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Y-ORKV-!1 i F-- ' lewis m:. grist, froprietor.| An Jitbepenhent ^arnil]) ftetospaper: Jor % promotion of % political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of f|t Sontj). {TERMS?$3.00 A YEAH, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 23. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JUNE 14. 1877. NO. 24. ^ pstotg of toslitta. HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE Early Settlement of South Carolina. i m BY REV. ROBERT LATHAH. , SIEGE OF NINETY-SIX. The village of Cambridge was situated in the south-east corner of the present county of Abbeville. In a direct line, it was about twenty miles, nearly due east, from the site of Abbeville Court House; six miles west of the Saluda river, and about one-half mile north of the line whicb divides the counties of Abbeville aud Edgefield. A short time prior to the Revolutionary war, the name, "Cambridge," had been exchanged for that of Ninety-Six. Tradition has.preserved two reasons for this change of name. The one is that Cambridge was ninety-six miles distant from Fort Prince George. The other, is that at one time, after the Indian tribes had planned a massacre of the frontier settlers, an Indian girl mounted a horse and rode, in one day ' and part of a night, ninety-six miles, to give : j: tbe white settlers warning or me impeuuiug danger. The point at which she communicated to the whites the contemplated outbreak of the Indiana, was Cambridge. From this circumstance, says one tradition, the name Cambridge was exchanged for that of NinetySix. ' At an early period in the settlement of the up-country, Cambridge, or Ninety-Six, became a place of importance second to none other in the State of South Carolina. To protect the frontier settlers against the attacks of the Indians, the place was fortified. From time to time, as necessity demanded, these fortifications were improved. When the difficulties between the colonies and the mother country began to assume a threatening aspect, Ninety-Six became the scene of bloody conflicts between Whigs and loyalists. The region around Ninety-Six was the most populous, and, perhaps, it may be said, the most wealthy section in the up-couutry previous to tbe Revolution. It had been the abode of wild Indians, who made anything else than agreeable neighbors to the Europeans residing in the interior of the State. A special effort was made to induce white settlers to take possession of this region of """"''o fJranto of r?DA and two hundred acres of land, oh terms the most favorable, were made to any one who would occupy them. The regiou was represented as one of fabulous fertility. The result was that both the ambitious and the needy were attracted to the new country. Population of all kinds flowed in from various quarters. Ruffians of the vilest sort and bands of lazy freebooters, flocked into the region. The frequent outbreaks of the Indians gave these outlaws the semblance of a pretext for making attacks upon the property of their industrious neighbors. House breaking and horse and cattle stealing became common occurrences. The law was powerless, and ovory one went to bed at night with the dread on his mind that before morning his property would be raided upon by these desperadoes. To meet the exigencies of the case, the more ?nf the pnmmnnit.v nrcanizpd them .CC(.^w.u.v w. j --0 selves for the purpose of mutual protection. Without the ordinary forms of law, these organized bands proceeded to inflict summary punishment upon all offenders who came into their bands. That which was at first organized with the design of promoting only the public good, was soon abused. Individuals undertook, uuder cloak of correcting a public wrong, to punish private injuries. The good of the whole was forgotten in punishing individual wrongs. The result was, that those who bad no connection with the lawless raiders who infested the region, were often seized aud punished to appease the hatred of some private individual. Neighbors soon began to cherish towards each other bitter animosities, and the whole country was thrown into a state of anarchy and confusion. In 1766, Gov. Montague and the Council sent a man by the name of Scovil to adjust the difficulties which existed between the set tiers. Scovil proved to be an unprincipled villain, and instead of establishing peace, came very near bringing on a civil war. In 1769, a court of justice was established at Ninety-Six. The seeds of hatred and strife had, however, been sown broad-cast and had germinated, and were flourishing with a growth too vigorous to be checked by the forms of law. Regulator and Scovilite continued until 1775, when the former was exchanged for that of Whig, and the latter for that of tory or loyalist. For a period of twenty years multitudes on each side had been nursing their wrath. Each party charged the other with the opprobrious epithet of coward ; but truth demands that we say that neither deserved the title. They were brave?in many instances cruelly so. Every circumstance, both in the settlement of the region and in the intercourse of the settlers with each other, conspired to make the war in that community fierce. The main object the British had in garrisoning NinetySix, was to keep up their intercourse with the Indians. The power of the savages had been broken, but their fierce spirits had not been subdued. The British fed the flames of revenge which still blazed in the bosoms of these grossly wronged, but desperately cruel, sous ^ of the forest. The fortifications of Ninety-Six were erect ed in the forks of two roads. One of these roads led from Charleston, by the way of Saxegotha, to Ninety-Six. The other road - * n xt: o:_ Je(l irom /VUguaiu, ucuigm, wj x-iiuety-ijiA. A short distauce north of the fortification, was the town. On the west of the fortification was a small stream, by which the garrison was furnished with water. On the west bank of this stream, on a slight eminence, was a stockade; and ou the east bank of this stream was the jail, which was also fortified and garrisoned. On the north east of the village, was erected a star-shaped redoubt. This was the principal place of defence. It consisted of a stronghold, built with sixteen salient, and an equal number of re-entrant angles. Around this was dug a deep circular ditch, traces of which are still to he seen, The whole was strengthened by a fraise and abattis. The entire village was enclosed by a line of stockades, and covered communications extended from the star redoubt to the several stockades. As the garrison was supplied with water from the rivulet on the west, this point was protected by the stockade on the eminence west of the village, and by the garrison stationed in the jail, which occupied a site between the rivulet and the village. The garrison at Ninety-Six was commanded by Colonel John Cruger, a man of good family, a native of New York city, s brave soldier and a very superior officer. His command consisted of five hundred and fifty men. Of these, two hundred were New Jersey volunteers, and one hundred and fifty . were a detachment from Delancey's loyal battalion of New York. The remainder were tories from the neighborhood, commanded by Colonel King. It will be seen that in the conflict which we are about to describe, American was pitted against American, and neighbor against neighbor. So soon after the capture of fort Granby as Lieutenant-Colonel Carrington had completed his arrangements for transporting tbe baggage of the American army, and the stores which had been secured at the several forts recently captured, General Greene broke up his camp at Friday's ferry on the Congaree, and set out, by the most direct route, for Ninety-Six. The distance between Friday's ferry and Ninety-Six, is about sixty miles. On the 22d of May?the day after the surrender of fort Galphin?General Greene arrived in the immediate vicinity of the only remaining British post in South Carolina, in the interior of the State. By the prudence, skill and indomitable courage of the subaltern officers and troops belonging to General Greene's army, the British strongholds and provision depots bad melted away like morning oiouds. Ninety-Six would have been abandoned had not all communications between it and the other British posts been so completely cut off by the Americans. General Greene could not but feel intensely anxious with regard to the success of his undertaking. His individual successes heretofore in the South, had consisted rather in baffling the undertakings and disconcertiug the plans of the enemy, than in positive victories. As yet no British officer had been forced to surrender to him in person. At Guilford Court Mouse and Mobkirk's Mill, bis victory consisted in depriving bis enemy of a grand triumph. It must be confessed that from the moment of hia arrival at Ninety-Six, General Greene was not very sanguine of success. He found the place in a good condition both to resist an assault and to staud a siege. Colonel Cruger had not been idle. Aided by Lieutenant Haldane, a skillful engineer belonging to the corps attached to Cornwallis' command, he continued, day and night, to strengthen his works. General Greeoe determined to undertake the reduction of this post by regular siege. His force consisted of less than one thousand Continental soldiers and a varying number of undrilled militm. These latter troops, in some kinds of warfare, did wonders; but in a regular siege or a pitched battle, they were not of much avail. These troops were stationed in four camps, about half a mile distant from four sides of the enemy's works. Such was the position of the American encampments, that the enemy, as well ae tho epriDg frutnwhich they received supplies of water, were entirely enclosed. Thaddeus Kosciusko, the celebrated Po lander, was with General Greene as ehief of his engineers. On the evening of the 22nd of May, ground was broken a short distance north of the star redoubt. Colonel Cruger was notslow in discovering the designs of the American Generals. With a promptness and energy which showed that he was a superior officer, he began to make preparations to repel the approach of the Americans. He possessed but three pieces of cannon. These he mounted on wheels and placed upon a platform constructed for the purpose. His parapets were manned with infantry, whose accuracy with their deadly rifle, seldom missed the object of their aim. Under cover of the artillery and riflemen, a sallying party, under Lieutenant Roney, supported by Major Green, rushed out of the enemy's ditches upon the beseigers. In a moment the guards were either bayonetted or driven away ; the lately begun works of the Americans were destroyed, and their entrenching tools carried off. The gallant Roney was mortally wounded. This was all the loss the euemy sustained. So vigorously and so promptly did fl.e sallying party act, that although General Greene sent a reiufurcemeot to succor Kosciusko, the work was complete before the detachment arrived. Under the direction of Kosciusko, ground was again broken on the night of the 23rd. This time, the besiegers commenced operations at a point more distant and under cover of a ravine. A grave mistake seems to have been made at the very outset. The garrison were supplied with water by the spring. This was guarded by a stockade fort and the fortified jail. It would seem that the first effort should have been made to deprive the garrison of the use of the spring. Instead of this being attempted, the approaches, by parallels, was begun on the opposite side of the enemy's works, thus leaving them in undisturbed possession of the spring and rivulet. The pickaxe and spade were plied, day after day, by | the Americans, but the work advanced slowj ly. The brave Kosciusko was censured on j account of his slowness, and General Greene j was blamed for submitting to his engineer so ! entirely. On the forenoon of the 8th of June, Colonel Lee, with his legion, arrived at Ninety-Six, and General Pickens followed in a few days. Lee and Pickens were directed to operate ! against the stockade fort, which, in part, , guarded the spring. Lee pushed forward the j work assigned him with great dispatch. On j the second day after his arrival, he had cora! pleted his ditch to the point designed for the erection of a battery. On the same day the battery was erected, a six-pounder placed in ; position, and Lieutenant Finn put in command of it. i ^Cruger was now pushed both on the* right and left. He began to feel that his situation i was perilous. His ouly hope was in receiving | succor from Rawdou. With this officer he ! was, however, wholly unable to communicate, j When Kosciusko had completed his secoud , i parallels, General Greene directed Colonel ! Otho Holland Williams, Adjutant General, , j to summon Colonel Cruger to surrender, i Cruger replied, verbally, through his Adjutant, that he was determined to hold the place to the last extremity, and that he held in per i feet disregard, both the threats and promises of the American General. , At this state of the siege, sallying parties were sent out by the enemy to thwart the progress of the American works. The coi diets with these sallying parties were fien and bloody. It was no child's play. Braj men rendered desperate by their surroum ings, were met by brave men in whose boson the fires of hatred had been covered for year In no instance were these sallying parties < the British successful. Failure did not, hov ever, dishearten tbem, but only render tbei more desperate. The hopes of the America General and American soldiers were growin brighter and brighter ?ach hour, while on tt other hand, dark and gloomy forebodings 61 ed the mind of the brave Cruger. Eviden ly, the crisis was fast approaching. It ws only a matter of time, if things continued t thpiv wore, when the last parrison in the inti j rior of South Caroliua would be forcM 1 surrender. In war, as in everything else, appearance are often deceptions. The best laid plan pushed with the most consummate skill, ofte are blighted in the moment of their 6nal ai complisbment. On the 11th of June, Gene al Greene received a dispatch from Generi Sumter, containing the startling intelligent of the landing at Charleston, on the 3rd, < portions of three regiments, a detachment t -the Guards, and a considerable number t volunteers, all under the command of Col< nel Gould. These forces were designed ft Cornwalli8, but that officer, in order the South Carolina might be retained in posse sion of his Majesty, assigned them to th succor of Rawdon. So soon as the Irish troops landed, Rav don, who was in camp at Monk's Corner, r< paired to Charleston to make preparation fc the relief of Ninety-Six. Previous to th ! time, he bad not heard of the fall of Augui ta, nor of the investment of Ninety-Six. H fears, however, for both these posts wei great; but with the force then at his con mand, beset as he was by Sumter and Marioi he was unable to render Cruger and Brow any assistance. On the 7th of June, Rawdo set out from Charleston for Ninety-Six. Soo after leaving Charleston, the troops left b Rawdon at Monk's Corner, joined those le by Gould. The whole consisted of seventee hundred infantry and one hundred and fift cavalry. On the way, a few others joine him, so that on arriving at Orangeburg, hi command amounted to more than two thoui and. Rawdon soon heard of the fall of At gusta and the siege of Ninety-Six. On hearing of the advance of Rawdon, th first thing that suggested itself to the mind c General Greene, was to meet and disperse th force advancing to relieve Cruger; and the return aud force Cruger to surrender. To el feet this design, Marion, who was in the I01 country, was ordered to place himself in fron of Rawdon. General Sumter was ordered t collect all the forces on the Congaree and joi General Greene at some point between tha river and Ninety-Six. General Pickens, tc gether with all the cavalry uuder Colone Washington, were sent to join Sumter. Al though the plan of first beating Rawdon wa undertaken, it was soou discovered that i -could not bo put into execution. The concet tration of the forces under Sumter was necej sarily too slow, and the .movements of Raw don too rapid to put in execution such a plat It was determined next, by uen. ureene, t raise the siege and lead bis forces into som safe retreat. To this, both the officers am men in the American camp objected. Som were anxious to wipe out old stains; other were desirous to give an exhibition of thei skill and prowess; whilst mauy, rendered reck less by cruelties and suffering inflicted by th enemy, were longing for an opportunity t satiate their vengeance. It was manifest t all that the post must be taken by assault o abandoned. Rawdon was moving forward t its relief with all possible dispatch. In the meantime, neither party had slack ened its labors. The work of the besieger was pressed forward, whilst the besieged Is i i . J... .1 ;? | norea uigm uuu uiiy ju sticugkiiciuig tuci j fortifications. The American marksmen ol ten drove the artillerists from their guns. I was attempted to burn the houses of the vil lage with arrows, as was done at Fort Motte but Cruger promptly had the houses stripped of their roofs. Major Green, who command ed with distinguished ability the star rt doubt, on seeing the advance of the Americai third parallel and the erection of a Mahac tower, covered his parapet with sand-bag leaving an aperture between the bags for th use of his riflemen. It now became eviden to all that an error had been made in not di recting the main force to the reduction of th stockades that guarded the spring. In order to cut the enemy off from thei supply of water, Colonel Lee proposed to Get Greene the propriety of attempting to set th stockade fort on fire. On the 12th, whilst dark and portentous cloud was rising in th west, Lee asked Gen. Greene permission t make the attempt to set this stockade fort o fire. The request was granted, and a sergean and nine infantry, belonging to Lee's Legion were immediately selected for the perilou undertaking. This intrepid little band wa furnished with combustible material and di rected t?? advance to the stockade fort by th most concealed route. At the same time, th batteries in every quarter opened a terrifi fire upon the enemy, designing to produce th impression that a general assault was about t be made upon the star redoubt. The ga! lant sergeant and his faithful little band mad j their way amid the raging of the storm an ! the thunder of the cannon until they ha __J ii_ i reacnea trie stocnaue iori, uuu were iu in : act of applying the fire. At this critical mc ! merit they were discovered, and the sergear j and five of his men were instantly killed. Th j other four escaped unhurt, notwithstandin j many muskets were fired at them as they ra ! across the field, back to their commaud. J On the 17th, the fire of the Americans wa ! very destructive. The enemy were forced t | withdraw their forces stationed between th spring and the stockade fort. The garriso ! soon began to suffer greatly on account t I being deprived of the use of the spring. Th , females in the British camp, sheltering their selves beneath the respect due to their sej undertook to supply the garrison with watei Unable to supply the demand, the soldiers, i was discovered, dressed themselves in femal attire and weut to the spring. This bein, discovered, the order was given to fire upo every one going to the spring, no matte whether male or female. Although Rawdon had been advancin rapidly, since the 7th, to relieve Cruger, th latter was in total ignorance of the fact. I the neighborhood, only a few miles distan (i- from Ninety-Six resided a young woman who :e had lately married a British officer in the re garrison of Ninety-Six. The young lady was i- the daughter of a patriot, and she had a brothis er who had heartily espoused the cause of the s. Whigs. This woman the British bribed to )fi communicate to the commander at Ninetyr Six, the fact that succor would soon arrive, n Rawdon was at Orangeburg when he sent his n emissary to contract with this woman. She g communicated the facts in the case to a young ie lo^list in the community. Dressed in citi1 zen's clothes, this loyalist appeared, on the aft ternoon of the 13th, riding along the Ameri? can lines, south of the village, talking carelessis ly to the soldiers. No notice was taken of b- him, as the country people were accustomed to o visit the American camp daily. So soon as he reached the road leading to the village, he is straightened himself in the saddle and puts, ting spurs to his horse, dashed through the n American line and into the village. The senis tinels and guards nearest him, fired upon r. him. hut he escaoed unhurt. When out of il danger, he took a letter from his person ?e and triumphantly waved it back at the Amer>f icans. The garrison received him with shouts )f of joy. The gate was opened for his admis>f sion, and he was conducted to headquarters > with loud and prolonged huzzahs. Cruger al>r ready brave, was, on the reception of the it iutelligence that Rawdon was advancing to s- his aid, rendered confident. ie Both the besieged and besiegers began to press matters with great vigor. Each knew j. that the contest must come to a close within e- a few days. On the left, the third parallel tr' was completed, also two trenches and s. mine ?t-I-U ?aL?/1 + A fiinj fiiof nf fKo ono. |g WHICH ICttUUCU TTItUlU a ion low v* vuv VMV b- my's ditch. On the right, the trenches were is within; twenty yards of the enemy's works. -? The garrison was nearly cut off from the ]. spring and rivulet and suffering bad already begun. Rawdon had, by inclining to thrf n right, passed Sumter, and such was the rapidD ity with which the British general marched, D that Sumter could never gain bis front. The y only American party which barrassed Rawd don on his march, was Colonel Middleton, n with three hundred cavalry and mounted miy litia. Colonel Middleton had been sent from d the Congaree to bang upon the rear of the is enemy, capture stragglers, and, particularly, 3. to cut off the foraging parties of Rawdon. i. This partisan corps, after giving the enemy considerable trouble, was, unfortunately, led e into a well-planned ambush and charged up(f on by Major Coffin at the head of a body of e the royal cavalry* Middleton and his party Q were so completely scattered that they never p. made their appearance again. w The Americans were of the opinion that lt thirty hours would be sufficient to reduce, 0 without assault, the garrison at Ninety-Six; ^ but they dared not wait bo long a time, lest the t arrival of Rawdon would expose them to toj. tal overthrow. In view of the circumstances, ,] it was determined to attack the place by a |. general assault. 8 Mid day on the 18th of June, was appointt ed as the moment when, at a given signal, the forces would advance ttfthe assault I*ong - - L--1-- j _.:,u j. poles Wlin iron hooks were prepnicu mm r. which to pull dowo the sand bags oo the eue, my's fortifications, and material was collect* o ed for the purpose of filling up the ditches. Lieuteuaut-Colonel Campbell of the first Vir^ ginia regiment, with a detachment from the e Maryland and Virgiuia brigades, was directed to lead the attack on the left: Lieutenant's . Colonel Lee, with his Legion of infantry and Kirk wood's Delaware regiment, were charged ' with the attack on the right. Lieutenants Duval, of Maryland, and Seldon, of Vir() ginia, led the forlorn hope on the left; Capr tain Rudolph, of Lee's Legion, that on the o righL The signal for attack was to be given from the ceiitre battery. At eleven o'clock, the third parallel was manned and the sharp8 shooters took their nosition in the Maham l" tower. On the firing of the first cannon, r which was the signal for the assailants to prepare for action, the American columns enterI ed the trenches. The men were full of en'* thusiasra. At the hour of twelve, the second ' cannon was fired and simultaneously, and in ^ good order, the assailing columns, under Lee and Campbell, advanced. Cruger, if not ex'* pecting the assault, was fully prepared for it. II The parapets gleamed with pikes and bayoD nets, and, through the apertures between the P sand bags, .the riflemen of Major Green e mowed down the ranks of the assailants. On 1 an intermediate battery, Cruger had placed l' his three pieces of cannon. These, as cir6 cumstances seemed to demand, he sometimes directed upon the column led by Campbell, r and sometimes on that led by Lee. Cruger's > mind was cool and prompt, and his men well 6 trained and desperately brave. The cannon a was used with telling effect upon the Araerie cans. Colonel Campbell and his brave Mary0 landers and Virginians pressed forward 0 amidst showers of leaden hail. No one flinch1 ed. With the hooks, the soldiers were drag' ging the sand bags on the enemy's parapets 8 into the ditch below. The moment was near 8 at hand when Campbell would ascend the l* parapet and terminate the contest in a hand o i?J ??i.? lO uauu L'ULJiilUW. lUajui uioou, nuy wuj6 manded the star redoubt, discovering the c progress which the Americans were making, 6 and fearing the results of a hand-to-hand 0 fight between the garrison and assailants on I" the parapets, determined to try the bayonet 6 in his ditch as well as on his parapet. At a d sally port, he sent out, with small detachd raents, Captain French, of Delance^'s corps, 6 and Captain Campbell, of New Jersey. Ta' king opposite directions in the ditch, Campll bell soon encountered Duval, and French, e Seldon. The conflict was dreadful. The S Americans had to encounter the enemy on n the parapet and those in the ditch. They stood their ground and fought gallantly, un s til both Duval and Seldon were wounded, o Then the forlorn hope was, with great loss, e forced to retire to the American trenches, n Only a few survived. The most were left in >f the enemy's ditch. e "^Th e assailing column, led by Lieutenant>* Colonel Lee was more successful, Captain ti Rudolph gaiued the ditch which surrounded r. the stockade fort, and being followed by the '* 1 J I - t? - - * I ... iL _ it mum column, soon enieren me ion, wnen me e garrison fled to the main works. Lee was g about to make an assault upon the jail and n then to assist in reducing the star redoubt. General Greene, seeing the slaughter which had taken place in the ditch in front of the g star redoubt, and unwilling to sacrifice any e more of his troops, ordered Lee to hold the n stockade and attempt nothing more. The it assailing column led by Campbell lay in the trenches, and that led by Lee remained in the stockade until dark, when both were with- 1 drawn. ' Gen. Greene now determined to retreat to ( avoid Rawdon. On the evening of the day , after the assault, the seige was raised, and General Greene led his forces across the Saluda and retreated rapidly iu the direction of 1 the Ennoree. 1 The siege of Ninety-Six lasted from the ' twenty-second of May, until the eighteenth of , June. The American loss during the siege ] was Captain Mark Amstrong, shot through the head on the day of the assault, and one ] hundred and eighty-five men in killed, wounded and missing. The garrison lost eightyfive. It is remarkable tbat only one officer < on each side was killed. The failure to capture Ninety-Six was very mortifying to both the officers and men in the i army. Whether all was done and done in the 1 right way, and at the right time that could 1 have been done to capture the place, cannot, ] at this late date, be ascertained satisfactorily, g At the time Kosciusko was censured on ac- ] count of his slowness, and some thought Gen. < Greene should have exercised more of his own judgment with regard the manner of conduct- 1 ing the. siege. Charity bids us say that all J acted their parts well from patriotic mo- , tives. . Ibe $?tsrg Idler. ; TWENTY TUUNJUB. A TALE FROM REAL LIFE. Could it be Marxwell, who I believed bad left England for Brazil a week ago ? Why, he was seen on board the vessel, just starting! Nevertheless, it was he, there could be do doubt about it, and though he did not appear to see me, and I had not time to cross the road to speak to him, I was quite sure upon the point. Presently I met Henry 8tainiDg. He was in rollicking good humor, as usual. As lively and kind-hearted a man as ever lived was Staining, and I fear I might add almost as foolish. A full purse, a robust frame, and abundant leisure, what advantages they are! And, yet, without the steadying influences of a sound judgment and of moral tone, what misfortunes, sometimes, the combination entails ! "Staining, what can have induced Marxwell to abandon his voyage to Brazil ?" "Nothing; and this for the simple reason that on that voyage to Brazil is Marxwell proceeding at this moment." "My friend, certainly not, for I saw him only ten minutes since, not far from, here." "My friend, certainly "yes," tor 1 had a 1 letter from him a week back, posted just be- ' fore starting; and the vessel, I know, sailed directly." "Then be left her, that's all." "Not in the least degree likely. You did not speak to him?or rather the man you mistook for him ?" "True, I did not; but?" "I'll bet you ten pounds you are wrong." "I never bet; but I am perfectly sure that?'" "I'll bet jou twenty pounds to a shilling you made a mistake. Smith, you are getting old, and your eyes are failing you. Twenty pounds td'^bne shilling. Awful odds; but your shilling is gone, Smith." "I am quite willing to risk my shilling; but?" "Here you are, young gentlemen," cried a cheery voice, proceeding from a bulky person close upon us. "Betting?betting on the highway. Illegal, mind?I'm a witness." It was Marxwell 1 Staining looked aghast. "You are astonished. You thought me on the way to Brazil. And so I should have been, but that at the very last moment, when the vessel was just moving out of dock, my tirm sent counter-instruction, and I had to return to Loudon. Annoying, wasn't it? Such a loss.!" "Such a loss, indeed !" murmured Staining. But then he turned to Marxwell, and greeted him heartily. Marxwell soon left us, and Staining having - ? ' ^ 1. ... Unnl. n tatontif.nnnnrl ^ lUKCI] iruitj II19 jJUt&Cl'uuu& a mtuiji-j/uuiiu note, handed it to me. \ "There you are, old fellow. 'A fool and his . money,' &c. Another illustration of that wise adage." I "Not exactly, for you don't suppose that I ^ shall take your money ?" , "Yes, I do ; and I shall be extremely annoyed if you make any difficulty." I protested; but presently he said, in irri- j tation, "Then be my almoner, and give the money in charity." And he pressed the note ( back upon me, and left abruptly. { There are objections to standing in the pub- g lie highway with a bank note in your band, ^ and a puzzled expression in your face, so the note was transferred to my pocket, and I went g my way pondering, when I was met full tilt by a clergyman whom I very well knew. "Hulloa !" he cried, "Mr. Smith, both you ^ and I seem to have our minds so much occupied to day that we cannot take care of our bodies.". c 1 apologized. "JNo grave matter mine," I j said ; but you look sad. Nothing wrong with t you or yours?" r "No, thanks; but I have just left a depressing scene, one which I would willingly throw sunshine upon, but I have not the power/' Then he gave me the particulars. "A young couple, married in hot haste, have t come gradually to grief. At first, in quite ^ comfortable circumstances, they are now in v distressing poverty. The wife and child are ill. Relatives and friends have receded into the remote background. And, worse than all, } the husband?" ^ "Has become intemperate or gone mad." t "Neither one nor the other?that is to say j; not to the full extent. But he has become flighty, or else, 1 much fear?" f "Something worse ?" ? "Yes ; for to be dishonest is worse than go- t ing mad. However, I have only suspicions, c and I do most truly think, if anything wrong t has been done, it has been prompted by a desperate desire to alleviate the sufferings of v his wife and child. And it is such a mere <( riflo ftiaf 10 nnpHeil annnrnnf.lv fn nilt all . " ? 1 ?r i? j ' -- i? ? i straight, that I groan at my inability at the r moment to find it." ''What is wanted?" rj "Well, it's only twenty pounds, but even c that is a formidable sum to a clergyman whose a income is not equal to that of his baker." "But," I urged, for I liked to pose my spir- p itual adviser if I could, "you bint at down- 0 right crime. Certainly it would not be right t to prevent the due course of justice? Think j of the claims of society." 8 "I decline. I think only of a suffering fam- i ily, and leave police courts to hardened criminals. ti "There is the money which you require, 'i Haste away, and do all the good you can with g it* My friend looked astonished. He even h hesitated. v "It is very, very good of you," he said, "but d really?do forgive me?is it not more than? c than you?" "Can afford. Yes, it is; but be easy?the money it not mine." ii He laughed. "You haven't stolen it? I ii cannot take of one criminal to deliver to another, you know." ^ " "No. I have the power to give it away, s Grood-by." And I hurried off. Then I has- I tened back to him. e "Kindly, on no account mention my name." v "No, as you wish it; but you should know the objects of your bounty." And he told v me. Then we parted. I had gone only a h dozen yards when there passed me a young e man, with a flushed face and a frightened, z anxious look in his eyes. He caught up to my friend and spoke to him. o "That is the man," I said to myself, "whose I proceedings have been dubious, and who will,, [ trust, be rescued by Staining's twenty a pounds. Now it was wrong in Staining to I bet, and I fear it was wrong in me to receive, ii Two wrongs. But it was right in the minis- t! ter to be touched by the troubles of these poor t people, and it was right in me to give the money. A balance! Well, if the wheel ti should turn, and this man should ever be in a " nrmit.inn tn deliver a fellow-creature from such b trouble as be himself is now in, by the sur- c render of twenty pounds, I wonder whether b he'll do it ? Smith, you surely know human nature well enough to answer your own ques- s tion. Not he?not a bit of it" . v This little incident, with plenty of other things besides, was soon swept from my mem* s Dry by a sudden call to go abroad, even to v the place where Marxwell did not go?to Brazil. Nothing hampered me then ; I was a t young bachelor, and could start for the Anti* c podes at two days' notice. When I take my s! wife and children?I forget the exact number?for our autumrtl trip, in these later B years of ray life, I require weeks' preparation, r Alas 1 the change. n Away then to Brazil; away to a new life, r new scenes, new companions, new hopes and fears; away to fortune and the yellow fever! ii Here occurs in my tale a grand interval of c twenty years (my story deals in twenties.) e All that time?barring three months occupied 1< in going and returning?I was busy money- 8 mnhi'nn T nililflflaJfl/l T moo AffAP V lUCtlllUgi X OUVWCCUCU. X n UO w> V* r sundry times, but I arose, and made more a money. Fever prostrated me, but I was up a again and increasing my store. I was bitten d by snakes, but not killed, for I enlarged my a business. I was poignarded by a bankrupt " competitor, but my rival was executed, and I I grew richer than ever. I doubt whether I a should have come back, had not a young t< English lady one night Bung in my hearing an old home ballad, so well remembered in r! connection with some loved ones who in this world will sing no more, that the well-known h craving for the native land mastered me at a once, and within a very short time I was on y my voyage to England. . b On the way, I had one night a frightful s< iream. I fancied a terrible enemy had me a on my back, and was clutching my throat, b Tighter grew his grasp, and fainter my breath. * My starting eyes scauned every feature of my b murderer. Slowly and painfully?as I was * beld in this way, for some time as it appear- T ;d?did I call to my mind the face before me. a [t was Staining, but Staining reckless, desper- w ite. I gasped an entreaty for mercy. w "Give it me; I want it, I must have it, in- d itantly?instantly!" was the hoarse reply. w "What?what can you mean?" h "What?" he shrieked, in maniacal irenzy. w 'Wretch, my twenty pounds!" w I had quite forgotten about this bet and the d twenty pounds; but the dream set me think- p ng of what rumors I had heard occasionally A especting Staining since I left England, that ? lis money had wasted, that he had fallen w jonsiderably in position, and even into pover- te ;y. I had written to him several times; but vi >f late years he had not replied. ci "Poor fellow," I now thought, "there may si eally be something in that dream. If his no iride will accept it, he shall have the money hi lack, and very glad I shall be to restore it." M Back in England. Settled down again in w he old country. Main matters disposed of, I legan to think of minor ones, and amongst a< he latter the discovery of Staiiyng. He was p< lot in his former haunts, and I failed so long w o find him that I was beginning to despair, 01 vhen one night I met him in the street. di The brilliant artificial light of the ball- ei oom may increase the lustre of a woman's hi iright eyes, and of her sparkling jewels; but b; f vnn want to see a noor. broken-down man. b lecayed and dismal, in his worst aspect, sur- si rcy him standing disconsolately under a street amp, a drizzling rain descending upon him, (1 tnd he, with folded arms, presenting a picture in >f mute despair. So did I behold Staining, ct [ put my hand on his shoulder. He sprang tl rom me as though I were a wild beast. b< "I did not want to run away," he said, loarsely, "they knew that. i'll face it?I'll m ace it," be added, tremulously. "Go on, I'll b< valk quietly enough. Why?what?eh? lurely, can it be?can?" tb "Yes, it is Smith, your old companion, in ?ray be composed. 8taining, my friend, fa vhat is all this ? Come away, and confide in ne. You know you can trust me. If you M ire in trouble, and money can help you, you I hall not want." And I took his arm and h< ve went together. p< And then I heard poor Staining's confes- G ion, and it amounted to this: When he had vasted his money, he obtained a situation in ei i merchant's office. The pay, poor enough, n< vas sufficient to keep him; but even now cc lothing could restrain him from gambling on t small scale on horse-racing. As a conse- tb |uence he was soon penniless, and worse?dis- w lonest. He had paid a betting debt out of a w wenty pound note, which, the day before I w net him, had been entrusted to him. Dis- to Vio/l annniul a 1 moaf i naf a ntanAOIinlV hi iUYCljr liau ououw unuvok iuovuuvwmvvmmij j ? ind though the luckless man explained that ro t was only through the failure of another w< uember of the virtuous fraternity he could or lot at once replace the money, he had been ly lischarged, and had reason to suppose he w yould be prosecuted. fr I could not help thinking, as I heard this wi tainful story, that if there had been a society re or the suppression of betting, what a splenlid illustration here presented itself for their ise! However, it was no time for moral' ai zing. w "Many, many thanks," replied the poor 61 ellow, to the offer I directly made him. ra You can see the firm in the morning; but, (v hough they have allowed a day to pass, I su loubt whether they will take the money. I re lelieve they are bent on my ruin." n< I could not believe it; so, early next day I di vas at the office of Messrs. Baydon, Blendon n< k Co., and having been admitted into the h< oom of the senior partner, I stated my erand and proffered my twenty pounds. Mr. Baydon was a sleek old gentleman, a rbere was, so to speak, wealth and ease all th iver him. He bent his bead complacently, in md replied? b< "I can appreciate your kindness to this fe mnf man nnH T ravsplf wrmM nAtifl the matter UI iver at once, but my partner, Mr. Blendon, of akes a different view, and I cannot interfere." a Lnd be was firm upon the point. Could I of ee Mr. Blendon ? Yes, if I could call again tb d two hours. ca I rejoined Staining, who shook his head at ay report. "Just so," he said, "the old story, j nay partner.' I must go to prison. Good in ;racious! What is the matter, Smith ?" af I bad suddenly disengaged my arm from wi lis. "Staining," I said, <(you keep out of the tu ray for a couple of hours. Blendon, Blen- w Ion?do you know the man's Christian w; iame ?" "Robert." I "Mercy on me! Good*by. Meet me here bl a two hours," and in another minute I was n< a a cab, rattling away into one of the suburb*. In the cab I kept muttering to myself, Blendon, and Robert Blendon, too 1 I am are of it. Still, if it be so, it is very strange, think I should know that face again, howver time may have altered it. We shall see rho will be master." My present visit was to an old clergyman, rho received me most cordially, rubbed up is memory vigorously for my use, and allowd me to leave him quickly, fully sympathiing with me in the object I had in view. Back to Messrs. Baydon, Blendon & Co.'s flices, and then into the presence of Mr. llendon. All my anxiety for' my poor friend faded way. I was maste r of the situation. Briefly stated my desire to pay the amount of Stainag's defalcation, ai c, my hope that, under he extenuating cir cumstances, no publicity rould be given to tho miserable wrong-doing. Mr. Blendon beard' me with some impsience, and before replying he drewa check to self or bearer" (I could see him do it) for a undred pounds. Having given this to a lerk to get cashed, he said to me, arranging "^ou will excuse my answering somewhat bortly. It cannot >?. It is not the money re care about, but we must vindicate the law. I declare I was haif pleased at the grandiose . ? 1 H I *:?-!!_ L. tyie or mis Bpeec.u., now ueauuiuiijr uo nao talking into my net! I ventured to uuggest that in a case like bis there was no imperative call to such a ourse, and that fc rljearanee might rightly be bown. "I do not see it?I cannot see it," answered dr. Blendon, crossing bis legs with an air of esignation, as much as to say, "The man is a uisance, but I must bear with him." He esumed; "You do not appear, sir, to observe .the mmense importance of punishing delinqueny of this kind. I would not take yonr mony on any account. Dear mel If I were to st this man off, I should be ashamed; of myelf. He onght to be in custody now, and he rill be very shortly. I have just overcome ome foolish hesitation of my partner. I am Iways firm myself." (Not always, Mr. Blenon?not when I last saw you. But I waited bit. A little further into my net, please), and therefore, however sorry I may be, sir, must say no. Dishonesty is a fearful thing, nd it must be punished. If I were myself > commit an act of this kind, and?" Why did he stop? I quietly be wed, and ising, said: "You are quite right, Mr. Blendon. Disonesty is a terrible thing, and while not for nother moment pressing my request, I know on will forgive my calling to remembrance, efore I leave, a curious case known to myfif. May I tell you ? Some twenty yearo go, a poor young couple, not long married, ad fallen into poverty. The wife and infant ere ill. The doctor bad ceased to attend ecause be was not paid. Comforts tbere ere none. Even necessaries were wanting, 'he husband was distracted. He would get toney, he must get money. When his young ife and infant child were well-nigh starving, hat was to be done? Stay,stay, Mr. Blenon, I will complete my story. The money as obtained, sir?Mr. Blendon, you know ow. I need not tell you thai. But in what ay was it repaid ere mischief came, and how ras the husband saved?saved from ruin and egradation?saved to become a rich and resected merchant? Whose money saved him ? ih! Mr. Blendon, that you do not know, lut I will tell you. Tbe twenty-pound note bicb rescued the poor husband, rested only sn minutes before in the pocket-book of this ? ?? mttAMl HAI1 AHA A U/\H t f A nUAtlA . cly uuiiliiij^ ivuuiu juu aio auuu? w j/iu<jujte, strangely enough, for precisely the same ira. Yes, at that time Staining was rich, laybe, as you are now; but with his riches e was a kind, charitable, Christian man. [r. Blendon?I have a right to ask you?to hat character do you lay claim t" I have often thought since what admirable ivantages are a clear head and a calm tern* sr. In the delivery of the foregoing, I bad orked myself up to a white heat. It was ily at the moment when he first saw my rift that my listener manifested any strong notion. Then he rose from his chair, and is face flushed, but he resumed bis seat, and y the time I had finished he was sitting calm1 almost as when I entered. There was a ight pause, and then Mr. Blendon said: "You have acquired, sir, some knowledge ! will not say whether accurate or not) of an icident in my early life, which I am not died upon to discuss. May I ask whether lis knowledge is confined, and is intended to 3 confined to yourself?" "I believe it to be confined to myself and y informant, and I have no desire it should 3 otherwise." Mr. Blendon bowed. "I will not conceal lat I shall be glad for it to be an understandig between us that this matter does not go .rther." (I made 'a gesture of assent.) Well, then, on that footing, I will say that [r. Staining shall be entirely absolved, and will even aid him if I can. You must, jwever, excuse me from taking your ^mity junds. I am obliged to you for cflrog. ood-morning." I de; .?rted, and I must confess I felt the lemy bad well covered his retreat, and bad )t left me a morsel more of triumph than he >uld help. However, my object was accomplished, lerefore I hastened to meet Staining. He as not at the appointed place, and after aiting some time I went to his lodging. It as in a shabby house, in a by-street, not easy find. The landlady told me Mr. Staining id come in an hour ago, and was in his bedom?not very well, she thought. She and I ent up together, and knocked more than ice. Then I went in. Poor Staining was ing on the bed, dead. My first misgivings ere happily not confirmed. His enfeebled ame had been unable to withstand the recent ear-and-tear, and now he was beyond the io frnnKlca IkUli Ul U19 iUIIlw auu uio viwuwtvwt Too Much Fuss.?A first-class passenger rived at a railway terminus, the other day, % ho had been unfortunate enough to get his 3ger bruised by the carriage door, and in a ither excited manner inquired of a porter rho hailed from Erin) where the nearest trgeon was to.be found. Pa^ who saw no ason for such excitement, exclaimed, in a >t over-respectful manner, "Shut up, ye rty spalpeen ( Sure, ye're makin' more >ise than the gintleman that lost his head jre yesterday." The End op a Rope.?When a guest at hotel sees the porter carrying a coil of rope ree hundred feet long into his room, a feelg of tranquil security comes over him, and k 1 * Art oIaao UtUUiMlf A ik/vllnkf J 11 CD UUWU l/U D1CC?J TV IbllvU v O VIA ar. But when a boy sees bis father coming 3 stairs to his room with only the little end ' a rope, not more than two feet long, with knot at one end, it kindles a conflagration ' wild apprehension and terror in his soal iat all the waters of the Mississippi Valley ' innot quench. 1 Sudden Change.?Here's another warng. A man down town refused to stay home ter an early supper and help bis wife whiteash the back-yard fence, and his black hair irned white in less than a minute. His ife's painful awkwardness with the whiteash brush caused the sudden change. ?? ^ Never trouble trouble till trouble troues you ; trouble rarely troubles people who aver trouble themselves about trouble.