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* v * Tf'-' i ^ r ??^??^?* g" "*"M 'MMII^^^*MMIM,l*'M'1 '''"'"'^^ ^ ISSUED SEMI-WEEKLY. _^______?________???_______________?????___ _______________ l. k. grists sobs, PiMuhen. } % <Jfamilg Jltcspaptr: .for tht jSromotion of lh? political, ? trial. gjrinoltnital and Commmiat |nttrisls of the Jtoplt. { R 1 j^TABLiaHEP 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. C., TPE9DAY, NOVEMBER '27, 19Q6. ~ 3STO. 95. A Romance of the A By W. GILMI CHAPTER L "Oh. grievous desolation! look, and Their sad condition! 'Tis a piercing sight: A country overthrown and crushed? the scythe Gone over It in wrath?and sorrowing Grief Dumb with her weight of woe." Our narrative begins in South Car ollna, during the summer of 1780. The I arms of the British were at that time J triumphant throughout the colony. Their armies overran it. Charleston, the chief city, had stood siege, and had fallen, after a protracted and honorable defence of eight weeks; succumbing finally to famine, rather than the force of arms. One-half of the military strength of the lower country, then the most populous region, had become prisoners of war by this disaster; and, for the present, were thus incapacitated from giving any assistance to their brethren In arms. Scattered, crushed, and disheartened by repeated failures, the Whigs, in numerous instances, hopeless of any better fortune, had given in their adhesion to the enemy, and had received a pledge of British protection. This protection secured them, as it was thought, in their property and persons, and its condition simply called for their neutrality. Many of the more Arm and honorably tenacious, scorning all compromise with invasion, fled for shelter to the swamps and mountains; and. through the former, all Europe could not have tracked their footsteps. In the whole state, at this period, the cause of American liberty had no head, and almost as little hope; all was gloomy and umpromising. Marlon, af- ( terwards styled the "Swamp Fox," and and Sumter the "Game Cock" epithets aptly descriptive of their several military attributes?had not yet properly risen in arms, though both of them had been engaged already in active and successful service. Their places of retreat were at this time unknown; and, u'prp nnt then looked to. a* at an after period, with that anxious reliance which their valour subsequently taught their countrymen to entertain. Nothing, Indeed, could be more deplorably prostrate than were the energies of the colony. Here and there only did some partisan squad make a stand, or offer a show of resistance to the incursive British or the marauding and malignant Tory? disbanding. If not defeated, most usually, after the temporary object had been obtained, and retreating for security into shelter and inaction. There was no sort of concert, save in feeling, among the many who were still not unwilling for the fight; they doubted or they dreaded one another; they knew not whom to trust. The next door neighbor of the staunch Whig was not unfrequently a furious loyalist?aa devoted to George the Third as the other could have been to the Intrinsic beauty of human liberty. The contest of the Revolution, so far as it had gone, had confirmed and made tenacious this spirit of hostility and opposition, until, in the end, patriot and loyalist had drawn the sword against one another, and rebel and Tory were the degrading epithets by which they severally distinguished the Individual whose throat they strove to cut. When the metropolis fell into the hands of the British, and their arms extended through the state, the Tories alone were active and formidable. These, hitherto outlawed In all the provinces, had most sought shelter in Florida; whence they emerged as soon as the ? L- J i-U1UV/vJ + W no tfnusn arras nau csutuusucu uku ascendency in Georgia and Carolina. They now took satisfaction for their own precious trials, and crime was never so dreadful a monster as when they ministered to its appetites. Mingled in with the regular troops of the British, or forming separate bodies of their own. and officered from among themselves, they penetrated the wellknown recesses which gave shelter to the fugitives. If the rebel resisted, they slew him without quarter; if he submitted, they hung him without benefit of clergy; they spoiled his children of. their possessions, and not unfrequently slew them also. But few ? - ~ I /-I oAnntrv secilima Ul me lull anu niiuuiv escaped their search. It was only In the bald regions of North Carolina that the fugitives could find repose; only where the most miserable poverty took from crime all temptation, that the beaten and maltreated patriots dared to give themselves a breathing-space from flight. In the same manner the frontier-colony of Georgia had already been overrun and ravaged by the conquerors; and there, as it was less capable of resistance, almost all show of opposition had been long since at an end. The Invader, deceived by these appearances. declared, in swelling language. to his monarch, that the two colonies were properly subjugated, and would now return to their obedience. He knew not that, "Freedom's battle once begun. Bequeathed from bleeding sire to Though baffled oft, Is ever won." But, though satisfied of the efficiency of his achievements, and himself convinced of the truth of the assurances which he had made to this effect, the commander of the British forces did not suffer the slightest relaxation of his vigilance. Earl Cornwallls, one of the best of the many leaders sent by the mother country to the colonies in that eventful contest, had taken charge of the southern marching army soon after the fall of Charleston. He was too good a soldier to omit, or to sleep in the performance of any of his duties. He proceeded with due diligence to confirm his conquests; and, aptly sustained by the celerity and savage enterprise of the fierce legonary. Colonel Tarleton, the country was soon swept from the seaboard to the mountains. This active but cruel commander, who enacted the Claverhouse in South Carolina with no small closeness of resemblance to his prototype, was as inde .merican Revolution 3RE 8IMM8 fatigable as unsparing:. He plunged headlong Into fight, with a courage the most unscrupulous, with little reflection. seeming rather to confide in the boldness and Impetuosity of his onset than to any ingenuity of plan, or careful elaborateness of manoeuvre. Add to this that he was sanguinary In the last degree when triumphant, and we shall easily understand the sources of that terror which his very name was found to inspire among the undrilled, and, in half the number of instances, j the unarmed militia which opposed him. "Tarleton's quarters" was the familiar and bitterly derisive phrase by which when the Whigs had opportunities of revenge, his bloodthirsty treatment of the overthrown and captive was remembered and requited. The entire colony in his possession? all opposition, worthy the name, at an end?the victor, the better to secure his conquest, marched an army throughout the country His presence, for the time, had the desired effect. His appearance quelled disaffection, overawed all open discontents, and his cavalry, by superior skill and rapidity nt movement readilv dispersed the little bands of Carolinians that here and there fell in his way. Nor was this exhibition of his power the only proceeding by which he labored to secure the fruits of his victory. With an excellent judgment, he established garrisons in various eligible points of the country, in order to overawe by his continual presence; these stations were judiciously chosen for independent and co-operative enterprise alike; they were suflicienty nigh for concert? sufficiently scattered for the general control of an extensive territory. Rocky Mount, Ninety-Six, Camden, Hanging Rock, Dorchester, and a large number of military posts besides, were thus created; all amply provided with munitions of war, well fortified, and garrisoned by large bodies of troops under experienced officers. These precautions for a time compelled submission. The most daring among the patriots were silent?the most indulgent of the loyalists were active and enterprising. To crown and secure all. Sir Henry Clinton, who was at this period commander-in-chief of the southern Invading army, proclaimed a general pardon, with some few exceptions. to all the Inhabitants, for their late treasonable offences?promising them a full re-instatement of their old Immunities, and requiring nothing in retuip but that they should remain quietly in their homes. This specious and well-timed indulgence had its due effect; and, in the temporary panic produced by Lincoln's defeat, the fall of the metropolis, the appearance of an army so formidable as that of the British, and the establishment of military posts and fortresses all around them, the people generally put on a show of acquiescence to the authority of the invader, which few in reality felt, and which many were secretly but resolutely determined never to submit to. Thus much is necessary, in a general point of view, to the better comprehension of the narrative which follows. The reader will duly note the situation of the colony of South Carolina; and when we add, that the existing condition of things throughout the Union was only not so bad, and the promise of future fortune but little more favorable, all has been said necessary to his proper comprehension of the discouraging circumstances under which the partisan warfare of the south began. With this reference, we shall be better able to appreciate that deliberate valor, that unyielding patriotism, which in a few spirits, defying danger and above the sense of privation, could keep alive the sacred fires of liberty in the thick swamps and dense and gloomy forests of Carolina?asking nothing, yielding nothing, and only leaving the field the better to re-enter It for the combat." Let us now proceed to the commencement of our proper narrative. CHAPTER II. "Sweet flow thy waters. Ashley, and pleasant on thy banks The mossy oak and massy pine stand forth in Solemn ranks; They fringe thee In fitting guise, since with a gentle play, Through bending groves and circling dells thou, tak'st thy mazy way. Thine is thfe summer's loveliness, save when September storms Arouse thee to the angry mood that all thy face deforms; And thine ttye recollection old which makes thee proudly shine. When ha^py thousands saw thee rove, and Dorchester was thine." The scene is very much altered now. Dorchester belongs to Ashley no longer. It is a name?a shadow. The people are gone; the site is distinguished by its ruins only. The owl hoots through the long night from the old churchtower. and the ancient woods and the quiet waters of the river give back, in melancholy echoes, his unnoted cries. The Carolinian looks on the spot with a saddened spirit. The trees crowd upon the ancient thoroughfare; the brown viper hisses from the venerable tomb, and the cattle graze along the clustering bricks that distinguish the ancient chimney-places. It Is now one of those prospects that kindle poetry In the most Insensible observer. It is one of the visible dwelling-places of Time; and the ruins that still mock, to a certain extent, his destructive progress, have in themselves a painful chronicle of capricious change and various affliction. They speak for the dead that lie beneath them in no stinted number; they record the leading features of a long history, crowded with vicissitudes. But our purpose now is with the past, and not with the present. We go back to the time when the village of Dorchester was full of life and crowded with inhabitants; when the coaches of the wealthy planters of the neighborhood thronged the highway; when the bells from the steeple sweetly called to the Sabbath worship; and when, throughout the week, the shops were crowded with buyers, and the busy hammer of the mechanic, and the axe of the laborer, sent up their crowding: noises Imaging:, upon a small scale, many of the more stirring attributes of the great city, and all of Its life Dorchester then had several hundred Inhabitants. The plan of the place lies before us now?a regularly laid out city, of perfect squares, with Its market place, its hotels, and its churches; its busy wharves, and its little craft of sloop and schooner, lying: at anchor, or swimming along the clear bosom of the Ashley. It had its garrison also, and not the smallest portion of its din and bustle arose from the fine body of redcoated and smartly dressed soldiers then occupying the square fort of tapia work, which to this day stands upon the hill of Dorchester?Just where the river bends In with a broad sweep to the village site?in a singular state of durability and preservation. This fort commanded the river and village alike. The old bridge of Dorchester, which crossed the Ashley at a little distance above it, was also within its range. The troops at frequent periods paraded in the market place, and every art was made use of duly to impress upon the people the danger of any resistance to a power so capable to annoy and to punish. This being the case, it was amusing to perceive how docile, how loyal indeed, are those inhabitants, who, feut a few weeks before were in arms against their present rulers who now only wait a convenient season to resume the weapons which policy had persuaded them to lay aside. None of the villagers were more dutiful or devout in their allegiance than Richard Humphries?Old Dick, sly Dick?Holy Dick, as his neighbors capriciously styled him?who kept the "Royal George," then the high tavern of the village. The fat, beefy face of the good-natured Hanoverian hung in yellow before the tavern door, on one of the two main roads leading from the oountry through the town. The old monarch had. in this exposed situation, undergone repeated trials. At the commencement of the Revolution, the landlord, who, after the proverbial fashion of landlords in all countries, really cared not who was king, had been compelled by public opinion to take down the sign and replace it with | another more congenial to the popular feeling. George, in the mean time, was assigned less co^picuous lodgings in an ancient garret. The change of I a 4 ?J circumstances iwiuiru uic portrait to its place; and under the eyes of the British garrison, there were few more thorough going loyalists in the village than Richard Humphries. He was a sociable old man, fond of drink, who generally filled his own glass whenever called upon to replenish that of his customer.- His house was the common thoroughfare of the traveling and the idle. The soldier, not on duty, found it a pleasant lounge; the Tory, confident in the sympathies of the landlord, and solicitous of the good opinion of the ruling powers, made it his regular resort; and even the Whig, compelled to keep down his patriotism, in order to keep up his credit, not unwisely sauntered about in the same wide hall with the enemy he feared and hated, but whom it was no part of his policy at the present moment to alarm or irritate. Humphries, from these helping circumstances, distanced all competition in the village. The opposition house was maintained by a suspected Whig?one Pryor?who was avoided accordingly. Pryor was a sturdy citizen, who ask ed no favors; and if he did not avow himself in the language of defiance, at | the same time scorned to take any steps to conciliate patronage or do away with suspicion. He simply cocked his hat at the ancient customer, now passing to the other house; thrust his hands into the pockets of his breeches, and, with a manful resignation, growled, through his teeth as he followed the deserter with his eyes? "The white livered skunk! He may go and be d?d." This sort of philosophy was agreeable enough to Humphries, who, though profligate in some respects, was yet sufficiently worldly to have a close eye to the accumulation of his sixpences. His household was well served; for, though himself a widower, his daughter Bella, a buxom, lively, coquet| tish, but gentle natured creature, prov ed no common housekeeper. She was but a girl, however, but sixteen, and as she had long lacked the restraining presence of a matron, and possessed but little dignity herself, the house had Its attractions for many. In the freedoms which the old man either did not or would not see. and which the girl herself was quite too young, too Innocent, and perhaps too weak, often to find fault with. Her true protection, however, was In a brother not much older than herself, a fine manly fellow, and?though with the cautious policy of all around him suppressing his predilections for the time?a staunch partisan of American liberty. It was on a pleasant afternoon In June, that a tall, well made youth, probably twenty-four or twenty-five years of age, rode up to the door of the "Royal George." and throwing his bridle to a servant, entered the hotel. His person had been observed, and his appearance duly remarked upon, by several persons already assembled In the hall which he now approached. The new comer. Indeed, was not one to pass unnoticed. His person was symmetry Itself, and the ease with which he managed his steed, the unhesitating boldness with which he kept on his way and gazed around him at a period and In a place where all were timid and suspicious, could not fall to fix attention. His face too, was significant of a character of command, besides beinsr finely intelligent and tolerably handsome; and through he carried no weapons that were visible there was something exceedingly military In his movement; and the cap which he wore, made of some native fur and slightly resting upon one side of his thickly clustering brown hair, imparted a daring expression to his look, which gave confirmation to the idea. Many were the remarks of those in the hall as, boldly dashing down the high road, he left the church to the right, and moving along the market place, came at once towards the tavern, which stood on the corner of Prince and Bridge streets. "A bold chap with his spurs, that" exclaimed Sergeant Hastings, of the garrison, who was a frequent guest of the tavern, and had found no small degree of favor with the landlord's daughter. "A bold chap, that?do you know him, Humphries?" This question brought the landlord to the window. He looked intently upon the youth as he approached, but seemed at fault "Know him? why yes, I think I do know him, sergeant; that's?yes? that's?bless my soul, I don't know him at all!" "Well, be sure now, Humphries," coolly spoke the sergeant. "Such a irnnil Iru-klrlnir fsllnvr nnpht not to be forgotten. But he 'lights, and we shall soon know better." A few moments, and the stranger made his appearance. The landlord bustled up to him, and offered assistance, which the youth declined for himself, but gave directions for his horse's tendance. "Shall be seen to, captain," said the landlord. "Why do you call me captain?" demanded the youth, sternly. "Bless me, don't be angry, squire; but didn't you say you was a captain?" apologetically replied Humphries. 1 did not" "Well, bless me, but I could have sworn you did?now didn't he, gentlemen??sergeant, didn't you hear?" "It matters not," 'tire stranger interrupted; "it matters not You were mistaken, and these gentlemen need not be appealed to. Have my ^orse cared for, if you please. He has come far and fast today, and will need a good rubbing. Give him fodder now, no corn for an hour." "It shall be done, captain." i "Hark'ee, my friend," said the youth angrily, "you will not style me captain again, unless you have more thui you ?? ? T am ?a nanloln nn UUI JJU I up TTIVII, * CVIil saw vwpvw?>.| colonel, no commander of any sort, and unless you give me the troops, am not willing to wear the title. So, understand me." "Ask pardon, squire, but It comes so common?ask pardon, sir;" and the landlord shuffled off, as he spoke, to i see after his business. As he retired. Sergeant Hastings made up to the new comer, and with all the consequence of one having a certain portion of authority, and accustomed to a large degree of deference from those around him proceeded to address the youth i on the subject matter of his momentary annoyance. "And with your leave, voung master, where's the harm in being captain or ] colonel? I don't see that there's any offence In it" i "None, none in the world, sir, in i being captain or colonel, but some, I take it, in being styled such undeservedly. The office is good enough, and I hoM nn nhWtlnna tn It- hut I have no humor to be called by any nickname/* "Nickname?why, d?n it, sir?why, what do you mean? Do you pretend that It's a nickname to be called an officer in his majesty's troops, sir? If you do, sir?" and the sergeant con- i eluded his swaggering speech with a most stormy stare. i "Pistols and daggers! most worthy officer In his majesty's troops do not look so dangerous." replied the youth very coolly. He saw at a glance the sort of Hector with whom he had to deal, and would have answered him with his boot, but that his policy demanded forbearance. He continued, i pacifically: "I have no sort of Inten- i tion to offend captain or sergeant. I only beg that, as I am neither one nor i the other, nobody will force me into i their Jackets." "And why not, young master?" said the sergeant, somewhat pacified, but still, as he liked not the nonchalance of the stranger, seemingly bent to press upon him a more full development of his opinions. "Why not? Is it not honorable, I ask you, to hold his majesty's commission, and would vou not; as a loyal subject, be very glad to accept one at his hands?" There was no little Interest manl lesieu uy me apccutiuis a.a unc 4?votion was put, and they gathered more closely about the beset stranger, but still keeping at a deferential distance from the sergeant. He, too, looked forward to the reply of the youth with some interest. His head was advanced and his arms akimbo, and, stationed in front of the person he examined, in the centre of the hall, his clumsy compact person and round rosy face looked exceedingly imposing in every eye but that of the person for whose especial sight their various terrors had been put on. The youth seemed annoyed by the pertinacity of his assailant, but he made an effort at composure, and after a brief pause replied to the inquiry. "Honorable enough, doubtless. I know nothing about the employment, and cannot say. As for taking a commission at his majesty's hands, I don't know that I should do anv such thing." The declaration produced a visible emotion In the assembly. One or two of the spectators slid away silently and the rest seemed variously agitated. while at the same time, one person whom the stranger had hot before seen?a stout, good-looking man, seemingly In humble life, and not over his own age?came forward, and, with nothing- ostentatious in his manner, placed himself alongside of the man who had so boldly declared himself. Sergeant Hastings seemed for an Instant almost paralyzed by what appeared the audacity of the stranger. At length, detaching his sword partially from the sheath, so that a few Inches of the blade became visible, he looked round with a potential aspect upon the company and then proceeded? "Ha! not take a commission from the hands of his majesty! This looks suspicious! And pray, sir, tell us why > o* ? Uln mokotv'Q >uu BUUIU IIUI ai;Lcpi mo mojv?., ? commission?" Unmoved by the solemnity of the proceeding, the youth with the utmost quietness replied? "For the very best reason in the world?I should scarcely know what to do with it." "Oh, that's it!" said the sergeant "And so you are really not an officer?" "No. I've been telling you and this drinking fellow, the landlord, all the time, that I am no officer, and yet neither of you seems satisfied. Nothing will do, but you will put me in his majesty's commission, and make me a general and what not, whether I will or not. But Where's the man??Here, landlord!" "Father's out, can I serve, sir?" said a soft voice, followed by the pretty maid of the inn, the fair Bella Humphries, whose person was now visible behind the bar. "Ye?, my dear, you can!" and as the stranger youth spoke, and the maid courtesled, he tapped her gently upon the cheek, and begged that he might be shown his apartment, stating, at the same time, the probability that he would be an Inmate for several days of the tavern. The sergeant scowled fiercely at the liberty thus taken, and the youth could not help seeing that the eye of the girl sank under the glance that the former gave her. He an Id nothlne. however, and taklnfir in his hand the little fur valise that he carried, the only furniture, besides saddle and bridle, worn by his horse, h followed the steps of Bella, who soon conducted him to his chamber, ard left him to those ablutions which a lone ride along a sandy road had rendered particularly necessary. The sergeant meanwhile was not so well satisfied with what had taken place. He was vexed that he had not terrified the youth?vexed at his composure?vexed that he had tapped Bella Humphries upon her cheek, and doubly vexed that she had submitted with isuch excellent grace to the aforesaid tapping. The truth is, Sergeant Hastings claimed some exclusive privileges with the maiden. He was her regular gallant?bestowed upon her the greater part of his idle time, and had flattered himself that he stood alone in her estimation; and so, perhaps, he did. His attentions had given him a large degree of Influence over her, and what with his big speech, swaggering carriage, and flashy uniform, poor Bella had long since been taught to acknowledge his power over her fancy. But the girl was coquettish, and her very position as maid of the inn had contributed to strengthen and confirm the natural predisposition. The kind words and Innocent freedom of the handsome stranger were not disagreeable to her, and she felt not that they Interfered with the claims of the sergeant. or would be so disagreeable to him, until she beheld the scowling glance wun wnicn ne surveyea uiem. In the hall below, to which the landlord had now returned Hastings gave utterance to the spleen which this matter had occasioned. "That's an Impudent fellow?a very impudent fellow. I don't like him, at ill!" The landlord looked up titnldly. "And what, sergeant?what!" "I say, I don't like him. I suspect hlmj" "inspect! God ha' mercy; and who do you think?who do you think he Is, sergeant?" "How should I know? I asked you: you know every thing; at least, you pretend to. Why are you out here? Who Is he?" "Bless me, I can't say; I don't know." "What do you think he Is?" "Think! I think! oil! no! I don't think." "He certainly Is an impudent?a very suspicious person." "Do you think so, sergeant?" asked one of the persons present, with an air "I do?a very suspicious person?one that should be watched narrowly." "I see nothing: suspicious about him," said another, the same individual who had placed himself beside the stranger when the wrath of the sergeant was expected to burst upon him, and when he had actually laid his hand upon his sword.' "I see nothing suspicious about the stranger," said the speaker, boldly, "except that he doesn't like to be troubled with foolish questions." "Foolish questions?foolish questions! Bless me, John Davis, do you know what you're a saying?" The landlord spoke in great trepidation, and placed himself, as he addressed John Davis, between him and the sergeant. "Yes, I know perfectly what I say, Master Humphries; and I say it's very unmannerly, the way In which the stranger has been pestered with foolish questions. I say it, and I say it again: and I don't care who hears It. I'm ready to stand up to what I say." "Bless me. the boy's mad. Now, sergeant, don't mind him?he's only foolish, you see." "Mind him?oh no! Look you, young man, do you see that tree? It won't take much treason to tuck you up there." "Treason, indited! I talk no treason. Sergeant Hastings, and I defy you to prove any agin me. I'm not to be, frightened this time o' day. I'd have vou to know; and though you are a sodger, and wear a red coat, let me tell you there is a tough colt In the woods that your two legs can't straddle. There Is no treason In that, for It only concerns one person, and that one person Is your own self, and I'm as good a man as you any day." "You d?d rebel. Is it so you speak to a sergeant In his majesty's service? Take that"?and with the words, with his sword drawn at the instant, he made a stroke with the flat of It at the head of the sturdy disputant, which, as the latter somewhat anucipaiea me assault, he was prepared to elude. This was done adroitly enough, and with a huge club which stood conveniently In the corner, he had prepared himself without fear to guard against a repetition of the attack, when the stranger, about whom the coil had arisen, suddenly made his appearance, and at once Interposed between the parties. TC BH OONTINUKD. Clocks All of Glass. A somewhat futile feat of painstaking ingenuity has been accomplished after six years continuous work in the construction of a working clock every part of which except the springs Is made of glass. The constructor Is a Bohemian glass polisher named Joseph Bayer, who lives in Theresienthal and who is now seventy-one years old. The plates and pillars which form the framework are of glass and are bolted together with glass screws. The dial plate, hands, shafts and cogwheels are of glass, and glass wedges and pins are used for fastening the various parts of the running gear together. All these parts are ground to the average proportions of the metal parts of other clocks of the same size. The teeth of the cogwheels are cut with minute exactness. Only the balance wheel is heavier and thicker than it would be In an ordinary clock, but It is fashioned so as to properly control the movement of the machine. Like the clock itseilf, the key with which It is wound is of glass. The completion of the work was a matter of Infinite pains. Some of the parts had to be made over and over again as often as forty times before a clock that would go and keep time was produced. The builder sets a price on the finished model of 2,500 marks, or about $625. Labor is cheap in Bohemia. participators, the pirates and their victims, only one was left alive to tell the tale, and he was found in a dying condition on one of the Galapagos Islands, and only lived a few days. The story was told me by the captain of the brlgantlne, Isaac Revels of San Francisco, who put into the Galapagos to repair his ship, which had started a butt end and was seriously leaking. He had Just anchored between Narborough and Albemarle Islands when he saw a man sitting on the shore and waving his hands to the ship. A boat was lowered and the man brought on board. He was In a ravenous state of hunger and half demented, but after he had been carefully attend JHiSfelluneoua grading. : PIRACY IN THE PACIFIC STILL. i Practiced By Whita Man As Wall Aa By Savagaa. , Piracy, aa most people are aware, la nnl vat nulla avtlnat In Pklno onH TToat ISVk J e V VAblll e V 111 VUllMk dUU I ????V Indian waters, despite the efforts that , have been made to stamp it out utter- ( ly. But it is not generally known that | along the shores of Dutch New Oulnea , on both sides of the great island, and | also on the German side, there are still , vigorous communities of native pirates | who will not hesitate to attack even . armed trading vessels. \ These savages combine the business of head hunting with piracy, and al- | though they do not possess modern , firearms, and their cnift are simply ; huge canoes, they show the most determined courage, even when attacking a , vessel manned by Europeans. The an- | nual reports of the governors of Dutch, , German and British New Guinea de- f tailing the murderous doings of these , head hunting pirates are as Interesting ( reading as any Action, but they seldom ? attract more than a few lines of comment in the public press. I In writing of pirates of the twentieth | century I shall not go beyond my own j beat of the North and South PadAc , and shall speak only of events within , my personal knowledge and observation. Before entering into an account r\f ormn r\f tKo Hnlncro nf tho Mow /"111 In - ea Tugera, or head hunter pirates, I shall tell the story of two notable acts t of piracy committed by white men In the South Pacific less than ten years , ago. { The English newspapers gave some attention to one case, for the two prin- ( clpal criminals concerned were tried at Brest a few years ago, and the case | was known as the Rortque tragedy. Much comment was made on the fact f that the king of the Belgians went to France after the prisoners had been s sentenced to death?they were Bel- , gians?to Intercede for them. t The story of the Roriques, and the , tragedy of Niuroahltl. which was the , name of the vessel they seized, is one ) of the many grisly episodes with which the history of the South Seas Is prolific. . About the end of 1891 the two brothers, who were Belgians, arrived at Pa- , peete, the capital of Hahltl, from the ( Paumotu group, where, it was subse- j quently learned, they had been put on ( shnro hv the mntnln nf an (aland tra der, who. strongly suspected them of plotting with the crew to murder him and seize the ship. Nothing of this Incident, however, was known at Tahiti among the white residents, among whom they soon Ingratiated themselves; they were exceedingly agreeable mattered men, and the elder brother, who was a remarkably handsome man of about thlrty-flve, was an excellent linguist, speaking German, French, Italian, English, Dutch, Spanish and Zulu fluently. ^ Although they had with them no property beyond firearms, their bonhomie and the generally accepted belief that they were men of means made them the recipients of much hospitality and kindness. Eventually the younger man was given a position as a trader on one of the pearl shell lagoon islands in the Paumotu group, while the other took the berth of mate In the schooner Kluroahlti, a smart little native built vessel owned by a Tahitlan prince. The schooner was under the command of a half caste, and her complement consisted, beside the captain, of William Gibson, the supercargo; Rorique, the first mate; a second mate, four Society Islands natives, and the cook, a Frenchman named Hippolyte Miret. The Niurbahiti traded, between Tahiti and the Paumotus, and when she sailed on her last voyage she was bound to the Island of Kaukura, where the younger Rorique was stationed as trader. She never returned, but It was ascertained that she had called at Kaukura and then left again with the second brother as passenger. Long, long months passed, and the Australian relatives and friends of Gibson, a cheery, adventurous young fellow, began to think with the owner of the Nuroahltl that she had met a fate common enough In the South Sea trade?turned turtle in a squall and gone to the bottom with all hands. About this time I was on a trading cruise in the Caroline Islands, and one day we spoke a Fiji schooner. I went on board for a chat with the skipper and told him of the Niuroahitl affair, of which I had heard a month before. ' By Jove," he exclaimed, "I met a schooner exactly like her ten days ago. She was going to the W. N. W.?Ponape way?and showed French colors. ' bore up to speak to her; but she evidently didn't want it, hoisted her squaresall, and stood away." From this I was sure that the vessel was the NiuroahitI, and sent a letter to the Spanish government at Ponape, relating the affair. It reached him Just In time. The Nuroahiti was lying in Jakolts harbor, and was to sail on the following day for Macao. She was seized, and the brothers Rorique put in Irons and taken on board the Spanish cruiser Le Gasp! for conveyance to Manila. Hlppolyte, the cook, confessed to the Spanish authorities that the brothers Rorique had shot dead in their sleep the captain, Mr. Gibson, the second mate and the four native sailors. The trial was a long one, but the evidence was most damning and convincing, although the brothers passionately declared that Mlret's story was a pure invention. -Sentence of death was passed, hut was afterward commuted to Imprisonment for life, and the Roriques are now in chains in Cayenne. The second case was of a very dreadful character, and has an additional in*Ko fortf Ko * niif r\f all f ho ed to he was able to give some account of himself. He was a young Colombian Indian, could speak no English and only a mongrel, halting kind of Spanish. The Portuguese cook of the Isaac Revels understood him. This was his story: He was one of the peons of a wealthy Ecuadorian gentleman, who with anather equally rich friend sailed from Guayaquil for the Galapagos Islands, belonged to Ecuador, and the largest }f which, Albemarle Island, they had leased from the government for sheep md cattle breeding. They took with them a rew thousand sliver dollars, which the peon saw placed In "an Iron iox" (safe). One of the merchants had with him tils two young daughters. The vessel was a small brig and the captain and :rew mostly Chllenos. One night, when the brig was half way across to the Galapagos, 600 miles 'rom Ecuador, the peon, who was (Hi leek asleep, was suddenly seised, pitched down into the fo'castle, and the icuttle closed. Here he was left alone till dawn and then ordered on deck, ift. The captain pointed a pistol at his lead and threatened to shoot him dead f he ever spoke of what had happened n the night. The man promised to be lecret and was paid $60 and put in the nate's watch. He saw numerous blood Ftalns on the ifter deck and soon afterward was toMT >y one of the hands that all the four passengers had been murdered and hrown overboard The captain, mate md crew, It appeared, had first made eady a boat, provisioned and lowered It Jhey made some noise which aroused he male passengers, one of whom came <a deck to see what was the matter. 3e was at onoe seised, but being a x>werfql man made a most determined Ight. His friend rushed up from below with l revolver in his hand and shot two >f the assailants dead and wounded :he mate. But they were assailed on ill sides, shot at and struck with va1ous weapons and then thrown overward to drown. Then the pirates, after a hurried sonsultation, went below, and forcing )pen the girls' cabin door ruthlessly ihot them, carried them on deck and ?st them over the side. It had been heir intention to send all four away in he boat, but the resistance made so mraged them that they murdered them nstead. For some days the pirates kept on i due west course toward the Galapagos. A barrel of spirits was broached uid night and day captain and crew sere drunk. VY n?n AIU?ili<U|0 inuiu nmjo u|ui?d every one except the peon and a Chlleno boy waa more or less intoxcated. A boat had been lowered and vas towing astern, (or what purpose :he peon did not know. At night It fell a dead calm and a strong current set the brig dangerously claaa in Ahor?., The captain orlered some of the hands Into the joat to tow the brig out of danger. They refused, and shots were exchanged, but after a while peace was estored. The peon and the Chlleno boy were :hen told to get Into the boat and sale her, as she was leaky. They did so, and while so engaged a squall struck the brig and the boat's towline slther parted or was purposely cast ?fl. _ When the squall cleared the peon ind the boy In the drifting boat could see nothing of the drifting brig?she lad probably capsized?and the two soon after daylight found themselves so close to the breakers on Narbo ough Island that they were unable jo pull her clear, she being a very tieavy boat She soon struck, and *olled over and over, and the Chlleno boy drowned. The peon also received internal Injuries, but managed to 'each the shore. The people on board the Revels lid all they could ifor the poor fellow, but he only survived a few days. In another article of this series I lave told of my fruitless efforts to nduce some of the Rook Island cannibals to recruit with me. It was on that voyage I first saw a party of S'ew Guinea head hunting pirates, ind I shall never forget the experijnce. After leaving Rook Island we stood jver to the coast of German New Guinea and sailed along it for 300 niles to the Dutch boundary (longitude 141 east of Greenwich), for I was n hopes of getting a full cargo of blackbirds from some of the many slands which stud the coast. No bther labor ship hAd ever been so far lorth, and Morel, the skipper, and I were keenly anxious to And a new ground. We had a fine vessel, with a high .'reeboard, a well armed and splendid :rew and had no fear of being cut )ff by the natives. . I may here menJon that I was grievously disappointed, for owing to the- lack of a compe:ent interpreter I -failed to get a single recruit. Bur. In other respects the voyage was a success, for I did some very satisfactory trading busiicss. After visiting many of the islands we anchored in what is now named n the German charts Kraul Bay, on :he mainland. There were a few scattered villages on the shore and some of the natlvjs boarded us. They were all well armed with their usual weapons, but were very shy, distrustful and nervous. Early one morning Ave large canoes ippeared in the ofllng, evidence having come from the Schouten Island ?roup, about ten miles to the eastward. The moment they were seen by the natives on shore the villages were abandoned and the people fled Into the bush. In a most gallant style the Ave arge canoes came straight into the bay and brought to within a few hundred fathoms of our ship, and the Urst thing we noticed were a number )f heads hanging over the sides of jach craft as boat fenders are hung t>ver the gunwales of a man of war :utter. This was intended to impress the white man. We cenainiy were impreaeeu, uui were yet quite ready to make short work of our visitors If they attempted mischief. Our ship's high freeboard alone would have made It very dlflljut for them to rush us, and the crew were so well armed that, although we numbered but twenty-eight, we could have wiped out 600 possible assailants with ease had they attempted to board and capture the ship. Some of the leaders of this party of pirates came on board our reasel, and Morel and I soon established very friendly relations with them. They told us that they had been two months out from their own territory in Dutch Oulnea, had raided over thirty villages, bad taken 215 heeds and were now returning home well satisfled. Morel and I went on board one of the great canoes and were received in a very friendly manner and shown many heads, some partly dried, some fresh. These head hunting pirates were not cannibals, and behaved in an extremely decorous manner when they visited our ship. A flner, more stalwart nrnnH a?lf.nnii(u>iiuH inH rilcr. nifled lot of savages?If they could be so termed?I had never before seen. They left Kraul Bay two days later without interfering with the people on shore, and Morel and I shook hands and rubbed noses with the leading head hunters when we said farewell.?Louis Becke in New Tork Sun. HERO OF PARI8 FIRE. Leon Desjardins Now In 8traits of Dire Poverty. . On the fatal day in May, 1897, when 4k. _J4.. n uic vimruy tmiMwr uns was uivwuut out, a young lead roofer passed down ,the Rue Je&n-Coujon. Seeing smoke and flames Issuing from the one-story wooden building, he pushed in and discovered a mass of fashionably dressed girls and women erased, rushing about and clinging to and rendering helpless a few fashionably dressed men. The young artisan bad no paralysing scruples?would not let himself be rendered helpless. Pushing out five girls, he picked up one, fought his way out with her, returned, took another, kicked aside a third, who grabbed his legs, struck down a frantic man who would not let go of his coat, staggered with his burden to the street?and hurried back for another. A few more heroes of bis kind Joined In the work, but none ran into the firs like the young lead roofer. None took out so many women. A charred Joist falling all but stunned him. An aristocratic girl, reposing in his arms, cried: "Monsieur, your hair is burning!"and she put it out with her gloved hands. He saved twenty women. Then he walked simply away, and his name would have remained unknown had not his landlord the next day called in the poor doctor to treat him for "heat fever." lie was Leon Henri Desjardlns, twenty-three years old, unmarried. Four years later, on November IS, 1901, a young man fell in the Avenue de Vllllera. As ne could not rise iwo policemen Judged that he waa drunk and took him to the station. There, however, he explained he had not eaten for two days. "I am a lead roofer by trade." he said to If. Hlchaud, the police commissary, "but Injuries by burns and a Joist faIllny on my head prevent me from finding: much work nowadays; the bosses fear I will get dlssy on the roofs. This week I have been following: cabs with baggage from the 8L Lazare railway depot" "What Is your name?" asked the police commissary. "Leon Henri Desjardlns." "You have suffered from burns? Are you the Desjardlns who distinguished himself at the Charity Bazaar?" "Yes. sir." "Have you not a medal?" "1 have three." "Were you not a member of theXe gion or nonorr "Yes, monsieur." "Why do you not wear the ribbon in your buttonhole?" With the child's logic that distinguishes him Desjardlns answered: "It Is not fitting?when I work at a tramp's trade." "The dishonor Is rather for those who let you do It" said the commissary. "This Is not a drunkard, but a hero!" he said to those who arrested him. For years he conducted a bootblack's stand and ran errands. One afternoon as he sat pale and shaky, on his bootblack's chair, a famous Parisian clubman sauntered Jauntily by. He twirled a costly cane. A flower was In his buttonhole. He was rosy, fresh and fine. Desjardlns laughed. "Ah, that monsieur! I can't help smiling when I think of how I saw htm the first time. It was in the Are, yes. But he was not Jaunty. He ran bellowing, knocking over the girls and women! I had picked up a girl and he came bawling, and grabbed me by the coat 'Take me out!' he fairly screamed between his chattering teeth. I had time to notice, because he stopped me. But I had not time to stay?so I knocked him down. "Well, he arot ud and came after me again. 'Drop that girl and take me out,' he pleaded. Til give you 60,000 francs to take me out!' he blubbered. 'I can't see for the smoke, and you know the way!' "Well, he would not let me go and there was not time to knock him down again, and so I called to him to follow quick and not pull me back. I ducked my head down and ran with the girl, and when we got to the street that fellow was still holding on to my coat pocket" "I suppose he forgot the 56,000 francs?" I said. "Yes," laughed Deajardins, "because when I stopped him once on the street to talk of old times he threatened to have me arrested for beggfng." "The women you rescued; do they ever pass in their carriages V "Now and then. There are five I recognize. I do not know their names. But the girl who saved my hair from burning, she is married and rides by with two dear little children. It is a pleasure to see them. No, of course, she doe8 not know me!" | l saw uesjaraina once ngiua. n n?? last week. He was loitering In the automobile razzle of the Porte Maillot, lean, white and very ill dressed. All his Jauntiness was grone. "What are you doing now?" I asked. "I'm washing: automobiles," he said? "that is a man promised me a Job and I am waiting for him." "Are you hungry?" I asked. "Yes, monsieur," he answered.?ParIs Letter. ?** Try to be agreeable. There are too many disagreeable people In the world as it is.