Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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RATES OF SUBSCRIPTION-Tvo Dollars per annum, and O.ve Dollah for six months. Subscriptions are not taken for a less period than six months. Liberal deductions made to clubs of ten or mors subscribers. RATES- OF ADVERTISING.?One Dollar p?r square o! one inch for the first insertion, and Flftv Cents per square for subsequent insertionslessthan threa months. No advertisement counted less than a square. ' Liberal contracts will be made with those wishing to advertise for threo, six or twelve months, -id vertisine by contract must bo confined to the im? mediate Dusiness of the firm or individual contrac? ting. Obituary Notices exceeding five lines, Tributes of Respect, and all personal communications or matters of individual interest, will be charged for at advertising rates. Announcements of marriages and deaths, and notices of a religious character, are respectfully solicited, and wll' be inserted grails. BY HOYT & CO. ANDERSON, S. C, THURSDAY, MARCH % 1876. ? VOL. XI---JTO. 33. LEGAL ADVERTISING.-Wc arc compelled to require cash payments for advertising ordered Executors, Administrators and other fiduciaries, and herewith append the rates for tho ordinaar notices, which wilt only be inserted whon the money comes with the order: . ! Citations, two Insertions,, - - - $3.0* Estate Kol ices, three insertions, ? - 2.00 Final Settlements, five insertions - - 3.00 TO CORRESPONDENTS.?In order to receive attention, communications must.be accompanied by the true name and address of the writer. Re? jected manuscripts will not txs returned,unless tho necessary stamps arc furnished to repay the postage thereon. ? ? .OSf* Wc are not responsible for the views and opinions of our correspondents. All communications should be addressed to "Ed? itors Intelligencer," and all checks, drafts, money orders, 4c, should be made payable to tho order of HOYT 4 CO., Anderson, S. C. BERKLEY HALL. ? BT "LA CAROLINE." ?.!; In:: CHAPTER VIII. "We are kneeling at thy throne, Father, - Low at thy throne to-day; 0,' bless and save our stricken land, Remove this scourge away. Gloom gathers 'round each cheerful hearth, A shade Is on each' brow; O, Father, hear our humble prayer, - - And save our country now." e Heariy four years of hard fighting and intense suffering had marked the short but-brilliant career of the Confederate States' of America as a Nation among the sovereignties of the earth. Although but little of the soil of the old Palmetto State had yet been desecrated by the treadof brothers armed to work her woe, sue, Ekej'ber sister States, had drunk deeply of the bitter cup of bereavement | and suffering; and nobly had her soldiers done their part on the many, many bat? tle-fields of our fair Southern land.. The inmates of nearly every home were clad in garments of mourning, but their faces ?wore the expression of lofty endurance, ?mingled. with- cheerful and hopeful reli? ance upon the truth of their sacred cause. Our friends at Berkley Hall had not escaped the fate of their fellows. Col. Maham had fallen early in the struggle ?one of the first victims offe/ed on the shrine of Southern liberty. Walter, baring ? Received a military education, had been assigned command of a battal? ion, of artillery, but quickly was his young life. of promise - and distin ction ended. At the battle of - he was wounded,/captured and sent to prison, where be contracted a low and lingering fever.'!' Owing to the influence of his former, classmate and friend, Hubert Gray,'he was paroled and removed to; the home, of Urs. Gray, the mother of his j friend. There the young patriot terminated his short but noble life. A second time was Mrs. Maham called upon to weep over the ruin of fond hopes and high expectations. In Mrs. Gray, Walter found an humble and devoted follower of the Master, and long and sweet were the talks they had together of the fair land of promise to which the young soldier was so soon going. Mrs. Gray loved Walter Maham, not only because the Master had said J love your enemies; not only because he j was. th^ dearest friend of her own idol feed boy,-Hut she" loved him for his noble and endearing qualities, his high cour? age, his calm fortitude, his gentle courte? sy, his grateful affection, his Christ-like humility, and although she (warped as her feelings were by sectional prejudices and abolition sentiments) could not ap? preciate from his standpoint his lofty patriotism, yet she learned to respect and even .admire the purity of motive and the devotion to his country displayed by the young soldier; and when, after many weeks of patient suffering, the stranger youth breathed his last, with his head pillowed on her breast, the kiss she pressed upon his brow and the tears she shed were tokens of truest love and sor? row. . His mortal remains rest far away from the old church yard where the. sfghing pines chant their mournful requiem over the graves Of his forefathers, but tenderly and kindly by the side of her own loved dead Mrs^ Gray laid him, and -with gen ?e.han?i,planted sweet flowers over the sod under which our young hero, clad in his soldier's garb of grey, waits the trump of the last great Easter morn! With a heart brim full of Christian sympathy and love, Mrs. Gray wrote to the sorrow-stricken mother of Walter Maham.: "Your beautiful and lofty mag? nolia tree has been transplanted into the Paradise of God, there to live and bloom forever 1" 0, wonderful love! oh, exalted faith, that can so calm our stormy passions and lift us above the prejudices and dis? cordance of our poor humanity as to im? pel us, men and women, to perform acts of Christian charity towards those whom civil war, appealing to our basest pas? sions, would tempt us to treat as our enemies! At the close of the year 1864, we find Mrs. Maham and her daughter the only white occupants of the Hall, and every? thing in and around the old home wear? ing the appearance of a departure. The negroes looked mystified and most of them sorrowful. The old house already looked desolate. The rooms had been dismantled of everything like drapery. China, silver, nearly everything of value had been packed away for safe keeping. In the parlor divans, fauteuils-, chairs and furniture generally had been sewed up in linen, looking like sombre ghosts of past brightness. If any one ventured to speak above a sorrowful monotone, the old walls echoed their voices with re? proachful solemnity. The library and Mrs. Maham's chamber?the mother's room at Berkley Hall?at Marion's earn? est solicitations, were allowed to remain unmolested. "Oh, mother," she said, "let me bear with me from Berkley some pleasant and unaltered memories! Leave the library just as it has always been? dear papa's chair, and the books we have all read together with so much delight. If it must be, let a stranger's hand dese? crate and rob this old sanctum of its brightness; and your room, dear mother, oh, let it remain untouched, sacred to the memory of our childish joys, and sweetly soothed infantile sorrows. To rob me of the recollections of my child? hood in 'mother's room' would be to steal from my life its brightest sparkle. There it was Walter told me the wonder? ful tales of the Arabian Nights, and the still more touching stories of Joseph and his brethren, of little Samuel, of the Shep? herd Boy who, in the name of Israel's God, slew the great giant, and of the holy child, Jesus, and his pure and gen? tle mother. It was in 'mother's room,' too, Harry and I played our romping games?'Bread and Butter, come to Sup? per,' 'Hide and Seek,' 'Blind-man's Buff,' and many others. Above all, it was in 'mother's room' we were first taught to seek our Father in Heaven. Then let it remain untouched, mother, your children love to dwell upon the happy hours spent in 'mother's room.'" And thus it was, in answer to the young girl's gentle plead? ing, those two rooms retained their usual home-like iispect. Tes, there was to be a leave-taking, and a sad one, too, at Berkley Hall. Sher? man's march to the sea, his capturo of Savannah, and an urgent letter from Harry,, now an Adjutant in Hood's Army, had determined Mrs. Maham to seek for herself and daugnter a place of safety in the upper portion of their State, and the 56th of December was the day appointed for them to leave the old plantation. Christmas night we find Marion Maham alone in the library of Berkley Hall; her mother, overcome with sorrow and fa? tigue, had retired early to rest, and left to Marion the duty, lovingly and readily undertaken, of replying to Harry's letter. Let ms take a peep at the woman with whom four years before we parted an imaginative school-girl. Just seventeen, she was universally admitted to be a beauty, and as she sat in the handsome old library musing over Harry's unan? swered letter, the picture presented was one which a painter would have delight? ed to place upon canvass. Handsome book-Bhelves, filled with works from the pens of the best writers, were placed around the room; suspended from the walls hung likenesses of favorite authors, of heroes and of statesmen, interspersed with historical sketches and fine land? scapes?everything, books, engravings and paintings were selected with the taste and intelligence of an amateur. Nearly in the centre of the room was a large flower-stand, filled with the rarest and most beautiful exotics, many of them even at that cold Christmas season in luxuriant blossom. A bright fire burned upon the hearth, which, with the shaded light of a student's lamp and the rich crimson of the damask curtains, made bright and changing pictures on every? thing around; but the fairest picture and the sweetest flower in that old sanctum was the "Lily of Santee," as her friends often called her. Her form was of the medium height, slender and graceful, her hair of the darkest brown, so dark that, except when seen in the sunlight, would be called black, hung in luxuriant masses of loose ringlets over her shoulders, shad? ing her face and lending additional soft? ness and purity to her exceedingly white complexion; her mouth was very sweet, its chief charm lay in the archness which was ever lurking around her cherry lips; but it was on her broad, white brow, and in the light of her inexpressibly beauti? ful eyes, you read the womanly indepen? dence, perfect truthfulness, noble hero? ism and rare intelligence of the yet only partially developed girl. Although of a fanciful and poetic temperament, niirth fulness had been a predominant feature in her conversation and manners, but the family bereavement had tended much to soften her gaiety, and gave a new charm to her exquisitely lady-like deportment. To leave Berkley Hall, the happy home of her childhood, and in her girlish fancy the Eden of earth, was a sore trial, and in the mingled expression of impatience and sorrow on her frank, sweet face, we gather the crude and flitting thoughts of the girl's heart. "Ah," she suddenly exclaimed, "how it chafes my spirit to desert old Berkley! If the" enemy are coming why should we run? Such was not the fashion of our grandmothers iu the old heroic days of 1776. I long to emulate their hero? ism, and not be a recreant to the blood that flows in my veins! 0, I know I am only a girl, and woman's work lies at home! It is true wo cannot be soldiers to buckle on the sword and rush into the conflict, neither can we share the weary, weary march under the burning suns of summer, or over the snow-covered roads of winter, but surely we may stand by our own hearthstones and under our own rooftrees, trusting in an Almighty Arm to defend the cause of truth and justice! Even Harn' urges our leaving home. I cannot think what has come over him? our 'Coeur de Lion,' as mother used to call him?he who ever scorned cowardice even in a woman, now bids us run! And what an undertone of melancholy fore bodiug there is in his letter! If I did not know the writer's heart to be so brave, it would seem to whisper fear. But, oh, no, it cannot be! it is only fear .for us, his loved ones, all alone at Berk? ley. He does not, he cannot fear for the success of Southern arms! Dear, pre? cious brother, a soldier nearly four years, and scarce a man! What a youthful veteran is our Harry!" So mused the warm-hearted girl, when the old clock in the hall (an heirloom from one of the Huguenot fathers) strik? ing twelve, roused her from her reverie. "Midnight!" she exclaimed, "and Har? ry's letter not answered." CHAPTER IX. Harry's letter to his mother and Mari? on's rcplv : ARMY OF TENNESSEE, 1 Camp near Nashville, I December 13th, 1864. j Capf. Harri/ Maham to Mm. Alice Maham: My Dearest Mother?I fear every? thing from Sherman's march to the sea, except a lost cause. That I never will anticipate until we lay down our arms. I write in haste, and only a few lines to urge the immediate removal of my sister and yourself from Berkley to some safe retreat in the up-country of our State. It is possible you may obtain board in G-. Advise with our friend, Mr. -?; I am sure he will aid you in get? ting into a pleasant family. I know, dear mother, your innate gen? erosity and heroism will prompt you to remain, and take care of your servants and home, but remember Atlanta! re? member the character of our foe! No goth or vandal could be more ruthless in the work of devastation ; more heedless of the cries of little children, and the piteous appeals of helpless women! re? member my sister's youth and beauty and your feeble health; and, dearest mother, remember, too, how much easier it will be for your soldier boy to do his duty when he knows his loved ones are in some quiet place, sheltered from all rude alarms. I wish I could be with you to relieve you of the care and trouble of moving; but it cannot be, every soldier, now fit for duty is needed to the front. In a few days another desperate battle must be fought?the God of Battles alone can foresee the result. The "Battle of Franklin" has been for us a victory bril? liant, but barren. The Federals evacua? ting their position and retreating to Nashville, the field was ours; but, oh, how dearly bought 1 It is true, in years to come, we may with just enthusiasm and pride point our children to Franklin and say: "See how Southern soldiers fought! for such heroism, such daring as our gallant boys displayed, it is surely impossible to surpass!" But our loss! Who can reckon it? Our noblest and best are among the slain! and, alas, alas! their name is Legion! .Our own little State, you have learned how she has suf? fered! The courageous and impulsive Cle burne, the "Stonewall of the West," has fallen! A meet and glorious death for the brave soldier, but a grievous and irreparable loss to his bleeding country ! I forbear, it is not for the soldier on the field, front to front with the foe, to look back upon the sad and irretrievable past; rather glancing upward and forward, and wooing bright "auspicious hope, the friend of the brave," determined to con? quer or die in defence of the cause which is dearer than life! Our General is generous, daring and brave, but I do not believe there is a single man in the Army of Tennessee (the gallant Hood himself not excepted) who does not regret the removal of the beloved, noble and skilful Johnston. But I must sky farewell,' ray precious mother, I have not time to dwell upon a theme fraught with such deep interest to your patriot heart. God bless both you and my darling sister. Pray for your country; pray for your boy, that he may be found steadfast in the path of duty. HARRY MAHAM. Berkley Hall, Dec. 25,1864. Marion Maham to Capt. Harry Maham: Dear Harry?I am alone in our fa? vorite room, the old library, this my last night at Berkley Hall. "Old Gendron" has just struck twelve, and the echo of his last tones have scarcely died away. It is the hour when fairies are said to keep their revels, but I fear no hobgoblin tricks to-night, "sweet Puck" will scarce? ly care to venture out, so frosty, so dismal and so black is the mantle with which dark Nox has robed the earth. She has, indeed "stepped forth in rayless majesty." The heavens are clothed in the very "blackness of darkness;" but in this our sanctum, in spite of the grief which to? morrow brings, all is bright and home? like. Irving looks as merrily at me from his gilded frame as if he was telling for the first time his funny history of New York and her old Dutch worthies and heroes. On the other side our patriot seer, the great Calhoun, gazes gravely and sadly; and I can almost feel his gentle hand upon my head, and hear him say: "Weep, daughter, for the deso? lation that cometh on our fair, loved land." But I will not heed those low sad tones, for yonder stands Jasper with the "saved colors" in his hand?the doth of blue and silver crescent?and I know that Jasper's spirit still dwells in his countrymen, and we will yet be free! My fuchsias are looking splendid, Har? ry, and the fragrance of the heliotropes and violets is delicious. I wish you could enjoy them with me, you were ever fond of flowers. 0, I must not forget I have a sprig of jessamine for you. I found it blooming in the thickest part of the "bower," where it had found a shelter from the cold and frost; your favorite, I remember, of all the garden beauties. Ah, Harry, does not the name lend it its dearest charm ? Do not think to cheat me; remember how fairly I caught you one day murmuring, "Jessamine, bright, golden blossoms, pride of Carolina's forest bowers! Jessie, sweet Jes3ie, loveliest and fairest of Chicora's* fair daughters!" But I have so much to write you of our sadly anticipated departure from Berkley to-morrow, and so little time for writing that I may not linger over the pleasant pictures and beautiful flowers of Berkley, or the sweet memories and pleasant bye gones of dear Jessie Ferguson, but will just take a little moment to tell you that I received a long letter from Jessie a week ago. They are now in Florence, where they anticipate remaining several months. Her report of dear Annie's health is sad, indeed. "Our darling An? nie," she writes, "grows daily more fee? ble. Even my poor uncle dares not flat? ter himself that she is improving. But as her strength becomes weaker, her spirit grows stronger and brighter. It is touchingly beautiful to see her trying to comfort her distressed father, and seek? ing to lead him to the only Comforter for such sorrows as his. She iB ever the same unselfish, thoughtful cousin to me, insisting upon my uncle's taking me to visit every object and spot of interest within reach of this delightful city, which well deserves the admiring appellation of its people, 'Firenze la bella.' Annie has taken quite a fancy to our soubrette, a petty little Swiss girl of lively, modest manners, who has a love story in which our gentle Annie takes a wonderful in *Thc name given by the Indians to Carolina. terest. Bertha (the little maid) is be? trothed to a young man who acts as 'cou? rier' for travelers, and they are to marry when they get enough money to buy a farm in their beloved Switzerland. Au nie says wheu my uncle and I are sight? seeing, she is not lonely, for she has a pleasant time helping the little Switzer girl to make plans for expediting the happy finale of her girlhood. Annie, with her usual generosity, has laid aside a nice sum to be bestowed on her favorite as a bridal gift, and long after our gentle invalid shall have passed away from earth and its sorrows, the name of Annie St. Julien, the gentle American, will proba? bly be a household word among the in? mates of one happy little Swiss chalet. "Marion, dear friend, write often, you know not how we thirst for news from home, and how our hearts bleed in sym? pathy with our suffering country." I have not time, Harry, to quote any more of Jessie's letter, which is long and interesting, but will indulge you with its perusal when we meet. Our dear Annie, I fear we will never sec her sweet face on earth again. Poor Dr. St. Julien, what sorrow is in store for him. You have learned ere this that Sher? man is in possession of Savannah. It' is terrifying to think of the audacity aud Celerity with which he has marched through Georgia, and the desolation and ruin he leaves behind him. If he has so scourged the "Empire State," what will not detested Carolina be made to suffer ? And yet, Harry, I am reluctant to run. It seems to me cowardly to leave our home and our poor dependant slaves. The negroes appear to be much distressed, and all of them are eager to go with us. Mother tried to explain to them how im? possible it would be for her to make them as comfortable as they now are, if she carried them with her. She told them she had no fears that they would be un? kindly treated, for the invaders profess to be their friends. "We aint want dey friendship, we is satisfy, we is happy, and wish dey would go back, whar dey come from; we don't want dem to meddle wid us," they all exclaimed excitedly. Mother has given the house and yard to the care of Maumer and Daddy Prince, (our Major Domo, as you used to call him.) Daddy Joe holds the position of "charge d'affairs" on the plantation. Uncle Wil? lie, who at present thinks of remaining at home, will continue his kind surveil ance of the whole. When mother turned over the keys to Maumer, the great big tears rolled down her dear old dusky cheek, and in her impulsive, excitable way, Bhe said: "I pray de good Lord will go wid you boff, and bring you missus and my blessed Puss (my pet name with her, you know) back soon to Buckley. Dese is days sich as my ole eyes never spected to see; but de Lord sisting me, I will be faithful to you, missus, and dey Tvill walk over dis nigger's dead body befoe dey will gitany ting out bb dis house. I and mine has missed and served desc Mahams since de days ob de Rebolution when de ole Col. fight de British, and if de Lord is willin, me and mine will die by dese Mahams I" Then sobbing bitterly she continued: "If we is satisfy, why can't de Yankees let we lone ? Dey has done take de bery light from my ole eyes! I long for to see my blessed chile, Mass Walter; his voice sound as sweet as angels' music when he tell us of de good land, where we will rest after de work ob dis world is ober, and be foreber wid de Great Captain of our salvation. But bless de Lord, he is only gone a little while beforo us to de Promus Land." Daddy Joe then came aud proffered his fealty. He said in a tone of conscious superiority: "I'se too much of a Marion nigger to foller de inimy. Why, bless, you, Missies, my great grandfarder is de one what roast de Ginral's taters; and Josiah Sumter Marion will stick to da Marion blood long is him lib!" Oh, Harry, I know they will be true to as in weal or woe ! But when I say so mother shakes her head and says: "They are the ignorant children of im? pulse. It is hard to resist temptations, and others have failed. But I do believe they are sincere now." Our darling mother is a true heroine, she has gone through the details of leav? ing so bravely. She has bid all of the negroes good-bye with a kind word of counsel to each one. We went to the negro-yard this morning to visit tho sick, and say good-bye to old Maum Jinny, who cannot last much longer. I am glad to be able to write that she suffers no pain; the Doctor says it is nature's de? cay. I ftel sadly sure wc will never shake her poor old wrinkled hand again. She gave me two eggs, just as she used to do when I was a little child. We also visited and bid adieu to each spot en? deared and hallowed by past associations. Together wc went to the old mill pond where dear papa loved to have us go with him on those bright, warm April after? noons of bye-gone days to fish. Oh, the happy, happy past! I cannot, I must not dwell upon it. Our precious mother! nobly, courageously she bore it all! Not one tear did she shed until to-night. Wheu she retired to her chamber she looked so worn and weary, I followed her, fearing she was taxing too heavily the fragile form in which her great spirit is tabernacled. I found her with her hands tightly clasped over her heart (as if to still its throbbing anguish) and gaz? ing with tcar-dinnned eyes upon that almost living likeness of our dear father which hangs in her room. "Dear Harry, loved husband," she said, "I leave the sweet home to which you brought your gay and girlish bride; the home you made so happy to your indulged and grateful wife; the birth? place of our darling children, to become a 'refugee.' Onco more as were our fore? fathers wc are called upon to fly from the oppression of power. But He?the wise, the merciful, the just?wills it so, and girding me with His strength, I follow cheerfully, yea, even gladly His guiding Hand; for not long, not long, and the Dark River passed, we shall meet again, ire and ours, in those 'happier bowers than Eden's bloom,' where there shall be no more tumult or strife, no more sorrow or crying; but peace, sweet peace, perfect love and never-ending joy in the pres? ence of our dead Saviour forever!" "Mother, dearest mother, come away," I said, trying to lead her out of the room, "this is too much for you to bear." "No burden is too heavy for us to bear, if we will only cast it on Him, who is able and has promised to carry all of our sorrows for us; remember this, my child. And," she added, smiling through her tears?her own peculiar smile?so bright, that as a child I thought the angels must smile like her, "is it my Marion, the daughter of a long line of heroes, and one who longs to be a horoine herself, who says anything is 'too hard' to bear ? Does not my daughter know that endur? ance is the metal of which heroes, patri? ots, soldiers and martyrs are made ? En? durance to the end!" You know, Harry, I used to be always wishing I were a boy, that I, too, might 6trike a blow for my country, and show the world how we Southrons love the soil that gave us birth. But endurance, although a brave word, is cold and hard, it finds its way to our souls with the cold glitter of steel; it is attended by no in? signia of earthly glory ; around that word no victorious banners wave, no deep tones of the drum is heard, no spirit-stirring trumpet calls to worldly honor and re? nown 1 But it is ever endure, strive on to the bitter end; and then, but not till then, we hear: "Well done, good and faithful, receive the glorious meed of? immortality !" Can I, oh ! can / endure ? A gentle warning spirit voice whispers: "Such is peculiarly heroic woman's part in the great battle of life." But I must hasten to say good-night, aud good-bye, too, or "grey-eyed morn" will be smiling on me with her Tosy blushes, leaving me no time for reveling in Endymion's joy?"golden sleep."? Before closing, I must tell you of a sad letter received from our sweet friend, Rose Gordon. Oh, Harry, they, too, have suffered so much! Their beautiful home in A-: having been robbed and burned by our cruel invaders, they sought refuge in one of the counties of South? western . Georgia. There Rose has been supporting her mother, and little brother by teaching. The three are the only ones left of that once happy. family. The Colonel was killed at-in Virginia, and Lilly and Tommy fell victims ofthat dreadful scourge, diphtheria. Poor Rose, her .letter breathes a sweet spirit of resig? nation, but I know she must suffer very much, her frail and delicate mother being one of those gentle, timid spirits, who are from the necessity of their natures obliged to rest on stronger and braver hearts, and Jimmie is too young to be anything more to Rose than an added care, and some one to love very dearly. But Rose is armed for conquest, she is strong in love, hope and faith, and over all she wears with tender grace the veil of sweet humility. But I must say good-night, and force myself to leave you, Harry, for one little nap I must have to nerve me for our sorrowful journey. Mother sends much love?the unutterable mother love?and trust me, my brother, no sister loves more truly than MARION MAHAM. TO BE CONTINUED. WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. Speech of J. L. Tribble? Esq., before the Anderson Democratic Club. Mr. President, Ladies and Gentlemen: It is a trite observation that the world is a stage and mankind the actors. Each has his part to perform in the great I drama of life, whether that part be one of honor or one of dishonor. The finest actors usually select the best characters in order to receive the plaudits of man? kind, while sometimes the mantle of honor is cast upon the shoulders of some poor actor, wholly-untried. So have you honored me to-night, but it was your privilege to command my services, 'tis my duty to obey. Although I feel the want of experience in public speech making, yet I need no other "spur to prick the sides of my intent" than a solemn duty, which rests, not only on me, but on every son of Carolina, if he have the 60ul and spirit of man within him. Each of you present feel the weight of that duty. It gives character to your work and determination to your success. If you do not feel it then why are you present to-night at a Democratic meeting? Or have you come from mere idle curiosity, to hear an eulogy pro? nounced upon the name and character of America's first and greatest chigftain? ?Xceins not each ditty with the glorious tale? Ali! mich, alas ! the licru's amplest fate ! When granite moulders and when records fail, A peasant's plaint prolongs his dubious date. Pride bcud thine eye from heaven to thine estate, See how the might ah rink into a song! Can volume, pillar, pile presorve thee great? Or must thou trust Tradition's simple tongue When flattery sleeps with thee, and history does theo wrong." But with our hero flattery sleeps not, nor is history unmindful of his great deeds. And when I pause to count the links in the mighty chain of time ex? tending back from to-day to the 22nd of February, 1732, Washington's birthday; when I call to memory the hero of this anniversary, over whose fair record no foul dust of vanishing years can ever settle ; when I stop to contemplate this splendid character?acme of human greatness, and sever one little green leaf of laurel from memory's page to bind on his evergreen chaplct; when I think of the man whose name perhaps will be on the lips or ought to ring in the ears of forty millions of freemen to-day, well may I shrink back at my own insignifi? cance, and feel that it would be the height of presumption for me to do more than lisp the name of Washington. Be? sides, there are so many others better qualified to speak, and since so many ? bright burning eulogies have been, and will ever be, pronounced upon his name while mankind shows an appreciation of virtue, valor and patriotism. Of him well did the eloquent panegyrist exclaim, "first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen," and to his memory (not that 'twill be made more glorious thereby) let me add a few words and cull a few thoughts, as a token of our fidelity of the man the purity of whose character and whose unselfish patriot? ism and devotion to pure Democratic principles entitle him to be the climax of America's boast. It is but an oft repeated thought when I say that each student of history, nay, each school-boy, knows that every nation and every age claims its hero. The monuments of Egyptian glory looking down in sullen pride from lorgotten cen? turies, while the dust of their crumbling heights mingle with the sands of the des? ert as the wild and furious simoon heaps it around their base, may awake the memory of her proud Pharaohs. The Tumulus of a Marathon, or the celebrated Eass of Thermopylae, may call to mind a f iltiades and a Leonidas, the vanished glory of Greece. Rome, once the proud mistress of the world, may make a spas? modic wail for the stern patriotism of a Brutus or for the virtues of her Cincin natus. Boastful England's Lion may reverberate to earth's remotest corners the chivalry of the Duke of Marlhorough or the deeds of her Wellington. Volup? tuous France may rise in all her fiery spleen and martial pride to disclose the meteor-like flash of Napoleou's genius, but all these must do homage to the vir? tues of America's chieftain. Like the mid-day sun at whose glory and bright? ness moon, stars and nebula? sink back into the shades of night, so the names of earth's heroes disappear when the charac? ter of Washington rises in its meridian grandeur. But I will not monopolize your time in speaking of him as a boy, whom the gods had especially favored with uncom? mon precocity; nor will I march with him in imagination through summer's heat or over frozen snows ; now with an army hopelessly dismayed; now defeated, yet unconqucred; now routing an enemy, and in turn being routed; rallying again until finally triumphal success crowns the victor's brow. And then as Presi? dent of the first Congress, with its inex? perience and whimsical prejudices, be? sides clamorous dissatisfactions, arising throughout the length and breadth of our country; for it seems this would be su? pererogation on my part, and therefore I shall direct your attention more particu? larly to the consummation of some of his great deeds suggested by immortal prin? ciple. In the gloomy days of American history, when the souls of men were tried ; when every heart was almost ready to give up in despair; when furious storms of passion gathered thick and fast, and muttering thunders of discord shook the very foundations of our political fabric, then the eyes of the nation turned to the Father of his Country, who, with a bold heart, an eyo quick to perceive, an arm stronger than triple steel, with a heaven born will that would dare execute, he seized the helm of the ship of State, and 3afelyi amid the breakers and quicksands aud whirlpools of passion and discord, which threatened to cngulph on every hand, steered her into the port of peace. An eminent writer has said, "as a war? rior he may be surpassed, but as a com? plete man he is without a parellel. Equal to any crisis, successful in all he undertakes, superior to temptation, faith? ful in every trial and without a spot on his name, the history of the race cannot match him. Calm and strong in couucil, untiring in effort, wise in policy, terrible as a storm in battle, unconqucred in de? feat and incorruptible in virtue, he rises in moral grandeur so far above the Alex? anders and Cajsars and Napoleons of the world that even comparisons seems injus? tice." Now, suppose all the demagogues, intriguers, corruptionists, carpet-baggers and scalawags in this age of politics, were to pause in their downward course and coutemplate this grand symmetrical character, would not their unheroic blood mount to their checks in shame and con? fusion? Is it hardly presumable that the conscience of "bloody shirt" Morton is so seared that he could not blush were the patriotism aud virtues of Washington mentioned as a rebuke to his vileness ? And the ungenerous Blaine! would he not march by the cold marble statute of the old hero and arch-rebel with down? cast eyes while seeking qualified amnes? ty ? Is not the name of Washington one of the grandest and most eloquent re? bukes to Ulysses S. Grant that ever mor? tal shall face iu politics, and yet he is so lost to all modesty and virtue he dares face it. Let me draw a brief parellel be? tween the two. Washington was clothed with the attributes of uuassumed modes? ty. Grant is so immodest and so puffed up with crooked whisky, insolence and pride he had the check to inform the world that it was a sacrifice, (?) nay, a condescension, (?) for him to be Presi? dent, thereby insulting the whole Ameri? can people. But inasmuch as he is the sine qua non, forsooth he will be Presi? dent. But how strikingly different is the character of the other as it stands out in bold relief. The purity of his life, pub? lic or private, presided over by the guar? dian genius of heaven's greatest blessing to man?a pure woman?is so entirely consistent with the man that it stands a living rebuke to unscrupulous politicians. Always regarded just, sincere and faith? ful; never misleading nor allowing him? self to be misled or overawed by the caprice or treachery of others; never suf? fering himself to be deluded, betrayed or impetuously hurried away by his own prejudices, fears or weaknesses, or by the subtle flatteries or seductive arts of others; never disheartened, but grappling with and surmounting each difficulty rising to oppose; never! bestowing all the fat offices, or having them created to bestow, upon poor beggarly relations or whining pets ; never ! accepting nor courting gifts of bull-pups and fast horses to create a sensation at public watering places; never! rolling in case and luxu? ry heaped up from misappropriations of public money ; never! wanting to don a regal crown when ollcred, and even had it in his grasp, still less stoop to be mili? tary dictator to earn' party elections; never! wanting to hold over as Presi? dent, whether the American people wanted him or not, but like a great leader, nay, a man, when his term ex? pired, he withdrew with becoming mod? esty and enviable praise, or "with the veneration of all parties, of all nations, of all mankind'in order that the lights of men might be preserved, and that his example might never be appealed to by vulgar tyrants," nor, I add, by a lover of crooked whisky, bull-pups and fast horses. Well might Lord Brougham exclaim in a burst of eloquence that the consummate glory of the great American was in his triumph as a warrior, where the most sanguine had a right to despair, a suc? cessful ruler in all the difficulties of a course wholly uutricd, but a warrior whose sword only left its sheath when the first law of our nature commanded it to be drawn, and a ruler who, having tasted of supreme power, gently and un? ostentatiously desired that the cup might pass from him, nor would suffer more to wet his lips than the most solemn and sacred duty to his country and his God required! But how great the contrast when compared with the present incum? bent. He would quaff the cup of power, even to its bitter dregs, and then mix in human gore to wash that down. Really, no parallel can be drawn. The life of one makes a crooked diverse line to moral decency, while the line of life of the other is drawn by the golden rule, and therefore, by any of the known laws of mathematical demonstration or defini? tion no two lines can be parallel when one lies wholly without the plane of the other, and, bear this truth in mind, they can never meet, not even at infinity it? self. In the closing years of his life, when his great Master Spirit was about to burst its poor tenement of clay pre? pared to wing its triumphal flight to that "country from whose bourne no traveler returns," he remains the same grand character?a hero, a statesman and a Christian?and even when dying, with no abatement of patriotism and devotion to that country he loved so well and 'tcrved so faithfully, he summoned his heirs to whom he entrusted his sword, enjoining them "never to take it from its scabbard but in self-defence, or in defence of their country and her freedom," and when thus drawn to sheathe it not while insult? ing foe withstood, or if to fall and perish, fall with it in their hands. Noble, sub? lime, patriotic sentiments ! Let the his? torian, re-record it; let sages commeno rate the illustrious, the greatest Ameri? can of all! and when time in her onward flight shall grow weary with her perpet? ual course, and the moon and stars burn out with age, and the sun himself shall wane in the heavens, and the earth shall heave to and fro in her orbit like a tem? pest-tossed ship, let the world rise up and exclaim: "His life was gentle; and the elements So mixed In him that Nature might stand up, And say to all the world, 'Tins was a. man !"' But, Mr. President, "can flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death," and shall we spend our whole time in eulogizing the dead ? We have another work to do. Let me ask you to listen to the voice of duty when your down-trodden State calls to be remembered in the celebration of this anniversary. And let me ring in your ears to-night that for the Democrats of South Carolina to leave her in her Eresent disgraceful situation is to dis onor the name of Washington, your father's graves, your sages and statesmen, is to dishonor the very soil which has been made sacred by the blood of heroes, and is to dishonor ail that is noble, pure and good in a civilized people. Let me send back the answer, we will, remember the insults heaped upon thee, thy strong provocations, thy deep burning wrongs, though all the political demagogues of Radicalism should rise in one solid phalanx to oppose. Let us 'wipe away from the table of our memories all trivial fond records, all saws of books, all forms, all pressures past that our youth and ob? servation have copied thereon, and let the commandment of duty to ,our State live henceforth alone within the book and volume of our brains, unmixed with baser matter.' And if I forget the land of our nativity, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not South Carolina above even' other land. Then let us turn to a subject with which wc are all more familiar, and one in which our present interests as well as onr future hopes are at stake. South Carolina is to be redeemed. She must be rescued from the clutches of her political plunderers. She is once more to take her place on the role of the mother of statesmen and heroes. Then sound it from mountain to sea-board, "Democrats to the rescue I" Citizens, one and all, our interest is the interest of Carolina, her chief interest is to get rid of. those who have heaped dis? grace and ruin upon her fair name. Then how is this to be accomplished ? Let our actions at the next election show to the world we are not barbarians, nor theiYes, nor corruptionists, nor do we offer a premium for such. The Radical party in South Carolina for the last eight years has bceu compounding felony, and has offered premiums for vice, corruption and roguory. I hate to charge the Dem? ocrats with inconsistency, but they are guilty of gross inconsistency, for, to a certain extent, unwittingly, however^ they have approved of it by helping to bring forth the hateful hybrid coalition, which is as hollow as the' Trojan horse of old, the belly of which is filled with the vilest and most unscrupulous knaves of the Radical party and short-sighted Democrats. Never! let us be .guilty of admitting it within the citadel of Democ? racy again. But do it, and down to the bottomless pit of Radical infamy jyyou place your State. South Carolina has two records?one of which, the last, is a living disgrace; the other is as bright and glorious as the noonday sun. i can have no sympathy with the man who refuses to cherish the records of her worth and deeds of chival rv. When the sword of the immortal Washington flashed in the s?n-light for freedom, striking terror and dismay into the hearts of his enemies,, our ancestors echoed back from mountain to main, the immortalized sentiments, "give me liber? ty or give me death I" That echo still lingers among the hills of the Blue Ridge ?methinks I can hear welling up from the bottom of each Democratic heart present to-night the Democratic words of old Patrick Henry, "give me liberty or give me death!" And let that echo ring from every mountain, hill and vallej, and let it waft on every breeze until ever}- man in Carolina swears the reign of corruption shall cease. The way in which a people speak of their native country is a sure criterion of their love, patriotism and. devotion to that country. All men like to speak of that which affords them pleasure, let It be the love of money, the purer love of woman, or the love of country. The en? thusiastic youths of Greece, standing amid her classic groves, loved to sing of glory and of Greece. Are we less patriotic, or have we less love of country than they? "Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land." If there be such, here ? "The wretch concentrated all in aolf, LlTlngshall forfait fair renewn, And doubly dying, shall go down To tho vile dust from whence be sprung, Unwept, unhonored and unsung." No country has every produced greater thinkers than Carolina, and braverheroes never faced a foe. The ambitious Caesar never marshaled uuder . his victorious eagles, in the palmy days of lofty Rome, braver legions than the soldiers who ral? lied around the altar of our country on which they sacrificed their blood in the cause of her freedom. By the laws of nations the colonies be? came the property of'the English by right of discover)*. After our ancestors gained their independence it became theirs, the title deed was written by the sword, sealed in the presence of witnesce by their sacred seal of blood, was held by peaceable possession until no question could be raised about the title, and to us it has descended by right of inheritance, aud do we intend longer to see trespass committed upou our rights? Do we in? tend to quietly submit and see our prop? erty confiscated by taxation to support a miserably iguorant set of blackgaards, scoundrels and theives? Gentlemen of this Democratic Club, I ask each of you do you intend to submit to it any longer without a determined effort to help your? selves? If you do not you must prepare for earnest work. The shade of Wash? ington beckons you on. - His spirit leads the van, and calls you to remember his untiring effort in securing your fore? father's independence. When'the palla? dium of American liberty was tottering-, and tyrannical night with its horrid out? lines was brooding over this sunny land, the heroas of the little Palmetto State, with a shout of victory or death, rushed, around its quivering base with drawn swords determined to perish beneath the fall, if fall it must. Hear their united voice as it spans the past, calling upon you to redeem the State in which their sacred ashes repose. But how is she to be redeemed ? You have the means in your own hands. The unity and harmo? ny, the cool determination fixed upon the countenance of each Democrat present, speak volumes for your success.- Yon cannot, nor will you, shirk your work while the angelic smiles of woman cheer you onward, and bid you God speed. In unity there is strength, but when the Democrats once again scatter their forces, and hug the fatal phantom coali? tion to their bosoms, then all is lost. Let the Democrats of South Carolina quit themselves like men; think of how much they have to gain ; think of their loss should they fail by indifference, but fail ? never! Think of the misrule you have quietly submitted to, and the overtures and the compromises you have made, in days gone by. Think of such vermin as the cheat Whipper, whose evil deeds follow in his wake, and who now howls and rages . over thwarted purposes; of F. J. Moses, jr., the vile unscrupulous would-be-judge, who swelters and prayB to reach the public coffers once more ; and remember the whole miserable crew, many of whom arc jail-birds, (or will be when justice becomes a virtue in South Carolina,) lording it over yon for "eight dismal years. - If ? this wHI. not arouse your patriotism you are hopelessly dead. Do I dream when I say that our State once had a. Hayne, a. McDuffic and the sage and philosopher Calhoun, and a host of others in Congress, and our State is now misrepresented by a stranger, who has no sympathy .with; us!;; a. carpet-bag? ger, who calls out to his theivish clan, "Hold on, there are five years of good stealing in South Carolina yet?" Is it a reality, or a mere creation of fancy ? And your. Congressional District that could once boast a Calhoun, without including Richland, and your County that could once boast a Speaker of the House, in the palmy days of American history, in the Eerson of your countryman, late Hon. J. i. Orr, is grossly misrepresented by the w?y H?ge, a regular office-stealer, a political harpy, who doesn't know how far it is from Anderson to Williamston by moonlight. . ?? ; ? ? The mills of the gods grind alow-ly but surely, and the morning light will soon, break, when all such vermin will' stuff their filthy old carpet-bags with their ill gotten gains, and sigh for the - wings of eagles to . bear them swiftly, away , from the rattling of the old dry. bones of South Carolina. Listen to no more words of coalition, unless you wish to repeat your former folly. Ifthe lamp, of experience has not burned sufficiently bright for the Democrats of this State, they are sadly deficient in observation. Listen to'no syren song of reform. The shores Of the slough of Radicalism present! a ghostly appearance of skeletons of false promises. There is no reform in the Radical party. The experiment has been tried, b'utwitn' out success. It is a defunct rotten carcass that stinketb throughout the land, and there is not an honest Carolinian who can be so void of understanding as to join himself to a party in which such men as Whipper, F. J. Moses, jr.,' and such like, are recognized leaders. ? It is hardly necessary for. me. to dwell on the time when the Democratic party of Anderson suffered itself to be led' up to the Radical altar, and like a lamb, dumb before her shearers, opened not iits mouth. You will manifest no more in? difference in your work. .We baye noth? ing to fear if we work with the .proper spirit. But if any hope to rid us of our evils by mounting astride the.hybrid coalition, perish such hope, and.let.the day of its birth perish from , the mpmory of man. Let the Democrats.rise in their might and turn back the tide of corrup? tion and ruin. Let them-throw up a bul? wark, and swear thus far ah alt thou go [ and no further. What though, insulting demagogues howl and rage; whatt^ougn [ insulting lies be published to the world , of outrages that never happen what though Morton. insultingly . naunts- . his "bloody shirt;" what .though spiteful Blaine hurls his bob-tail amnesty' at. us. The future historian will do "iis jtistice. He will snatch from the devouring jaws of time the true records' of our misrepre? sented .?country."'.iAnd:if lit affords our eucmies pleasure .let them revile, leathern gnash' on us with their teeth, let tnem sneer and scoff in this the Centennial of Ahieri ican Independence, at our cause, but when the death-knell of State sovereign? ty is wailed out for the last timey and^the eternal principles upon which the Ameri? can Constitution is based shall be" up? heaved by demagogues and swept-away by revolution, coming, generations will weep ? tear of sad regret oer the unjtimety death of American liberty. Then take these for your watch-words, along the line let it sound?Washington, Southi Caro? lina and Liberty! these threesbut the greatest of these is Liberty ! . Need of Carefulness in Old :&ge, ?An old man is like an old wagon';:trith light loading and careful usage it- will last for years; but/one heavy, load or sudden strain will break it,.- and ruin .it forever. Many people reach the age of fifty, sixty, or even seventy,' measurably free from mast of the pains and infirmi? ties of age, cheery in heart and sound in health, ripe in wisdom and experience, with sympathies mellowed by age,' .and with reasonable prospect and opportuni? ties for continued usefulness in th e world for a considerable time. Let auch per? sons be thankful, but *let; tbera. also, be careful. An old constitution is, like an old bone?broken with ease, mended with difficulty. A young tree bends to the gale, an old one snaps and falls' be? fore the blast. A single bard lift; an hour of heating work; an .evening or exposure to rain or damp; a severe chill; au excess cf food ; the unusual indul? gence of any appetite or passion ;<a'sud? den fit of anger; an improper, dose,of medicine?any of these, or .other simil? ar things, may cut off a valuable life in an hour, and leave the fair Hopes1 of usefulness and enjoyment but,a shape? less wreck.?Popular Science Monthly*. ? ? The Live Stock Journal, published iu Gloucester, England, says that a shoe? maker of that town has a wonderful hep. One day she laid an egg, the next 'day she laid three, three days afterward eight, aud one day the week following she man? aged to produce eleven. The eggs ,wcrp large, and the shells of different colors. This beats the famous hen celebrated' in poetry that laid oue egg a day anditwo on Sunday. . - ? A Baltimore man proposes to light his city by one big lamp suspended-by. (a balloon, but he will not profit by it, be? cause the cell in the lunatic asylum in which he is confined has no window. ? . tu i ??