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?^????^? ?? ,1 , ???????? ISSUED SEMI WBKKL^^ 1 . _ . . ? L.m. grists sons, Pnbiishen. j % ^amilg Dftcspaper: ^or the promotion of the goli'ical, Social, Agricultural ana Cotnmftrial Jntnests of the people. |TeRis^?^A^veAR^ADVAJicE. ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., TUESDAY, MARCH (tv1900. N~Q. 19. HORSE Si A Tale of the Revol Upper C By JOHN I*. CHAPTER XXIII. Showing How a Good Soldier Will Turn the Accidents of War to the Best Aocount. Ensign St. Jermyn In a Disagreeable Dilemma. Robinson having thus succeeded In his enterprise, now found himself in circumstances of peculiar perplexity In regard to the disposal of his prisoners. Here he was. In the neighborhood of the British posts?In a district of country of which the enemy might be said to have, at this moment, complete possession?(for Horse Shoe himself was almost the only belligerent in the field against them)?and more than that, he was but a few miles distant from a camp whose scouts had chased him almost to his present place of refuge. It was scarcely probable therefore, that he could hope to retain his cap- | tives long: under his control, or prevent the enemy from receiving: intelligence of the capture. He was, however, notwithstanding these embarrassments, as usual, cheerful, confident, and self-possessed. He had no wish or motive to detain the private soldiers as prisoners of war, and would at once have dismissed them, if he could have assured himself that they would not make the earliest use of their liberty to convey information of their misadventure to the first corps of loyalists they should meet, and thus get up a hot pursuit of him through the whole district. But he had cogent and most Important reasons for holding the ensign, St. Jtrmyn, in close custody. It occurred to him, that this officer might be used to control the procedure that should be adopted by those who meditated injury to Arthur Butler; and he therefore, at once formed the resolution of communicating with the nearest British authorities, in order to assure them that he would retaliate upon the ensign any pain that might be inflicted upon his late comrade. His plan was speedily formed? it was to keep his prisoners until nightfall, move off under cover of the darkness to some remote and concealed spot with St. Jermyn, and release the others, on their parole or pledge not to take up arms until regularly ex- j i;naii5cui Whilst the sergeant was deliberating over these arrangements, the prisoners were allowed to shelter themselves from the rain under a shed near the door of the dwelling, where Andrew, with ail the pride and Importance of his new station, marched to and fro. before them, like a trained sentinel. There was a small log building In the yard of Ramsay's mansion, which had been recently erected as a storehouse, and which being well secured at the door by a padlock, Robinson determined to convert for the nonce Into a prison. It contained but one room, not above twelve feet square, with an earthen floor, and received no light except such as was admitted under the door, and through a few crannies about the roof. Into this narrow apartment the soldiers were now marched; a bundle of straw was thrown upon the floor; sundry flitches of bacon, that hung upon the walls, were removed; and a few corpforts, In the way of food and drink yere supplied to render the accommodation as tolerable to the Inmates as was compatible with their safe custody. This being done, our friend Andrew was posted In the passage-way of the dwelling In full view of the door of the storehouse, which was carefully locked, with a musket In his hand, and with orders to make a circuit every five minutes round the little building, 10 guara against. aujr i attempts at escape by undermining the I foundation. As noon approached the weather began to clear up. and with the first breaking forth of the sun came David Ramsay, the proprietor of the farm which was the scene of the present operations. His recognition of Horse Shoe Robinson was accompanied by a hearty greeting, and with an expression of wonder that he should have ventured, In hostile guise, through a country so beset as this was by the forces of the enemy: but when he heard the narrative of the exploit of the morning, and saw the trophies of Its success In the weapons piled against the wall, and, more especially, when he received from the Hps of his wife a circumstantial account of the part which had been performed In this adventure by his son Andrew, his delight semed almost to be absorbed by his astonishment and Incredulity. The proofs, however, were all around him; and after assuring himself, by an actual inspection of the prisoners through one of the chinks of the storehouse, he came Into his own parlor, sat down, and laughed outright. Ramsay was a staunch friend of the independence of his country: and althsvi.oH ko koii nnt hupn iin in arms in the cause, he gaVe it all the aid he could by the free expression of opinion, and by a resolute refusal to comply with the requisitions of the royalists. His eldest son had joined Sump, ter. and had already been active in the field; and he himself looked, with an almost certain expectation, to see visited upon himself that proscription under which thousands were already suffering, and which he had only escaped as yet by the temporizing delays of his opponents, or by their neglect. arising out of the incessant hurry and pressure of their military operations in the organization of the newdominion which the royal forces had but lately acquired. He was a man of sturdy frame?now only in the prime of life?brave, thoughtful and intelligent, and firmly resolved to stand by his principles through whatever adverse chances. The present aspect of affairs was. to his mind, almost decisive of his fate; the capture of these prisoners, made from Information derived from his own family, and In which his own son had been a principal agent; their confinement, too, In his I0E " utionary Struggle In !arolina. I KENNEDY. own house, were facts of so unequivocal a character as Inevitably to draw upon him the prompt ire of the Tories, and compel him to assume the attitude and abide by the Issues of a partisan. As he had faith in the justice of his quarrel, and a strong devotion to the principles upon which it was sustained. he did not hesitate in the crisis before htm. but heroically determined to meet the worst that might befall. He, therefore, in the present emergency became a useful and efficient ally to Robinson, who opened to him the full history of Butler, and the course of measures he was about to pursue for the relief of that unfortunate officer. We must now leave the sergeant holding watch and ward over his vanquished foes, and shift our scene to Musgrove's mill. The family of Allen Musgrove were in a state of great disquietude. Ho.-se Shoe Robinson had disappeared before daylight; and when the miller and his nephew left their beds, a little after the dawn, the only intelligence tITey had had of the departure of their guest was inferred from finding the stable door open and the sergeant's horse absent. This fact was explained when Mary met them at breakfast. Horse Shoe had set out for Ramsay's to learn some tidings of John, and to en list him In an effort to liberate Butler. ' He had departed under cover of darkness to avoid molestation from Innls* scouts, and she, Mary Musgrove, had placed the key of the stable, the night before, In a place where Horse Shoe 1 might find It. Such was the extent of the maiden's Information. The day passed wearily upon her hand: she was anxious to hear something of Butler? something of Horse Shoe?a.id some- , thing, we suppose, of John Ramsay. Frequently during the morning she and , Christopher Shaw held secret conferences: they spoke In whispers; suspense, care, and doubt were pictured upon her face: and as the rain pattered against the windows she often- ' times stood before them and looked out upon the distant road, and across the wide fields, and then upwards to the clouded sky. The sun at length appeared. and his rays seemed to shoot a glimpse of joy Into the breast of the J maiden, as she walked forth to note., the drying of the roads, and to see the clear blue, which. In that climate, out- J vies the mellow and rich tints of a ( Tuscan heaven. The day waxed, and the birds sang, and nature was gay, but the maiden ^ was restless and unquiet; the day waned, and the sun rode downwards on the western s'.ope In gorgeous beauty; but Mary was 111 at ease, and thought little of the grand and glorious flrmament. Her communings with Christopher Shaw, meantime, became more eager: she and her cousin were seen to wander towards the mill; then Christopher left her, an<J presently, he might be discovered leading two horses, one bearing a side-saddle, down to the margin of the stream. There was a short visit to the house by the young man?a woru wnispereu 111 me cm >? the mother?a shake of her head, an . expression of do.ubt, a final nod of assent?and, in the next moment, Mary , and Christopher were seen trotting off on horseback, on the road that led towards Ramsay's. When they had ridden some two or three miles, and had entered upon the high road between Ninety-Six and Blackstock's?somewhere near to that piece of haunted ground, where, on the morning of this very day, a goblin had struck down James Curry from his steed?they described a military party of horse and foot slowly advancing ^ from the direction to which they were traveling. In a few moments they met the first platoon of the cavalry, headed by trumpeter and the unsightly Captain Hugh Habershaw They were detained at the head of this column, whilst some questions were asked respecting the object of their journey, the troops In their neighborhood and other matters connected with the affairs of the times. Christopher's answers were prompt and satisfactory; he was only riding with his kinswoman on a visit to a neighbor: Innis' camp was not above two miles and a half away, and the country in general was quiet, as far as he had the means of knowing. The travelers were now suffered to pass on In succession, they left behind them each platoon of threes, and then encountfred the small column of march of the infantry. Mary grew pale as her eyes fell upon the form of Arthur But. ler. posted in the centre of a guard. Her feelings lest he might not recognize her features, and guess something q 1 maot nvprnnwf'rwl hor. She reined up her horse, as if to gratify an idle curiosity to see the soldiers passing, and halted in a position which compelled the ranks to file off, 'r> order to obtain a free passage round her. Every look seemed to be turned upon her as the escort marched near her horse's head, and it was Impossible to make the slightest sign to Butler without being observed. She saw him, however, lift his eyes to hers, and she distinctly perceived the flash of surprise with which it was kindled as he became aware of her features. A faint and transient smile, which had in it nothing but pain, was the only return she dared to make. An order from the van quickened the march: and the detachment moved rapidly by. As Mary still occupied the ground on which she had halted and was gazing after the retreatiner corns, she saw Butler turn his face back towards her; she seized the moment to nod to him and to make I a quick sign with her hand, which she | intended should indicate the fact that I she was now engaged in his service. She thought she perceived a response in a slight motion of Butler's head, and now resumed her journey, greatly excited by the satisfaction of having, in | this accidental encounter, obtained even this brief Insight Into the con- v ditlon of the prisoner. h The sun was set, when with her con- F voy, Christopher Shaw, arrived at n Ramsay's. Always an acceptable guest n at this house, she was now more than ever welcome. There was business to r be done In which she could discharge a a most Important part, and the service tl of Christopher Shaw In re-lnforclng the E garrison was of the greatest moment, a When the Intelligence regarding the ri movement of Butler to Innls' camp e was communicated to the sergeant, It p suggested a new device to his mind, 11< which he determined Instantly to a adopt. Butler was at this moment, he si concluded, lnthe hands of those who v had engaged the ruffians to set upon o him at Grindall's ford, and it was not y improbable that he would be summarily dealt with; there was no time there- e; fore, to be lost. The sergeant's plan, p in this new junction, was, to compel h the young ensign to address a letter to the British commandant, to Inform g that officer of his present imprison- y ment. and to add to this information ai the determination of his captors to put ir him to death, in the event of any outrage being inflicted upon Butler. This ir scheme was communicated to Ramsay, It Shaw and Mary. The letter was to be rr immediately written; Mary was to h return with It to the mill, and was to h contrive to have it secretly delivered, tl in the morning, at Innls* headquarters; 01 and David Ramsay himself was to es- pi cort the maiden back to her father's hi house, whilst Shaw was to attend the R sergeant and assist him to transport the young ensign to some fit place of H concealment. The private soldiers fr were to remain prisoners, under the guard of Andrew, until his father's return, when they were to be released H on paro'e as prisoners of war. c< The plan being thus matured, Rob- rr lnson went forthwith to the prison- ol house, and directed Ensign St. Jermyn m to rouow mm into tne uweuing. wnen n the young: officer arrived In the family tl parlor, he was ordered to take a chair b< near a table, upon which was placed tt a light, some paper, pen and Ink. ei "Young man." said Robinson, "take hi up that pen and write as I bid you." A "To what end am I to write? I st must know the purpose you design to tt answer, before I can put my hand to hi paper." b< "To the end." replied Horse Shoe 11 firmly, and with unwonted gravity, "of the settlement of your worldly affairs w If the consarns of tomorrow should bring ill luck to a friend of mine." pi "I do not understand you sir. If my p< 'Ife Is threatened to accomplish an un- pi righteous purpose, It is my duty to tell Je you at once, that that life belongs to ei my king; and if his interests are to suffer by any forced act of mine I am m willing to resign It at once." aj "Never was purpose more righteous gi sir In the view of God and man, than H ours," said David Ramsay. w "I have a friend," added Horse Shoe, re greatly excited as he spoke, "who has th been foully dealt by. Some of your w Fn'lsted gangs have laid an ambusoade fl to trap him; villainy has been used by cl them that ought to be ashamed to see hi It thriving under their colors, to catch a< i gentleman who was only doing the fi :ommon duties of a good sodger; and by mean bush-flghting, hot by fair h< fields and nonest diows?mey nave 10 seized him and carried him to the camp ju 3f that blood-sucking Tory, Colonel In- fc nls. I doubt more harm Is meant him w than falls to the share of a common hi prisoner or war." !a "I know nothing of the person, nor cl Df the circumstances you speak about," rc said the ensign. pi "So much the better for you," replied n< the sergeant. "If your people are e? brave sodgers or honest men, you will fc not have much occasion to be afeard th for yourself; but, by my right hand! If so much as one hair of Major Arthur w Butler's head be hurt by Colonel Innis, or by any other man among your pll- ef laging and brandishing bullies, I myself will drive a bullet through from st one of your ears to the other. This hi game of war is a stiff game, young man, but we will play it out." st "Major Arthur Butler," exclaimed et the officer, with astonishment, "Is he tl taken?" a< "Ha! you've hearn of him, and know w something, mayhap, of them that were 111 on the look out for him?" vl "I cannot write," said the officer sul- n< lenly. m "No words, sir," Interrupted Horse la Shoe, "but obey my orders; write what tc i tell vou. or take vour choice. I dl will bind you hand and foot to a tree w on yonder mountain, to starve till you w write that letter; or to feed the wild cl vermin with your body, if you refuse." h The ensign looked into Robinson's face, where a frown of stern resolution o' brooded upon his brow, and a kindling ai tempest of anger showed that this was tl not a moment to hazard the trial of his clemency. ai "What would you have the purport R of my letter?" asked the officer, in a hi subdued voice. "That you have got into the hands S of the Whigs," replied the sergeant; a "and that if so be any mischief should tl fall upon Major Butler, by the contrlv- I ings of your friends, you die the first gi minute that we hear of it." oi "I have had no hand in the taking h of Major Butler," said the young St. n Jermyn. s< "I am glad of it," answered Robin- li son, "for your sake. You will die with h a better conscience. If you had a lc hand in it, young man, I wouldn't ask b you to write a line to any breathing b man: your brains would spatter that ss door-post. Take up the pen and write. It or stand by the consequences." ci The officer took up the pen, then, k hesitating a moment, flung it down, f( saying: si "I will not write; do with me as you I choose." i! "The young man drives me to it, n against my own nature," said Robin- J son speaking under strong excitement, k "If he will not pen that letter, then, v David Ramsay, you will write to Innis, tl in my name, and say Galbraith Robin- I son has got the ensign where no Tory si foot will ever follow him, and holds n him to answer the first mischief that tl is done to Arthur Butler. But. I a swear to this sulky boy, that if that tl letter goes to Innis for want of a bet- p ter, as I am a man and a sodger, he will never taste food or water till I a hear that Major Butler is free. He k shall starve in the mountain." t< "Oh. Ood! oh. God!" ejaculated the young soldier, in bitterness of heart; S and covering his face with his hands, b he threw his head upon the table, a rhere he wept tears of agony. At t mgth looking, in the countenance of I Loblnson, he said "I am young, sir? c ot above twenty years. I have a h lother and sister in England." t "We have no time to spare," Inter- c upted Robinson, "much less to talk c bout kinsfolk. Major Butler has them nat love nis lire Deuer man e er an i Inglish woman loves her son. If they 1 re brought to grief by this onnatural 1 ascallty, It matters nothing to me If y very daughter and sister In England lnes away of heart-sickness, for the e >ss of them they love best. Take my s dvice, my lack-beard," added Robin- r on, patting him on the shoulder, "and o rite the letter. You have the chances o f war in your favor, and may save e our neck." "I will do your bidding, sir," said the nsign, after a pause, "under the comulsion of force. I agree to write," and e once more took up the pen. "You speak now like a reasonable e entleman." said Horse Shoe. "I pity c ou, friend, and will preserve you li gainst harm, so far as It can be done p i the circumstances of the case." o The ensign then wrote a few lines, a i which he communicated to Colonel p mis, or to whatever officer his letter n light be delivered, the straits In which a e found himself, and the resolution of tl Is captors to hold his life forfeit upon p le event of any rigors, beyond those o r an ordinary prisoner of war, 1m- e osed upon Major Butler. When he f< ad finished, he gave the paper to tl oblnson. a "Read It aloud, Mr. Ramsay," said tl [orse Shoe delivering the scrawl to his h lend. ii Ramsay read what was written. ti "It must be wrote over again," said a lorse Shoe, after he had heard the v intents. "First, It must make no n icntinn nf his helnc- onlv a few miles i> T: that must be left out. Secondly, e iy name needn't be told; though If the a inagates knowed he was In my hands, E iey wouldn't think his chance any p ptter on that account. Let him say a rnt the Whigs have got him?that's ei lough. And, lastly, he must write fi Is own name In full at the bottom. 1' nd, look you. young man, don't be a rawllng out the lines in such a way ei rnt your own hand-write moughtn't & J known. That must speak for itself, H ?cause upon this letter depends yourW fe. You understand?" w "Give it to me," said the ensign; "I tl ill write It as you desire." And again the unfortunate officer ap- w lied himself to the task that was im- S Dsed upon him; and in a short time a roduced a letter, which, being sub- ii cted to the criticism of the bystand- d s was pronounced satisfactory. a As soon as this was done, St. Jer- tl iyn was conducted into another E partment, and there confided to the 11 uardlanshlp of Christopher Shaw, w lorse Shoe now took a light and the n riting materials from the table, and tl 'paired with David Ramsay?both of fi lem well armed?to the storehouse, n here the other prisoners were con- tl ned. After they had entered and tl osed the door, posting Andrew with Is musket on the outside, Horse Shoe tl Idressed the men in a gay and cheer- o: il tone,? 01 "Come, my lads, as you are good, U anest fellows, that can have no great tl ve for these little country cabins, w idging by your bad luck and oncom- v irtable circumstances in that one tr here I found you this morning, I g ive come to set you free. By the p ws of war you have the right, if I lc loose to take it, to give me your pa- w >le. So now. if you have a mind to a romise me, on the honor of sodgers, ci Jt to sarve again until you are fairly It tchanged, you shall all leave this be- U ire daybreak. What do you say to n le terms?" s< "We are all agreed," replied the men, si ith one accord. fi "Then write out something to that v Tect," said the sergeant to Ramsay, tl fou that can't scratch like scholards, it ick your marks to the paper?d'ye si ?ar?" si The parole was written out by Ram- t< iy, and duly signed or marked by If ich of the four men. This being done, It le sergeant Informed them that, ex- ei itly at three in the morning, the door ould be opened, and they would be at h berty to go where they pleased, pro- ii Ided they pledged themselves to visit o o post of the enemy within twenty h dies, nor communicate any particu- tl rs relating their capture or detention w > any British or Tory officer or sol- o ler, within seven days. This pledge q as cheerfully given, and after a few a ords of jocular good-nature were exlanged on both sides, Horse Shoe and h Is companion retired. tl David Ramsay now ordered out his si kvn and Mary Musgrove's horses with a n intention to set our immediately for o le mill. tl "Does Major Butler know that you Ji re in his neighborhood?" inquired h amsay of the sergeant, before the T orses were brought to the door. If "Oh, bless you, yes." replied Horse p hoe. "I left word for him yesterday tl t Blackstock's by giving the babblers c tere something to talk about, which p knew he would hear." And the ser- c eant went on to relate the particulars il f his stop at that post: "And I sent e: 1m a message," continued he, "this p lornlng, by James Curry in the same c irt of fashion. A little before day- p ght. I heard the devil singing one of e is staves upon the road back here, so g <ud that he seemed to be frightened y y ghosts or sperits; so I rode up fast d ehlnd him. and cuffed him out of his a iddle, and then away I went like a o >ather-winged bat. I knowed the a urmudgeon's voice, and I expect he ti nowed my hand, for he has felt it be- ij >re. I'll be bound, he made a good tory out of it; and. as such things fly. o mnke no doubt it wasn't long reach- a tg the ear of the major, who would ]| aturally think it was me. whether a antes told my name or not, because he v nows my way. It was as good as a rlting a letter to the major to signify h fiat I was lurking about, close at hand, a never went to school, Mr. Ramsay, p o I write my letters by making my v tark. I can make a blow go further r fian a word upon occasion, and that's n n old-fashioned way of telling your d fioughts, that was found out before h en and Ink." "Well, Horse Shoe, you are a man h 4 " Dnmuo v iter your own sun, repneu mghlng. "Come Mary, take the let- c ?r; our horses are at the door." d "Good bye t'ye, David," said Horse t hoe, shaking Ramsay's hand; "It may c e some days before we see each other h gain. Kit and me will be off with E his young ensign before you get back, c )on't forget the prisoners at three I 'clock. And a word, David?where ? lad we best take this young sparrow, r he ensign, to keep him out of the way h if these fellows that are scouring the h ountry?" r "Leave that to Christopher Shaw," c eplled Ramsay; "he knows every nook j r? tho prmntrif Ca nnnr fplonH Rnh- I nson, good night, and luck go with s 'ou!" c It was a clear starlight night, and e very tree and pool sent forth a thou- t and notes from the busy Insects and eptlles that animate the summer hours a f darkness, when David Ramsay set v, >ut with Mary Musgrovc for her fath- n r's house. r v t CHAPTER XXIV. n New Difficulties Open Upon Butler, o With the last notes of the revejle v verythlng was stirring In Innls* b amp. It was a beautiful, fresh mornDg: a cool breeze swept across the C ilaln, and each spray and every blade f grass sparkled with the dew: whilst s bove an unclouded firmament gave b rortilse of a rich and brilliant mldsum- c ler's day. The surrounding forest was t; live with the twittering of birds; and a he neighing of horses showed that this F ortlon of the animal creation partook f the hilarity of the season. From very little shed or woodland lair, crept a orth parties of soldiers, who betook t hernselves to their several posts to ^ nswer at the roll-call; and by the b Ime' the sun had risen officers, on a orseback and on foot, were seen mov- b ig ihurriedly across the open plain, t ? join the groups of Infantry and cavlrv?x which were now formlnsr In b arbua quarters for the purpose of th^ J1 lorplng drill. Companies were seen r i potion, passing through the rapid n volutions of the march, the retreat, h nd the many exercises of service, h (rums were beating, and fifes were I lerclng the air with their high notes, y nd ever and anon, the trumpet bray- c d from the further extremities of the r eld. Picket-guards were seen muster- v ig on the edge of the camp?wearied ' nd . night-worn; salutes were ex- a hanged by the small detachments 011 n prylce; and here and there, sentinels c til ht be descried, stationed at the V ev ?ral outlets of the plain, and preec ling their arms as an officer passed tl le r lines. A 1 he troops that occupied this space a ere mostly of the Irregular kind, a ome were distinguished by Ill-fitted I nd homely uniforms: others were clad a 1 the common dress of the country, istingulshed as soldiers only by their '< rms and accoutrements; but amongst tl iem was also a considerable party of P trltlsh regulars clad in the national d very of scarlet. Amongst the officers, y 'ho were In command of the subordl- y ate departments of this mixed and par- e -colored little army, were several who, a om their costume, might be re cog- a lzed as belonging to the regiments a Hit had come from the other side of fl A Atlantic. a ^Jolonel Innls himself was seen upon d fie parade, directing the movements b f divisions that, under their proper c fflcers, were practising the customary a ssons of discipline. He was a tall. a iln man, of an emaciated complexion, v lth a countenance of thoughtful se- a erity. A keen black eye seemed al- >' lost to burn within Its orb, and to b Ive an expression of petulant and '' eevlsh excitability, like the queru- h tusness of a sick man. A rather awk- h ard and ungainly pegson, arrayed In scarlet uniform that did but little redlt to the tailor-craft employed In P s fabrication conveyed to the spec- o itor the Idea of a man unused to the a ride of appearance that belongs to a h nldler of profession; and would have n aggested the conclusion, which the c ict Itself sustained, that the lndl- b Idual before him had but recently left y le walks of civil life to assume a mil- 8 ary office. His demeanor, however, ti tiowed him to be a zealous If not a w kll'ful officer. He gave close attention G i the duties of his command, and bus- a d himself with scrupulous exact- v ude In enforcing the observance nec- n usary to a rigorous system of tactics, d This officer, as we have before Inted, had been an active participator 8 i the procedlngs of the new court t f sequestrations at Charleston; and a ad rendered himself conspicuous by a le fierce and unsparing Industry with n hich lie had brought to the Judgment t f that tribunal, the Imputed delln- a uences of some of the most opulent a nd patriotic citizens of the province. a Amongst the cases upon which he v ad bee n called upon consultation was k fiat of Arthur Butler, whose posses- f Ions being ample, and whose position, o s a rebellious belligerent, being one b f "flagrant delict," there was but lit- t e repugnance, on tne part or tne t Jdges and their adviser, to subject q im to the severest law of confiscation, t he proceedings, however, had been de- t lyed not from any tenderness to the e roprietor, but, as it was whispered i.i he scandal of the day, on account of t ertain dissensions, amongst a few a romlnent servants of the British c rown. as to which of them the priv- ege of a cheap purchase should be \ xtended. The matter was still in susense, with a view (as that busybody, o ommon rumor, alleged) to reward a s articular favorite of the higher powrs with the rich guerdon of these a ood lands, in compensation for priate and valuable secret services, ren- v ered In a matter of great delicacy o nd hazard?no less a service than that t f seducing into the arena of politics nd intrigue, an opulent and author!- b itive gentleman of Virginia Mr. Phil- " ? Lindsay. c In consequence of the odious nature t f the duty which Colonel Innis had ssumed to perform, he became pecu- J arly hateful to the Whigs; ana mis n entlment was in no degTee abated u chen, relinquishing his occupation as d counsellor to the court at Charleston, r e accepted a commission to command n partisan corps of royalists in the uper county. He was, at the juncture in " rhlch I have exhibited him to my r eader, new in his command, and had c ot yet "flashed his maiden sword;" the c ay, however, was near at hand when o is prowess was to be put to the proof, t Such was the person into whose r ands Arthur Butler had now fallen. t After the morning exercises of the s amp were finished, and the men were ti ismissed to prepare their first repast, t he principal officers returned to the e olonel's headquarters in the farmouse, where, it will be remembered, f lutler had been delivered by the es- c ort that had conducted him from 3lackstock'a. The prisoner had slept loundly during the whole night; and low. as the breakfast hour drew nigh le had scarcely awakened and put on lis clothes, before he heard an Inquiry, nade by some one below, of the orderly ?n duty, whether the Whig officer was ret in a condition to be visited; and, n the next moment the noise of footiteps, ascending the stairs towards the hamber, prepared him to expect the ntrance of the person who had asked he question. A British officer, in full uniform, of i graceful and easy carriage, neat flgire. and of a countenance that bespoke in Intelligent and cultivated mind, nade his abearance at the door. He eaa apparently of five or six and thiry years of age; and whllat he paused i moment, as with a purpose to apologize for the seeming Intrusion Butler ma struck with the air of refined reeding of the Individual before him. "Major Butler, I understand, of the Continental army?" said the stranger. The unpleasant nature of the clrcumtancfs in which you are placed, I tope will excuse the trespass I have ommltted upon your privacy. Capain St. Jermyn, of his Majesty's army, nd lately an aide-de-camp of Lord tawdon." Butler bowed coldly, as he replied,? "To meet a gentleman, as your rank nd name both Import, Is a privilege i hat has not been allowed me of late. Vithout knowing wherefore, I have een waylaid and outraged by bravoes nd ruffians. You. perhaps, sir, may ie able to afford me some insight Into he causes of this maltreatment." "Even If it were proper for me to < old discourse with you on such asubpct, I could only speak from common eport." replied the officer. "I know othlng of your seizure, except that, i y the common chances of war, you ave fallen Into the hands of the rulig authorities of the province, and ou will, doubtless, as a soldier, apprelate my . motives for declining any eference to the circumstances In ,-hich you have been found. My visit t stimulated by other considerations, i mongst which Is foremost a desire to i litigate the peculiarly uncomfortable > aptlvlty to which 1 am sorry to learn ou have bten subjected." i "I thank you" replied Butler, "for he Intention with which your good ofccs are profTered: but you can render fie no service that I should value so luch as that of Informing me why i have been brought hither, at whose uegestion, and for what purpose." "I will be plain with you, Major But- < ?r. Your situation demands sympahy. however Inexorably the present osture of our affairs may require the ecrees of stern Justice, In respect to ourself. to be executed. I feel for 1 ou. and would gladly aid you to any xtent which my duty might allow, In 1 verting the possible calamity that ray hang over you. You are known as gentleman of consideration and In- ' luence In the colonies. I may further i dd. as a brave and venturesome sol- i Jer, You are believed to have more 1 oldly than wisely, enterprlsed the acompllshment of certain schemes gainst the safety of his majesty's i cknowledged government In this pro- < lnce: besides having committed other 1 cts in violation of a faith plighted for ou by those who had full authority to lnd you, thus bringing yourself with- 1 n the peralties appropriate to the vloitlon of a military parole If not with, i those of treason itself." "He lies in his throat," cried Butler, who charges me with forfeiture of lighted word or honor, In any action , f my life. That I have arrayed myself gainst what you are pleased to term Is majesty's acknowledged governlent In this province, I am proud to onfess, here In the midst of your ands, and will confess It again at our judgment seat: but If aught be aid against me that shall be intended o attaint my honor as a gentleman, I 'ill. In the same presence and before Sod, throw the lie in the teeth of my ccuser. Aye, and ma-".e good my ,-ord now or hereafter, vheresoever It lay be allowed me to meet the slanerer." "I do not condemn your warmth," aid St. Jermyn, calmly, "In a matter hat so deeply stirs your self-esteem: nd only desire now to second It In 11 things wherein an honorable enemy lay claim the support of those who hemselves value a good name. The uthorities at this post have considertely resolved to g've you the benefit of court of iiqulry. And I hope you vl'l take It as It was meant, In all indness to you. that I have come, beore the communication of an official rdc r. to apprise you that charges will e duly exhibited against you. and a rial be instantly had. If you will acept of my services, feeble and Inadeuate as they may be. I would gladl> ender them to afford you such faclll- , les as the pressure of the present mergency may allow." , 'To be tried! when and' for what? If he charge is that I carry an open war gainst those v. ho are in the habit of ailing me and my compatriots rebels -I am ready to confess the charge. Vhat need of court or trial?" "There are graver and more serious ffences than that imputed to you," a Id St. Jermyn. "When am I to be informed of them, nd to what do they tend?" "You will hear them this morning; rhen, I am sorry to add, the nature of ur military operations also enforces he necessity of your trial." "You can be of little service, if that e true," returned Butler, thoughtfully. My cause can only be defended by my ountry. long after I am made the vicim of this unrighteous procedure." "There Is one alternative," said St. ermyn, with some hesitation In his nanner "which a mature deliberation ipon your relation as a subject?parIon me. for I do not deem this ill-timed ehelllon to have obliterated them? nay present to your mind." "Speak it." said Butler, vehemently; speak out the base thought that Is ising to your lips, if you dare. Prismer as I am, I will avenge the insult in the spot with the certainty of loss f life. The alternative you suggest, is o dishonor me and all who are dear to ne by the foul opprobrium of treason o my country. You would have me, I uppose, renounce the cause to wmcn 1 lave dedicated my life, and take sheler with the recreants that have crowdd under the banner of St. George?" "Hold! remember, sir. that you area risoner," said St. Jermyn, with great oolness; and then after a pause, he added with a sigh; "I will not wound, by further converse, the exaggerated and delusive sense of honor which Is too fatally predominant In your breast, and as I have found It, In the breast of many of your misguided countrymen. I came to serve you. not to excite your feelings; but I will now, even In your displeasure, serve you as far as the occasion may afford me means; I pray you, call on me without reserve. For the present, believe me, in pain and sorrow I take my leave." With these words the officer retired. Rut'er paced to and fro through his narrow chamber for some minutes,'as his nilnd revolved the extraordinary and unexpected disclosures which had been made to him In this short visit. A thousand conjectures rose Into his thoughts as to the nature of the sup-' posed charges that were to be brought against him. He minutely retraced all the incidents of his late adventures, to ascertain how it was possible to found upon them an accusation of violated faith or to pervert them into an Imputation of treason against the present doubtful and disputed authority of the self-styled conquerers of Carolina. If his attempt to Join Clark was treason, It could be no less treason In the followers of Gates to array themselves against the royal army: and. that every prisoner hereafter taken In battle was to be deemed a traitor to the contested power of Cornwallis, seemed to be a pretension too absurd for the most Inveterate partisans to assert. There was nothing in this review of his actions that the most Ingenious malice could pervert Into an offence punishable by the laws of war, by other rigor than such as might be Inflicted upon an ordinary prisoner taken in arms. Still, there were unhappy doubts of some secret treachery that rose to his reflections; the perfidy of Adair, manifestly the effect of a bribe; the ambuscade promoted and managed by James Curry; the bloody purpose of the brutal gang who captured him, frustrated only by the accidental fray In which Blake was wounded. Then the "doubtful glvlngs out." which fell from the lips of some of the soldiers at Blackstock's, of his case still bring one of life and death; the insinuation of the 'savage Habershaw at the same place, conveyed in the thrfat of twisted hemp; the knowledge which his present keepers affected to have of his rank and consequence, of his past life and present aims; and, above nil, his being brought for Immediate trial, in a matter affecting his life, before the very man, now in the capacity of a military commander, who had heretofore been active in promoting the design of confiscating his estate. All these considerations, although unconnected with any circumstances of specific offence within his knowledge, led him into the most anxious and melancholy forebodings as to the result of this day's proceedings. "I am doomed to fall," he said, "under some secret stroke of vengeance, and my country is to have in my case another stirring appeal against the enormity of that iron rule that seeks to how her head into the dust. So be it! This issue is in the hand of God, and my fate may turn to the account of the establishment of a nation's liberty. Oh, Mildred. I tremble to think of thee! Heaven grant, my girl, that thy fortitude may triumph over the martyrdom of him that loves thee better than his life!" TO BE CONTINUED. THE ONE ACCIDENT CAME. "It Never Happens to a Shooter But Once," Said Jimmie O'Hare. When Jimmie O'Hare was blown into fragments at Chelsea one day last wefk by the explosion of a wagon load of nitroglycerine a prophecy was ful filled that was first made more man twenty years ago and was reiterated times without number In every oil district In the country. For Jlmmle had worked In every district In the country where the chug of the oil drill has been h<ard. and in his life he handled enough explosives to have destroyed Port Arthur several times. Daily he lived in close association with hundreds of gallons of nltrog'ycerine, and it was a common sight in the oil country to see him rattling over the hills 01 the seat of a wagon loaded with the deadly explosive. "He will get it some day." the boys in the Pennsylvania oil fields began saying more than twenty years ago, and have repeated it everywhere Jlmmle went. But all these years Jimmie laughed at the prophecies and laughing, would load up his wagon and rattle out Into the country to shoot a well, taking with him -from one to two hundred quarts of nitroglycerine. But the trite adage of the pitcher tells the story of Jimmit's end. As is usually the case in such accidents, nobody knows or ever will know how it happened. There was an explosion that shook the country for miles around and when an investigation was made there was little to be found except a wide, deep hole in the ground. The man who was killed often told of incidents that illustrated the freaklshness of the explosive he handled, and it may have been some freak that cost him his life. Jimmie used to tell of the runaway in the streets of Bradford, Pa., when a team dragged a glycerine wagon the whole length of a street, the cans ricochetting arouna !lke billiard balls, and no explosion occurred. Then of another case which occurred In the old days, when the glycerine box was located right over the springs of the wagon. There was a leaky can and three drops falling on the springs caused the loss of two lives. He told of still another case where a shooter on a spree hurled bottles of glycerine against a rock. All of the bottles broke, but not one exploded. He would close with his story of that singular occurrence which took place in Chanute last spring, when a glycerine magazine caught fire and was entirely burned without exploding. And then he would say "It's the friction, and that's what I'm always looking out for." Maybe Jlmmie forgot the friction for once. Jlmmie had certain rules he observed when handling nitroglycerine. One ?Kilo a laonaol n T Arnlnsl VPS he said "A man had better quit this business when he loses his nerve. It Is Just like handling a nettle. Take hold of it and take hold strong. A nervous or panicky fellow had better stay away from glycerine, because something will happen, and It never happens to a shooter but once." Jlmmie was known to nearly every oil man In New York, Pennslyvanla. Indiana, Ohio, Kansas and California. ?Cherryvale C05. Kansas City Star. ittiscrllanous :Hfadiufl. ZULU ALLIES. Not That Thay Loved Englishmen, But Hated the Boera. While waiting for Gen. Buller to begin his advance toward the Tugela river I learned that the arrival of oniy one more aetatcnment was needed to complete the efficiency of the army. One afternoon I waa returning to camp after a long ride when I *aw a cloud of duet rolling across the veldt In such volume aa to Indicate the approach of a compact mass of men or teams. Aa It was coming from the south?opposite to the front facing the enemy?I rode some distance beyond the camp to meet this column. Pulling up to windward of the dense dust cloud raised by the newcomers. I saw six companies of men advancing at an easy Jog trot. There were about fifty In each line, keeping a fairly regular front and a regular Interval between the companies. I recognized the men as Zulus, but I could not comprehend why they were advancing in apparently threatening fashion upon the camp of the British troops, one company of which could have killed them all In two minutes. The weather was very warm, and the clothing worn by most of the Zulus was limited to a pair of dilapidated trousers. Some of them, however, were prouldy loping along dressed In heavy overcoats, cutaways and even an-occasional Prince Albert coat. The company leaders were old men, and they seemed to emphasize their position by wearing as many antique and ragged garments as they could get on. Naturally they felt the heat more than the rank and file, but they seemed to glory In the privilege of shedding their sweat liberally at the head of their respective impis. Most of the men carried stout knobkerrles; which they swung about their heads as they trotted along. An impl In the halcyon days of the Zulus contained 3,000 men, so my man, Aleck, told me; but each of these companies, he said, had formerly belonged to a separate impi, and they still retained the skeleton of the organization that had been so powerful in the past. As each company passed me it set up a chant or cry distinctively its own. Knowing nothing of the language. I was of course unable to distinguish the words they used, but I noticed that each impl had Its individual time and manner of uttering its cries. The first one howled long and loud, the men swaying their bodies from side to side and waving their knobkerrles in a vertical halfcircle from left to right and back again. It was a miracle they did not crack each other's heads with these heavy clubs. The second impi was led by a Methuselah dressed in a silk hat and well ventilated water-proof coat. He shouted several syllables staccato and his men repeated them when he paused to catch his breath. The third impi wailed a lot of high-pitched cries like the notes thrown out of a seagoing steamship's siren. It was apparent that all these men had worked themselves up to a state of nervous tension in which they were not wholly aware of what they were doing. When I noted the expression on the faces of many of them I should not have been surprised to see them attack the British soldiers who began to throng about the line of their advances as they entered the crowded camp. Their wicked-looking knobkerrles would have been terrible weapons in a hand-to-hand fight. However, though it was certain that they had no love for the white soldiers, they held their course through the camp peaceably and f.nally squatted on a low piece of ground on the bank of the Blauwkraantz river, where they howled and chanted nearly all night. Aleck interpreted to me the character of their songs and explained the reason why these natives?all of the unmixed Zulu blood?had come to the-camp of their British conquerors in time of war and on the eve of an important battle. The nature of the country through which the fighting was to be done was such, that if the Boers should maJce a stubborn resistance the fighting force would have Its hands full 'without looking after its wounded, and these Zulus were to bring in and transport the dead and wounded of the British army. Now, the Zulus have no love for the British, and against any other foe they would have hardly been persuaded to help the red-coated white men; but they hated the Boers with a hatred that had endured since the earliest days of their Intercourse with whites of any nationality. 'Way back In 1835, after the Zulus had killed many of the Boers., there was a final battle In which the native ruler, King Blngaan, led his lmpls to what he hoped would be the annihilation of the whites; -but, having made a miscalculation of his own strength and that of his ene^ . mles, It was the Zulu king who was annihilated with most of his followers. Consequently the 16th day of December Is known In South Africa as Dingaan's day, and It is an anniversary of rage and sorrow for the Zulu people. Subsequent llltreatment of the Zulus by the Boers had kept alive the bitterness of the former, so that when they learned that Gen. Buller was about to move against the Boer army It was easy to secure the services of these 300 descendants of the Dingaan's day survivors to accompany the British troops to the battlefield, where they expected to see the Boers slaughtered and routed.?Joseph L. Stlckney. In Chicago Evening Post. The Horse's Failing.?Hans, the ruralist, was In search of a horse. "I've got the very thing you want," said Bill Lennox, the stableman, "a [.thorough-going road horse. Five years old, sound as a quail, one hundred and seventy-flve cash down, and he goes ten miles without stopping." Hans threw his hands skyward. "Not for me," he said, "not for me. I vouldn't gif you five cents for him. I live eight miles out in de country, und I'd haf to walk back two milea" ?The Norman (Oklahoma) Voice. ? tr The hardest thing you can call some people is "Come, get up!"