Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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smt - 4tote?utfitcriv THE VA3IPIRE; .?.;?"' _., . . oik,. . . '. i. ' How delicious, after tiie crowd and? Rustle of tthe cityl are the first jew bog? of V walking r trip in 'the country. My heart had, Won in.'uidr and lonely tor a -Joni; "time, until one su try. day iii Sep? tember I received aniOAe tVimv iUai'kh'am, - ? ask-iVig- *Ue) B> tuke a holiday and visit lvhn;at"his:''mo.iiieV>_ villa., I' persuaded " myself tilat I was,overworked and "want: . - ed rest^iind^dete.rniine ? at hiVword. -'"'I-sut down and wrote two lines, telling^, him that I 6bould walk Jfofaiwari?ftg xhui very night," and that '- "lie-mighti expect_: me . as soon as. twenty ; - ."miles a day and a zig-zag road would /-'bring: rae. -In ten- minutes I put. up a \i .ie.wTtbihgs lo;send on .before me, packed ?? .' knap.^.ck, and then shouldered ' my - traps and rushed trom, the horrible'gloom '-'-- of my chambers,-' and in another hour ; '_?fohnd mj3el;f. on -a. 'country' road; doing v,.'?'?t?j:&&?s^&w the bright moonlight. ._? " I absolutely danced with delight, it was . so glorious to be Tree once more. I was ;; walking through" a woody country, and .. -felt a,pleasure I cannot describe in re mmiseehces ?f childish terroro awakened i^-by the strange <-for"xus "that- moonlight - ' shcMved among tlrie trees. When I. came ?-^toa break iff the_wood8, I leaned over a .'' : gate opening into meadows tliat stretched ? AV^^^et^mfng Tri' the light which \ r" - lends''"i? beauty, :.i:telicate. but;: mysterious, ~& and-almost uneaj.'thly, to the--most com? mon, objects.. ^ l" leaned, 1 listened ; i ynot aTsouhdv^^^he tinkling of a sheep ^i^t^^^^^^Ul^nr'^e bark of a iiog, :^>b^ayii>g^t^e tn^wi , or a village church-bell 'striking. thei-hoar. :. -.: -. -.<But'Soon-I saw, breaking over-the hori? zon,; dfstoi^ warned me -^atastorin was approaching. I had still *i ?Oio'? miles .to.^gi.i before-1- could reach the cad oi- my. first stage, ? s? I ' pressed on -again.. -Before" :in hour had passed^ the - -wind "had risen, and w?? swaying the tree r^"-top9f?verhead-iji th&nurrow arched lanes, ^/'?ti'd sopff 'tHe^niJon was'hidden, and Melt v the first slow, heavy "drops of-niin., Half .~-dazzled at timWrby''vivid /flashes, and ^ J'Bpiashing through puddles already formed ; \.Ta xhe cart ruts, I hasten-d onward, but v-'it was. nearly midnight when, drenched *r ; to the sk3n,-Xx'?dched the. little town ol It dtd not take me long to hunt up the marketplaces ad to^find out.the Red Lion, which. I knew 69 be-the bestinu. It was ?no't quite -.so~easy,' however^ to gain -ad ?i',^toijrt|tobiS; Uat'.ot' last a suspicious porter, after a parley from" a wiutlow, leisurely ^'?/"desuende?i,;ancl having- narrowly examin .-Ve.iT'?ie, admitted my claim to-a night's lodging, and set about showing.toe. arootn. A followed him.-as he went aloni.-- the pas Sage,past rooms with their names paint '^-ed over'ihe doorwaj-s, up stairs and along tit! iihe.gallery which overlooked the eourt yard...?; : . * i- .^.Yoivvegot-a1-theatre here, then ?" 1 saidj .as ray eye felKoB a bill wufered to ?> the;vvall. ?uYest sir," said; the- .porter.* -''Yes, sir, '-they dp.^y as' how 'Miss'Bsirry is an un . '-.common-good ac-tress.- 'She has only been ? " Jherea- week, and the tompany won't sto[> vi-rjl?ng; for there ain't u.ahy people to fill a '.i :thea.trcs'except the y?trng,.chaps from V^"G--r?; likewise some gents from the uni '-' yorstty."- ': ? ? " " ? stopped to look at the bill?a long, :".iiarrow c'.oe?meut, -which -announced. the -'"ajjjr.'^ii-aiice of Aliss Barry in. the "Thj-il ;V "-fing b'.elodraiiia of -thu.-"Vampire." 1 . -5mkaJ-aJ? J.reiid the?'lH?v;wJ)ic'h. .not .only sec.'Jorxh |b^t^fo^in,e^j- names, but gave in; a few wtmls the 'leading' characteristics. -. ^f 'thel personages 'of?'.the. UrUina. -"Sir ' 'v^jjetHle Li lb urn e (jfty is a 'swarthy - baro-. t'\ n.p\^pi' ancient lineage,' poor,"bat haughty, --^Brctud and 1 'revengeful;) Mursden," tlie ^"^l^m^j^S^^^O^ii^p renews his life A:. '?l>y7frittkiri^'th;e biood of maidens.) -. ' "That's 4ier laXhe'.;,''' interposed the'offi -.c.i<ius .porter. ' . . -'"Isa (a lovely girl) -? / HThat's true eui>ugh," cat in the porter. JiShe's. fit ..for a better theatro nor this - hei'o. There's a city manager coming ".. clawn.to-rii0rrow' on pur ose-to-see her." : ^. I finished the hill, went into my room, ja'n'.d iaiung'off my.Clothes, gave the por rt'er';p:trf-icuhirtoat-rttetioiis to_.have them -Avell dried'against the morning. But al.one .and in bed in the huge room, only r'half l.ghted by the caudle, left" burning' .and fiickeriiio iuitno gusts, of wind which ~made their "was* to, it, I found it impossr-J - .bio to sleep. There I la}', "wide' awake, ";. Jistening?to ihe.thunder,' which s?ll muH > tered in the 'distance, and to the. wind, | 'Which seemed' to gain fresli strength eve- J ? :ry now and'then, as it came dashing full . ^ginnst inj "wilidou's. Then 1 -watelted ? ""the.flickering *iiad w's of the brd-hang -.ings, and fn.m lhat'I Jell to thinkiiig of ! ?tiie playbill and of the hideous subject of j ? the/play: : " '-.As'l lay turning in my huge bed, I confess that I wwh'ed the town, the tl.ea /nT*er a.nid.its 1>HI -had- heetv anj-where but ill '.' mylroad that night. At las:, however. I ' got tired"of-turning over and over, and. '. ^triy candle dying; out. after many fiiful ;ieaps, whi'cm'stiircu.'d me not a Hille,-! lell & I a.wok^j'atc, feeling heavy arid out of' -humor, and my t.empel' was not at all i.ih- J - pTOved^by f^idiiig that for the/prt;s_ent j -there -r.uiii-n/i eh'uj)Cc_of ^ettin^--'nrther on . rmy ro;:d. .:\fl abuve "was one dtill-rn?ss j ^o.i' clouds, t'.-om wfocfi tlie rain still |)<?ur ed in .t(>rrunt^. 1 hreakl-.s'U-d sluwiy,'! .wrote-a few' letters rendered Mecessary j .by my ^brn.pt.departure, and^the^teoked | out into the market-place at the puddles;! when tired of this. I turned for Consola? tion to -the^?torary resources of the coffee- j room, bufctound nothing worth reading. 'Utterly miserable?for my clothes, de-! -spite'rny injunction, hud been wre'tchedlv ,dfied-f-i;:had a fire lit. and- sat bWore ft "oili. the wailer came in lo ask me when I would ^ine. As dinner, carried to the " pitch - of replet ion, appeared, to he tho -readiest means of renderini; myself im? pervious to, meteorol'igical' in flue rices. I ordered a repast which taxed Mn- ? i r ces of the R*.i T.ion to rho nirii'.- I bad scarcely sat down to it wli<-ii a car ' riage drove to the dom-. nml "ont. -ho* n large man, who entered wrtji m i'-h Imsile and a loud trend. Tt was t,J?? - -:?jUv tn.in agor" .of"whom the porter had told mo. I in?hin?. I was gittd to recognize Potts (let .me veil his personalityunder thiti discreet pseudonym) an enterprising lessee" known to '.me- alightiy through Markbarn, who had i^ritt?iip>r bis ^theatre; He recol? lected rne,_. und wcl dined ? together. He confirmed the porter's-account of the ob? ject of his visit, an'd asked me to go with I him to thetheatre. I accepted, for thero j was something intensely amusing to me in the lively talk of the manager, his an? ecdotes and knowledge of the world. The'rain. bad. censed and. it was now a lovely afternoon', but still so wee under? foot that I. thought I would stop at D? another night; so we sat over our wine, -he talking, I listening and laughing, till -it-was time to.be off. ^ It' was not Che faet of the theatre being a wretched one that so much surprised me, as that D-should have one at all. Of all the unhappy investments in brick and'niortar which have ever come under my observation,' that was decidedly one of the very worst. Nevertheless, travel? ing companies did occasionally take it lor "a while, though I should not like to affirm that any of them ever got a living out of it. ; The* performance had. began before our arrival, and it was with some difficulty that, we found any one who would con? sent to take our money and admit us. The ilhlighted, empty look of the house, with its tawdry decorations,,all faded and mouldered, was wretched in the extreme. My attention was far too much occupied by the chit-chat of Potts, to allow of my noticing particularly what wafi passing ? on "the stage;.but the acting i knew was 'ludicrously baoVfot it excited in us so .much merriment that an irruption into our box of the I)-? population was at one time threatened. But. after a while appeared the young actress, whom Potts' account^ had made, me .anxious to see. Certainly I had rarely beheld more ex? quisite beauty of face arid figure, or more intelligent -action. Her dress, too, was simple and even poor, yet it gave evi? dence of a refined taste, which surprised me in a girl so'situated. The managerial eye ot Potts saw her capabilities at a glance, and for a while our 'merriment was restrained, only to be re-awakened, however by the entrance of the sun posed vampire. ''Her lather," said Potts; "deca}-ed gentleman, poor old fellow ; won't let his daughter act without him.". It required all my sympathy to refrain from laughing outright at the absurd an? tics of the poor Old "man, who had had to sacrifice many a prejudice before he' coujd consent to allow his daughter to employ her talents as a means of liveli? hood. i have almost forgotten the plot of the piece, but it was in the final act, if I re? collect rightly, that the lovely girl was to become the vampire's victim. When the curtain rose, she was discovered alone. After a short soliloquy she reclined on a couch, and "the plot of the piece required the entrance of her father after a short pause. He came, and never to my dying day shall I forget.the feariul impression caus? ed'by Jiij appearance. My professional studies had made me acquainted with all the tea iful forms which death assumes ; but the hue of the face which was before me* I had never met with, I had not dreamed that it was in the actor's art to produce so awful an appearance, which seemed the result rather of the absolute withdrawal of all color?I hardly know how to express my meaning?than the production of any external application. No words of mine could describe the ter? ror of his deeply sunken, heavy eyes, and his stealth}', noiseless tread. A habit of observation, which had become a second nature to me; compelled me for an instant to withdraw my gaze from the ghasth' figure stealing along the stage, and to glance round the theatre. The effect of the apparition was ap? palling. Children, wild with terror, clung to their mothers, scarcely less terrified than the}-; while strong men hid their faces in their hands. I looked at Potts, the cool man of the world. His self-pos? session prevented him from betraying what the firmly set mouth told me he could not wholly suppress. Every sound in the theatre was hushed, and it was amid a silence as that of death, in which I could hear the rapid beating of my own heart, that the vampire stole to the couch of the recumbent girl. What vague fore? boding deepened the terror with which I watched his approach to the girl, I know not; but I felt that to turn my head for an instant, or to open my lips, would be utterly impossible/ I would have given worlds for the pow? er to cry. out; but every muscle was j powerless, as if under the domination of a spell, and my gaze wan fixed uncon? trollably on the actor, as he bent his head toward the neck of the seemingly sleep? ing girl. An instant later, and with a cry like that of a death-stricken creature,, she sprang from the couch, tottered to? wards the footlights, and fell huddled , to? gether on tlie stage. Had she, too, be come suddenlj* endowed with some won? drous faculty which gave to the acting ol a novice a power beyond that of the highest attainment!:" of art ? The reality of her tearful cry, the manner of her hill, and a dark pool~under her head told a different t de. .Released. I knew not how. | I from the finiciimtion whfdY had held me j a- moment bttbre, I leaped from my seat, j ein in hered over the footlights, and raised the girl s head on my knee. A gash in her small; delicate throat, showed that all was., ton reuJ. Potts Imd followed me; with his aid 1.carried the girl into a dros sing-i'ooin. where I gave her all the assis? tance in my power. '?Her father," 1 said to an actor, who (1?|.N/wed-us;'"where is he: he must not ? escape." The man rushed OtFt of the room, but returned a few mini tes hiter to tell me that he. had found the girl's father lying; utterly uiiec-nsHotis- on the floor of hin j dressing-room. His manner terrified me. | "What do you mean '{" I said. '?It was not he," he whispered in a I hoarse, voice ; l'hc had.not finished* dress? ing for tho part.'' -fShut the staiie-door," I said. "Is -there- any *vay besides of leaving the rheaitrc fttfiii tin; stage I" ; ??'None?' But we were too lato y before the: alarm was iriytm, the other had gono out, j with a handkerchief to his lace. * * *'" * * ^1 : I have little to add to my story. The girl's beauty, her gentleness and intelli gence-had awakened'in me a strong feel? ing of interest, and I willingly gave up my holiday to pass it at her bedside. I was in love with.-the girl whom a strange and awful fate had thrown in my path. I tended her" with all my skill, and when I was compelled to return, and to leave her to other care, it was arranged that I should every day have news of her; and that as soon as she could possibly bear the reruoval she should be brought to Londor. A recovery from her wound seemed possible, when she was attacked by fits of such a character, that their con? tinuance, I knew, would be fafcak It would be too painful for me to dwell on the agony of these attacks, during which the recollection of that ghastly fuce was always present to her. A month after I left her I learned with bitter grief that all was over. My absence spared mo a terrible shock?she died raving mad in a lunatic asylum. A rigid inquiry left no doubt on my I mind of the father's complete innocence. His account was, that while dressing in bis room he happened to turn towards I the door, when he saw before him a figure dressed in all respects as he was to have been, but with a face so awful that he fell senseless. He recollected nothing more till, on his recovery, ho found persons standing" by hira. The most careful in? vestigation tended to corroborate this statement, but failed to produce any other evidence. From the first 1 had refused to believe in tho father's guilt, and after the death of his daughter I was instru? mental in procuring him emplo3*mcnt in the city. In the hope of finding some clue to the mystery of that awful night J had him constantly watched ; every step ho took was dogged, all his actions were recorded, but nothing to alter my opinion was discovered. I did not require this confirmation; I know how he had loved his daughter; knew how his life was bound np in hers. I noted his impatience at the slow approach of death, and it was with a feeling of sclf-rcproaciv, which the sense of a duty fulfilled could not, stifle, that I followed him to his grave. ?-4, From the Louisville Courier. The Last Bivouac of the Old Ken? tucky Brigade. It was at the town of Washington, Georgia, the "Old Brigade" closed its ca reer as an organization supporting the cause which was lost. Here at last its marches were ended, and here the South? ern breezes for the last time sported with its banners. General J. E. Johnson's capitulating order found the brigade -then serving as mounted infantry?in the heat of battle, among the scenes of the old revolution, near Camden, South Carolina. Hostilities immediately ended, and the brigade took rip its line of march for Washington to be paroled, where it arrived on the evening of May the 6th, 1S65: The day before the arrival a company of Federal cavalry had taken possession of tite town, and had established guards at the different build? ings containing Government stores. These soldiers in bloc were quiet spectators as the column of gray marched by. A few days before this, President Davis and his retinue had- passed through the town going westward, and the day previ? ous to the arrival of the brigade, General Brickinritlge, Secretary of War, had, at this place, issued the last order emanating from the Conlederate Government. This was done when he was on the eve of leav? ing town, a few bouts before the Federal troops came in. Here the ship of State, flying the Southern cross, had at last gone down, after haviug long and bravely breasted the crimsoned billows of war! By this time, too, Lee's paroled veterans had about all passed through, who had for more than a week been coming across on foot from Abbeville, S. G, to again meet with railroad, transportation to bear them homeward. The little town had bravely gone through this agitation, and seemed to be enjoying a season of quietude, when the troops marched in. The brigade moved through the streets a well closed column, armed cap-a-pie, and with colours flying. Soon the citizens were out en masse to look for the last time upon the "boys in gray" as they were marching?marching under their colors. The troops of the brigade had, as infantry, elicited universal admitation on fields of review for the precision of their move? ments and military bearing, and now they did not dishonor the arm of the service to which they belonged. Steadily they march? ed, the very horses seeming to' \ie with the riders in keeping up the military to the last. The spring breezes gently wav? ed the banners that bore the marks of t he contest, and that had the names of many fields written upon their folds?and the evening s sunlight, on the eve of fading from the hills, danced and quivered upon the long trusty Kntields, thnstsmiling pleas? antly upon one of the last scenes of South? ern pageantry. As the troops moved out on the Athens road they met a b><dy of Federal cavalry coming from the opposite direction. The column of blue and the column of gray divided the road, each filing by in silence. The folds of the opposing banners, which had so often swayed, aud tossed in the battle's storm, were now almost wafted together by the May zephyrs, yet there was no din of battle. Tin- brigade halted in a pleasant wood of beeches and oaks, in the environs, which was the scene of the "last bivouac.'' 'ihe setting sun never before stretched his arms of light through tho beautiful wood to touch a better picture than when the war riors iccliued on the green sward, under the trees, resting from the weary march and from the "hundred battles." Not far away were the steeds, which had so faith? fully borne them, quietly enjoying their forage, forgetful of the battles' tumult, yet unconscious that the war was ended. 'J he soldiers were not permitted long to rest, however, for ere long the clear notes of the bugle called cheni up to the duties of the camp. When the evening shadows. deepened into darkness, the blazing bivouac fires lighted up the wood Beautiful was the scene, as the light clambered the tall trunks of the trees, to sciutilate among the tender lea ves of spring, that formed a can? opy above. Under the green roof the forms of the soldiers were seen, some walk? ing to and fro, others sitting around qui? etly smoking their pipes, and the murmur of the camp crept away through the still ness. of the night to greet the cottages in the suburbs. At length the last "tattoo" rang "through | the woods,in notes'clear and strong, yet of the five thousand stalwart Kentuckians first brigaded under Breckinridge, at Bowl? ing -Green, Ky., (the only chauge -made, the -Fifth had the place of the Third regi? ment,) not a thousand answered to their names. Of the missing thousands, hun? dreds slept on battle-fields where they had fallen; their ears forever deaf to the bugle's call. In wounds and in sickness many hundreds had died, their graves being marked in i. -fly every State of the Con? federacy, and many had died in Northern prisions. No wonder the light of the camp-fires which reflected in the bronzed faces of the warriors, that stood up at the roll-call, revealed traces of sadness, for their thoughts were of the absent. The winds murmuring so softly through the leafy branches overhead were even then chanting solemn dirges among the. pines that grew above the graves of their fallen comrades?graves that were scattered far and wn!e, and far from the care of loved ones at home. Yet, when the ranks were broken, and while around the fires a moment to finish their pipes ere giving themselves to slum? ber, sad feelings were forgotten, and, in true soldier style, the laughing jest was sent and the cutting repartee received, all forgetful of the past and careless as to the future. St o:: the camp fires smouldered, quiet brooded over the scene, and naught but the glittering stars, peering through the green canopy above, kept sentry over the sleeping warriors?for the war was over. ******* After Sherman had marched from Sa? vannah into the Carolinas, the brigade was attached to Young's division, Hampton's corps, and was on the San tee river, in South Carolina, contending against a raid from Charleston under roster, when John? son's order surrendering the department was received. The troops had been light? ing several day after the order was issued. Their battles ended where "Marion fought, and now they slept under the trees, near Washington, waiting the new events of the morrow. For four years they had been together in the tedium of the camp, the monotony of the drill-field, on the wea? risome march, in the bivouac, and oftimes on the '?perilous edge ot the battle.'' They had marched among the snows of Ken? tucky and Tennessee in mid-winter, and had marched under the burning sain of Louisiana in the heat of summer. Their spirits were never down. They had ever laughed at hardships, and frolicked in the midst of danger?never despondent in dis? aster. The morrow would; free them to again seek peaceful vocations, yet they had slept as soundly on battle-fields, sur? rounded by the dea?3 and the dying, know? ing the morning would bring a renewal of the conflict. By noon the next day, 7th, the troops were all paroled, and had scattered off, leaving the grounds deserted. The even? ing before details had carried the arms to General Lewis' quarters, where they were piled in a heap. Soon after, Capt. Abra? ham*-Lot, the Federal Provost Marshal, with his clerk, came out to sign tho pa? roles. They were the only Federal soldiers present ac the surrender. The paroles of one or two regiments were signed that night. The military bonds 'hat had bound the members of the "old brigade" together for four years of warfare were severed, but the ties of friendship woven between them during that time will last forever. Now, when they meet in the civil walks of life, the kindling eye and the warm clasp of hands indicates their companionship thro' that period, when the God of War lifted high the bloody sword and the earth trem? bled beneath the shock of battles. -o Letter from Hon. B. F. Perry. To the Editor of the Columbia Phoenix: It is most extraordinary, indeed, and will be as terrific in its results as it is now strange and wonderful, to secan educated, refined and gallant people, seeking re? pose and protection from apprehended political evils under the government and control of their former slaves?an inferior race, utterly ignorant and debased ! There is nothing in the history of all nations of the earth, for the last six thousand years, comparable to it, in folly and madness.? Future ages will regard it as the most re? markable fatuity that ever possessed any people. What a change has cqftifl over flic spirit and feelings of South Carolina within the last seven years!. The Federal Union was then beneficent, republican and con? stitutional. There was not an Act of Congress, for eight previous years, which an}- one complained of as unjust or op? pressive. Wo were as happy and pros? perous as a pcopio could be. And yet that Union was hated and despised ! The people rose up en niasse aud solemnly de? termined to rid themselves of it, or die in the attemptNow, that Union has trampled the Constitution in the dust, violated evc-y republican principle, and heaped on us tyranny and oppression, which, its Chief Magistrate declares, no people, speaking the English language, have ever borne, for the hist five hundred years ! And the people of South Carolina have so changed, within seven short years, that they are how clamorous to get back into the Union, and hug its tyranny and oppression to their bosoms?to lieu the rod that has smote them to the earth and desolated their Slate! Jn order to hasten their return,- they aro not only willing to give up all tho rights of their State?ail constitutional and republican principles, and self-government?but to transfer the Government of their once proud aud chivalric Statu into the hands of the negroes! Intelligence, virtue and refinement are tobe ruled by ignorance aud baseness i The wealth of tho State to be taxed and plundered by a race of paupers, who will portion out the lands and vote themselves WomeRiieads. and whose legislation will be such as to bring, eventually, sooner, or later, a war of races, in which one or the other must be exterminated. Whilst writing, I have been told that confiscation was boldly avowed by the negro convention which assembled in Charleston last week. It is a great mistake i;o suppose that, by all this humiliation and degradation, we shall get back into the Union, or bo relieved of military government. Con? gress has given no such guarantee, and leading radicals assert tho contrary, Itho ( Union - will not be restored till after fhe next Presidential election. A military government, or a standing army, in South arolina, after the enfranchisement ot the negro, will be absolutely necessary, to preserve the peaco and keep down the oppressed white race. Nothing else will do it. Instead of being relieved from the oppressions of Congress and military rule, we shall have called into existence, ! by our own votes, a third power, more odious and revolting, more galling and destructive, than either of the other ;;wo. No one who reflects can mistake the parposc of the radical party?the solo purpose which they have in view?and to accomplish which they are attempting to move heaven and earth. They have been influenced in their recent atrocious, bar? barous legislation mueh more by the hope of continuing and perpetrating their power in the Government, and their ex? istence as a part}', than by any love for the negro,- or wrongs on the Southern people. It their purpose had been solely revenge, they could have instituted, all over the country, prosecutions for trea? son, and by military commissions or ne? gro juries have brought an}' prominent man to the gallows. For two or three years, they waged war against the South? ern States without attempting to interfere with slavery, or raising a finger to relieve the poor African from his thraldom. It was only when they lound that the "Great Rebellion" could not be otherwise sup? pressed, and that they could successfully use our slaves against us, that they de? clared them free, and enlisted them in their armies. This was a new element, and a most powerful one, which they brought into the contest. By it, they increased their forces 200,000, and greatly weakened the resources of the Southern States. They cared nothing for the ne? gro, except to see him slaughtered in bat? tle, instead of their own soldiers. This was the extent of their love and philan? thropy for the African race?nothing more, nothing less. It is supposed that 1.U00.U0U of this unfurtunate people, who were happy aud contented slaves, per? ished during the war by disease, hunger, cold, exposure and neglect, or were killed in battle. And no candid or impartial man can say that tho condition of the survivors, as a whole, has been benefittcd. Time will prove that their destiny, as a free race in the Southern States, is extinc? tion. A new vision has now broke upon the I wicked hopes and purposes of the radical j Congress. They think, by giving univer? sal suffrage to the negro, they will be able to radicalize the Southern States. With this aim, the military bill was passed, de? stroying the States, disfranchising leading public men and enfranchising the negro. They were afraid to take so bold a step in infamy aud in violation of all constitu? tional rights before the elections last fall, in the Northern Slates. Had they done so, they would have' been deposed in all those States where the negro is not al? lowed to vote. The elections in Connec? ticut, this spring, prove this fact. Isarirc Democratic gainer in all the municipal elections North give evidence of the truth ot this assertion. Kentucky has just swept the radical party out of that State. Everywhere we hear of a re-action in fa? vor of constitutional liberty. If we will have patience, and bear our wrongs like Christians and patriots, our deliverance will come; but, for Cod's sake, do not let. us ourselves rivet the chains on our own hands. Jn. order to radicalize the South and stir up antagonism between the two races, and set them lo cutting each other's throats. Republican emissaries, black and while, great and small, arc traveling all over the Southern States.and making tho most incendiary speeches, organizing se? cret societies, and forming "Union leagues." Senator Wilson, of Massachu? setts, gave the people ot Charleston, the other week, a specimen of his tactics and political strategy. Nothing can be more diabolical, or less likely to promote the true interests of the black man, than such a course. It will, however, go very far towards estranging the freed men from us, and building up a strong and powerful radical party in all the Southern States. If left alone, the negro would act in har? mony with his former owner. It is his in-' terest to do so. But of this there is new little hope. Every, day, by means of this radical agitation and misrepresentation, he will be less and less under the influ? ence of his true friends and neighbors. At present, out of the towns and villages, the negro cares nothing about his right of suffrage, and knows nothing. Unless in? fluenced by bad men, he will not trouble himself to register or vote. This, how? ever, will not al ways be tho case. If, therefore, wc are wise in the coming elec tion, true to ourselves, and have the true interests of the negro at heart, we may deteat the call of a convention, and savo the State from radicalism and agrarian ism, and a war of races in the future. It never can be done afterwards. It is said that the adoption of the mili? tary bill, with all its consequences, is not more dishonorable than what the South? ern States have already done, by abolish? ing slavery and adopting the constitu? tional amendme7>f on that subject. This is a strange assertion. What dishonor is there in setting your slaves free? Can there be any? But there is dishonor in placing yourself under the control and government ci those slaves after they are made free. The surrender of Lee and Johnston was an acknowledgment that slavery was abolished. The Federal armies wore hero to enforce it. The slaves, too, had become so much demoralized that almost every one was willing to give up the institution, and no one now desires to sec it restored. But is this an argument for giving up seif-govcrnmont, republican principles, constitutional liberty, tho rights of the Stales, and placing ourselves at tho mercy of our freedmen? When South Carolina abolished slavery, sho had an assurance, too, that she would be forth? with restored to the Urion, with nil her 1 constitutional rights unimpaired. Now, , we arc told, after all this humiliation and , degradation, if South Carolina will radi caiizo herself and elect Black Republicans, they may bo admitted to their seate in ? Congress! Who wished to bo admitted iuto tho Union on these terms? No act or deed yet done has sullied the fair es- ] cutcheon of the Palmetto State. It is to bo hoped that none will be in tho future. I have been charged with inconsistency in opposing tho reconstruction of ;tbo Union. I am not opposed to rceonstruc-. tion. No man in South Carolina, or the United States, more earnestly desires to < see the Union restored as it was before the war. It is the nearest and dearest wish of my heart. But I will not dis? honor myself or my State, or bring ruin on my country, to obtain such a Union as is now proposed. I have been charged, too, with inconsistency in going with my State after she seceded. I can only reply by saying that my notions of duty, honor and patriotism differ widely from those of ray accusers. It is trae that I was a Union man, and did all that I could to preserve the Union. For thirty years I defended it, with my pen, with ray speech, and with ray right arm. But when South Carolina seceded from the Union, I said to Gor. Means, who desired to know the course I intended to take, "That the State was going to the devil, and I was going with her." From that day to the end of the war, I was as zealous and earnest in her defence as any son she had. I regarded it my duty, imposed by honor and patri? otism, to aid 8,000,000, of my fellow-citi? zens, who had united, whether wisely or unwisely, in their attempt to establish that sacred right of self-government pro? claimed in the declaration of indepen? dence. South Carolina was the land of my nativity, the home of my family, kin? dred and friends. In her bosom reposed the bones of my forefathers, and I should have been a traitor to her interests, honor and glory had I raised a paricidal arm against ray nativo State. A rebel, rcluc la'nt and unwilling. I did become. My father was one in 76. But a traitor 1 never can be. B. F. PERRY. ? An old colored preacher and school teacher was asked, the other day, what party he belonged to no w. Like "a man and a brother/7'he replied:. "Don't b'long to no party, sah; loves all good peoplejes' alike, and prays for all jes' alike." "Then," said the inquirer, "you are a philanthro? pist?" "No, sah, I isn't; FsaBaptis/sah, a Baptis'." THE Y0RKVILLE ENQUIRER. Literary and Family Newspaper. Enlarged and Improved for 1867. NEW TYPE AND NEW ATTRACTIONS I FOUR ORIGINAL STORIES, AND THREE VALUABLE PREMIUMS 111 TFIE ENQUIRER will appear on Thnrsday, tlie 3rd Jay of Janury, 1867, increased in size, aad printed on entirely new material, with the latest improvements in Hie art, presenting a more attrac? tive appearance, and containing sx least five addi? tional columns of reading matter?the. largest newspaper in the State outside of Charleston. The Editorial department -will be-conducted by Mr. James F. Wilson, assisted by Major - Jaiaee- F. Mart. Mr. James Wood* DaTiuVon>;>-ilL continue his versatile "Coutributorials" fnim Colnj?ljj?. Four original Noveletis, written expressly for the Enquirer, will be published during the year The following are the titles: '?The Spectre of the Fireside"?by J. Wifhcr spoon Erwin; " The Shadow on the Wail "?by John Este* Cooke. "The Wealth of ITome"?by Mrs. 31. A. tfwafl. "Elinor Westervelt, the Tory"* Niece'*?by I'av oliue F. Preston; TERMS?IX AD VA NCE. yt'KicB crnitENC? One copy one year, S'2 50 $ j ?i) Two copies one year, 4 00 6 00 Five copies one year, 8 75 12 00 Ten copies one year, 37 50 :2? 00 One copy sis months, 1 25 2 00 ?To the person sending us tho largest club- of subscribers, at SI 7-3 in specie, or $2 60 in. cur? rency, we will award a Patent Cotton Planter,1 which will cost in Charleston- fifty doN?r?. To the person sending us the next- largest club, on the*ame terms, we will award a Patent Corn Planter, which will cost in Charleston thirtv dol? lars! . To the person sending us the third largest Ks*, on the same terms, we will award one of Ames' Double Corn Shcllers, cost-In Chariest err, twenty dollars I ? ? ;> ? k The premiums will be awarded to the successful. competitors on the first Monday in March next, at 3 o'clock. The names should be sent in", however, as they arc obtained ; additions being made to the list up to the day of the award. No names will be counted unless paid for. To persons who may make up clubs of ten or more names, but who may fail to obtain a prize, we will send the Enqinrrr owe year free of charge, and a copy of either "The Land we Love," "Scott's Monthly Maeuzine," or "Godcy's Lady's Eoik." L. M. GUIST, Yorkville. Schedule over S. C. Railroad, GENERAL SUP'TS OFFICE, Ciiakxeston, S. ?, Nov. 3, 1866. ON and after Wednesday, November 7, 1866, the Passenger Traiusof this road will run the following schedule: AUGUSTA TRAIS/. I/flave Charleston, 3.00 a. <m. Arrive SI CoiftfjftbHn; &20 p. m. Arrive al. Augusta, .5.00 p. m Leave Augusta, 7.O0a. m. Leave Columbia, 6.50 a. m. Arrive at Charleston, 4.00 p. m. TtlROUOU MAIL TRAIN. Leave Augusta, 5.50 p. nj. Arrive nt Kingsvillc, 3.0$ ff.-jfr/ Arrive at Columbia, 3.00 n. m. Leave Columbia, 2.00 p. m. Arrive at Kingsville, 3.40 p. m. Arrive al. Augusta. - - 12.00 nighf. II. T. PEAKE, Gon'ISup't. Nov 15. I860 .22 . Greenville & Columbia Rail Road. General Superintendent's Office, olumbia, Sept, 12, 1806. On and after Monday,- 17th hut., the Passenger Trains will be run daily, (Sunday's exceptedj un? til farther notice, as follows: Leave Columbia at - - 7 15 a. m. " Allston, - - 9 05 <?' M Newbcrty, - - 10 35 n. su Arrive at Abbeville, - - 3 13 p. ax. ? ** Anderson, - - 5 10 ?? " " Green rillo, - - 5 40. ? ??? Leave Greenville lit - - 6 00' a. m. " Anderson, - - - 6 80 ? ?? Abbeville, - 8 35 a. m. " Newberry, - - 120 p.m. Arrive at Alston, - - 2 45 " ?? " Columbia, - 4 40 " The bridge at Alston being- now completed, pas? sengers aud freights will be transported without Jelay. The expense of freights; hy the discontin? uance of the wagous and- boats, will be largely reduced. ,' J. B. LASALLE.'Gen'l Sunt. Sept 20, 1866 14. W. E. ARCHER'S LIVERY AND SALE STABLES* 350 EROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GEORGIA* - Dec 5, 180G- - - 36i .*. ?