University of South Carolina Libraries
lewis m:. <3-stisT, Proprietor. | Inbrpcitbeirt jfamilg Jtetospaper: Jfar tjje promotion of % political, Social, ^qricnltnral anb Commercial Interests of t|e Sontj). TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADYANCE. VOL. 23. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MAY 17. 1877. 3STO. 2Q. Alerted fufttg. PHANTOMS. Faces dim come crowding round me In the dim silence of the night, As I sat half-dozing, sleeping, By the flickering taper's light. Forms and faces crowd around me That were buried long ago, And the long procession passes, But will come again, I know. Some are old, and weak and feeble, Some in childhood's bloom appear, And I listen through the stillness If I can their voices hear. But they never speak unto me; They but pass with noiseless tread, And I often sigh to join them As I bow my weary head. They are ever near unto me, Though I see them but at night? Those dim phantoms of the bygone? By the flickering taper's light. But the last that passes from me Turns to me her clear blue eyes, And with upturned hand she pointeth To the land beyond the skies. 'Tis the form of her who journeyed By my side in early vonth? The angel who lit my footsteps With her lamp of love and truth. She smiles as she passes by me, (And my cares seem half removed, For the thought revives and cheers me That by one I still am loved. So, whene'er I'm faint or weary, Or my drooping spirits sink, t I the Rloomy thoughts' put from me, And upon that angel think. And I bless the band of phantoms That come to meat night, As I sit alone and thinking By the flickering taper's light. Jin Original j^terg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. JULIAN MORTILLE'S BRIDE ; OR, THE POWER OF LOVE. CHAPTER XV. THE JOURNEY. Evelyn sent for Mr. Gilford to give her directions concerning the route she wa9 to take, etc., for she had traveled so little since her residence in California, that she was quite at o lrtao tn tnnw how to Droceed. There were ? much fewer facilities for travel in those days than in the present, and it was no easy or agreeable undertaking for a young unprotected woman to start on such an expedition as this. The lawyer would gladly have accompanied her, so great an interest did he feel in her welfare, but his business was too pressing to admit of his neglecting it for a period of several days. "I fear you are undertaking considerably more than you are aware of, Mrs. Morville," said he, after he had mapped out for her, as clearly as he could, the exact way in which she was to proceed. "It concerns me more than I can express, to see you going off in this way without a protector. It is most unfortunate that your father should have fallen ill just at this time." "Yes, it is unfortunate," said Evelyn ; "but Mr. Gilford, I don't feel in the least afraid. When one has such an object in view as mine, I don't think one can stop to look at the obstacles in the way." "Perhaps not," said Mr. Gilford. "But the | obstacles have to be surmounted, nevertheless. ^ The season, too, is so unpropitious. If it were summer time you would get on so much better." "It will be summer time for me, if I succeed in gaining ray object," said Evelyn. "No outward discomfort can affect rae then. And I must be successful, must I not? Tell me truly, do you not think that I shall ?" ' My dear young lady," said the lawyer, very earnestly, "far be it from me to dampen your hopes, or place fresh difficulties in your way. But at the same time I don't feel a9 though I ought to encourage expectations which may meet with a downfall and bring you only more bitter and unbearable disappointment and distress. Governors is a peculiar man. He is one day of one mind, and one day of another, and it depends very much on the sort of mood you may find him in, whether he will receive your petition favorably or not. He has done some very remarkable things during his administration ; in some cases issuing pardons where they were totally undeserved, and thereby doing much mischief to the commuuity, and again acting with extreme severity when he might well have been a little more lenient in his decisions. At least, such is the opinion I have formed of him, and I have heard others express the same. Again, some persons speak very highly of him, and consider his judgments generally fair and equitable. So, you see, the chances are equally for and against you. I advise you, by all means, to obtain a personal interview with him, if you can. If that don't ensure your success, nothing else will," he added, Botto voce, with a glance of admiration at her pensive face, which she was far too much absorbed to notice. Evelyn wrote a farewell note to her husband, which Mr. Gilford promised to deliver, and set off on her journey with undaunted courage, notwithstanding the secret misgivings she could not quite banish from her heart. Unused as she was to find herself without companionship and away from home, she felt very strange and solitary as she sat in her corner of the stage-coach, in which she traveled for the first day and a half. While daylight lasted it was not so bad, but when night came it was hard for her to keep her bravery up. Especially when they stopped, about ^ midnight, at a roadside hotel, to chaDge horses, and a rough-looking man thrust his head in at the coach window and flared the light of a lantern in her face, asking her some question which she did not understand, did a sinking fear take possession of her; and though he went off directly, and she was not ?iQv,0 foU worp noronna nnH on. UJUlCObCU again, ouv iv.w ? v* j uv? ?Vmw mmu prehenaive aa long as the darkness lasted, and was thankful when that stage of her journey was past. As she neared her destination, the thought of Julian and of the mission on which she was bound, drove everything else from her mind. She heeded not the inquisitive looks of her fellow travelers, annoyiug as she had found them at ffrst, nor regarded any of the discomforts which attended her progress. She was burning with impatience to arrive at her goal, and revolved in her mind the best mode of presenting herself to the Governor and the manner in which she would proffer her plea. At last, to her intense thankfulness, the roofs and spires of the town of S rose in light, Mr. Gilford had given her the Gover nor's address, and she debated within herself 11 whether it would be best for her to go first to a I hotel and refresh herself somewhat after the i fatigue she had undergone, or go at once, ? just aa she was, to the house, and accomplish t her mission without delay. She almost im- t mediately decided upon the latter course, feeling that she could not brook more pro- t longed suspense than occasion called for, and 1 that it mattered little, under the circurostan- t ces, what sort of appearance she presented in v a stranger's eyes. Nothing could have been t neater or more refined than her dress, and she j felt sure that she could not be mistaken for ? anything but a lady, if she did look rather j r travel-stained and worn. On her arrival she took a carriage, and was a driven to street and number designated on z her card. The coachman's ring was answer- * ed by an Irish maid-servant, who stared r broadly at her as she asked whether Gover- r nor S lived there. t "This is the house where he lives, but he a ain't here at present," was the rejoinder. t "Do yon mean that he is gone out?" asked f Evelyn. "I mean he's out of the city, mum." r "Out of the city J" Evelyn's heart sank. "Will he soon be back ?" s "Not for a couple of weeks, I guess." v "Has he gone far?" was Evelyn's next in- v quiry. - n n "Down the country, somewhere, to his brother-in-law's. He's gone to spend Christ- li mas there. Did you want to see him very fi particular?" asked the maid, struck, appa- I rently, by the look of disappointment, almost n despair, which her information had elicited. "Yes," was the almost inaudible reply, tl Evelyn reflected a moment, then asked? o "Are any of his family at home?" a "No mum; no one's here at present but myself. I'm left in charge of the premises." si "Can you direct me to any person?any friend of his?who could give me his present e address ?" The maid reflected. "Well," Bhe said pres- a ently, with a doubtful look, "there's heaps of si tn/imo him hut T dpolarp T ran't pcup.c -- recollect any of their Dames. You see I ain't o been here very long. Stop," she added, sud- k denly brightening, "I remember now, there's s< a lawyer who has his office right in the next n street, who's a great friend of the Governor's, s1 and he can tell you all about him. Russell's I his name; he's up a flight of stone steps, with fi bis name on a sign od one side the door." il "I know lawyer Russell's office," interposed ii the driver, who had been listening to this col* w loquy. "Shall I drive you there, miss?" "Yes," said Evelyu, glad of this slight bea- tl con-ray. To the next street she was accord- y ingly driven, after thanking the servant for h her information, and found herself at the door f< of Mr. Russell's office. A boy was lounging on the steps, and stopped whistling to gaze at " the carriage and its occupant. h "Come here, sonny," said the driver. "Can't I you take a message in for the lady?" h The boy nodded, and slowly approached. ri "Cau you tell me," asked EvelyD, leaning tl forward to the window, "if Mr. Russell is in o his office at prosont?" "I'll see," said the boy. 8] "Will you say to him, please, that a lady wishes to see him?just for one moment?" k "All right," was young hopeful's rejoinder, y as he turned to re-ascend the steps. In a few ti moments the lawyer himself appeared, a middle aged, gentlemanly-looking man, to whom, n as briefly as possible, Evelyn explained the a nature of her business. w "The Governor's address ? Certainly, mad- w am, I will furnish you with it with pleasure," ti he replied, and drawing an envelope frcftn his a pocket, he wrote on it with a pencil and handed it to her. "The locality is a little e difficult of access," he added, "and there may n be some delay in a letter reaching him, mails are so irregular in that part of the country." is "I am going there myself," said Evelyn, w "It is necessary for me to see him, on business n of great importance." g "Going there yourself? But you are, of course, traveling with an escort," said Mr. n Russel, inquiringly. e "No, sir, unavoidable circumstances force tl me to travel alone," replied Evelyn. The ii lawyer looked at her curiously, or she fancied a so, and the hot blood rushed to her cheeks as e she spoke. "I have come a long distance," she bur- tl riedly explained, "on business of very great importance. It concerns the welfare of a per- ii son who is?very dear to me?" Her voice g faltered, and for a moment she was unable to v proceed. "It is a great disappointment to me not to meet the Governor at home," she continued. "Every day, every hour, is of importance to me." The lawver scanned her face with increas ing iuterest. "It is very unfortunate," he said, ii in a sympathizing tone. "Have you friends d here ?" ti "No,sir," replied Evelyn; "I am quite a n stranger, aud do not know even the name of anybody here." C "How long since you arrived ?" ii "Just about an hour ago." g "Then," said Mr. Russell, decisively, "you h must not go any farther until I have taken a you to my house and introduced you to my a wife. You can rest yourself there, for a day c or two at any rate, and then we can decide on t what step it is best for you to take next. If v you will wait on me for one moment, I will r step into my office and leave word when I fi shall be back, and then I'll just jump in the carriage and accompany you home." And p I before Evelyn could find words to answer?be- s | fore, indeed, she had time even to make up J p her mind whether to accede to this unexpect- j fc ed proposition or not?he hurried off, came i c back iu a twinkling, and giving the driver J e his direction, got into the carriage, and they i r were driven off. 1 In about ten minutes they arrived at the i front entrance of a handsome house, and Mr. Russell alighting, helped Evelyn out of the s carriage. A lady in a garden-hat was train- 1 ing some vines over the porch. At their ap- j proach she turned, and came forward with a 1 \ look of inquiry to meet them. A few words ; c explained the situation-, and with much cour-1 tesy she welcomed the young stranger, ex- | i pressing in a very lady-like manner her pleas- ; ure at seeing her, and her hope that she would 1 remain with them as long as it suited her to i do so. Mr. Russell then returued to his of-' See, and his wife ushered Evelyn into the par- ( lor, where she invited her to be seated and to i remove her bonnet and cloak, while she di- ! rected a servant to prepare a room for her use. e Worn out by fatigue, anxiety and disap-; pointment, Evelyn could hardly restrain her i t ears, so grateful did she feel for this hospita)le treatment, aud she found some difficulty n expressing to her hostess how deeply oblig;d she was to her husband and herself, for heir kindness, at a time when it was so paricularly needed, "Pray don't think about it, my dear," was he motherly rejoinder, accompanied by a cindly pressure of the hand. "I am delighted hat we are able to render you this slight serrice, and consider it a very fortunate chance hat took you to my husband's office. I hope rou will stay with us long enough to get a ;ood rest, for I am sure, from your looks, you equire it." It was, indeed, a rest which Evelyn needed ; ind she stayed quietly at the house of her tew friends for two days, at the expiration of vhich time, being thoroughly recruited and efreshed, she took leave of these good Sanaritans. Mr. Russell bad found out a pary of people traveling in the same direction is herself, and placed her under their care, elling her that when she parted company rom them, she would be so near the end of ler journey as to be able to accomplish the est of it without any trouble. Forty-eight hours more, and she found herelf in a little village, just on the outskirts of vhich was situated the country residence ?here Governor S was passing his Christoas holidays. Being directed which road to take, by the andlady of an inn where she Btopped, and iuding that it would be only a short walk, Cvelyn set out on foot, and reached her destiation in safety. She knocked at the door, and asked the litle boy who opened it?one of the children f the family?if Governor S was there, nd if be was at home ?" * ? *,,? .It A_1 "lie's here," said the child, "out he s awiut ick." "Sick !" echoed poor Evelyn, feeling that very thing was against her. "Yes, ma'am. Mamma!" he called out to lady who was crossing the hall, "here's amebody come to see uncle John." "It is quite impossible for him to see any ne at all," said the lady, in a loud, decided ey, as she came forward. She was tall and svere-looking, with spectacles on her Roman ose, and a stiff black dress that rustled as he walked. She looked, scrutinizingly, at ivelyn, and having taken in her measure, rora head to foot, and apparently juding that ; was not incumbent upon her to invite her i, asked her in a supercilious manner, "what ras her business with the Governor?" "It is an affair of the greatest importance hat I wanted to see him about," said the oung girl, in trembling tones. "Is there any ope that he will be sufficiently well soon, jr me to obtain an interview with him ?" "No. I don't think there is," was the reply, for he is very unwell, indeed, and the doctor as forbidden any excitement whatever, business of all kinds has been interdicted ira. In fact, he came here to enjoy a little apose, and while he is here, I consider it fair hat he should be exempt from all annoyance f this kind." Evolyn's fttoo fluehod, am! the hut tcaro prang to her eyes. "Oh ! madam," she exclaimed, "if you only new how much depended on my seeing him, ou would not wonder at ray venturing to inrude upon his leisure time." "Well," said the lady, "ifyour business is eallyso important, I advise you to write him note, and as soon as he is well enough I rill give it to him. I am quite sure that he rill not be able to see any stranger for some ime to come, so it would be useless to encourge you in such a hope." "A note?Oh ! a note would not do?I nevr could explain?never could tell him all," lurmured Evelyn, in despair. "Well, then, I am sure I do not know what i to be done," said the lady, looking as if she 'as impatient to end the colloquy. If you lust see him, I suppose you can wait until he ets back home." "I cannot wait?I have already lost too luch time. I will not detain you any longr," said poor Evelyn, turning away from tiis unhospitable door, disappointment weighig down her heart like lead. "I will write, s you suggest, and bring the note myself, ' I a:. ? Iiuer III 19 auciuuuu WI itrujviivii. "He won't be able to attend to it as soon as bat," was the rejoinder. "1 shall bring it, at all events. Good mornig, madam," said Evelyn, indignation and rief struggling at her heart; and baffled and reary, she retraced her way to the village. CHAPTER XVI. THE PETITION?EVELYN'S SCHEME. Arrived at the inn, Evelyn shut herself up a the room she had engaged for her use, and rawing out some writing materials from her raveling-bag, sat down to consider how she light most fitly word her communication. First she wrote a brief note telling the Jovernor how desirous she was of a personal Luerview, nuu cuucauug unu, t* puooiuic, iu rant her one, as soon as the state of his ealth should permit. Then, judging it probble, from what she had been told, that this ppeal would prove unsuccessful, she deterained to make out a clear statement of all he circumstances of Julian's case, ending nth a petition for his pardon, and to have it eady to present, should sho be denied her iret request. It took her some time to draw out this pater in a raauner satisfactory to herself. The entences all looked so tame in writing, comtared with what she knew she would have teen able to say. At last, however, it was ompleted ; and finding that it was still early nough for her to carry it, she set out once uore on an expedition to the house where she tad met with such a discouraging reception n the morning. This time, she saw only a servant, to whom he entrusted the note, saying she would call >ack for au ausweron the following day. She passed a wakeful, unhappy night, and vent as early as possible to find out the result >f her effort. A card was given to her at the door, on vhieh was written? "Governor S? regrets that he is unable to u>ld any interview, or attend to any business, it the present time." She then handed the servant the envelope :outaiuing her petitiou, on the outside of vhich Bhe had written, above the address, "Do not refuse to read this, for God's lake." "I will come again," she said briefly, as she urned away. Poor Evelyn ! For many successive days she went again ; but only to meet with the discouraging reply to her inquiry? "No answer for you yet, ma'am." At last she began to encourage herself in the belief that this delay was favorable to her hopes. Surely her petition must have been read ere this, and no humane man could so tamper with her distress as to keep her in suspense for such a length of time, unless he contemplated giving a merciful answer to her prayer. At last, one day a note was placed in her hands, with the information that? "The Governor went away this morning, and left this to be given you, when you called." Evelyn received it and qnietly left the door. Odco out of sight, she sank down on the first stone that offered a resting-place, so sick and trembling with the rush of mingled doubt, hope and dread, that she was unable to walk a step farther. She dared not open the note. She hid it in her dress; then bowing her face in her hands, prayed for strength to bear the contents of it, whatever they might be, with Christian resignation to the will of Cod. Then she drew it out again, and after a little more hesitation, slowly broke the seal. A page of the paper was covered with writing, in a clear, large hand, easy enough to decipher. But a mist seemed, at first, to obscure her sight, and she could see nothing but a confused and wavering medley of undistinguisbable marks. At last the mist cleared away, her senses grew steadier, and she could read. She had tried to prepare herself for the worst, but the blow she had nerved herself in anticipation to endure, was not a hundredth part as keen as that which now, in all its dread reality, struck to her heart. The communication was not unkindly worded. In fact it appeared that the writer of it had tried, in wording it, to soften, as far as possible, to the recipient, the shock of its contents. It stated that the Governor had made himself thoroughly acquainted with all the circumstances of the case of the prisoner, Julian Morville, and deemed it his duty not to interfere with the administration of justice in regard to it. He regretted deeply the necessity he labored under of refusing the petition addressed to him, and offered bis respectful sympathy to Mrs. Morville, for the distressing situation in which she was placed. What mattered it to the stricken wife, that the refusal was couched in carefully chosen terms?that the writer's sympathy, or the oumnolliu nf tlio icknla mnrM Vila nith hfir aJ w. ~ > ? ? for it ? She got up at last, aud like a blind person, or ou8 dizzy and stunned from a great fall, groped her way slowly back to the inn. There was nothing farther for her to do here now. She must return to Julian without delay. She went to work mechanically to put up the few articles she carried about with her in her sntchel; then called the landlady, and <iiool>argcii her bill. "But you ain't going off now, madam," said the latter, inquiringly, as she noticed Evelyn's preparations for departure. "You can't leave to-day, you know." "Why not?" asked Evelyn. "Because the coach has gone past already. It leaves at ten o'clock, you recollect." T had forgotten." She sank down wearily on a seat, her hands falliug passively in her lap. Mrs. Stokes, the landlady, a sympathetic person, would fain have offered some consoling suggestion, had she known how ; but she whs discrirainatiug enough to perceive that in her lodger's breast there rankled a wound too deep for any touch of hers to soothe. She fidgeted about the room for a minute or two, castiug furtive glances at Evelyn, who, utterly regardless of her movements, sat crushed and silent, with that far-away, hopeless look on her face; then went out on tiptoe, noiselessly closing the door after her, and murmuring, "poor young thing !" below her breath, as she did so. The girl was utterly prostrated, mind and body. For a time everything was a blank to her, as it had been when first the result of Julian's trial had become a certainty, and the blow had overwhelmed and paralyzed her with its force. When night came, from sheer weariness, she was compelled to lie down on her bed, but she did not undress or prepare herself for sleep. * At last, however, oblivion steeped her senses. In the beginning it was a sort of stupor, rather than of natural sleep, but by and by restless fancies began to stir through her brain. Shapeless forms, misty vagaries floated about her pillow, gradually assuming more definite outlines, more distinct signification. At length they revolved themselves into a clearly defined vision, moving her with strange and thrilling power, thus? She dreamed that she was walking at mid night, on a lonely plain, far away from any human habitation, or the trace of human feet. Blank darkness encompassed her; but she went on, seeing nothing, yet led by some invisible influence, that seemed to guide her on her way. A weight of woe lay upon her, the like of which had never before oppressed her soul. A voiceless cry for help surged up continually from her heart, but no help, no relief came. Still she struggled on, overborne by that profound mysterious despair. Suddenly, a ray of light penetrated the gloom. She raised her eyes, and perceived that the dense clouds which obscured the sky were slightly parting, and that the moon was emerging from their shadow. Brighter and fuller it grew, until the whole landscape lay flooded iB light. Then an unknown form stood before her, and softly toucbiug her lips with his hand, said in sweet voice, "Follow me." At the same instant, she and her guide rose together in the air. As borne on the wings of the wind, they flew over plain and mountain and river, until they came where Julian's prison stood. Then over her shoulders her guide threw a dark robe, and saying "You must do the rest," disappeared. Presently, she knew not how, she found herself in Julian's cell. She pressed him to her heart, put upon him the robe she wore, and with many fond adieus he went out, leaving her in there alone. After that a confusion of forms moved about her, among them that of the honest wagoner, who had brought her the letter, who bid her put her trust in him and fear nothing. Then they all vanished away, and she was at her father's ranch, standing in the porch by Julian's side, knowing that he was free and safe, and all their trouble past. And in the great joy of that knowledge the strain upon her heart gave way, and she awoke flooded in tears. Trembling and bewildered, she sat up on the bed, and pressing her hand to her brow tried to collect her thoughts. Was her dream prophetic? Did it really mean that Julian would yet be free? A dawning ray struggled in her mind; the dim outline of a vague hope rose before her. The germ of a daring plau, a bold enterprise, seemed striving to thrust itself out of its obscurity into the light of her understanding. By degrees this plan grew shapely and distinct; little by little it arranged itself in her conception, each disjointed nart findincr its Dlace in due order, un J r o til united they formed a perfect whole. A wild excitement, a burning desire for instant action seiaed her; but there were yet several hours to elapse ere she could set out on her journey, and until that journey was accomplished nothing could be dene. No matter. She would have the more time to think over and mature her scheme. She lit a candle, and placing it on the wooden chest of drawers in front of her looking-glass, let down and brushed out her long, thick black hsir; then parted it on one side, with a pair of scissors cut short the front locks on her forehead, and bound the rest up closely at the back of her head ; a man's hat hung on a nail in a closet in her room; she brought it out, placed it on her head, and looked fixedly at herself in the glass. By that dim light, and with the metamorphose thus effected in her appearance, she could have believed that it was Julian's reflection which she saw before her. Every feature was similar; even the poise of the head, the air of the whole figure, was strikingly the same. "The rule works both ways," she exclaimed aloud, with strange exultation in her tones. "This likeness, which has struck everybody with surprise, will be of service to us now! With the help I hope to secure, my plan must succeed. Yes, it mutt / It can not, shall not fail. Oh I my love, if Heaven will be kind, the cruelty of man shall not part us yet!" She removed the hat, and parted and braided her hair in the usual manner, the shortened locks in front being easily disposed of so as not to attract attention. Then she threw herself upon her knees, and prayed?Oh ! how fervently, for the blessing of Heaven upon her entefprise?for guidance and help through the difficulties which it would be her part to overcome. Morning came at last. Mrs. Stokes, wheD she came to ask Evelyn what she would have for breakfast, looked with anxiety at her flushed cheeks and glittering eyes, and pronounced that she had a fever; but the young girl smiled as she assured her that she felt quite well, and the smile quite lightened the landlady's solicitude, and impressed her with the belief that something must have happened to ease the poor young lady's mind, since she looked so much more cheerful than she had done since her arrival there. The coach came by at the usual hour, and Evelyn found herself again on the road. Her journey passed unmarked by any special occurrence, and on the third day she was once mtiro iu sight of Julian's prison walls. Her first anxiety was to secure an interview with the guard who was so favorably disposed toward her husband, but this, of course, she could not do until a suitable opportunity occurred. He was off duty one evening in each week, aud she managed to convey to him a request that on that evening he would meet her at a certain place where they would not be liable to interruption, as she wished to speak to him on a matter of great importance. John Lindsay was a Western man, rugged but kindly, and his sympathy had from the first been freely given to the unfortunate prisoner and his lovely girl-bride, whose sorrowful case might, indeed, have excited a sentiment of pity in the sternest and most unsympathetic hearts. Yet, though, he had given proof of this, in the many little indulgences he had managed, privately, to secure to them, Evelyn felt that the greatest caution was still necessary to be observed, and she dared not take a step in her enterprise without making entirely sure of the ground on which she stood. She felt that the whole success of her undertaking turned upon the result of this interview. Once certain of Lindsay's assistance, a most important point would be gained, and she would have comparatively little to fear. She had never, in her whole life, descended to the arts of coquetry, or made use of the charms which Nature bad so liberally bestowed upon her, to win for herself a single admiring glance. Yet now, all that was subtle in her feminine nature asserted itself, and prompted her to wear her fairest aspect and bring into play every attraction she possessed. For Julian's sake?yes, for Julian's sake?she would do this and even more, though it was violence to her feelings to give even a thought to the trivial vauities of manner or dress. If John Lindsay had from the first thought her beautiful, and secretly done homage to her charms, certainly on this occasion they appealed more powerfully to his admiration than ever before. And Evelyn, though she had met him with the intention of bringing into play her battery of innocent art, soon forgot the unaccustomed role she tried to as Bume, and in this self-forgetfuiness, and Per entire absorption in the one subject that lay at her heart, became even twice as lovely, twice as irresistible as before. Before they parted, he had pledged himself by a solemn oath to serve her, with every energy of heart and brain and hand, in accomplishing her aim. And as she thanked him, with her little fingers lying lightly in his own, and her wondrous dark eyes resting in eloquent gratitude upon his face, what wonder was it that his pulses beat quicker, and the blood coursed less calmly ia his veins, while in bis breast there stirred a wild, vain, foolish yearning, for a boon which could never be his! "John Liadsay, what a desperate fool you are," he said savagely to himself, as he wended his way homeward. "To be thrown off your balance, turned all topsy-turvy, by a woman's eyes and smile ; but such a woman, or girl rather; her youth and innocence are the sweetest things about her. Well! well, such things have happened before. As long as the world lasts, I reckon, there'll be fools in in it; old and middle-aged and young. One thing is, I'll never swerve an inch from the promise I've made, though the only profit that will come to me from it will be her gratitude, and may be that won't last very long. All the same ; I'd go through fire and water to win one of her smiles?such another as that one she gave me ten minutes ago." [to be continued.} pisterg flf Jf. totftttta. HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE Early Settlement of South Carolina. BY BEV. BOBEBT LATHAH. CAPTURE OF FORT BALFOUR. After the fall of Fort Granby, the American officers promptly continued the plan of operation which had been previously adopted. Marion was already before Georgetown, having gone to that point immediately on the surrender of Fort Motte. Lord Rawdon had returned to Eutaw, and was making arrangements to proceed to Monk's Corner and establish, at that point, a recruiting camp. Gen. Marion and Sumter were ordered to remain in tiiA Inwpp flpnfinn of the State to watch the movements of Lord Rawdon. Lieutenant Colonel Lee was directed to advance at once against Augusta; whilst General Greene, with the main body of the American army, was to advance against Ninety-Six. Such is a brief outline of the position and plans of the Whigs after the capture of Fort Granby. In order that we may have a correct notion of the operations of the Whigs, in future, it will be necessary that we direct our attention to several moves which were made, and several important events which transpired previous to the capture of Fort Granby. For some cause, not now well understood, the militia from Georgia, South Carolina, and from the counties of Rowan and Mecklenburg, North Carolina, in the command of Colonel Andrew Pickens, were dissatisfied respecting the affair which took place at WetzelPs Mill, in March previous to the battle of Guilford Court House. It so happened that Governor Rutledge was, at that time, in General Greene's camp. To avoid a difficulty, and also to gratify these militia corps, they were detached, under the command of Col. Pickens, and sent back into South Carolina, with instructions to operate in the Ninety-six district. When General Greene determined, while Sr. "O rr. r, 'Hoar, rioor tn mi roup Porn wall is Ill V<aui|J (?b *?fv?) w w*?v wv> no longer, but to lead the American army under bis command into South Carolina, for the purpose of wresting, if possible, the State out of the grasp of the enemy, be detached Majors Samuel Hammond and James Jackson from the army, and sent them into the regions of South Carolina and Georgia, bordering on the Savannah. Colonel Pickens, rewarded by Congress for his bravery and skill at the battle of Cowpens, with a Brigadier-General's commission, was instructed to invest Ninety-Six, if he thought it advisable. At all events, he was to use his utmost exertion to prevent reinforcements from being sent from Ninety-Six to Camden. Hammond and Jackson haviDg disclosed Greene's plans to Pickens, were to cross the Savannah and encourage the Whigs in Georgia to collect their forces and render what assistance was in their power to General Greene. Clarke, McCall and Williams listened attentively to the plans of Gen. Greene, and most heartily cooperated with Hammond and Jackson in proceeding to put the proposed plans into execution. McCall died a short time after, of small pox, and Clarke, on account of the same disease, was for some time prevented from taking the field. > Previous to this period, active operations? on a small scale, it is admitted?had been in progress. About the time that General Greene left Deep river, Colonel William Hardin who, since the fall of Charleston, had been operating in conjunction with General Marion, set out with a detachment of seventy- i six men?the greater number of whom were < inhabitants of the counties of Beaufort and 1 Barnwell?for the region of country lying between Savannah and Augusta. The main object which Colonel Hardin had in view by this move, was to check the ravages of the tories and encourage the Whig inhabitants of this section of the country. Col. Baker and Major Cooper, with a few Georgians who had taken refuge in the camp of Marion, formed an efficient portion of Hardin's command. ( Leaving the swamps of Black river, Har- i din and his small, but patriotic band, set out t for the point of their destination. Before I them the tories fled in dismay. Their march ! through the country was bailed with joy by -j the Whigs. By trustworthy friends, they | were correctly informed of the operations of i the tories and British. < The principal point to which their atten- j tion was first directed, was Pocotaligo, at that ( time a village of three hundred inhabitants, , situated in Beaufort county, on Pocotaligo | river, and about midway between the Salke- < . batcbie and Tulifinny. Here, on the morn- < ing of the 16th of April, 1716, the Yamassee ' Indians, encouraged by the Spaniards, began the first, and, in some respects, the most dread- | ful massacre the early settlers of South Garo- , lina experienced. Now, in April, 1781, Po- j cotaligo was garrisoned by a rabble band of ] tories and British. A fort, bearing the name < of Balfour, had been erected, and at the time ' was commanded by Colonel Lechmere. On their way to Fort Balfour, Colonel Har- j din and his little band crossed the Edisto at j Giveham's ferry. They were informed that j a body of tories, under Captain Barton, was . collected at Bed Hill. This tory band was giving the adjacent country no small amount f of trouble by its plundering expeditions. Colonel Hardin detached Major Cooper, of ^ Georgia, with a few men, and sent him out to ] break up the encampment at Bed Hill, while Hardin, and the main body, continued to ad- f vance in the direction of Pocotaligo. Cooper 1 came upon Barton and his tory gang as an 1 eagle descends, in its swoop, upon its unsus- ] pecting prey. The result was that Cooper j and his little detachment, with the loss of a single man, almost annihilated the tories. e Onlv a few were Dermitted to escape. The 13 J ? - - A * greater part were either killed or captured. j While Colonel Hardin was advancing, he j was attacked by a squad of British cavalry, i commanded by Colonel Renwick. The Amer- 1 icans were passing over a causeway, when Ken- 1 wick and his party began the attack. Al- ' though disadvantageous^ situated, Colonel ^ Hardin so manoeuvred, that after a brisk ] skirmish for a few moments, the British re- I tired, taking with them one man killed and i eight wounded. The Americana suffered no loss in killed and only a few were wounded. 1 On reaching, on the 12th of April, the vi- , cinity of Fort Balfour, Colonel Hardin sent i forward Captain Tarleton Brown, a native of i Barnwell county, with a detachment of thirteen men, to reconnoiter, and, if possible, entice the garrison from the fort. When Captain Brown arrived near the fort, he discovered a number of men running in the direction of the fort from a house about four hundred yards distant. He saw, at once, that these individuals bad been surprised. A dash was made upon them, and the whole party captured. Among the party was Colonel Renwick, who had attacked Colonel Hardin while passing over the causeway. Also Colonels Lechmere and Kelsal. From these prisoners it was learned that they had left the fort in command of Major DeVaux, the brother-inlaw of Lechmere, and gone to this farm house, which was used for a hospital, for the purpose of visiting their sick and wounded. Fort Balfour was garrisoned by one hundred and ten men, well armed. The garrison was well supplied with every thing necessary to stand a long seige. Besides, it was famished with cannon and an abundance of small arms and ammunition. Colonel Hardin had no no tion that be was able, witn nis eigniy men, poorly provided with the equipments of war, to reduce the fort All he contemplated being able to accomplish, under the circumstances, was to keep the garrison within the fort and thus prevent its depredating on the surrounding country. On coming up and finding that Captain Brown had captured the officers of the fort, he was encouraged to make the attempt Without wasting a moment's time, he scattered his men through the woods so as to make as great a show as possible. DeVeaux was panic-stricken. He had no means of forming even a conjecture as to the strength of the Americans. Hardin made it a point to place the captured officers of the fort so that they were in full view of the garrison. This had the effect to throw Major DeVeaux into a very uncomfortable state of mind. Hardin had no cannon, but he so manoeuvred his troops that DeVeaux could not discover the fact. When Colonel Hardin got everything in proper condition, he sent in a flag to Major DeVeaux, demanding an immediate and unconditional surrender of the fort and garrison. Only a few momenta were spent in discussing the terms of capitulation. It was agreed that the fort, with all its contents, should be surrendered, without reserve, into the hands of the Americans, and that the garrison should deliver themselves up as prisoners on parole. The work was soon consummated. The garrison marched out of the fort, tied their horses to the abatis, and laid c wn their arms. Colonel Hardin, with his men, rode between the garrison and the fort, and took possession of the arms and horses; when, to the dismay of the British, it was found that one hundred and ten men, strongly fortified and furnished with artillery, had surrendered to a body of eighty cavalry, without cannon or any other means by which to lay siege to the place or in any way injure it. In the fort the Whigs found a large number of their personal friends and neighbors. Some were confined, whilst others had been forced to enter the ranks of the enemy. These were released and they immediately entered Colonel Hardin's command. The effect upon the south-western section of the State, was similar to that experienced by the south-east em section on the capture of Fort Motte. The cloud of gloom which had so long been Jianging over this section of the State began to move away, and the cheering rays of hope began to beam upon the country. A Sensible Schoolmistress.?A Canadian schoolmistress gave one of her older scholars the mitten, he having asked if he might escort her home from singing-school. This certainly was nothing to create a feeling, except in the heart of the young man who, instead of gracefully submitting to his fate, determined upon revenge. He therefore did all he could to make the life of the school teacher a burden while in the discharge of her duties. He played tricks upon his comrades and made faces at the little boys. He was late to school and refused to learn his lessons. He persisted in this conduct for several days, until patience ceased to be a virtue, and tbe teacher called him out and gave him a severe chastisement The love-sick youth was not only completely cured of his malady, but was also induced to disclose the whole affair to hie sympathizing parents. They could have forgiven the flogging and probably added another, but the idea of their promising boy being lilted by a country schoolmistress, was too much for them to endure. They accordingly brought a suit against the lady and obtained a judgment of $3.50. The next day the teacher called her school to order and made a neat little speech. She said: "I have whipped a booby soundly, which pleasure cost only three lollars and a nan. ixow, 11 any 01 my scnoiirs are inclined to imitate him, they will have the kindness to step forward, receive the monij and flogging, and then we will go on with )ur studies. I am here to instruct you, not to be courted." From that time the scholars were very obedient, and made astonishing progress. At the expiration of the school term, the teacher vas earnestly urged to remain; her salary was iocreased, and she is now the most popular person in the township. This is another illustration of the fact that the exercise of a little common sense often goes a great way. "Maybe."?"Yes, sir, it makes me awful mad," a man was saving on a horse-car yesterday. "I ordered that meat at eight o'clock this morning, and it never came up at all. My dinner was spoiled, my wife vexed, and ['11. give that butcher a blessing." "ft is a great annoyance," remarked his friend. _ ; "Yes, it is, and I'm mad enough to fight. I gave the order to the butcher myself, so that be has no excuse. O, I'll go for him!" "Maybe you forgot to put down the cash," laid a man, witn very long lege, wno sat opposite. "I used to beat them that way during ;he war, but I can't do it now." "Maybe you are an impudent scoundrel!" roared the first, growing very red in the Faoe. "Yes?maybe," sighed long legs, and he lank back, and said he merely threw out his remark as a suggestion. fSf Were we in a room hung with the finest paintings, and adorned with the most exquisite statues, we could not see one of them if ill light were excluded. The Spirit's light is the same to the mind that outward light is to the bodily eyes. The most correct and lively description of the sun can not convey either the light, the warmth, the cheerfulness, or the fruitfulness which the actual shining of that luminary conveys; neither can the most labored and accurate dissertation on grace and spiritual things impart a true idea of them, without an experience of the work of the spirit upon the heart. The Holy spirit must, shine upon your graces, or you will not be able to see them; and your works mast shine upon your faith or yonr neighbors will not be sole to see it, ^