Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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I . lewis m. grist, proprietor. J ^n |ni<rpertiicnt Jfamilg $tetos]japer: Jfffr tjie |)rflmotion of :t|e political, Social, Hgrirattaral anir Commercial Interests of % Sont|. |terms--$2.50 a tear, in advance. VOL 36. YOEKYILLE, S. O., THURSDAY, MARCH 18, 1880. - - - - NO. 13. ???^??- ??. ? ' I I " 1 t J..A J A Ifomatue of i ELLEN" GA OR, KING'S MC BY MRS. MARY CHAPTER III.?CONTINUED. t "Come, Bessie," said Bowen, "this is no t place for you. Where are you going, child ?" 1 as she turned weeping down the road. 1 "f iniiaf trn hftp.k to father." she sobbed, her ( face turned from him. 1 "You are not fit yet, Bessie ; sit down and ? rest. Ferris is gone; don't be afraid." And I he drew her to the bank. Still she wept bit- 1 terly. y "Be calm, Bessie; you have no farther cause for fear. 1 will see you safe home, and t you must promise me not to veuture out alone 1 again." I "Oh ! El lick," she sobbed, "it is not so much ? that I'm afraid, as I'm afraid you'll think ill ^ of me." And still the flushed face was hid ? from him. .. ? "111 of you, Bessie! Never," said the sol- * dier, with warmth, as he took her hand. 8 With a sudden impulse she turned, and * looking up at him in miugled joy and love, 1 threw herself into his arms. c "Tell me again, Ellick," she whispered; I "for, oh I I feared you would be vexed at my treatment yesterday at the church, though it 5 was both pride and shame made me do it, and I I feared you might think my silly words then, had made Ferris meet me here. And, oh ! if r you hadn't come," and she shuddered. ' "I was at the minister's and felt uneasy for you, Bessie, fearing you might be so thought- B less as to come alone. DreadingI scarcely know what, I came out to you." ^ "It was God's care of me, father will say," said the maiden, reverently. "And Ellick, 9 will you forgive me for yesterday ?" she said, h submissively, as she timidly raised her head. I Who could look in those blue eyes, still swim- b ming in tears, and not forgive her? v "Indeed. I will, dear Bessie." he said, as he . fondly kissed her, "if you promise never to * venture out alone again." t "I can easily promise that," she said, smiling in perfect reassurance, "for I doubt if a father will ever trust me; and as he'll be uneasy now, we had better be going on." "And what will you do with your bucket, P Bessie?" s "Oh! you can put it in the shade of the ? branch there; it will keep cool in the water, and put the basket under you thicket, and a when you come back you can carry them. I promised them this evening, and I like to be a as good as my word." , "That's right, Bessie! I shan't object to 1 your being always as good as your word; but what sort of a soldier's wife will you make if you scream as loud when the British are on you, as you did this evening ?" he said, as he drew her hand through his arm, and, clasping it, walked leisurely on. "Oh ! but I'll do better, when I'm ?( "Well! When what, Bessie?" he laugh- t ingly said. j, "When I'm your wife, Ellick," she bravely j spoke, though her face was crimsoned. "I'll ? never be .ashamed of it again, and if any one t] asks me who 1 love best in all the world, I'll t, say Ellick Bowenand though her voice n trembled as well as the hand that rested in c his, and though she could not look at him, t she persevered in finishing. He threw his j, arms around her and she went on? 8 "I'll be afraid now of nothing, Ellick, that s I know you don't thiuk ill of me; and I'll |; never give you cause again. I would rather ^ meet a whole army of British, than Reuben e Ferris. Oh! I hate him and dread hiin so; e and when he looks at me," and she shuddered g and turned pale. v "Never mind him, Bessie. Let us talk of \ something else. Did you aee Miss Ellen, this r morning?" g '-"yes; we were up at the Mansiou, and Miss t Ellen \js trying hard to get the old gentleman ii to provnde means for the outfit of those troop- 0 ers. I knUvW she has deprived herself of a 0 good deal tov furnish the boys that joined n some time ago, ttpd has no means of her own, f or she would not wait on the old man. It's s strange she can get all she wants from him but that, and he grows: so fretful and irapa- s tieut, and so frightened, t oo, that she is afraid h to press it. When will- Major Davie be c down ?" ; ] "I don't know, Bessie i why do you ask ? 0 Is Miss Ellen wanting to know ?" "She did not ask me," said Bessie, too hon- t est to betray a secret that was not her own, j( and discovered only by her woman's intuition. "It's hard to tell where Major Davie will j he; he's here, there and- away. We've got a great troop, Bessie-XThe boys have never been beat yet, amj'l don't believe would know when they wer^ whipped. If it were not that I thought I "could take twenty fellows with me when I go, I would not be lagging here. The most of them I have, have only been waiting for a leader." "Will Ferris go, now?" "I don't think he had ever much notion of it. If there was a Tory clan about here, I would suspect him ; but he's as cunning as the savage, he is." "Don't trust him, Ellick ; father never put confidence in him, and now, hell not like him any better." "He'll not give us the chance, I'm thinking; and I want no such?well, I won't say bad words before you, Bessie, but I'll not have e him in my company. Your father would say *] such a wretch would be a curse upon our t arms?but here we are at the homestead. It looks like Bessie's home, and that says more I than anything else. How sweet and dear it 1 is," he said, as his eye sought hers. c In a few words, old Andrew was made ac- J quainted with the evening's adventure, and c as they sat down to their frugal meal, the old t man, with more than usual fervor, blessed God ? for his care, while his tones grew deeper as he prayed the Lord might take speedy ven- i geance on their enemies. Such a picture of ^ rural comfort as was presented in that hum- J ble dwelling! The table was spread in the > cool passage ; the eveniug air, laden with the fragrance of the honeysuckle and flowers, t passed geutly through. Bessie's table, with ( its cloth of spotless purity, was spread with t the dainties (the best and choicest after all) f of the farm-house. There was her print of j golden butter, a loaf of light wheaten bread, a chicken broiled to the nicest brown, eggs poached and daintily- set off* with sprigs of 1 parsely, the biscuits smoking hot, and a gen- ] uine hoe cake of Carolina memory. Added ] to this, was a bowl of sweet clabber, with its cream untouched and milk cooled by a day's ( repose in the spring-house ; also a dish of nice < fresh honey, so that one might suppose; on < seeing such tempting dainties, that they were , literally in a land flowing with milk and ' honey. ] The patriarch and father sat at the head i of the board, giving utterance to words of < homely wisdom or prudent counsel, while i bidding them "mind their duty, morn and i night." Ever and anon, his eye would fall on Bessie, and a softer shade would pass < over the weather beaten face, and a tender the fUwItttWH. JUPBEULf ! , I )UNTAIN. i A. EWART. I ;one would intonate the voice. The young 1 ,roopersat on his right, a picture of vigorous ] nanhood ; his hair was pushed back from i lis face, and the clear white brow contrast- i ;d well with the suuburnt visage. As usu- i il, the wisdom of age was secondary to the ] tpell of beauty, and Ellick saw more of the I - - ? - ? i- i j . jlowiug Hebe beiore mm, man ne uemu ui he sage's counsel. And dear little Bessie, I vith what pretty importance was she invest- ] id, as she discharged the duties of her posi- j ion. Her brown curls were tossed back from I ler dimpled shoulders, while smiles, like cu- < )ids playing bo-beep, danced in dimples < iround her laughing mouth. And as Bowen ( matched her, the meal being over, busied i ibout her little household duties, bustling i ibout in true house-keeping style, he loved ? ter more dearly in this uew relation, than in t iny he had yet seen her. Woman and i tome!?synonymous terms! It was late when i 3owen left. Andrew was nodding in his ihair on the porch, and Bessie walked with ? ter lover to the gate. r "Good bye, Bessie, dear, I may not Bee r fou soon again, for I don't know the moment ? may be summoned." 1 "Good bye, dear Ellick," she said, as she ( aised her head in perfect confidence to her s over, while he fondly kissed her. i "And Bessie, take good care of yourself; i 10 more lonely walks." 1 "Never fear, Ellick, for your sake." Still ie lingered. j "I hate to part with you, Bessie, you look { uch a child in the moonlight with your long c rown curls ; and yet you are such a woman, t loved you better to night than I ever did efore. It would kill me if aught would go t ?rong with you." "Don't fear for me," said Bessie, laughing, i Vhat's to trouble me? It's I that should f ear for you?but somehow, I never dread ; i am so proud of your strength, so proud you t re such a big fellow." He did not notice her playfulness, but s lasping her to his heart again and again, \ rayed to God to bless her, while Bessie still s miled, and with her soft hand pushed the f lustering hair from his brow, till at length, t iuding he would not go, she threw her white s rras around his neck in all the innocence of s er childish heart, and kissing him again t nd yet again, escaped from his clasp, and \ aughingly cried "good night," as she ran up 1 he path to the house. 1 t c CHAPTER IV. 1 The arms are^fair When the intent of bearing them is just. 8 Shakspeare. j In a fork made by the waters of Crowder's j Jreek and the Catawba River, a party of \ roopers were bivouacking on a night, in the \ ast quarter of the month of September. 1 'ires had been kindled for the preparation j f their evening meal, and though late, had e iot died out; and with the torches that were g onstantly moving above, gave life and char- i cter to the brilliant panorama. The party e outdated of about thirty men, their tents g he broad sky above them, their canopy the j eafy bowers. The most of the soldiers were tretched upon the ground with their knap- g acks for their pillows, the grassy sward their r ed. while saddles, bridles, muskets and sa- i ires, hung from the adjoining boughs or lean- 1 d against the trees. The horses were pickted near, and their occasional neigh or fiery r nort, with their incessant tramping, added r et more to the excitement of the scene. r At the farthest extremity of the camp, and ] etired from the bustle by a thicker natural rowth, assembled a body of officers. A few c lazing pine faggots, stuck in the neighbor- J ng trees, served to illumine the countenances \ f the party. The most of them were lying t n the ground with the wearied air of tired t oen, but the most prominent figure, and, I rom the uniform, the leader of the troop, f tood as if in anxious expectation. i "I trust no harm has befallen Bowen ; he t hould be here by this time." As he spoke, c ie drew from his breast his watch, and ex- ^ laimed, "eleven o'clock, and not yet here ! t ?his must be seen to. Ho! there, Darby, rder out a reconnoitering party." t "No need, sir, if you want tidings of Cap- t ain Bowen. Here is Hostspur, now gal- i oping into the camp." 1 "How, now, Hotspur, what news?" said i ilajor Davie, for he it was. "Where's Bow- ( m?" i "The Tories are halting about twenty five t oiles from here, at Catawba ford, near the ( iVaxhaw, and will not venture the crossing ( >efore they have daylight to transport their oguery," he said, full of the principal news. ? The captain sent me on with the intelligence; ' le's coming with the rest." t "And good news it is; ho ! here, wake up, >oy3. Darby, sound, sound "to saddle." i Jp ! boys, up. Officers to your duty!" I At once, everything sleeping, started; 1 roopers were hurrying rapidly across the < ;rouud ; the clanking of their broad swords, < he priming of their muskets, equipping their ( lorses, made every hand busy. i "How many men has Bowen with him ?" "About thirty ; as clever a set of fellows as iver handled a broad sword?full rigged, too. ] The man's had witches at work for him?but s here he is to speak for himself. 1 And as he spoke, Captain Bowen, at the i lead of his men, came dashing into the camp. The soldiers could not refrain from a huzzab >f triumph at the goodly acccession, but I ilajor Davie's stern "silence!" reduced them juickly to order ; while in more modulated ' ones, they welcomed their companions in i irms. i "Welcome! Bowen, welcome; you have i ndeed been busy," said Major Davie, as he jrasped Bowen's hand. "Fine, stalwart fel- < ows, too, and every man well mounted ; but i vhat news is this of Hotspur ?" I "The Tories have been scouring the coun- i ,ry, foraging for supplies for Conwallis at i he Waxhaws, or Rawdon at Camden, I can- 1 lot learn which ; they have been unusually I brtunate, and are encumbered with their 1 irovision." < "What force have they ?" ] "One hundred, I shall say?certainly not ess; but we are a match for them unincumbered^ we are?do you not think so ?" said Bowen, seeing the Major hesitated. "Certainly I do," replied Davie. "I was ;hinking if our force could manage the prisoners and supplies both. We must have arms. Sevier is needing them, and what plunder we cannot re-store we will use ourselves, rhe prisoners might go on parole, for I canlot delay my motions with them ; but there is no honor in these rascally tories. Ten to bne, they will fire on our backs, if they can lucceed in concealing or stealing a single weapon." "Well, catch them first, and then dispose bf them," laughed Bowen. "That's not ray way, you know, Captain," replied the Major in high good humor at the promised prize, "hut we must not waste time. Form in line," he thundered, and springing on a spirited charger and followed by his officers, galloped to the head of his men by a rapid movement wheeled them into column, and clear above the clashing of sabres, the tramping of the horses and the impatient directions of the officers, rang his clarion voice? "Forward !" It was before the grey of the morning when the Whig cavalry reached the ford. The Tories, under the command of Captain Hardy, an officer of Lord Corn wall is, were lazily rousing themselves after a night's debauch, and slowly preparing to take the road. The baggage and plunder had been left in rear of the camp, but the horses were near the river's edge, for the greater convenience of watering. Suddenly, the report of fire arms attracted attention, and the cry of "to borse!" resounded through the camp; but ere they could mount, the Lightened outposts were driven in. and thundering quick upon them, the Whig cavalry burst into the camp, [t was a scene of wildest confusion. Roused from their slumbers, the Tories rushed out, aalf naked, to be cut down by the victorious :avalry. A few gained their arms, and post;dbehind trees, kept up an irregular fire. Captain Hardy succeeded in getting together ibout half the men, near the river ford, and forming them into column, poured forth a icattering fire of musketry, in order to gain ;ime to collect his terror stricken troops, md cover such a retreat as he was able to nake. "Down with them! down with them!" ihouted the troopers. "No mercy to the Tories! Cut down the robbers?give them Tory mercy!" they shouted, perfectly infuriited at the memory of their many wrongs. Vlajor Davie now charged the column formid by Captain Hardy, and in a few moments, lucceeded in routing it. Those of the tories vho could secure their horses, boldly sprang nto the river and escaped, Captain Hardy )eing one of the Dumber. Bowen, while riding over the field in hot jursuit of the fugitives, discovered no less a jereonage than Reuben Ferris in the act of lisentangling a horse from a neighboring hicket. "Ha! well met," cried Bowen; "turn and lefend yourself, traitor!" "I'm ready for you, Ellick Bowen. I have tot seen a better sight to day than your whig ace ; blast you, come on !" said he, springng on his horse and spurring against his idversary. "Coward and tory robber 1 I've a grudge igainst you which must be settled before ve part. Take that, aod that, and that," he ?fto? oUnlro r\f his hrrtarl.AWftrd >?iu, ao ouuac amci ouunv vs* uw v.. ell flat upon Ferris. "You do not deserve he cut of an honest man's sabre, you cursed py. I'd leave you for the gallows, if it were lafeto leave such a brute at large," and is he spoke, made a thrust with his sabre that vould have been fatal, had not Ferris adroity eluded it; and seeing he was no match for lis adversary in horsemanship, and springing ,o the ground, ere Bowen was aware, Ferris ilasped him around the leg and in spite of lis efforts, dragged him from his horse. The wo men fell together, and for a while, it eemed as if Ferris would overpower his oplonent, from real brute force. But the supeior adroitness of Bowen, as well as his invincible coolness, at length gave him the advantage, and springing to his feet, he shook lis adversary from him as he cried, "Curse vou, Ferris, for a dastardly villain, you've :arned your doom," and again raised his abre to strike; but Ferris, with surprising igility, rolled in rapid turns from him, and ire Bowen was yet staggering from the shock, prang to his horse and galloping off, with a veil, cried: "My doom is not yet earned, and I have i score to settle with you that I'd settle if nan or devil stood between us;" and springng into the river, he soon gained the opposite >ank. "Luck served me an ill turn that time," nuttered Bowen. "The traitorous spy ! He neans no good. God preserve Bessie," he nentally ejaculated, as his mind involuntariy turned toward her. The battle was now ended, and orders were ;iven to remove the spoils of the vanquished. !t was necessary to conduct their movements i vith the greatest celerity, as it was feared he enemy might be reinforced by detachnents on the other side of the river. The tilled were hastily buried, the wounded cared or, and the prisoners, glad to escape by promses, were put on parole and turned loose afer being deprived of their arms. The abunlant store of the enemy served to refresh the vearied soldiers, and with plentiful supplies, hey once more took up their line of march. It was late in the day when they halted in he neighborhood of King's Mountain, after i long and weary march. There they deposted themselves for a bivouac, and with light learts and plentiful supplies, the soldiers ested for the night. In the observance of jarap duty, Major Davie was very rigid, and ifter attending to the discipline of it, he em -rusted the command to Captain Bowen, and^ calling for his horse, without mentioning his lestiuation, rode slowly away from the camp. ''You've anticipated me, Major," mentally laid Bowen with a smile; then with a sigh for 'little Bessie," he devoted himself to his du;ies. Major Davie rode leisurely along until airly beyond the camp, when putting spurs ;o his horse, he did not draw rein until at ,he hospitable gates of the Mansion House. Checking now his speed, he slowly approachid the mansion. The twilight was fast faling into night, when throwing his reins to in attendant, he sprang from his horse. "Is Mr. Willoughby within ?" he asked. "No, massa," grinned the negro, "but Miss Ellen is. She be mighty glad to see you ; ihe so proud you beat Captain Hardy this norning; you know he trouble Miss Ellen nightily, sometimes." "Ha ! trouble her; how ?" "Ki! don't you know massa ? Reckon he links she make mighty good wife." "Curse his impudence," muttered Davie. 'Had I known that, he would have traveled n my company this morning. Never mind innouncing me," he said to the servant; "I ivill find my way." Entering into a wide hall whose walls were lecorated with a few choice paintings, and " in o nnrtroit nf nlrten timM thp viaif.nr :urning to the right, entered a large and lofty ipartment of an oblong shape, divided by an irch which in winter was draped in crimson cangings, but now looked fresh and cool from she charming exotics and delicate vines which ;astefully clambered on it; and the windows opening to the floor gave egress to the wide piazza of the Southern mansion, and the cool evening breeze had now scattered many an luturan rose leaf on the soft Turkey carpet. The room was furnished with Eastern luxuriance, yet a refined taste had preserved it from anything like ostentation. Passing through this apartment, which seemed familiar to our visitor, he entered another more comfortable and less luxurious. A lady's work-table, with its appurtenances, stood about the centre of the room ; flowers graced the mantles, and birds, rocking in their cages, sang from the open windows. At the extremity of the room a bow window formed a charming little retreat, and even now, Ellen Campbell, seated on a small sofa with her cheek resting on her hand, looked out in dreary meditation. The lady's reverie was aad and pleasant too, for she would smile and then sigh sadly,, as unconsciously she toyed with her Italian greyhound, which fawned upon her hand. The trooper contemplated the lovely picture for some time in silence till the lady crying? "Away, Zoe! your mistress is in no mood for playing to day," a rich, manly voice fell upon her ear, starting many a slumbering pulse. "And of what may the lady Ellen be thinking, if I may be so bold ? Not in sadness, I trust, for I claim a joyous welcome; Dot in despair, for I claim the tribute of a conqueror." She started as he spoke, and turned to him a face flooded with joyous crimson, and impulsively holdio? out both her hands she advanced ; then as, if recollecting herself with the flush dying from her cheek, she bowed almost coldly as she said? "We bid you welcome as our nation's defender, and congratulate you as victorious in her arms." "And you will not deign the humble trooper a welcome," said Davie, reproachfully. "If it please you, yes," she said, more cordially. "Then give me one of those hands you would have given me just now." She blushed and hesitated, but not knowing how to refuse, she gave it, saying," "This for the Continental Congress." "My welcome is not complete without what we soldiers call a pledge; give me the other," and his eagle eye rested in sofiness upon her. She scarcely knew how to understand the bold trooper, and less still, how to deny him, and placing the other hand in his, she said? "You come as a conqueror and-claim what we women reserve as a privilege; with it, accept ray congratulations for this clay's work." "Ah ! the left hand for me," he said. "If it is like mine, it should have the heart in it." She blushed deeply, and extricating her hands, turned to announce Mr. Willougbby, who was advancing through the first apartment. Biting his lips at the inopportune arrival, Major Davie, nevertheless, politely accosted him. "I hear you have had a busy day, Major," said Mr. Willougbby, while seated in the cool piazza, after a substantial meal, thus enjoying the summer evening breeze. "Busy and profitable," replied Davie. "We have got what we most needed ; a good supply of arras. Sevier will give them a warm welcome." "I cannot see, Major Davie, what avails your continued resistance?what will it profit you? To ray mind, it only brings renewed insult and misery to all who favor your cause. The whole lower part of the State is conquered ; Cornwallis holds the eastern, and Ferguson hovers on the western. What can a handful of men do in such a crisis ?" : "I trust soon to show you, sir," said Major Davie, proudly. "A handful of men, it is true, we are; but what kind of men ? Born and bred in the mountains, a stalwart race, and sons of toil, they are strangers to fear; accustomed from earliest childhood to war against the Indians, they are inured to hardship and practised in stratagem. I do not believe the American cause, hopeless as it now appears, has reason to be discouraged or despondent. Our armies are defeated it is true; almost annihilated, but the emergency is only bringing out . our purest resources. Our defeats have been to us like fire to the gold ; purged us from all allof. Those who joined our army in success for purposes of plunder and rapine, have now left us ; and we are now an indomitable band of patriots, prepared and willing to meet any emergency. We have every quality to make a perfect army but numbers, and our prudence and skill must supply the place of that." "I admire your sanguine spirit, sir; but your enthusiasm has blinded you. Where are your leaders ? Gates hiding his bleached head in hopeless dismay; Sumter flying defeated from the State; Marion hunted from his swampy fastnesses. What sadder prospect? And to fight against an army flushed hu vintnrv with ndvAritacrfl of rmmhers. of * WWW* J f ? ?- J Y 1 arras, of ammunition, of supplies, I must feel your efforts are as hopeless as your situation is critical." "You do your country and the cause injustice, sir. Our generals are not hopeless nor despairing, only waiting the moment again to strike and rouse our countrymen to battle; but even were it so, we have yet cool heads and stout hearts who would fsel it a privilege to conduct our enemies to the field. Look at our Virginia Campbell, the stein patriot, the authoritative disciplinarian, the dignified com mander. Look at our frontier man, Shelby, wilh his taciturn deportment and determined courage. Look at Sevier, with his French vivacity, his ardent and impulsive temperament, his energetic action; Cleveland, so brave and yet so gentle; and McDowell, commanding with the natural ease of one who has been accustomed to fill offices of trust, inspiring veneration for his virtues aud sympathy for his wrongs. And your own Williams, brave and firm and true, with his iron will and un- j flinching nerve. Such are our leaders, and as the leaders such are the men ; enthusiasm we have, and strength, enterprise and courage with it. The ardor and impetuosity and rashness of youth we have, and we need them to project and execute; but we have also the wisdom of maturer age to temper and direct them ; and with the caution of the father in our councils, and the irrepressible daring of the son in the field, what have we to fear ? No, sir," said the young soldier, rising with his subject, "never have we possessed a more lofty and enlarged patriotism, never a cooler or more determined courage, and the revolutionary struggle, which you conceive to be in its death throes, is approaching an acme which will lead on our victorious arms tp final conquest." "Ah! my young friend, if right always triumphed ; but every age must have its martyrs. I would not dampen your noble spirit; but where are the funds to carry on this struggle ? Gold, you must remember, is the sinew nf war and with an emntv treasury, a bee - ' ? j **"" " w- rv ? j i ? - ~o gared Congress, a dishonored currency, where will you gain means to defray expenses which are unavoidable, and which must be met, if you would continue your efforts?" "Our treasury is in the heart of every patriot," replied Davie, proudly. Gold and silver we have not, but our comrades come with subsistence and clothing, and a horse for the battle; and the mother comes with heroic pride, and brings her sons ; the wife and sister come, and struggling with tears, in smiling courage, bid farewell to husband and brother. Such are the offerings upon the altar of our country, such is the wealth of our treasury." "With such spirits, I do not wonder that you know no defeat," said Mr. Willoughby, in involuntary surprise at the enthusiastic earnestness of the young trooper. "Defeat, sir! how can we know it? Even the enemy is working for us. To induce a people who have once tasted the sweets of independence to return to the condition of subjects, it is necessary not only to conquer their armies, but their words and affections must be subdued. How is it with our"invaders? Officers, as well as privates, of the royal army, are so intent, the one on amassing fortunes, the other on reimbursing themselves, that no reerard is Daid to reunion ; instead of soothing, they delight in injuring and insulting, and they are actually doing more for the independence of the States, than our armies could possibly do, were our enemies guided by maxims of sound policy." "What you say never struck me so forcibly before, though certainly in former wars, dignity, honor and generosity were invari bly annexed to the military character, an British officers were, for the most part, gei tlemen eminently possessing these virtue; yet they are now certainly inferior, not 01 ly in education, but also in good breeding." "Because a commission is now purchast in their army by recruiting a given numbi of men. Consequently, those who posse the most low cunning, who have a uatun aptitude for wheedling the vulgar, are coi sidered the very characters to subdue rel els, and these men become our conquero and spoilers. What are we to expect froi such oppressors? "It certainly does appear they are guid? by a mistaken policy, yet they are successfi in conquering. I still see no resort but 1 make what terms we can, ere our conque ore, aggravated by continued oppositio crush us altogether." fcl "And that will never be," cried Davie,-ii dignantly, while a son of Carolina breathe Do you suppose, sir, our high spirited citizei will brook these oppressions and insults? E you suppose a Carolinian would ever subm to the odious tyranny ? No! sir. The moi we are crushed, the more ardent becomes 01 desire to rid ourselves of our insulting t rants, and the more hopeless our cause aj pears, the more do we struggle for success." "I cannot but sympathise with you, Maj< Davie, and most cordially do I wish you su cess ; but I can do 110 more. There are ti< which I dare not sunder, associations coi nected with my very life, that would bur ray heart strings to sever, yet your entbuE asm and my Ellen's pleadings, have alrao overcome my reluctance to assist you. An if your sanguine hopes should be realize* and you enabled to give a check to your coi querore, then will I feel as if assistance, woul benefit the cause and will be willing to coi tribute my mite. Still it must be done pr vately, in order to save what is so dear to m Why, sir, the lopping of a shrub affects mt what would it be to Be compelled to see a that is so dear, desecrated and despoiled b rude and profane bands." "There spoke my good uncle," said Ellei who had been an anxious and enthusiasti listener to the foregoing conversation; "an I will promise you as a reward for this kin( ness, never to grumble at Prince Hubert long arms again. Prince Hubert,' said sh< in answer to Major Davie's look of inquir; "is that noble oak you see standing so nes the house. Its royal name was given in con memoration of a feat of ray uncle Hubert here, who, when quite a child, climbed up I its topmost boughs, and falling asleep in ii branches, was rocked so softly in its leaf cradle, as to be totally unconscious of tb alarm that his disappearance created. H was at length discovered by his cap fallin from the branches. You may judge the n lief this discovery occasioned, as well as tb consternation attending his critical situatioi Dreading to awaken him, and dreading citi more his fall from the giddy height, they wei at a loss to know how to release him froi his perilous situation, when he allayed a fears by awaking, aud quietly descendinj was struck with indignant surprise at the anxiety. It has since been called "Print Hubert's tree, in memory of the exploit. Il branches sometimes making a sad requiem i winter nights against the windows of m room, I have occasionally petitioned for th privilege of lopping them; but uncle Hubei rejects the idea as a desecration of its royi charter, which it received in the moment < rejoicing over the lost found, that no 'braac should ever be removed from its body.' Bi the night is advancing, and Major Davie ai ticipates an early start in the morning," eai Ellen, rising." "And I have no doubt will enjoy an ea; ly rest, after this day's labors,' said Mr. Wi loughby. "Ring for lights, Ellen, and w will retire." "I cannot now thank you, sir," said Davii "for your promised aid. Indeed, my soldiei tongue is but little used to words of compl ment; but my sword at times discourses shar eloquence that I trust will ere long reac your ears in news of such moment, as to gra1 ify and encourage all who wish us and ou country well." "I trust so, indeed; I trust so," replie \xr:il LI ~L?1.: L;a ca/llt itir. tt uiuuguuy j ouomu^ iiio ouuij But do you not fear news of your contemplt ted gathering reaching Ferguson ? He coul soon scatter your little forces." "We have taken what precautions we coult but being obliged to recruit, it is impossibl to carry it on with entire secrecy; but :foi tunately for us, he is either so flushed wit success as to be intoxicated, or is wonderfnll obtuse or careless of danger." "Will not your check of to day alarm th enemy at the Waxhaws ? Is it not possibl to arouse them to a sense of immediate dai ger? "Scarcely, with me," replied the Majoi laughing. "They are so used to have m hanging like a wasp around them, that ten t one, they will look for me on the Pedee tc morrow. They have learnt it is useless to fo low me up. Oh ! no, I have no idea I wi alarm them, and I will be off in the mornin before they get their eyes open." "If your prudence, is a match for your coui age, and your coolness for your patriotism, no longer wonder at your success; but hei is Jerry with your light. You will wait fo an early breakfast in the morning ?" said Mi Willoughby, courteously. "I thank you, sir, but I must breakfast i camp. I will be off by three in the morning I would not wish you disturbed. Indeed feel more privileged to come when I can tak soldier's hours without interfering with fnno ily arrangements." "Well, as you please. I wish you all su< cess. Good night." "Good night," said the trooper. "I wil speak to Miss Ellen before I go." He eniei ed the parlor where Ellen was standing nea a table, arranging the lights. "I shall not see you in the morning, MU Ellen, but I want your wishes for success b< fore I leave; and I wish also to tell you hoi much I thank you for your activity in ou cause. I have been so long used to the roug times of a camp, that I forget how to modi late my speech to the gentle accents fit for lady's ear; yet perhaps I feel your kindnes more than those who have more cunning i; protestation. Will you accept a soldier' gratitude ?" She could not meet the earnest glance c those dark eyes; and the words, simple a they were, were burdened with a tone of ten derness that thrilled her inmost soul. He very excitement made her answer more cold lc than she whs aware. "The little I have done ia deserving of n thanks; and little as it was, was done for m; country." He did not answer, but stood in silence At length, feeling the continued silence op pressive, she raised her eyes to bid him gooi night. The mingled expression she couli not read, but she understood quite enough t see he was deeply wounded. "I understand, Miss Ellen," he said, bitter ly; "and while I thank you for your patriot ism, I could curse myself for my infatuation and bowing low, he left her. [to be continued.] . why were you so late, last night ?' "It wasn't so very; late only a quarter o twelve." "How dare you sit there and sa; that! I was awake when you came in, an< it was three o'clock. "Well, isn't three i quarter of twelve?" ad ^iswUatteottS fMfag.! Q- f ?; TWO FOOLS, THESE. 8 Q* It was just seven years ago that an extra- c ordinary scene occurred at Banbury. It was ? in the evening, and a couple were bringing in -r several pots of plants from the yard to save 1 88 them from the frost which the temperature 8 *1 outdoors threatened. While thus engaged ' a* one spoke, referring to i geraninm she had in ' b- her hand. rs "I wouldn't lose this one for a great deal, m as mother gave it to me." 7 f He looked at it ^ ? *j _ "Your mother gave it to you t Guess not; U1 I bought that piaot myseir." to "Why, its no such thing." t r" "I tell you I did," he added, speaking with 1 n? warmth. * "And I tell you you didn't," she assevera- f Q" ted. "Do you suppose I don't know what was given to me?'.' E is ?j)0 y0U suppose I dou't know what I ? ,? bought with my own money ?" * it y0U ^y y0U bought that geranium," J re she said, speaking very slowly, and with ,r white lips, "you say what you know to be [ f' false." 1 P* "Do you meau to say that I lie ?" he hissed. J "If you say that, I do." ' 1 )r "You shall be sorry for this," he threat- ? c" ened. ? 58 "Never," she retorted. * a" He put ou his bat and coat and left the . 8t house. Il* That was seven years ago. She never saw ' 3t him again or heard from him in all those ? d eeven years. What must have been the thoughts, the agony of mind endured by *j that wretched wife in that time no one knows, f " She kept her thoughts to herself, and patient- : ly, as far as outward appearance went, bore the burden put upon her. ; e- Recently her door opened and a man walk- v jj ed into her presence. There was a look, a J1 " cry, and she was in the arms of her husband, y What a happy home was that All the agony of seven long years was forgotten in that }> hour of reconciliation and reunion. A happy D 'c supper was spread, and with tears and smiles J ? she hovered about him, ministering to his J* every want .After supper there was a long c 8 talk of the past j; B? "It is so singular," she said, speaking in * V> one of her pauses, "that it should have hap- 8 kr pened as it did. I can scarcely comprehend *3 )" it all. It seems like an awful dream. We 8 both lost our tempers, and we both have suf- I 10 fered for it The miserable geranium ! Do fl 5s you know I can't bear to see one of those ' y plants ? I told mother to come and take it !e back, for I would not have it in sight r 6 "What!" he ejaculated, "do you still per- r 8 sist in saying that she gave it to you ?" 3' "Why, John, of course she did. Haven't 8 16 you got over that idea yet ?" 5 "No, I haven't," he persisted, his face 1 11 darkening. "I bought that geranium as sure r "e as I am a living man." c ?j She thought of his years of cruel desertion, 1 ^ of all he had caused her to suffer because of E ?? his obstinacy, and her heart hardened, and * Ir her face flushed. c :e "You are mean to say that when you know it is false." , ! n "It isn't false. It's heaven's truth." 1 J ' "It's no such thing; it's a mean contempt- e 16 ible lie." 11 ^ He jumped from his chair, seized his hat 4 on/1 nncf on/1 aVinf nllt nf thft VinilRP. like a } flash, and she never uttered a word in protest. . " She sat there with clenched hands, and white face, and let him go. 0 And so he is gone. And to-day she is u alone with the old burden and the old pain.? F Danbury New. 11 r- ? 1- A SIAMESE FABLE. J 6 A man chased by a tiger in a forest, one t night escaped by climbing a tree, in which t 5' lived a monkey and bis family. The monkey t r received the man kindly, and refused to ^ l' listen to the tiger, which advised him to fling 8 P him down while be slept. When the man *1 awoke the tiger retired, and the monkey went ? to sleep. Presently the tiger returned, and r recommended the man to throw the monkey , down. The man pondered awhile, then gave jj the monkey a push, and it fell into the tiger's a T' claws. Awakened by the shock and the c K pain, the monkey laughed aloud. 0 "Wherefore laughest thou, when I am a . clawing thy body ?" asked the astonished t| tiger. g 6 "Because thou thinkest thy claws are near n my heart, and thou art wrong," replied the n monkey. y "Where, then, is thy heart?" "At the end of my tail." e The tiger let go its hold, but before it ^ e could seize its victim's tail, the monkey ran l" up the tree and was saved. It knew who t< had pushed it over, but it uttered no angry r' word. e When the day dawned the tiger disappear- *i 0 ed, and the monkey went out to gather fruit e j" for its guest. During its absence the man kill- a lj ed its mate and all its little ones, intending a to take them home for his wife to cook; when ^ ^ the monkey came back with a throng of kins- ? folk, it found its home made desolate. Still _ " - - ' i m ? , P lT" it uttered no angry word, only onerea to a guide the man out of the forest. v e They set forth together, the man following ^ r the monkey. After a time the man struck ^ r* the monkey over the head so hard that the s blood gushed forth. _ ? "Why hast thou done this?" asked the q ^ monkey. ^ "Because I want flesh for my wife to cook," ' replied the man. 0 "But if thou hadst killed me," said the j , monkey, "who would have guided thee out t] of the forest? Now follow me at a distance ; c my blood drops will show thee the way. And a when thou art clear from the trees, then thou j, r* canst kill me without risk." j r The man did as he was counseled. When e they came near the forest verge, the monkev jj 8 stopped for the man to kill it. The man kill- t] 3" ed the monkey. But just as he was leaving a 7 the forest he tripped and fell, first into a hole, c ,r then headlong into hell. But no sooner was n the money dead than it was carried straight w into heaven. There, in a golden palace, it e, a was joined by all its dear ones whom the man a 13 had killed. ft I1 "But where is the man ?" asked the mon- n 8 key, with anxious sympathy. f "He is in hell," was the reply. "Your Highness must not think of him any a 3 more." w '* u r The F/eld of Yobktown.?Mr. Lob y Wolf, who runs the farm at Yorktown, Va., n on which Lord Cornwallis made his surrender g 0 of the British armv. the centennial of which tl P is approaching and expected to be celebrated a' on a grand scale, was asked as to what sort of tc an appearance the historic ground presented tl j at this day, he said: "The farm is on the si j edge of the town and comprises about two aj hundred and seventy acres of cleared land, ir 0 mostly used for raising vegetables. It formerly belonged to Dr. Fred Power, but it is now J in the possession of ray wife, to whom it was m ? left by her brother, Mr. Daniel Heyman. na The ground where Cornwallis actually hand- oi ed over his sword to Washington, was, for w many years, marked by four tall poplar trees, B but these were cut down for firewood in the ai " late war, not, however, without the precaution ei f being taken to plant a peach sapling in their ei 7 place, and this nas now grown up and stands sf 1 all alone in a wide meadow." "What relics fc ei are there of the surrender ?" "There are in hardly any. The monument that was put up w IT o commemorate the surrender, was aesiroyeu luring the rebellion, but the house which ormed the headquarters of Cornwallis is still tandine, and is used as a barn. The first tustom house built in the United States is also tandin? within the limits of the ground. Cornwall is' Cave is the name of a natural cu iosity on the farm. The ground is roiling, ind has traces, here and there, of the earthworks and fortifications thrown up in the late war.?Baltimore American. A Southern View of Negro Character.?It is out of the question for a negro to uccessfully grow corn; cotton is his forte. rVe believe that the Lord made'the darkey md mule in the same mould and transformed he sediments into Bermuda grass. One ain't vorth a cent without the other. The negro irects his mansion in the centre of a hot old ield, as far from water as possible, and a soliary sunflower furnishes all the shade and tdornment he wants. He is partial to mon;rel curs, and a pale yellow species, with the nange s.nd full of fleas, is his special delight. Ie will eat and enjoy any game from a highand terrapin to a polecat. He is fond of com>any and religiously returns every visit when lis friend gets a side of bacon. He is accomnodating, does not bear malice, is superstiious to the extreme, and is a devout member . if the church When its doctrines do not inerfere with his passions and desires. They lave no gratitude, and any man in whom hey have confidence can lead them through ire. The negro is timid, but not oowardly rhen once aroused. They are susceptible to aental improvement, but have no originality, rhe white man is their model. We have yet o see the first negro who don't love his dram. ?aken as a whole, we can but like the oldimed darkey. Like us all, he has his failDgs, but there are many good traits about lis character. The meanest negroes are those ?hich have white blood in their veins. The aulattoes are at the bottom of all serious dis urbances.? Oglethorpe (^ia.,J actio. ^ A Reliable Mae Wanted.?"A reliable aan wanted to take charge of a farm." "A eliable man wanted in a counting-house." A reliable man wanted to superintend a oil]." What a demand there is for reliable oen! Young women want them for hue?ands, fathers and mothers want them for ons in-law. People in very great trouble inquire anxiously for a reliable lawyer whom ney can consult; the sick want a reliable ihysician ; churches want a reliable man for i minister, although they do not advertise heir wants in a newspaper. There seems to be demands for reliable uen! Are reliable men so scarce that so nucb point is made of getting them ? We apprehend that they are not so plenty a they should be. Reliable architects and / ontractors and engineers are not to be found " n every place, or there would not be so many ailway and bridge accidents: cashiers and ither bank officers are not always reliable, or here would be no defalcations. The same uay be said of trustees or insurance officers, n truth, reliable men do not crowd one an>ther in any class or occupation. Young man; it is for you to determine whether you will be a reliable man or not. t all depends upon yourself. Nothing is osier; only resolve that you will be a reliable nan and af.ink /> it through everv temnta ion. Coffee in Typhoid Fever.?Dr. Guilasse of the French navy, in a recent paper m typhoid fever says: "Coffee has given us inhoped for satisfaction. After having dispensed it, we find, to our great surprise, that its ,ction is as prompt as it is decisive. No soonr have our patients taken a few tablespoonuls of it, than their features become relaxed nd they come to their senses. The next day he improvement is such that we are tempted 0 look upon the coffee as a specific against yphoid fever. Under its influence the stupor 1 dispelled and the patient rouses from the tate of somnolency in which he has been since he invasion of the disease. Soon all the unctions take their natural course, and he nters upon convalescence." Dr. Guilliasse ;ives to an adult two or three tablespoonfuls f strong black coffee every two or three hours, Iternated with one or two teaspoonfuls of laret or Burgundy wine. A little lemonade r citrate of magnesia, should be taken daily, nd .after a while quinine. From the fact hat malaise and cerebral symptoms appear rst, the doctor jegards typhoid fever as a ervous disease, and the coffee acting on the erves, is peculiarly indicated in the early tages before local complications arise. The Influence of Temper on Health. Vhile the excessive labor, exposure to wet nd cold, deprivation of sufficient quantiies of necessary and wholesome food, habit* al bad lodging, sloth and intemperance, are 11 deadly enemies to human life, none of hem are so bad as violent and ungovernd passions. Men and women have survived 11 the former, and at last have reached n extreme old age; but it may be safely oubted whether a single instance can be 3und of a man of violent hnd irrascible turner, habitually subject to storms of ungovernble passion, who has arrived at a very adanced period of life. It is therefore a matsr of the highest importance to every one esirous of preserving "a sound mind in a ound body" to have a special care amid all icissitudes and trials of life, to maintain a uiet possession of his own spirit. Three Classes of Men.?"Men," said ne of Theodore Winthrop's characters, "are ivided into three classes?them as grabs 1 ? 'i? -- -i L. .L.:. eir cDances, uiem as cuuckb away uicir hances, and tbem as lets their chances slide nd he might have added that each of the ist two classes largely outnumber the first. Joys are throwing away their chances in Jtfe very day by shirking and lazing and dawd!ng and deceiving; and they are "letting bem slide," through heedlessness, inattention, nd a fatal don't-care-ativeness. "I don't are," is one of the worst mottoes a boy, or a lan either, can have. It is the boys and men 'ho do care, and care rightly, who win. In very day, practical, material affairs, as truly b in spiritual things, it is they who are faithll over a few who are made rulers over lany. ? Good Language.?Young people should cquire the habit of correct speaking and riting, and abandon as early as possible any se of slang words and phrases. The longer ou put this off, the more difficult the acquirelent of correct language will be; and if the olden age of youth, the proper season for le acquisition of language, be passed in its buse, the unfortunate victim will be doomed > slang for life. You merely have to use ie language which you read, instead of the ang which you hear, to form a taste in greement with the best speakers and poets i the countrv. 19* How many of us know the beautiful leaning of husband and wife ? "Husband" leans the "band of the house," the support r it, the one that keeps it together. The ord "wife" means, literally, "a weaver." efore the great cotton and cloth factories rose, one of the principal employments in rery house was the fabrication of clothing? rery family made its own. . The. wool was >un into threads by the girls^^H^Mt thereire called spinsters; the thra>||a|^^oven ito cloth by their mother, whelSfcordingly as called the weaver, or wife.