almost to a whisper. "It is necessary to keep calm?to keep very calm. I must always bear that in ( mind." < "Yes, calmness is a good thing at all times, i 1 But let us return to our muttons., Mr. Clem- t 1 ent, as our Frenpb neighbors sqfy 1 Time is ' going, and time is precious," said Peterson, j consulting his wateh. "I'm sorry- to recur to I ' a disagreeable subject, but really, scathing i 1 must be settled before I leave you. Will you ( agree to the bargain I proposed to you a little ( while since ?" i "You are relentless, then ?" "Relentless?pshaw! Don't use such trag-1 t ic phrases, if you please. I'll give you till g to-morrow to raise the firgt hundred, and I'll accept your watch and chain as security for the fifty?it'i about worth that, I fancy?and theu you'll have a couple of months in which to find the other hundred. Come, that's fair enough, ain't it?" "My watch and chain ! I?I?have parted with those," stammered Clement, with a confused air. , "Parted with them 1 When ? How ? "Sometime since. I was forced to it. I had no choice." "Do you mean to tell me that you sold them ?" "Yes?I--that is?of course I did. Why do you look at me so, Peterson ?" "Because, Mr. Clement, I don't believe you ! sold them," Baid Peterson, deliberately. "You gambled them away, and you know it. Am I not right ?" t "Gambled them away?how dare you say so? How dare you bring such an accusa| tion against me ?" cried the other, with a mo! mentary assumption of anger; but bis eye sanjt directly beneath Peterson's keen glance. "I have cause for what I say," rejoined the latter. . I have watched you when you did not know yourself watched. I have followed you to your nightly haunts, and learned the | secret of your mysterious and sudden losses. You know that.I speak the truth. It is no . idle accusation that I bring against you." m, m umnnt'a far>e? r?rnnn?rl tnwnr unH Inw- I 1 er beneath his accuser's eye, and a low quiv- ] ering sigh burst from his lips. ] "It is true?it is true," he said, faintly. "I I thought I had guarded my secret too carefully > for any one to discover?but you?what is it . you can not find out? And it is you who | have driven me to it?to enable myself to satisfy your repeated demands, I have sought | out this la9t desperate resource." i "And, as a general rule, with very poor . success'. Is it not so?" | "No?nol I have often been successful? ; very often. The last hundred pounds I paid you was the result of a run of good fortune. Only lately, the tide has turned somewhat r against me?but only for a time. I feel sure it is only for a time. Have a little patience with me, Peterson," he continued, with an air ' of eaver suDD'ication, as he looked up, "and _ 0 I 4 > I shall be able to pay you what you demand i s now?I aui quite certain that I shall. I i r swear to you that I will pay you every shil- y ' liDg of it, if you will but wait?and if you ( , will but help me now!" "And what security have I that you trill s again have a ran of luck? Your intentions f . may be fair, Mr. Clement, but you may not < be able to carry them out 1" It's more than 1 . doubtful, to my thinking, whether you ever j \ will." i i "No, Peterson, do ! I have reason to be- < lieve?in fact to blow, that I shall soon sue- ] ? ceed again," cried Mr. Clement, with trero* I t bling eagerness, "Only trust me?only wait i ! a little and see J" . 1 I "And on this poor chanoe?this forlorn I hope?I'm to keep on working for you, think) ing for you, exerting myself to save you from ! - ruin! Talk about friendship, Mr. Clement? 1 ) it must be a pretty good frieud who will I t agree to that." *"1 "But you are my friend, Peterson?you 1 ' have so often assured' me of that. Forgive I r me if I said anything harsh or ungrateful, in I my excitement. I did not mean it; on my wore) I did not. Be my friend still, and stand by me now, and you shall be amply repaid for it; I swear that you shall." "The word of a gambler," muttered Peterson, below his breath. "Well, Mr. Clement," he said aloud, "I suppose J must oblige you now, as I have so often done already, at my own risk, and perhaps suffer for it in the end." ... "You shaft not," interrupted the other. "Thank you, thank you, Peterson, a hundred timfea. I felt sure you would be generous, and not desert me in my sorest need! And now tell me, what must I do to avoid discovery ? What precaution shall I take ?" "Keep within doors as much as possible, and when you go out, wear a disguise?that, I think, will insure your safety. There is nothing else to be done, .unless you choose to leave the place." ' "I cannot leave the place, Peterson?I can not, if I would. You know how often I have told you that." l. ? A C5"*"^UU 1JIIVC IrUlU UIO OU V1VCU vuuugu| mid Peterson, with anothershrug of the shoulders. "Well, just keep yourself close, and meantime Til find out *11 about Lord Desborough's plans. I have an appointment to meet him this afternoon, on a matter of business. If I learn anything of importance, I'll see you again, this evening; if not, say to-morrow, at ten o'clock, or thereabouts. I really must leave you now. I have been detained here longer than I expected, and it is growing late." "And you won't fail to report to me, if? if?you discover that he has any suspicions? if you have reason to believe that he has beard anything about me ?" said Clement, laying a nervous clutch upon his sleeve, as he was about to go. "Oh, no, I won't fail. I'll keep you posted, never fear. Come now, I mutt say goodbye for the present. Take care of yourself, Mr. Clement, until I see you again." As the door closed upon him, Mr. Clement fell back in his chair with a look of blank misery in his face. "The end is at hand?the.end is at hand," be muttered hoarsely, with clenched hands md upturned eyes. "Retribution will descend upon me ere long?I feel it drawing aigh I And there is no escape?none, from ibe doom which my crime has entailed upon >1 H6. As to the other man, he walked down stairs with his hands in his pockets, and a sarcastic imile upon his lips.. "Poor crazy fool!" he said to himself. ? t I 1 ?. I A. 1 A. 1 'uesDorougn woman t nave toe ueari iu u?v? bira bung, even if he did find him. His brain isclean turned wrong side out But its lust as well to keep up the delusion as long as [ find it profitable. I've made a nice little fortune out of him already, as4ie justly observed, and I'll make as much more as lean, before I let him go. When I've squeezed the >range dry, I'll throw the rind away. But I must be sure that it's quite dry first After ihat, he may shift for himself. I'll not waste my more time over him then." [to be continued.] pstotg flf jf. (Stoalitta. HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE Early Settlement of South Carolina. BY BEV. BOBEBT LATHAN. ? THE RETREAT Of GENERAL GREENE. [continued.] At Guilford Court House, the forces under oren. Greene were re-organized. Rather, a council of war was held and arrangements nade to hasten the retreat and avoid, if possible, a general engagement with the British, fo cross the Dan at the Shallow fords was regarded, on account of the recent rains, as Darely within the range of possibilities. Cornvallig was eanallv as near these Doints as M Dreene, and calculated with certainty that jrreeue would direct his course to these crossDgs by the nearest route. Lieutenant-Colonel Carrington, quarternaster-general, suggested that the attempt ihould be made to cross the Dan at Irwin's erry. This point was seventy miles from jruilford Court House. The suggestion made )y Col. Carrington was regarded as eminenty wise, and consequently was adopted. To iee? out of Btriking distance of Cornwallis equired great military skill on the part of Dreene, and promptness of action and mnch )hysical endurance on the part of his common loldiers. Having determined to cross the Dan at Irwin's ferry* the next thing was to lelect a force which should protect the main >ody of the Americans whilst retreating, and etard the progress of the pursuing British. For this purpose, a force of seven hundred nen was selected. This force consisted of the shoice of the infantry under Col. Howard, Dol. Washington's cavalry, Col. Lee's Legion, ogether with a few militia riflemen nnder Major Campbell. The com maud of this corps was offered to Deneral Morgan. For some reason, Morgan -efused to accept it, and at the same time religned his command and retired from the arny and never again joined it. The reason issigned by General Morgan for this strange :onduct, at this critical moment in his coun;ry's history, was that be was so afflicted with rheumatism that he could do longer continue n service. There is no doubt of his being aflicted with rheumatism. The kind of life vhich he had led from boyhood was sufficient -o impair his constitution and render him liable to an attack of rheumatism at any time. During the whole winter of 1781 he was exaosed to all kinds of weather, and since he was lubject to attacks of rheumatism, we may well rnppose that he was actually suffering with that lisease when Greene's army was at Guilford Dourt House. Still this, after all, was not he only reason, nor was it the principal realon, why Morgan retired from the army. At Sherril's Ford, on the last day of January, Greene and Morgan disagreed with reipect to the plan of the campaign. Sharp vords passed between them, and whilst it is jertain that Greene forgot the whole affair, ind in the fullest sense forgave Morgan, such vas not the case with Morgah. This is not jy any means saying that General Morgan vas revengeful. Such was not the case, but ;be kind of warfare which General Greene vaa at that time conducting, was not the kind n which General Morgan delighted. He had io taste for systematic retreats. His idea of var was, meet the foe on your ground, if you san ; if not, meet the foe anywhere. General Morgan having retired from the tervice, the command of the select corps was riven to Col. Williams, of Maryland. Col. Harrington was sent forward to make arrangement for the army to cross the river, A.11 the boats above and below Irwin's ferry yere conducted to that point. On the tenth >f February, General Greene set out for the Dan. The distanoe is about seventy miles, sut the roads were almost impassable. Cornyallis had commenced his march on the previous day, not directly in the rear of Greene, but on his left on a parallel road. After Greene had left Guilford Court House, Colonel Williams, on the same day, oroke up his camp and filed to the left, for the purpose of throwing his forces between those of Greene and Cornwallis. Evidently, the greater the distance which intervened between the two armies, the greater the probability that Greene would escape unharmed across the Dan. The main body of the American army pushed forward, and without being materially incommoded, crossed the Dan ou the thirteenth. The safe retreat of Greene was mainly due to the skill with which Colonel Williams managed the movements of his corps. In this he was aided by the illus1 trious Colonel Lee, and by Colonel Washington, of the cavalry, and by Major Campbell. Leading to the Dan there were three roads, nearly parallel to each other. Greene was marching on the lower one, Cornwallis on the upper one, and Williams on the middle one. Thus the forces of Williams were between Cornwallis and Greene. It was necessary that Williams provide that Cornwallis should; not slip past him and get between him and Greene. Such an event would have proved fatal to both Williams and Greene. In order to retard, as much as possible, the progress of the British, the rear of Williams' force and the van of the British were in sight of each other during the whole day. The British advance was commanded by O'Hara, an experienced and brave officer. The rear guard of Williams was commanded by. the dashing Lee. During the retreat from Guilford Court " ? ? ? ' T. ' !.1 noose CO JLrwin s ierry on me lsau, neimer the officers nor men in Williams' command had much time to eat or. sleep. The only meal that they pretended to take was breakfast. At three in the morning, the march commenced. A party was sent ahead to kindle fires, generally at some farm-hoose, where there was a probability of obtaining/somd corn meal and bacon, together with corn and fodder for the horses. When the men came up, a halt was ordered for one hoar, daring which the horses were fed and the men baked their ash-cakes and roasted their bacon on the coals. This was not all. So vigilant was the watch, that each man got only six hoars sleep out of forty-eight To prevent an attack at night, Williams took the precaution to camp -as far as possible from the British. So soon as the men entered the camp, which was always late in the night, those not on patrol threw7 themselves down any where to sleep. " ?uring the night of the twelfth or morning of the thirteenth, Cornwallis determined to change his course and fall into the middle road. This would place him directly in the rear of Williams. The move was made-with skill, and so secretly that it was not observed by Williams until effected. The front of his army was required to continue as before, whilst he, with the maih body, pressed from the upper to the middle road. On the morning of the thirteenth, Williams set out as. usual at three o'clock. Parties were sent forward to kindle fires at which to prepare breakfast. The weather was' cold and a drizzly rain was falling. The wood was wet and much difficulty was experienced in kindling the fires. Every thing was arranged as usual. Lieutenant Carrington, who was with a patroling party watching the move* raents of the enemy, reported from time to time that every thing was as usual. Just as the cold and wet and hungry soldiers had got their ash-cakes in the fire and their bacon on the glowing coals, a countryman rode into camp. He had been sent by a sergeant of a patrol party. The man, on being condaoted to headquarters, related that only a short time before, the British had fallen into the road on which the Americans were, and that Cornwallis was only about four miles in the rear?- The man rode* very small pony which was very much exhausted. In order to ascertain the truth of thisstatement, and allow the men time to eat their breakfast, Colonel Williams requested Lieutenant-Colonel Lpe to send back a detachment of cavalry. The countryman was ordered to accompany them as guide. This he readily assented to do. A squad of cavalry was soon selected, and Capt. Mark Armstrong placed " ? J TUaoa UAJ nftf 1 oft Ill UUUiUJaiiU VI bUCUJi 1UOOO UHU UUV l?iU ' camp loDg before a messenger came from Lieutenant Carrington, with the news that the van of the British was moving slowly. 1 This led Col. Williams to suspect that some new movement was making in the British forces. To support Armstrong, Col. Lee was sent back with another detachment. It was /understood that the two detachments would unite, and Lee take command of the whole. j A single horseman was sent on at fall speed ' to overtake Armstrong and inform him of 1 what had been done, and request him to move slowly until the detachment under Lee would < overtake him. When Armstrong had gone 1 about a mile he was overtaken by Lee, whan < the whole advanced two miles farther. No 1 enemy was to be seen, and some began to sua- 1 pect the veracity of the guide. 40J/ee himself < concluded, that though he might be an honest ' man and true patriot, he was in some way mistaken. It was concluded that Lee and the 1 larger number of the detachment should re- 1 turn to. the camp and 6nish their breakfast. J Capt. Armstrong and three cavalrymen were ordered to take the countryman as a guide 1 and proceed to the spot where he said he had 1 seen the British an hour before. i The countryman, who had willingly accompanied the detachment up to this moment, now refused to go, unless a good horse were i given him. This fact led all to credit the statements which he had previously made. TIL . i?i? _ i JI ...u i? , j. ut) uugier, a uearuieoo juuiu ujr tucuauig vi Gillies, was placed on the pony of the countryman and sent back to camp, and the coun- i try man placed on the horse on which the bugler rode. This was agreeable to both. The little bugler mounted the pony and set i out for the camp of Williams, and the coon- < tryraan. mounted on the bugler's horse, set out to find the whereabouts of the British. So soon as Armstrong left, Lee and his men rode into the woods so as to keep concealed i from the enemy, should any be near. Arm- i strong had advanced but a short distance, I when the report of muskets announced the i fact that the enemy were near by. The Amer- i ican videttes came dashing in at full speed, i pursued by a detachment of British dragoons, i Lee felt no anxiety for Armstrong and his companions, for he knew they were well mount- ] ed, but his anxiety for the little bugler, < mounted on the countryman's pony, was great. m Waiting until the British passed by, he felf" into the road and dashed forward after them : I a* full onuo/1 A rmafrrmcr nnrt Viia m?n HfUth- I ed past the bugler, who was overtaken and | barbarously put to death by the British, although he begged for quarters. This was done io the sight of Lee, who became furious- ( ly enraged when he saw the boy literally ] butchered when crying for mercy. The mo- j rnent of vengeance did not linger long. The i horses upon which the British rode were in- j ferior, and their riders were drunk. ( Ezas- ] perated by the cruelty practiced upon the' i helpless bugler, Lee, contrary-^to his usual ] practice, shouted to his men to show the ene- j my no quarters. In this affair the British ? had eighteen killed and several taken prison- < era. Amongst the prisoners was Captain ] Miller. Lee charged Miller with the murder j of the bugler and ordered him to be hanged j on the spot, but the British van approaching, ] it was deferred for the time. Having advanced a short distance, Lee handed Miller a pencil and piece of paper f and told him to note down any communica- < tion which he might desire to send to bis / friends, telling him that he would bang him 1 so soon as they reached the foot of the hill 1 which they were then descending. Again the i approach of the British van prevented Lee < from executing his purpose. Captain Miller 1 and the other prisoners were sent forward to < Williams and by him sent to General Greene J and afterwards exchanged. The American i loss was nothing except the bugler. Before the affair between .Lee and Miner was concluded, Colonel Williams had hie forces in motion* The road on wbifch he was marching led to Dix's ferry, and the designated point of crossing was Irwin's ferry. Thinking Greene, of whom he had heard nothing, was now ont of reach of the enemy, he filed to the right for the purpose of falling into the Irwin s ferry road. The officers haying been informed of the movement, he hastened forward with all possible speed. Colmwallis was P directly in the rear of the Americans and everything depended on promptnem of action. Many of Lee's mep had eaten nothing since the morning of the twelfth. Having learned from his guides that there Was a nearer road than that traveled by Williams, Lee determined to take it, so that he might gain time sufficient for his men to dispatch a hasty meal and mod their horses. Having arrived at the house of a well-to-do firmer, preparations were made for a substantial dinner*. The horses were fed and the soldiers were preparing the repast. A few videttes were stationed in the rear:; bat no surprise was feared sinoe the road which they had taken was a mere path. w Scarcely-had the horsesbegan to eat, when the videttes gave the alarm that the British van was approaching. The British werfe as mnch surprised as the Amerieans. They had no idea that the two armies were so near to- , gtAer. Lee saw at once that it was now either fight or fly. In his front was a swollen stream over which was a bridge. The infantry were ordered to rash to this bridge and hold it Lee drew op his cavalry so as to cover a retreat The British, not expecting to overtake the Americans, were, for the moment, rton-plnssed. Before they coold advance, thev had to form. Whilst they were forming, the Americans crossed the bridge and were soon oat of danger. The nearer the approach to the Dan, the more energetic was the puronit by Cornwallis. The night of the thirteenth was cold, dark and rainy. Neither the darkness nor the cold nor the rain put a stop to the pursuer. ~ On he pushed. His only hope was to capture Williams. Thih he knew must be done either that night or die next day.' . > \ At eight o'clock in the night, the Americans beheld, in front of them, a number of camp, fires. This filled the. hearts of those brave men with sadness. They natorally concluded that General Greene and the main- body of the Southern army, unconscious of the proximity of the foe, were warming at these fires. Williams, like a brave man, began to prepire for the conflict His pith was to throw his forces directly in front of the British, and, by every' means in his power, retard their pro- : grass till Greene should have time tp get oat of danger. Before the conflict between Williams and Cornwallis began, it wasdearned,to 'j the inexpressible joy of both officers and men, that it was Greened camp, bat Greene and his men were not there. They had. camped on the spot two nights before and. were gone. The fires had been kept burning by the Whigs in the neighborhood., Delivered from theirj-^ j fears, the Americans pressed forward. Cornwall is, finding that be conld not grasp his prey on that night, halted. So soon as the Americans discovered this, they encamped. Long before day both the Americans'and the British were in motion. This day's work was to pu^an end, if they were successful, to the present toils of the former; and it was to crown with success or stamp wi^ defeat,.the. plans of the latter. On, both parties pushed, , through mad, over hills, and across valleys. Neither man nor horse was allowed time to eat or sleep. At mid-day, a courier?his horse covered with foam and the sweat streaming down his body?he himself covered with mud, bat with a countenance bright with joy, met the forces of, Williams. He bore a letter from General Greene to Colonel Williams, in which it waa announced that the former, with his .forces, had crossed the Dan on the thirteenth. No sooner was this news known than a glad shoot was nttered, which echoed from hill to bill. The British heard the shoot and understood its meaning. At three o'clock in the afternoon, when fourteen miles from the river, Williams, leaving Lee in front of the enemy, filed off in the direction of Boyd's ferry. Here be crossed the Dan before son-set, Later in the afternoon, Lee ordered his infantry to follow Williams, whilst he, with his cavalm still remained in front of the enemy. At dark, Lee bade an adieo to O'Hara and set out for Irwin's ferry. Here he crossed before nine o'clock. This, for the time, pot an end to the toils of the Southern army. The plans of Cornwallis were frustrated and his hopes blasted. In reviewing'this retreat, we are unable to determine who among the two thousand and three hundred men and officers is deserving of most praise. All acted their part well. The history of the world presents few, if any, cases in which men suffered so much 4nd so cheerfully. Lee says of his men, "they were in good health and good spirits." The " Mibsing Link.?Some years ago a traveler came back from Africa with a marvelous story of a region inhabited by men with tails. From quite another quarter of the world the report now reachesios that the half ape half man is no myth. The Bey. George Brown, who has recently visited the New Britain and New Ireland group of islands to the east of New Guinea, writes that the natives of Blanche Bay positively affirm the existence of a i^oe of men with tails at a place called Kalili. When it was suggested that the supposed meo might be gorillas the blacks indignantly resented the imputation upon their intelligence, and asked whether apes fought with spears, planted yams and built houses. -A minute deseripriou was given of the curiously formed savages, and from this it would appear that nature has been somewhat inconsiderate in her design of the appendage. "The tail," the natives say, "is bard and inflexion*?so mucn so mat woj have to dig a bole in the sand before they can sit down, as they die at onoe if f$e appendage is broken." The people provided with this dangerous ornament are, however, represented as rather proad of it. Any child t 1 born without it is destroyed, for fear it should be ridiculed when it grows up. T I Don't Be a Loafer.?Young man ! pay attention. Don't be a loafer; don't keep loafers' company; don't hang about loafing places. Better work than sit around day after day, or stand about corners with your bands in your pocxets?better for yonr own health And prospects. Bustle about, if you mean to have anything to bustle about for. kfany a poor physician has obtained a. real patient by riding after an imaginary one. A. quire of blank paper, tied with red tape, carried under a lawyer's arm, may procure him his first case, and make his fortune. Such is the world: "To him that hath shall be given." Quit dreaming and complaining; keep busy and mind your chances. Time for Painting.?Good authority itates positively that paint spread in the fall' >r winter will hut twice as long as that put >n in spring or summer. When applied in ;he cool or cold weather, it dries slowly and forms o hard surface, or crust, while that ffbich is spread in-the hot weather loses most )f the oil by being driven into the wood by the heat, leaving only a dry lead, easily crumbled off Another advantage gained in fall painting, is the absence of swarms of . 3mall flies that so often collect on the paint* .? Factory and Farmer. /