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* '5 i # c ? . ' ? ) lewis im. grist, Proprietor.! ^it f nitepentrent Jamiln ftetospaper: jfor tjie ^ramotion of t|t political, Social, ^griraltaral aitb Commercial Interests of % Sotrf|. TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL.' 23. YORKVILLE, 6. C., THURSDAY, MARCH 15, 1877. ISTO. 11. . JU ?tigrnal ^torg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. JULIAN MORYHLE'S BRIDE ; OK, THE POWER OF LOVE. CHAPTER L THE STAGE KOBBERS. It was?on a dark, stormy night of March, that a certain lumbering old stage-coach, carrying the mail and other valuables, from a town on the borders of California to another town in Nevada, some twenty miles distant, (I am not particular about names, because tbey are of no importance at this juncture) stood, with the usual complement of passengers inside, at the door of ?he inn which constituted its starting-point; while the driver, buttoning up his rough great-coat with much , deliberation, exchanged a few parting sallies * with a knot of his cronies who were hanging around. "You'll have squally weather afore you gets to Lone Pine, I reckon," observed one of these worthies, with a glance upward. "If you ain't precious careful driving along that there precipice by Rocky Run, you'll hare that old machine of yours over into the water, sore as my name's Bill Jones." "You'd have it over, I don't doubt, if you was in my seat," retorted the driver. " You couldn't drive this team along side a horsepond, let alone Rocky Run, without capsizing1 the whole carrywan, in the night-time or the day-time either. But I've driven over this road many a worse night than this; sometimes when I couldn't see my hand afore my face, { and never came to grief yet. I'm too old a hand at the job to miss my way." "Lucky for you the horses knot# it so well," laughed Mr. Jones. "There's salvation for your passengers in that." ""You'd better npt try to influence my passengers' minds by any more of your smart talk," was the reply, given in rather a gruff tone. "If I was such a blasted fool as not to be able to sit on a coach-box, like some folks I knows of, it would be well enough to talk. But as it is, I'd advise you to hold your tongue." "Come, don't be getting personal, Jim," said the firstjspeaker, in a conciliatory manner. "No offence meant, you know. I was only wishing, for the sake of all concerned, that the state of the atmosphere was a leetle more favorable to the success of your undertakinc." . 0"Hear, hear!" cried another. "Bill's been J studying a dictionary lately." "Favorable or not, I don't care," quoth the I driver. "Anybody who says I'm likely to get on a wrong track, or to upset this vehicle of mine by bad driving, in the bl tckest and stormiest nifcht that ever could be seen, is a' liar, and I'll stick to that." Aad with a defiant glance around, Jehn mounted the box, and gathered up the reins in hishaDd. "Wait till you come back, old chap," said Bill Jones, significantly. "I'll settle with you then, never fear." "Come, thiB won't do," said the landlord, I alarmed at these hostile demonstrations. "A j joke's a joke, Jim, and you shouldn't be so j touchy about it. Everybody knows you're the smartest haud at a whip on the Pacific slope. And Bill, you're just a trifie too fond of puttiug in your oar at the wrong minute. Can't you see," he added, lowering his tone, as he pulled Mr. Jones' sleeve, "that he's uncommon crusty to night, and had better be lot a Inn a ?" "All right," said Jones. "I know what I'm about." This conversation was not without its effect on the spirits of some of the passengers, by whom it bad been plainly overheard. "Papa," said a delicate-looking girl, closely muffled in warm wraps, who nestled at the side of an elderly gentleman of burly figure, her traveling companion and protector, "do you really suppose there can be any danger?" "No, my dear, I don't suppose there can," replied her father, not without a shade of uneasiness in his tone. "If I had thought there was, I am sure I would not have come by this route; but I understood it was quite a safe one." ' "It's a perfectly safe one, sir," said a man who sat opposite. "The young lady need have no fears. Jim Morris understands his business about as thoroughly as any man in these parts. The other fellow only wanted his joke, you know." "Which seemed, however, not to be appreciated," remarked the gentleman. "Old Morris, is in a bad humor, I guess. It isn't always that he'll put up with that sort of talk, though I've heard him stand much worse without getting riled by it. He'll be all right by the time he's over this trip, I expect." "I hope he doesn't drink," said the gentleman. "I feared, from his mauner, he might bwslightly intoxicated." "Oh! he never takes a drop too much," re^ joined the other. "He'd be a pretty rare chap if he didn't drink some. But I'd venture to bet he never was drunk in his life?at least, while he was on duty." "Oh, dear!" murmured the young lady. "I wish we were at our journey's end." "You'll get there all safe, Miss, never fear," said their new acquaintance, re-assuringly ; while her father, drawing her coverings closer around her, said anxiously? "You are shivering, Annie. I hope you are not cold, my dear. "No, sir, I am comfortable enough ; only my'jfcirves are rather shaken. I'll get over it presently, I dare say." "My daughter, sir., is unhappily an invalid," said the gentleman, addressing his oppo site neighbor; "and quite unaccustomed, too, to the rough ways of this part of the world." "Sorry to hear it, sir. You are just from the East, I presume?" "Yes, we are quite recently arrived." "Ah! Expect to settle out here?" The interrogator was a Yankee, and therefore prolific in questions. "That is my inteution, if I find the state of the country such us I have been led to expect. I have lately purchased, through an agent, a good deal of the neighborhood of? Bless me, what a jerk 1" This ejaculation was called forth by the sudden and unexpected starting of the vehicle ; for Jim Morris, not having yet recovered bis equanimity, had flourished his long whip so energetically about the ears of bis team, 4 that the astooished leaders, who had been indulging in tender reminiscences of the suug stable and good supper from which they had been brought forth into the cold, came out of their reverie with a violent plunge or two, and dashed off*at a gallop. Jim's experienced hand, however, steadied them down in short order; and now the coach was rolling along, as fast as four mettlesome steeds could' carry it over a smooth sandy road, through the gloom and darkness of the windy night. Besides the gentleman and his daughter, and their Yankee friend, already presented to the notice of the reader, there were three more occupants of the inside seats. Two roughlooking individuals of the miner class, and a buxom Irish woman, carrying a basket and various bundles and packages which were somewhat detrimental to the comfort and convenience of her fellow-travelers, particularly when a sudden lurch of the coach from side to side flung them against the knees or elbows of those nearest to her. She very obligingly tried to remedy this evil, by offering the basket to one of the ipen as a footstool, assuring him that he needn't be afraid of using it, as it contained mothing that could be hurt; while to another she proffered the softant nfbftr hundlefl as a Dillow. These DrODO sals being de :lined, however, she made a pyramid in her capacious lap of as many of the obnoxious articles as her arms could enfold, and presently fell asleep with her chin resting on the topmost one, and the basket between her knees. * The young invalid, who fortunately occupied the corner of the coach farthest removed from that in which the portly form of the daughter of Erin was padfced, leaned her bead on her father's shoulder, and appeared, after a while, also to yield to the pressure of fatigue. Her eyes were closed, though an occasional weary sigh, or sudden start, indicated that her slumber was not very profound. The old gentleman was too fully engaged with anxious thoughts, and also in caring for her comfort, to follow her example, and gazed fixedly out into the darkness of the night, where moving shapes, like phantoms, seemed to glide past the windows as they sped along. Every one but himself was nodding, while vArimiR unmusical sounds. Droceeding from the open mouths arouud him, mingled with the rattling of the wheels and the creaking of the rusty joints and hinges of the "old machine," as Mr. Jones had termed it, when suddenly ? loud exclamation was heard from the driver, followed by the sharp crack of a pistol, and the stage stopped. "What's up now ?" cried one of the men, rousing himself from his nap. And a general thrill of consternation ran through the party, as the light of a lantern, flashing past them, revealed several dark forms grouping about the horses, though nothing could be distinctly discerned. "It's no use for you to Bhow fight, Jim Morris," said a clear, cool voice, denoting unmistakable resolution on the part of the speaker, whoever he might be. ^iTust hand over that box of yours, that you've got inside, and we'll let you go." "Not if I knows it," was Jim's sturdy reply. By this time all was excitement and confusion. The men, with thl exception of the elderly gentleman, to whom his daughter clung in terror, all sprang out of the coach, and the Irishwoman lifted up her voice in loud cries of dismay. "Och 1 it's murthered we shall all be. Oh 1 holy saints, preserve us. Oh 1 it's thieves and robbers, that's attacking us, and we'll niver escape alive oat of their hands. Ochone! Ochone!" Loud oaths and execrations, mingled with more firing, seemed to offer a confirmation of her fears. The driver, aided by his passengers, made a valiant resistance to his assailants, but the latter, (who were all shrouded in heavy cloaks, and effectually masked) had greatly the advantage in numbers. They were, besides, evident desperadoes, who, in their thirst for booty, would suffer no obstacle to baffle their bold scheme. Suddenly, as one of their band discharged his pistol, there was a heavy groan and a man fell dead?it was one of the two miners, who were traveling in company, and bound on the same errand. At the same instant, the mask fell from the face of the robber who had discharged the fatal shot, and for a moment, as the light played on his features, they were distinctly visible. The face was that of a mere boy, pale as death, and greatly agitated by emotion and excitement; his large, glittering dark eyes seemed to rest with terror on the prostrate form of his victim, and his weapon fell from his hand. All this flashed like a vision before the frightened gaze of the sick girl, which was directed toward the scene. But, in an instant, one of the other robbers, with an muttered oath, dragged his youthful companion aside, and hastily re-adjusted his disguise. A very brief space decided the issue of the unequal conflict. Morris and his assistants were bound and gagged, the box of valuables dragged from its hiding-place, and the robbers made off with their prize, leaving the unfortunate travelers to extricate themselves, as well as they could, from the plight into which they had fallen. Mrs. Malloy, the Irishwoman, who was somewhat consoled by the discovery that she had escaped with her life, and her precious packages untouched, now rendered valuable assistance in loosening her male companions from their bonds, while uttering many lamentations over the untimely fate of the murdered man. The comrade of the latter loudly swore to avenge his death, if ever chance should throw the murderer in his way. But strangely enough, in that brief moment when bis disguise had fallen aside, not one of the party had become cognizant of the fact except the young lady, who had so plainly distinguished his face. The driver believed that ! he knew the voice of the leader of the band, ; but was not perfectly sure. As to the ideui tity of the others he had no clue. Altogethj er, it seemed more than doubtful whether | justice could overtake the ruffians, and give them their aeseris. "Papa," murmured the half-fainting Annie, "I should know him again, I am sure I should, anywhere that ever I met him ! Oh, i I pray heaven I never may see his face again!" Her father scarcely noticed the remark ; 1 but it fell upon another ear for which it had i not been intended, and was carefully noted ; and remembered. j There was a small hamlet not far off, to ! which it was proposed that the remains of 1 the dead miner sbQuld be carried; "for/' as his friend observed, "though he didn't know as he could give him any burial to boast of, yet he couldn't leave him like a dog by the roadside for the wild beasts and birds to pick the flesh off his bones." Accordingly, a rude litter of saplings was constructed, on which the body was laid, and borne off by the driver and the comrade "bf the unfortunate man, the other passengers remaining in the stage to await Morris' return. Some damage had been done to the harness, which caused a still greater delay; and it was broad daylight when, having accomplishing all repairs possible under the circumstances, the unlucky party proceeded on their way. This affair, when it became known, excited a great stir all throughout the surrounding country. Active measures were taken to discover the orimioalB, who had, by their assault on the Btage-coach, become the possessors of a large sum of money in gold and bank-notes, as well as of some important papers, the loss of which caused Berious injury to several parties concerned. But in vain were experts detailed to pursue and convict them ; no traces of them could be found. An attack of a similar nature had once before been made on this very conveyance, but without success, the robbers, though escaping unharmed, failing to secure the booty they sought, and inflicting no injury on either the driver or the passengers. By some it was conjectured that this second attack had been instituted by the same parties, reinforced by additional numbers, but this could not, with any certainty, be affirmed. Whatever the facts of the case might be, nothing occurred to throw any light on the subject, and after some weeks spent in fruitless search', all farther investigation was abandoned as hopeless. "Morris* staee." as it was called, seemed after this to fall into disrepute.. Not that any reproach was attached to his conduct on the oight of the robbery, but people grew shy of taking a route fraught with such danger, and a safer, though longer one, came into popular favor. Old Morris grumbled at the change, swore that all mankind were fools and cowards, and predicted that a day would come when they would be glad to avail themselves of his short route again ; but finally becoming disgusted with his loss of patronage, he gave up the business altogether, and "Morris' stage" faded into a memory of the past CHAPTER II. EVIL SEED AND ITS FRUIT. In a lonely but luxurious home, the childhood of a noble and beautiful boy, Leonard Manvers by name, had been spent, amid influences more fatal to his moral growth, more encouraging to the advance of every evil tendency in his nature, thau happily, often fall to the lot of one so young. Early bereft by death of his mother's care, it became the office of hirelings to minister to all bis needs, to spoil or neglect bim as caprice dictated, and to offer him the unwholesome tuition furnished by ignorant minds; but this evil, though a lamentable one, might have been mitigated, if not wholly counteracted by a father's affection for him and interest in hiB welfare. Unfortunately for the poor boy, both affection and interest on the part of bis remaining parent were entirely wauting. Mr. Manvere, though a man of excellent birth and social standing, was cold, selfish and worldly. He had broken the heart of his wife, a timid, clinging, girlish creature, who, repulsed in all her efforts to win his love, would have hailed death, but for her babyboy, as a welcome release, since life offered her so much bitterness and so little joy. During the infancy of his son, he rarely saw him, never asking for him or visiting his nursery, so that if by chance they met, the child shrank from him as from a stranger, and felt nothing of the tie between them?a tie, one of Nature's closest, yet virtually rendered null in this case by conduct so far opposed to Nature's dictates. When Leonard was four years old, a circumstance occurred which changed the aspect of affairs. Some friends of Mr. Manvere, coming up unexpectedly to the front entrance of his elegant country mansion, there discoved the little boy playing on the lawn under the supervision of his nurse, a high-flown French dame, who lounged on the steps with a novel, while her charge amused himself at will. Struck by his exceeding beauty, they called him to them and engaged him in conversation, the boy fearlessly meeting their andvances, and looking boldly into their faces with his great dark eyes as he answered their questions. "Whose son was he? He was Mr. Manvers' son, the man that lived in this house. Why didn't he ever come into the parlor with papa ? Oh ! papa never wanted him; he didn't like babies, C16mence said. But he was not a baby now; he would soon be a man, and then should come into the parlor when he pleased. This house and everything in it would belong to him one of these days; and if ever he should have a little boy, he'd let him come in to dessert every day; yes, he would. Stevens, the butler, said that people always did, except papa. Did he have any boys and girls to play with ? Only Stevens' nephew, who hoed in the garden?he was a big boy, but he made a wind-mill for him once. He could ride on a pony, though, and wasn't a bit afraid; and Stevens said he was 'most old enough to handle a gun. When he was six years old he meant to run away, because he didn't like living in this house. It was a nasty old big house, and he wanted a pretty little cottage like the gardener's; but he didn't mean ever to let papa come there, because he didn't like him ; he liked Stevens better." Here Madame Cl6raence, who had come forward to hear what he was saying, lifted her hands and eyes deprecatingly to Heaven, with an ejaculation of dismay. "Mon Dieu I what are you prating of, mauvais enfant t Do not heed him, gentlemen, he talks fool| ishness. He adores his papa, the handsome, j fine gentleman that he is, and Monsieur, his papa, adores him equally in return. How say I j you, Leonard, nhtce-pas que tu aimes ton cher J papa f" ''No, I don't! Get out, C16mence, you old | thing!?get away!" shouted master Leonard, : making a dart at his bonne, who, luckily for j him, was fond of him in her way, and sorry j for him, and seldom resented any indignity j he chose to offer. "Naughty bebe I" she exclaimed, catching ( in both hands his upraised fists, adding, apol- j ogetically, to the interested and amused vis-1 itors, "He has so much spirits and is so fond : of play! You will pardon him, gentlemen, be means no harm." "He is a fine fellow, I am sure. I shall ask his papa to let me see something of him in future." And Mr. Orville, a kind-hearted simple country squire, whose sympathy was aroused by the child's unconscious revelation of his lonely position in his father's home, lifted Leonard in his arms, and perched him upon one shoulder. "How do you like that, eh! my little man? Is that too high? Are you afraid ?" "Afraid!" I'm not afraid of nothing!" cried Leonard, whose grammar was not superlatively good, owing to the nature of the society he frequented. He shouted with glee, as his new friend marched around the lawn, still bearing him aloft, his cheeks aglow and his eyes bright with pleasure, and bis curly hair, from which his velvet cap had fallen, blown by the wind, in picturesque disorder, about his high white brow. The other gen- . tlemen were watching him, and C16mence was showing her white iteeth in a smile of unequivocal satisfaction at her protege's sudden rise in the world, when Mr. Manvers appeared abruptly upon the scene. He greeted his visitors courteously, but in a more hurried manner than usual; then, turning to.the nurse, exclaimed in no pleasant tone? "What is the meaning of this? Are you not aware that I reserve this portion of the grounds for my own use, and that of my friends ?" ? ? ?f *nViisvVk \fnnatnnr XJll I lb JTOO UUl a LI liUUl Ob nuiwu n^uuuiuui generally receives guests," began C16mence in a half defiant, half apologetic tone; "the child wanted to play npon the lawn, and I thought?" . "No matter what you thought," interrupted Mr. Manvers, impatiently, and he was about to add a command, that the little boy should be immediately taken away, when Mr.Orville exclaimed? "Really, Manvers, I cannot see why you , should object to this splendid fellow's company. If he were my boy, I should be display-, ing him on all occasions. You ought to be excessively proud of such an heir and representative of your name." Mr. Manvers looked at Leonard as this speech was made. The boy's noisy mirth had ceased, and his beautiful, questioning*eyes were fixed seriously on bis face. For the first time i a feelin^of admiration, mixed with something i akin to pride, arose in the father's heart. It was not affection, but an involuntary tribute to the noble and winning countenance and graceful, high-bred air of the little being, who sat looking down upon him, as a small prince might have done, from his elevated position, and calmly awaiting his verdict. "Well, sir I" he said, half smiling, though without approaching any nearer to him, "you seem to be enjoying yourself tolerably well. Don't you know you are a pretty heavy weight for that gentleman to carry ?" "He put me here," said Leonard, promptly. "I didn't ask him to." ? "Ofoouroo-you dido^r^-etmilBd lu Ills new* ' friend. "Tell papa to try you some time himself, and see how light you are." mcpq far+ltar JL opcfc ?0 II UUIIlllUg fl WIW IMI HKVft from his thoughts than to make the experiment. "Were you tired of the nursery and the back-garden, Leonard, that you took a fancy to come round in front of the house this morning?" he continued. "Yes," replied the boy. "I made Cl?mence bring me. She said you wouldn't like it, and she didn't want to come, so you had no ri *ht to scold her." "Upon my word I" said hisfather, laughing outright this time, for the boy's spirit amused him. "You are inclined to be independent, I find. If I let you come into the dining-room sometimes, and sit at table at dessert, will you behave like a gentlemau, aud not make yourself a nuisance to ray compauy?" "What company ?" asked Leonard. "These gentlemen, or any others who may be with me." "I'll behave like a gentleman, because I am a gentleman ; and I won't be a nuisance? though I don't know what a nuisance is," said the boy. His precocious way of answering did more toward gaining his father's favor than anything else could have done. Had be been cringing and timid, the chances are ten to one that he would have looked upon him with contempt as a baby, and peremptorily ordered him back to the retirement of that portion of the establishment appointed for his use. His boldness, his cleverness, his beauty, all combined to take Mr. Manvers' fancy by storm. The child came upon him as a new revelation, for he had really seen too little of him hitherto to be able to judge in the slightest degree of his .characteristics. The admiration excited in his friends' minds by Leonard's bearing, also went far toward increasing his own. And thift it happened, by a sudden freak of chance, that the relation between the father and son suddenly assumed a much more intimate form than it had ever before exhibited. The latter was permitted to become a frequent visitor to the parlors and dining-room, and the more be displayed his precocious cleverness, the more willing was Mr. Manvers to draw it forth for his own amusement and that of whoever else might be present. As to Leonard, he found his new liberty delightful, and considered the gentlemen who sat around his father's table far better company than the butler and the groom, or even than Tom, the gardener's boy, who had made him the wind-mill. He had learn ed some funny little-J? rench songs Irom U16raence, which he would sing in a clear childish treble, with very good effect, while his audience applauded and laughed. Then, as a reward, he would be allowed to taste some wine from everybody's glass in turn, and soon he got fond of this part of the programme, though at flrst he made a wry face when the glass was put to hia lips. Not only wine, but spirits, circulated freely after dinner, and, by degrees,he learned to love the taste of the sweetened brandy, or strong French cordials, and to ask for more. The men laughed at him and called him "little toper," when bis baby face would flush with the unwonted excitement, and his noisy laugh would ring out in shrill glee amid the rattling of glasses and the clapping of hands ; but it would have 1- ? ~-? + fnr o Kor'o ovoa tft UCtJU a pilCUUO OI^UV IU? u uivnuui o VW -w have seen, and any tender, loving heart would have bled to think of the fatal influences which were being woven around the young life which had opened with such promise, and might, with careful training, have borne such fair fruit. One of the guests, and one only, among those who constantly partook of Mr. Manvers' hospitality, looked with disfavor upon -.-A ~-<S \ ' psitorg at JL HISTORICAL SKETCHES I r OF THE i Early Settlement of South Carolina. , * , BY B?V. BOBEBT LATHAH, 1 THE RETREAT OF CORNWALLIS. About the middle of the afternoon of the these injudicious proceedings, and would gladly have checked them if he dbuld. Mr Orville, Leonard's first friend, and his best, felt a sincere interest in the motherless child, and longed to stretch forth a hand to draw him out of the slough into which -his helplesf feet were being led, but had no power to do so. The few hints whjcb be ventured to drop on the subject were pointedly ignored by hie host, who was a man of determined and violent temper, and was particularly jealous of any interference in his domestic concerns ; and he feared to do mischief, rather than good, by any more direct efiorts to accomplish the purpose he had at heart. He tried to keep Leonard as much with him as possible, i ^ 10 amuse Dim who muoceub aiunw auu oiuuple games, and thus draw him off from the noisy mirth of the table. But though he did sometimes succeed in his kind purpose, yet the boy betrayed an unfortunate leaning toward the very habit whose growth he was most anxious to prevent, and seemed never so completely in his element as when seated in a high chair at his father's elbow, taking sips of his wine, and listening, though with imperfect comprehension, to the jokes and stories which circulated around the board. Years passed. The boy, as he grew older, gave evidence of some noble qualities, and of talents which, if cultivated, might have turned his mind into loftier and more wholesome channels, and led him to the contemplation of the pure, the beautiful, the good. But the best impulses, the highest aspirations of his nature were suffered to run to waste. No careful hand was there to train their growth or prune away the withered branches, the brambles and the weeds, of hurtful passions and fatal weaknesses, with which, like a neglected garden, his mind was overrun. And as childhood passed into youth, the stronger and ranker became this pernicious growth, though beneath its noxious shade some pre"""no low nnnmalMl nhinh micht vet. WlUUO |OIUIO AWJ UVUWM*VM I .? w.v. g ? - J # if Providence were kind, be brought to fruition in a more propitious day. No one could look at Leonard without being involuntarily attracted toward him. His fair, pale face, with features as delicate as a girl's ; his thoughtful brow, his deep dark eyes, soft, yet brilliant, and expressive of all that was tender and pathetic in his soul, his sjender form, gentle manner and singularly Bweet, musical tones, seemed to belong to one of the purest and most refined of beings. His childish brtuquerie and wilful, daring mode of speech had quite disappeared; and though the fearless spirit was still there, it was hidden beneath an exterior so calm and so mild that it was lost to notice. Yet there were intervals, when like the smouldering fires of a volcano, the deep passions of his nature would leap forth, and appear ready to consume him and all around him with their ardent heat. His was a character which, properly moulded, would have been an exceptionally fine one; but which, unhappily, was all but ruined by bad example, and the total absence oi counteracting Influences. When Leonard was about sixteen, a change came over his father, which the lad at first noticed without divining the cause. He had never, in alt these years, seemed to acquire any affection for his son, though he accepted his companionship, and behaved courteously toward him, as he might have done in regard to any one of alien blood. But now this coldly kind deportment gave place to a moody irritability, to sudden outbreaks of apparent? ? i ? ? L-'-L ?a ? ly causeless rage, wmuu aurpuecu ouu pcjplexed Leonard, until at length it was revealed to him that heavy pecuniary losse* had placed bis father in a position of great embarrassment, from which, it seemed, that there was no outlet of escape. For the first time, he took upon himself the office of coun' sellor, and endeavored to persuade Mr. Manvers into adopting the most honorable course left open for him to pursue?that of selling his entire property, clearing off all debt, and starting anew in the world. But this was laughed at as a piece of egregious folly. He was an idiot, a milksop, to suggest such a course. Why should he acknowledge to the world that ruin was - impending over him, when, by. a little judicious management, it might be averted. ' "How t" asked Leonard. His father significantly bade him wait and see. Soon after that, a new order of thingj was inaugurated in the household. A certain room was set apart for some mysterious purpose. Strange men were admitted at late hours, shown into the said room, and there remained, nobody knew how long?often until the small hours were preparing to usher in the dawn. Then old friends?men with whom the household had always been familiar?be . .1 . - _ gan to join tneae gamenngs, too, m wuiuu, at first, they had taken no part. Silent meet* ings they were, no loud laughter or noisy jests were heard proceeding from their midst; and Leonard, excluded from all sbare in them,, by his own pride, which made him keep alool; since no one sought him out, marvelled in secriBt, at this curious new regime, but never came near the truth in his guesses as to 'its origin or its object. [to be continued.] Various projects have been proposed to shorten the dreaded voyage between Europe and America. One plan contemplates a railway across Newfoundland, connecting with swift steamers, which could make the trip from that island to Valentia bay, Ireland, in three days. Another project, which would shorten the passage about one-half, is that of building a railroad from New Glasgow, Nova Scotia, to Whitehaven, the most easterly point on the continent, and about 1,000 miles from New York, by which the ocean voyage would be shortened to five days. <J6rBy an odd chance, two lovers of one wo man met as convicts in the Alabama state prison. One was to serve three years and the other five; and the latter desired a compact by which the former was not to take advantage of his earlier freedom, but to refrain from courting the woman until both were at liberty. The three-years' man refused to make any such agreement, and was in consequence nearly murdered by the five-years' man. The woman had already married somebody else. S&- The news from India in regard to the famine existing in Bombay and Madras is not cheering. The number tff persons now on the relief works in Bombay has increased to 337,000, while in Madras it has risen to 1,015,000 besides those receiving gratuitous support. Bengal and Burmah are exporting large quantities of grain to the distressed districts. tGT Frenchmen are eating more and more horse flesh. The first horse butcher in Paris opened his shop in 1866. Last year 9,000 horses, 643 asses and 35 mules were eaten in France. 15th of March, 1781, General Greene drew ' off bis troops from the field at Guilford Court House. Neither Greene nor Cornwallis had a clear idea of the results of the battle. Greene retreated to Speedwell's iron works, ' and made preparations for another conflict. Cornwallis was too much crippled to pursue 1 him. For a period of two months, CSrnwallis had been exerting all his energies and plying every strategy his fertile mind could devise, to bring on a general engagement with Greene. At last, the long wished for moment arrived and the conflict came. While its management did honor to the military talents of the British general, its results paralyzed his arm and rendered the accomplishing of his ultimate purpose hopeless. Since leaving Turkey creek, in York county, on , the 18th of January, he had lost one half of bis army and nearly all his baggage. Instead of making friends of the inhabitants of the , country through which he passed, his operations had converted many of the loyalists into Whigs, or caused them or assume a passive attitude. _ The night after the battle of Guilford Court' Honse was cold and rainj. The dead and wounded, both of the Americans and British, lay scattered promiscuously all over the field of conflict. The groans of the wounded rose above the noise of the falling rain. More than fifty of the wounded died during the night The next morning was devoted to burying the dead and caring for the wounded. This duty devolved upon the British army. To the honor of Cornwallis, he devoted as much attention to the dead and wounded of the American army, as he did to tho6e of the British. So soon as the dead were buried and the wounded cared for, Cornwall^ set out for New Garden meeting house! This was not the course a conquering general would have taken. Had Cornwallis really believed that "his Majesty's arms had been crowned with signal success," he would most certainly have followed General Greene. Instead of doing this, he led his depleted and dispirited army back to New Garden meeting house. There he was joined by the baggage wagons, which had been sent off, before the battle, to a place of safety. Notwithstanding his boastings of victory, Cornwallis was now actually retreat? ing from Gteene, and in accordance with the principles of that philosophy which prompts the little boy to whistle when passing a grave yard, that he may frighten away the ghosts, . the British General issued a proclamation in -whioh ho annouaood that .n oomplai* Tietory had been gained over the rebel forces on the iulu, at vjuiuuru vuun uuuod. On the 18tji* leaving, under a flag of truce, seventy of hfci wounded, who wereuoable to be moved, and a few wounded Americans at New Garden, he set out for the Scotch settlement on the Gape Fear river, at what was then called Gross Greek?now Fayetteville. On its way to Cross Greek, the royal army encamped at Bell's mill, on Deep river. About the middle of the afternoon, Gornwallis and the van of the royal army reached the house of* Mr. Bell. The British Earl dismounted and entered the house. Having taken a general survey of everything in the house, he asked Mrs. Bell where her husband was. "In Greene's camp," was the prompt reply. "Well, madam," continued Gornwallis, "I , must make your house my headquarters for a . few days, and take your mill to grind corn for my soldiers." , "Sir, you have the power to do as you please; but permit me ask, do you intend to burn my house and mill when you leave ?" ( "Why do you ask that question ?" "Answer me firsthand then I will tell you." "No." said Cornwallis, "your house and mill shall not be burned. I will make your bouse my headquarters, and your person and property shall be protected from insult and injury." , "Well, sir," said Mrs. Bell, "since you were so kind as to answer my question, I will answer yours. Had it been your intention to burn my mill and house after using them, I had determined to save you the trouble by burning them myself before you used them." At this bold and fearless declaration, Cornwallis took no offence. As the different divisions came in, he gave instructions to each,, in a nervous manner, which attracted the attention of Mrs. Bell. He would sit down but remain for only a moment, and then ri sing up excitedly, walk hastily across the house for a few times, and then sit down,, again, and. soon rise and walk across the house as before. During the time that he was exhibiting so much nervousness, he told Mrs. Bell, in rather a boasting tone, that he had completely annihilated General Greene's army. "Never again," he said," will Greene be able either to assist his friends or injure his enemies." The evening was cold, and Mrs. Bell bad closed the door. Cornwallis went to the back door, and having opened it, looked ex eitedly up" the road for a few moments and commenced his tramp across the housed Mrs. Bell got up and quietly shut the door, which the Earl had left open. Again Cornwallis opened the door and gazed up the road, and in a few moments began to walk across the house, leaving the door open as before. Mrs. Bell got up and shut the door. For a number of times Cornwallis opened the door and* Mrs. Bell closed it Finally, Cornwallis opened it and said, in a commanding tone, that the door must remain open. Mrs. Bell, not daunted by the commanding tones of a British general, remarked that it was cold and she could see no good reason for keeping the door open. "Why," said Cornwallis, "f do not know what moment Greene, with his rebels, may attack me." "I thought you said you had killed all the rebels in Greene's army." "Well, madam, I never saw such fighting in my life, and to tell you the truth, the rebels will not remain conquered." . There was a vast amount of truth in the last sentence. No sooner did Cornwallis leave i Guilford Court House, than Lee, with his Legion, and Campbell with his riflemen, were sent to pursue him. Greene himself, with all ? his forces, would hare given him chase at once, had he not been compelled to wait at Speed will's iron works for ammunition. When Greene drew off his troops from the battle-field at Guilford Court House, he did not know how much injury he had done the enemy; neither did Cornwallis know how much he had suffered. In some communication that passed between the tw^o Generals, shortly after the battle, something was said by Cornwallis about the four pieces of cannon , which had fallen into the hands of the British. Greene replied that he had four more pieces that he would be very glad to let his Majesty have on the same terms he had obtained the others. At Bell's mill, Cornwallis remained two x days, and then removed to Bamsey's mill, on Deep river, neurits mouth, in Chatham county. Lee and Campbell were close in his rear, inflicting in jury upon him as opportunity was afforded. Cornwallia "did not permit his troops to straggle off in detachments. Even the daring Tarieton acted with great caution. Cornwallia was now as anxious to avoid an engagement, as was Greene during his retreat from the Catawba to the Dan. The rear guard of the British, which was commanded bj Tarieton, was constantly insulted by Lee and Campbell, but never dared to hazard even a skirmish. The &ct is, Cornwallia.did not know but Greene, with bis whole forces, might, at any moment, come down upon him and ruin him before he could reach Cross Creek. **It was the purpose of Cornwallia, on leaving New Garden, to remain at eitber Bell's or Ramsey's mill a considerable length of time, in order that his wounded might recover. This he was not allowed to do. Lee and , Campbell soon made their appearance, and he was obliged to move. To facilitate his retreat from Ramsey's mill, Cornwallia commenced constructing, soon -A? t.; :?i _ I? TU.? ???. alter mu arrival, a uriugr ourusa r/coji mu, (Greene, whose pursuit was greatly impeded by the almost absolute destitute condition of his commissary department, ordered Lee and Campbell to prevent, if possible, the completion of the bridge. In order to put this order into execution, Lee and Campbell crossed the river ten miles above Ramsey's mill, with the intention of dislodging the guard on the south side. This end of the bridge was guarded by two hundred men under the command of a Major. The night was dark and the way difficult. Still, the Americans, under Lee and Campbell, reaohed the spot in doe time. Nothing, however, could be accomplished, for, / during the night, Cornwallis, suspecting, no doubt, that an'attempt would be made to destroy his bridge, had reinforced the guard and the American offioer desisted from making an attack. On the same day, Cornwaliis crossed over the bridge and hastened, as much as the feeble condition of his army would permit, his retreat to Cross Creek and then to Wilmington. Multitudes of his wounded died on tin may?At Elisahaihtawn, the gallant Webster died, and there he was buried with the honors of war. On the twenty-eighth, Greene, at the head of the American forces, reached Ramsey's mill. Cornwallis had left two days before^ Unable as was Cornwallis to make a hasty retreat, Greene was equally as Unable to hasten the pursuit. He had accomplished his object aBd defeated the plans of the British opflnAral. and now ha determined to stoD the pursuit and grant the weary troops time to rest. More than rest he coald not give them. The country had been stripped of provisions. All the food that Greene's army could procure, was corn meal and such beef as the country furnished. The beef was inferior in qualify and stinted in quantity. Strange as it may seem, toth men and. officers were in high spirits. Viewing this whole affair from its commencement at Cowpens, on the 17th of January, to the 28th of March, when Greene baited at Ramsey's mill, master of all North Carolina except the single town of Wilmington, it is one of the grandest achievements of the Revolutionary war. From the Cowpens to Irwin's ferry on the Dan, in a direct line, is near two hundred miles. For more than ten days, in the dead of winter, Without money, without tents, without blankets, without * ^ " 2A **nlJ UA An fliA any ioots uniy w ii> uuuiu u? gausivu vu ?? march, General Greene retreated with an army of undisciplined militia, hotly panned by the veterans of Europe, led by as able and skillful an officer as was in the British army, aided by Tarleton and Webster, as brave men as ever drew a sword. The battles of King's Mountain, the Gowpens and Gnilford Court House, inflicted a mortal wound npon the cause of Great Britain in America. After the battle of Guilford Court House, the sun of Liberty rose and shed its refulgent beams over the whole country. Seven months afterward Cornwallis surrendered. An Ancient Mason.?The following extract from a Masonic obituary notice in the Union (S. C.) Timet, brings out some striking facts in the history of an humble life: "James Orr, the subject of this obituary, died at his Aaidence, near Jonesville, S. C., on tHk 6th of December, 1876, in the 94th year of his age. The deceased was born in the town Of Ayr, Scotland* on the 1st of October, 1783. In 1803 he entered the militia of Scotland. In 1807 volunteered in Portsmouth, England. In 1808 went to Portugal in Wellington's army, and was in all tne principal names in the Peninsylar war. He remained in the army in Spain and Portugal until 1814* when his regiment was sent home to recruit.. He was ten years and ten months in the regular army. In 1816 he enlisted again, but bought his discharge in 1819. He was married to Martha Shirley in 1817, and came to America, and arrived at Union G. H., on the 9th of November, 1819. His first child was born at New Brunswick, 2nd of June, 1819. The other ten at the homestead where the deceased lived. He joined Ayr St. Paul's Lodge, A. F. M., in 1801, and was demitted from the same 2nd November, 1816. He joined the fraternity at the age of 18, a privilege which the Masons of Scotland allowed to those about to join the army. Thus this worthy / and venerable brother floated to the breeze the standard of Masonry for seventy-five years. His 'membership was in the same Lodge that the celebrated poet, Robert Burns, had belonged to." 19* A gentleman traveling in Ohio, some years ago, turned in at a country tavern for dinner. The bar-room was garnished with a dirty wash-basin, & piece of soap the size of a lozenga, and a square yard of crash dimly visible'through epidermic deposits. Having slightly washed, the traveler eyed the rag doubtfully, and then asked the proprietor. "Haven't you, sir, about the premises, a this year's towel T H