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"All within is dark as night; In the windows is no licht, And no murmur at the door, So frequent on its hinge before." In the autumn of ?65, a party of travelers?refugees homeward bound? stopped at Gravelly Bottom to rest their horses and refresh themselves with a cold dinner, t The carriage had been driven out of the road, the horses cared for, and the driver- lounged .carelessly beside them. In his sad and discontented face we find it difficult to trace the lineaments of'out lively, grinning acquaintance of Berkley Hall, Croppo, Col. Maham's carriage driver, and the ever ready and delighted attendant in all the sports by wood and stream of his master and his master's guests and friends. Freedom, the costly boon bestowed upon his race, (the purchase money hav? ing been the blood of our bravest and best>) had quenched the light of joy whicbr beamed! from his eye, and had driven from his breast the sweet spirit of contentment, and poor.. Croppo. had be? come the moody and irresolute victim of the denouement of the radical idea of equal rights and progress. Croppo loved his kind mistress, Miss Marion, ? and Mass Harry, but that very love which had given grace to his rough? ness and dignity to his ignorance, he had been taught was a crime against bis race, his deliverers and his God. Poor, poor fellow! he was in a hard strait, from which his dull negro brains could not extricate him. Thus, we find him moody and unhappy, with but one fixed aim, viz: to take his mistress back safely to ^Berkley Hall, and then ready to do that which probably, he. would not, if left only to his own kindly feelings. On a couch made of shawls and com? forters, Mrs. Maham sat in a reclining posture, and by her side, dressed in a suit of worn grey clothes, from which the military buttons and trimmings had been taken, lay an ex-Confederate sol? dier. His cap was thrown off, his head rested on one of the carriage cushions, and he. gazed-with quiet enjoyment upon the blue and perfectly cloudless autumn skies. His work had been done?nobly done f The' cause, it is true, was lost, but the youthful though war-worn sol? dier enjoyed inward peace in the con? sciousness of a well-performed duty, and was reader fqAhjb ma^y ^ii^?rm?nce of the still harder one of patient waiting. In despite of the muscular and finely developed proportions of a well-built man, the dark-chesnut beard, and the occasional threads of silver in the glossy, brown hair, we do not fail to recognize in the ioihepempkpur;boyish favorite, Harry'Mahanj. I "Harry Maham, scarce twenty-two, and grey!" you exclaim. Ah! reader, have you forgotten the terrible struggle through which our heroes of the stricken South had passed? and can you wonder if "our boys'-' are grey-haired men ? Cur* friend, Harry, had in truth grown to manhood amid those scenes of sorrow and strife.- The boy, Harry, had devel? oped in mental and-moral as well as physical proportions. His impulsive, passionate, boy nature, had sobered into thoughtful,* earnest enthusiasm. He had passed through those sad four years with? out receiving one single wound from ball or shell. On every battle-field his courage and daring had been conspicu? ous, but he seemed to carry a charmed life. Father and brother, friends and .comrades had fallen by his side; but Harry lived on, hiding his heart' wounds with manly courage, and sharing with his brave countrymen their common hardships on the field and in the camp? the summer's heat, the winter's cold, hunger and thirst, pain and weariness? with the calm fortitude and. soldierly bearing of a; veteran. In' that terrible struggle to him had been granted the Christian's hope; be had learned to live the Christian's life. x . .. About two - hundred yards removed from Harry, and hia mother, Marion sat on a^lrjto 'log* by the side of the narrow li^e^ooUeJ;,*wh$ch runs across Jthe peb? bly road.. So narrow, is the little stream it might be said to resemble a broad azure ribbon, interwoven with golden threads, borrowing its coloring from the blue skies, and yellow sunlight. The young girl stooped over the tiny streara let^Hipbing^er' white hands ever and anon ir the clear, cool water; and gently lifting the pink and white pebbles, the bosom treasures of the little rill, which were as easily discerned In its shallow depth as the joys and sorrows of child? hood's heart are marked upon its open brow. She seemed to be lost in thought; in a day dream from which she was aroused by the voice of Arthur Fergu? son, who had been leaning against a tall hickory close by, watching with affection? ate admiration the varied emotions of her expressive face, and the undulations of her graceful form." "A penny for your thoughts, chere amie" he said, stooping over and speak? ing in a low but playful voice, "if it be not impertinent to question the soul voices of a fair maiden's heart." "My thoughts! oh! they are most of them gone, and gone forever! I could not.catch them if I would; but 8ome of them you may surely share. Arthur. I I was thinking of the past; our happy childhood of Berkley Hall; how Harry, and Jessie, and you, and I used to play our favorite story of the 'Fugitive Lov? ers/ when dear Harry, with his roguish face, found it so hard to personate the cross old 'Guardian' to myself, the 'Lady Lerena.' 0! Arthur, those were days of illusive joys I Do you remember how we I U3ed to- compare the splashing of the water over the moss-grown mill-wheel to a cataract's roar? and the sunlight fall? ing on the green moss beneath the spray, we fondly fancied could equal in glitter? ing beauty the sparkle of emeralds. From these reveries of our childhood I passed on to the time when Carolina and our whole beautiful South land, relying upon truth and justice, led on by the heavenly light of hope, sprang forth, as it seemed, a second Pallas to do battle for the right! Alas, alas! I awake! A deep, dark gloom covers that bright, bright land as with a pall, and beneath its black folds are coffined the joys of the past?childhood's gay, glad memories, and the high and noble aspirations of a once proud, but now conquered people!" "Dear Marie, sweet friend of my boy? hood, do not speak so Badly. It is true we cannot if we would forget the happy past, the gloomy present, our noble and heroic dead. But our Father, even in anger, does not restrain mercy; we may still 'count our blessings o'er.' There is yet work to do, and friends, dear friends for mutual cherishing love. Promise to be mine, gentle Marion, my wife, and I will make it the joy of my life to brigh? ten yours. I leave for Louisville next week, there to complete my medical course; oh! let me carry with me the sweet assurance that you will be mine. You do not speak. Do you reject me ? Oh! Marion, such fervent love as mine cannot merit rejection and scorn." "Oh! no, not scorn, Arthur I I love you as a most dear and valued friend; but such love as you ask is not mine to give. And, Arthur, forgive me, but in? deed I think you have mistaken the emo? tions of your heart. The ties of child? hood, the still stronger bonds of warm friendship, our reciprocal esteem and adur ration you have mistaken for love. Marion Maham could not fill Arthur Ferguson's ideal of wife. But," she added, holding out her hand and smiling playriilly, "be my brother, Arthur, still." He took her hand, held it hard and spoke hurriedly: "There, I have a rival, Marion; you say you have not such love ! as I ask to give. If my rival be noble ? and worthy, I could endura to see you another's; but, oh! beware of Dick Egan!. He is unprincipled, selfish and utterly unworthy any good woman's love. I know he entertains for you a passion which he terms love. But gold and the bright and beautiful Marion Maham only share the adoration he offers at the altar dedicated to?Richard Egan. Oh! Marion, beware of him, shun him!" ."Thanks for your kind warning, Ar? thur. But fear not, I never have been one of Mr. Egan's admirers, and you forget that now I am likely to be heiress of a barren heritage, I run no risk of winning favor in Mr. Egan's eyes. I do not think I ever will marry. I hope mamma will need me by her side a long time yet; and then, too, it will be so nice to be the dearest of old maids in the homes of my brothers, Harry and Arthur, their bonnie wives, the dearly loved friends of my girlhood. Jessie has already made our Harry happy by saying the little word, "Yes," so small in its proportions, so large in its import. And, oh! Arthur, you surely have not forgotten the sweetest of roses, dear Rose Gordon, who won from you such encomi? ums five years ago. Rose is the musician who has touchecP, though unperceived by you, the deepest chords of your heart." Arthur Ferguson answered indignant? ly: "You are a strange girl, Marion! A man pleads with you to be his wife, and in the most dispassionate manner you beg him to- marry some one else?even select a wife' for him?as -rT love can be taken off and put on like a man's coat. It is true I admired Miss Gordon very much, for she was really charming and lovely. But no girl or woman can ever fill your place in my heart, Marion." "It would be a great grief to me to lose your friendship, and I had no thought of vexing you, Arthur. You know the old adage, "Extremes meet." Now, you and I are too much alike in everything to hope for completeness in union. In alluding to what was five years ago, your evident preference for Rose Gordon, I did not mean to offer you my friend, or even' to lead you to suppose you could marry her ad libitum. I have no power over her affect ions; I cannot direct her fancy, and believe me, Arthur, Rose must be wooed before she is won. And the man who is fortunate enough to win and wear her, will have found a jewel of rare value. In wishing Arthur Ferguson to win Rose Gordon, I desired for him the treasure of a true and noble woman's heart." I "I will not give you up, Marion. You have never thought of me as a lover, and if I am like you, as you say, I must pos? sess the gilt of charming; and I will woo 3rou so gently, so tenderly, you will be compelled to say: 'Yes, Arthur!'" "No, Arthur, no, I never can." "Why, Marion, why such a premptory 'No!' Am I too unworthy, even to enter the lists for your gracious favor?" The words were bantering, but the gaze he fixed upon her face vvas keen and searching. Marion's expressive countenance betrayed her extreme an? noyance, but she spoke calmly and gent ly: "I say no, Arthur, because I do know I can never give the love you ask. To be loved and admired is pleasant. As a woman I admit the fascinating influence of admiration over my heart. I do not pretend to be superior to the weaknesses of my sex. But as a Christian I dare not stoop to a dissimulation, unworthy the purity of character whicli every Christian woman should seek to make her own. I will not be untruthful. I cannot bid you hop"." "'I would not be a flirt,' has ever been your boast, proud girl," said Ar? thur, hotly, stang by Marion's calm and unimpassioned manner; "make good your boast. Answer me. and answer truly, for so, and only so, can you de? stroy hope in my breast. You love an? other, and that other is?" A scarlet flush suffused the face of the beautiful girl, then, quickly passing away, left her perfectly pale. There were lines of suffering around her mouth, and her pale lips quivering with irrepressible emotion, for a moment could utter no word. But at last she spoke. Her words were low and clear, and the tone intensely bitter: "You are ungenerous and unmanly, but I will be truthful. I can never be yours, Arthur Ferguson, for?yes, you have taught me that T?T love another. You have exposed a love which, until to-day, has been a secret even to myself. You have wrung from me the humiliat? ing confession that the proud Marion Maham, unwooed, has been won. I will now join mamma and Harry," she proud? ly added. "Marion, dearest Marion, forgive!" burst from the pale lips of Arthur Fer guson. But she was gone, the gentle friend of his boyhood; and he, with un? manly and ungenerous words, had stung the sensitive, womanly heart?that heart which had been ever ready to offer him a sister's tender sympathy. When they met at luncheon, Marion had resumed her usual manner, but on her sweet face remained a look of inex? pressible and painful sadness. Poor Ar? thur ! he would have given a world for one moment alone with her to say, "For? give," but with womanly tact she evaded him without seeming to do it ? and they very soon resumed their journey to Berk? ley Hall. The remainder of the journey was per? formed in almost perfect silence by the whole party. Each heart was full of sad reminiscences too full for words. Harry, who had visited Berkley a week or two before to make arrangements for their return home, had tried to prepare his mother and sister for the great changes they would find in their former slaves and the old place. Their old butlor, Prince, had gone to the city, and was hired to a Federal officer. The negroes had all refused to contract with him for permanent employment. Even Maumer, the much-loved old nurse, had met him so rudely he said her age and the place she had always held in their home and hearts had alone prevented him from giving her a sharp rebuke. "Oh ! moth? er," he said, "she pretends to blame you for Nellie's (Maumer's grandchild) shameful conduct in absconding with the Federals from C-; you, my gen? tle mother, who have so grieved your kind heart over the infatuated girl." But I forbear, my dearest mother, I know there can be nothing worse in store for you than you have already suffered?the loss of our loved ones, and the defeat of our sacred cause." It was night when the party drove up to the doorsteps of the old Hall, which looked dark and gloomy in the cold light of the autumn moon. "Iu the Windows was no light," and no smiling faces of affectionate domestics greeted the weary travelers. Although to the broad acres of Berkley Hall nearly two hundred ne? groes were indebted for shelter, food and clothing, the mistress and her childrA found none to bid them welcome on their return to the home of their ancestors. Harry left the horses to the faithful Croppo's kindly care, and with Arthur'3 help a cheerful fire was soon buining in the dear old "Mother's Boom," and Marion, a true woman, on "hospitable thoughts intent," was, in an incredibly short time, prepared to regale them with a smoking preparation from Arabia's fragrant berry, unsurpassed even by the nectar of the gods; and the remnants of Mrs. D-'s nice luncheon of delicate rolls, chipped beef, &c. The impromptu supper over, the spirits of the party flagged. Mre. Maham was very weary, and each one felt their effort at choerful ness too great an exertion for that first night of their return to a home so changed; and so, by common consent, they sought their pillows parly. But two of them, at least, with hearts too pained and sad to slumber soon. Gentle reader, let us stop for a little while in one of those robbed and deso? lated Southern homes, and mark the earnest struggle in those proud Southern hearts for submission?lovely, cheerful submission to the will and wisdom of the great I Am. Let us, too, with gladness, observe how He giveth them the victory through Him who loved us. Yes, those children of the Sunny South, although crushed and trampled upon, may still lay claim to an heritage?a name?the new name, "which is better than of sons and of daughters." Excited and restless, our travelers had probably not fallen asleep until after midnight, and it reached far into day before they awoke the next morning. When Marion, flushed by her long morn? ing's nap, and feeling in every limb the strength and vigor of youth and health, awoke, the sun was shining brightly through the windows, and the little rob? ins were chirping their matin songs in the old trees which surrounded Berkley Hall. "Oh ! me, how late it is!" exclaimed the girl, opening her sleepy eyes on the bright sunshine; "and just think of it, I mean to be such a wonderful soubrettc to my darling mamma, she should be constrained to acknowledge that I excel both Nellie and Betty. But I fear she is already up, and making her toilet without a fire, this chilly November morning. At last," she continued, in a low and murmuring soliloquy, "I am going to be a heroine! But, alas! a very humble one. I must wield the broom and the brush ; if I reign, it must be queen of the kitchen. But there is heroic work to do?a battle is to be fought! The foe to be conquered, the proud heart of Marion Maham. God helping, the victory shall be mine! I must work for mamma; I must help Harry, and, above all, there is work to do for the dear, dear Master! Back, tempter, back ! I know it all; yes, we are conquered, we arc trampled upon, we suffer! But He who 'doeth all things well,' He permits it; and we, stooping tremblingly to lift our Cross, may even now with glad hope, perceive the 'soften? ing gleams' of divine love and compas? sion dawning upon it. Yes, yes, thank God we are never left without love. In? finite love ! Then, faint not, neither be weary, poor heart! Gird you for your work of love. Remember? "The trivial round, the common task, Would furnish all we ought to ask ; Boom to deny ourselves, a road To bring us daily nearer God." "Gentle Keble, melodious are thy home-like strains, and tender the spell with which you bind our hearts." These were some of the thoughts which engaged the heart of the Southern girl while making her toilet with neatness and dispatch. Then, before leaving her chamber, she bowed lowly and reverent? ly to lay her heart at the Master's feet, and to dedicate herself anew to the serv? ice of that gracious Master. Suddenly she lifted her eyes to Heaven, and in a voice of fear and bitter wail, exclaimed: "Oh! meek and holy Jesus, undertake for me! I cannot forgive. 0, Saviour, see throughout our fair land the blood of our brother's cry from the ground I They cry aloud for vengeance! How can I pray for these our enemies? Saviour, teach me, oh! teach me that godlike prayer breathed upon Calvary's hill!" The prayer wa3 heard; the prayer was auswered, for that day the promised daily measure was meted out; and as a holy oblation, fragrant with the sweet incense of prayer, was wafted to Heavenly Courts, the low, faint and trembling words : "Bless our enemies!" "Well, met petite soeur!" cried Harry, meeting his sister in the hall, and giving her one of his old boyish salutes; "I have been in mamma's room and built her a jolly, blazing fire! She is cheerful, and looks bright; says the home atmos? phere of Berkley has made her stronger already. I have a fire, too, in the pan? try ; the kettle is on, and singing in the famous old Dickens style. Frying pans, griddles, everything is ready, only wait? ing the supervision of my lady cook to prepare breakfast. I, Harry Maham," (bowing low) "am your scullion to com? mand ; ready to burn my fingers to order, or wave the dish-cloth in triumph to the command, 'rightface,' 'forward,' 'come to breakfast!' "I have been in quite a brisk skirmish this morning. Fighting hard thoughts, vain regrets and siufnl murmurs, who have been engaged on the side of that stubborn leader, the 'old Adam' in Harry Maham. I think I have driven the ene? my in for to-day. But I must confess I had rather fight a Yank, two to one! Marie," he continued, in a softer voice, and drawing his sister more closely to him, "I know you are an earnest, brave little woman, and I am not afraid to tell you; life's labors and life's care have commenced in reality for us. We will be, we are very poor. Our cotton tvas all stolen, except two bales which uncle with great trouble saved. The banks are broken, and there is nothing left us, save this plantation, which is virtually in the possession of a hundred or more lazy, thriftless negroes, who are so inflated with the high-sounding title of 'Free? dom,' that I do not believe anything but actual want will drive them to honest labor. We must join forces, sweet sister, and aid each other in the new task of retrenchment and close economy. I have great faith that you will be a powerful auxiliary. Our mother must be spared as much as possible, the harassing details of our necessarily parsimonious house? keeping. After breakfast, I will go in search of a cook. Our own negroes re? fuse to work for us, and yet they will not leave the place; waiting for the 'mule and forty acres,' I suppose. The only excuse they offer for not hiring to us is: 'Dem say (meaning the Federals) we mus'nt work fur we ole owners, cause dey will treat we like niggers.' But, come, and let us proceed to the break? fast-getting. Arthur will soon make his appearance, and I know he ought to be very hungry, fot he ate almost nothing, yesterday, and looked as blue?no, I wont say anything I love looks blue, but he looked as dismally grey as a misty morning j" "Ketract, sir!" said the pleasant voice of Arthur Ferguson; "3rou arc slander? ing your superior officer!" "Beg pardon, Colonel," said Harry, pulling his forelock, and scraping his foot a la Sambo. "Coaie in and chat with our lady mother, while wc prepare yer honor's breakfast." "Permit me to assist you, too, Marion," said Arthur, bowing to his blushing cousin. "Not this time, thank you," said Ma? rion, offering her hand in token of amity; "entertain mamma now, and you can help me to get dinner." "I am obliged to leave this morning. I have business to transact, and will only be a few days longer in Carolina." "Then," said Harry, making a comical? ly wry face, expressive of distaste for the employment, "you may help her wash the dishes after breakfast." "All right," said Arthur, laughingly. The breakfast being successfully over, Harry rode off in search of a cook, and Arthur, moving his seat near the tea tray, said: "Now, gentle cousin, I claim the prom? ised privilege of assisting you." "Oh! no, let us join mamma in the sitting room," sai? Marion, in great con? fusion. "You have such a short time to be with us it would be selfish to rob mamma of your company; and, really, I can attend to this another time." "Marion Maham employing subterfuge! and with her old playmate," said Arthur, sadly. "But I deserve it, unmanly un? generous brute, barbarian, that I was, yesterday. But cannot my Marion for? give bcr penitent brother ?" "0, yes, dear Arthur! bitter thoughts against you cannot dwell long in my heart. I was also to blame. I was in? discriminate and presuming. You, too, must forgive," she said, extending her hand. "And my gentle sister will write to me sometimes, as in 'lang syne,' to cheer the poor exile. Now, put on your hat and go with me for a walk. Let us visit, it may be for a last time, the favorite playgrounds of our happy childhood. You need not fear me, Marion," he con? tinued, reproachfully, seeing that the young girl blushed'and hesitated. "The hopes of yesterday are gone, vanished forever! I know too well the steadfast heart of Marion Maham ; for her to love once is to love forever I" to be continued. THE ATHEIST. The fool hath said, "There is no God I" No God!?Who lights the morning sun, And sends him on his heavenly road, A far and brilliant course to run ? Who, when the radiant day is done, Hangs forth the moon's nocturnal lamp, And bids the planets one by one, Steal o'er the night val^dark and damp ? No God!?Who gives the evening dew! The limning breeze, the fostering shower? Who warms the spring morn's budding bough, And plants the summer's noontide flower? Who spreads in the autumnal bower The fruit trees' mellow stores around, And sends the winter's icy power To invigorate the exhausted ground ? No God f?Who makes the bird to wing Its flight like arrow through the sky, And gives the deer its power to spring From rock to rock triumphantly? Who formed Behemoth, huge and high, That at a draught the river drains, And great Leviathan to lie, Like floating isle, on ocean plains ? No God!?Who warms the heart to heave With thousand feelings soft and sweet, And prompts the aspiring soul to leave The earth we tread beneath our feet, And soar away on pinions fleet Beyond the scenes of mortal strife, With fair ethereal forms to meet, That tells us of the after life? No God!?Who fixed the solid ground Of pillars strong that alter not ? Who spread the curtained skies around ? Who doth the ocean bounds allot ? Who all things to perfection brought On earth below, in heaven above ? Go ask the fool, of impious thought, Who dares to say "There is no God!" The Political Outlook. Advices from New Hampshire indicate that the Republicans have carried that State by a clear majority, electing their candidate for Governor and retaining their ascendancy in the Legislature* This is a matter rather of regret than of surprise, for, in its political preferences, New Hampshire has ever been one of the most stable States in the Union. In the twenty-three elections which had been held since 1856, previous to the one just passed, the Republicans were successful in twenty, by absolute, majorities ranging from 3,000 to 6,000.. The Democrats have in all this period never had a majority; but in 1863,1871 and in 1874, through dissensions in the Republican ranks and the nomination of third candi? dates, they have gained pluralities. In both the campaigns of 1875 and 1876 the number of scattering Republican votes was much diminished, thus, apparently, only swelling the Republican gains. It is probable, also, that the Democrats were weakened this year by the character of their candidate for Governor, who seems to iiavo been what was called in the North a "Copperhead," one* opposed to a vigorous prosecution of the war. While success in New Hampshire would have been of great advantage to the Democrats, it was a necessity to the Republicans, as defeat there would have hopelessly crippled them in the Presi? dential contest. The result does not ma? terially affect the outlook for the Dem? ocracy. The battle will not be fought in New England, where the voters move in the old grooves and are bound up with the bondholders and the moneyed inter? est that dictate Republican legislation. It will be waged in the West and in the South, both of which sections feel keenly the burdens of unequal administration of the government and the wrongs perpetra? ted by Radicalism, and both of which demand that the .> -eptre shall pass from the hands of the East. The stake is good government, and Democrats must plant themselves squarely on this platform, re? fusing utterly to be diverted by any dis? tracting and sham issues. It is not to be believed that the people of the United States will submit longer to the domina? tion of a party which inaugurated an era of personal government, partisan legisla? tion and official corruption, and which Eermits its Schencks and Bclknaps and labcocks to revel in ill-gotten gains, while every branch of industry is paral? yzed and honest men are wanting bread. In those sections in which the ruin is most complete will Radicalism find its sternest rebuke. And while by bluster and greenbacks and the organized ma? chinery of the office-holders it may hold its own in New England, it will be con? victed and sentenced on the general issue in November. The Radicals have staked their all on the elections. They die hard.?News and Courier. Pen Pictures of the Phess.?We ought to have taken public notice earlier than this of the biographical sketches of the officers of the South Carolina State Press Association, published in the Ab? beville Medium. The sketches of Presi? dent Hoyt, yice-Presidents Farrow, Maurice aud Bronson, and Corresponding Secretary Murray, have already appeared, and have been deeply interesting, we know, to newspaper men in this State. The general public likewise, where they have had the opportunity, enjoyed the Me? dium's lively and faithful accounts of the conductorts of journals which have become familiar friends. But the gentlemen who have been made immortal by our Abbe? ville Plutarch are so painfully diffideut that the biographical sketches have not been passed from one paper to another with befitting diligence, and newspaper readers generally have seen very little of them. No doubt, however, each bio? graphical sketch is treasured up, at least by him whose name it bears, and the whole series will be good things to have in the. house, as the present generation of South Carolina journalists puss away from their thankless labors. The Press are the debtors of the Medium for its kindly tender and generous labors; but who shall give the Hemphills the pleasure and the praise they have so lav? ishly given others? This must be the task of the State Press Association at its May meeting, and a Committee of the Whole will be none too large a body to to do justice to a pair of journalists with hearts as big as houses and brains as big as their hearts.?News and Courier. From the Abbeville Medium. PEN PICTURES OF THE PRESS. FRANCIS W. DAWSON. his birth and education. Francis W. Dawson, the subject of this sketch, was born in London, England, on May 17,1840, and is now in the thirty sixth year of his age. He was educated at various schools in London, and was a remarkably studious and intelligent lad; made rapid progress in his studies and maintained a high stand in his classes. He exhibited great fondness for literature in his early youth, and after completing his studies devoted considerable attention to literary work, none of which, however, ever saw the light with the exception of four or five comedies, which were played on the London boards with encouraging success. That he made the slightest headway in this department of literary labor, surrounded as he was by the moat eminent talent, and under the ban of the severest critics is the highest compliment that could be paid to his merit and ability as a writer. For several years prior to 1860 young j Dawson paid particular attention to the industrial and social condition of the United States, and became deeply inter? ested in the causes which led to the dis? ruption of the Union and the secession movement of the Southern States. He was in London when the news was re? ceived of the fall of FortSumter, and im? mediately resolved, to take passage for | America by the first opportunity, and to serve on the Confederate side "for the war." He felt convinced that the Constitution had been violated; that the South was fighting for liberty and self-government, as the Barons fought at Eunnymcde, and that it was his privilege and duty to take sides with her in the fight. No opportunity offered until the Con? federate steamship Nashville, in which Mason and Slidell were to have sailed, reached Southampton, England. Armed with letters young Dawson approached its Commander, Captain Pegram, and made known his wisnes and intentions. He was so youthful that the Captain re? fused to aid him, and so dismissed the matter. But Dawson was deeply in ear? nest, and, taking advantage of the Cap? tain's absence in London a few days be? fore the Nashville sailed, assumed the garb of a sailor and was enlisted by* the first lieutenant of the vessel. During the homeward voyage of the Nashville Daw son's admirable conduct secured the ap? plause of all the officers and men aboard the vessel, and immediately after run? ning the blockade at Beaufort, N. C, he was appointed Master's Mate in the Con? federate States' Navy upon the recom? mendation of Captain JPegram. This was in the early part of 1862?the begin? ning of active hostilities, and from that time until the summer of 1865 the brave young briton did his whole duty manfully, earnestly and without complaining. After reaching the Confederacy Daw? son was ordered to duty at Norfolk, Vir g'nia, where he served for a short time, e was then ordered to New Orleans, but on approaching the city discovered that his ship had gone down, and that J the city hacl been captured by the enemy. spoiling for a fight. He was ordered to duty on the James River, but everything was so dull and monotonous, and he became so anxious to engage in battle, that he resigned his commission in the Navy and took service as a private with the Purcell Battery, Field's Brigade, Hill's Division, Army of Northern Virginia, in June, 1862. This was at the time of McClellan's memora? ble march on Richmond, and Dawson was very soon gratified with a fight. In the bloody engagement of Mechanics ville on June 25, 1862, he was badly wounded, but remained fighting his gun until he was completely exhausted by loss of blood, and was carried from the field. In this engagement his conspicuous bravery attracted the attention of his devoted comrades, and called forth the admiration of his captain, who recommended his promotion to a lieutenancy, which recom? mendation was immediately carried out by the Secretary of War. Dawson could not be idle, and, although suffering severely from his wound,- he applied for a position on the Ordnance Corps, passed a thorough and brilliant examination, and in August, 1862, was commissioned first lieutenant of artillery and ordered to duty with Longstreet's Corps, as assistant ordnance officer of which corps he served until the fall of 1864. in vinculis. After the battle of South Mountain, in 1862, just before Sharpsburg, Lieutenant Dawson was captured by che Federal cavalry which escaped from Harper's Ferry, was taken to Fort Delaware and there confined for some time, and suffered all the comforts which ex-Speaker Blaine would have the world believe were given to the rebel prisoners. Rev. W. P. Du Bose, once pastor of Trinity church in Abbeville, now rector of the University of the South at Scwanee, Tennessee, was Dawson's chum at Delaware. It may be imagined that two such generous souls would contribute a great deal to each other's comfort in their, at that time, un? happy condition. Mr. Dawson was ex? changed just in time to take part in the battle of Frcdericksburg, in December, 1862. He was with Lougstreet through Gettysburg and his East Tennessee cam Saign, and by his side when wounded and enkin3 was killed at the Wilderness. In the winter of lS63-'64 he passed an examination for promotion, and received his commission as captain of artillery in May, 1864. After his promotion he was relieved of his command at his own re? quest and appointed Ordnauce officer of Fitz Lee's Division?General Lee's nephew, him of Bunker Hill. In this capacity Captain Dawson served through the Valley Campaign and to Five Forks on March 31, 1865, where he was wound? ed in the shoulder. In all of his service to the Confederacy Captain Dawson distinguished himself by his bravery and his devotion to duty, however arduous and severe. In the camp and on the tented field he was genial and companionable, and in the line he was always at his post. He had no property interests at stake; he was not fighting for his own country, his na? tive land; he was doing his duty as a liberty-loving English citizen, fighting for a cause he conceived to be just, and for which he was ready to sacrifice his life. His unselfish love of liberty and his noble conduct in the face of the foe entitle him to the most unqualified praise. His war record should put the blush to that crowd of loud-mouthed patriots in this country who brought about the war and then backed out of it. Dawson is one of the men who "went into the war and stayed there." He took part in the following battles: Mcchanicsville, Second Manassas, Fred ericksburg, Gettysburg, Chattanooga, Knoxville, Wilderness, Spottsylvauia C. H., North side James River, 1864, Val ley of Virginia, 1864, Five Forks. He was wounded at Mechanicsville, June 26, 1862 ; at Harrisonburg, Va., 1864; at Five Forks, March 31,4865. He was taken prisoner of war near Williamsport, Va., on September 14,1862, and released on parole in October, 1862. He surren? dered at the close of the war, and was paroled in May. 1865. A more gallant exhibit it would be hard to make up. Such men live in history. In order to show what estimate was placed upon Captain Dawson by the Con? federate Generals it may not be out of place to refer to certain letters of recom? mendation given to him when he made application for admission into the Charleston "Survivor's Association in 1869. These letters are sigrfed by Com? modore Pegram, Generals Longstreet, R. H. Anderson and Fitzhugh Lee, and all agree in saying that "he was a brave soldier and an efficient officer." At the time of the surrender Captain. Dawson found himself without a country and without a home, DRIFTING WITH THE TIDE, with a three cent postage stamp in his pocket to pay expenses. There was no premium on merit in the dark davs of 1865?bread and meat was the height of a man's ambition, and to reach this was a constant struggle. A paroled prisoner with a pocketful of inflated Confederate currency starting out in life with a de? termination to do the square thing was a living spectacle of wonder to the world. This was one of the fruits of that long and severe struggle in which the South was the vanquished, and it has been fol? lowed by a multitude of evils. Captain Dawson's first work after the surrender was a book-keeper in a dry goods store in Petersburg, Virginia, where he sang "the song of the shirt" for fourteen hours a day, at a salary of thirty dollars a month. This is what we would call retrenchment in these days of reck? less extravagance?getting down to a specie basis. In the fall of 1865 Captain Dawson was offered a trial as local re Sorter for the Richmond Examiner by tenry Rives Pollard, which he was then about to revive. This position was readi? ly accepted and faithfully filled, and with this experiTce began Dawson's career as a public journalist. But the smell of battle was on his garments, and the peaceful tripod did not save him from the "honor" of acting as Pollard's best friend when he cowhiaed Brooks, of the New York Times, and when he had his triangular duel in the capitol at Rich? mond, in which the turret of Washing? ton's cane (Houdon's) was shot off.. One fair night a squad of United States soldiers shut up the Examiner office. On the next day after this Dawson was offered a better place as reporter on the Richmond Dispatch, which he at once embraced and filled with great credit until the summer of 1866, when he gave up his position and became route ageut for the National Express Company, which venture very soon failed. HIS JOURNALISTIC CAREER. Mr. Riordan, Captain Dawson's present partner in the Charleston News and Cou? rier, was news editor of the Richmond Examiner at the same time that he was local, and in the Examiner office they joined hands and determined that they would at some future time start a paper of their own in Charleston, S. C. How well they have carried out this determi? nation is now known to every newspaper reader in this State. In the fall of 1866 Colonel R. B. Rhett, jr., who had heard of Captain Dawson through Mr. Riordan, theu connected with the Charleston Cou? rier, offered him the position of assistant editor of the Charleston Mercury. This offer wa3 accepted, and the laborious duties of the position most acceptably performed. It is worthy of note that in the spring of 1867 Mr. Dawson waited in person on the two Rhetts, father and son, and made the formal proposition to them that they should advise the South to swallow the Fourteenth Amendment, to avoid worse trouble; that the Mercury could do this because no ona would sus? pect it of cowardice or disloyalty, to the South; that it would ensure the prosperi? ty of the Mercury, make it the paper of the South and save the people from frightful misery. In the fall of 1867, October 26, Captain Dawson and Mr. B. R. Riordan bought an interest in the Charleston News, which they have pub? lished ever since as the News, until April 3, 1873, when they purchased the old Charleston Courier, and consolidated the two papers under the name of the News and Courier. In the business man? agement of their paper this firm has been eminently successful, and have effectually wiped out all competition and opposition. They have all along struck that golden political mean which the people so much admire and the country m her poverty and desolation so sadly needs! In the early part of 1868 Mr. Dawson attempted to" form a combination with the colored people, and put some colored men on the Aldermanic ticket in the Charleston municipal elections. The movement failed at that time, of course. The hot blood of the BOMB-PROOF POLITICIANS had not sufficiently cooled to allow them to think of such a thing. The country was slowly learning to' recognize the changed conditions of things, and the masters were unwilling to make any con? cessions or solicit any favors from their quondam slaves. There was no unanim? ity of sentiment, no great platform of principles, and fate had to take its course. The first political meeting ever held in Charleston in which respectable demo? crats and colored men worked together, was arranged and organized and the ex? penses paid by Mr. Dawson, who has al? ways manifested great concern in the wel? fare and prosperity of the freedmen? these "hostages to fortune"?and who makes their rise and progress a kind of ethnological study. It was by Captain Dawson's own indi? vidual efforts that the Press Conference of 1870 was called together: its object, the calm and dispassionate consideration of the condition of the country, and the adoption of such a line of policy as would lead to the thorough conservation of all our interests. It was especially designed to give unity and strength to the Democratic press in the discussion of all political men and movements. This Conference was a partial failure. It did not meet with that general approval ne? cessary to success, and was able to decide upon no definite and determinate course of action. When the Medium proposed the organ? ization of a State Press Association in 1874, it was ably seconded and supported by the News and. Courier, and by invita? tion of the proprietors of that paper, held its first meeting and organized in the city of Charleston in May, 1875. At this meeting, Captain Dawson was unanimously elected first Vice President of the Association, and took a most ac? tive and useful part in setting it upon its feet. He was also elected orator for the next meeting of the Association, to be held in Spartauburg in May of the pres? ent year. At the meeting of the Associ? ation in Charleston, Captain Dawson and his partner extended the most princely hospitality to their brethren of the quill, which cannot soorfbe forgotten. the bowen business. In the celebrated Bowen libel suit be? fore Judge Reed in Charleston in 1875, Captain Dawson was the defendant. This suit ranks among the causee celebres of tha State, and at the time of its trial attracted almost universal attention. Able and distinguished counsel were employed on both sides of the case, and the evidence brought out on the trial was voluminous. Captain Dawson was of great assistance to his counsel in preparing the case for trial, and succeded so well in striking the most salient points at issue that before the case had ended he and Bowen had changed places?he was the prosecutor and Bowen the defendant on trial for murder. Although the jury failed to agree upon a verdict, the trial and its re? sults may be regarded as a great triumph. It brought out Bowen in his true charac? ter and struck a blow at the machinations of those who would infringe upon the liberties of the press and the wholesome old doctrine of free thought and free speech. Mr. Dawson has taken a prominent part in the politics of this State ever since the war, and has pursued a consistent, conservative course. So anxious has he at all times been for the peaceful arbi? tration of great political questions, that he has frequently fallen under the dis? pleasure and censure of the extreme men of his own party, who have said many hard things of him to their own discredit and to the injury of the cause. "If a house be divided against itself, that house cannot stand." In 1868, Mr. Dawson favored "the opposition" against Scott ; in 1870, he sustained the Carpenter-But? ler fusion; in 1872, he gave his support to the Bolter's movement, and in 1874 to the Green ticket. He belonged to the Taxpayers' Convention of 1871 and in 1874 when he constituted one of the com? mittee to memorialize the President and Congress on the condition of things in this State. He advocated the organiza? tion of tax unions as necessary to the pro? tection and preservation of the rights and interests of the property-holding citizens of the State. During the Green cam gaign in 1874, Dawson violently opposed hamberlain's election, and wrote a se? ries of articles very damaging to the good fame of the man. He was convinced that Chamberlain's promises of retrench? ment and reform were as brittle as glass, and that his election would be' disastrous to the State; but upon his election and his subsequent good and statesmanlike conduct he gave the Governor his cordial endorsement. In the Charleston muni? cipal elections of 1875 he supported the Cunningham combination against the Wagner faction of the conservative party, and carried the election. When the leg? islature elected Moses and Whipper to the bench, Mr. Dawson raised the alarm which has been taken up by every honest man in the State, and, indeed, over the whole country, and which has set the people moving. He now'favors the com , plete and thorough organization of the Democratic party, and is urging upon the people the extreme necessity of united action. He is a member of the State Democratic Executive Committee, and had something to do with preparing its recent admirable address to the people. Mr. Dawson has been twice married? the first time in May, 1867, to Miss Fourgeand, of Charleston, and then in January, 1874, to the youngest daughter of Judge Thomas Gibbes Morgan, of Louisiana, who still lives. The issue to this second marriage is one daughter. In such a sketch as this it is impossible to tell all that the man has done. Suffice it to say, that Captain Dawson is one of the most accomplished gentlemen we have ever met?a ready writer, an elo? quent speaker, a zealous, conscientious politician, a man of the letters, mettle and morals. The Fate of the Man who Adver? tised.?His name was Hippoflam. His uncle left him some money; he started in the grocery and provision trade. He had read in the paper that John Jacob Astor, A. T. Stewart. Daniel Pratt,.John Smith and hosts of others had once been poor, and had made their start by adver? tising. He- believed it all, doughhead that he was, and he advertised four squares in the Torchlight, six squares in the Badger, and a half a colnmn in the Moonshine. When the people saw from the adver? tisement that Hippoflam had started into business with a fresh, large stock, they, rushed for his store. Then his troubles commenced. He had to hire an extra clerk and cash boy. He could no! find time to sit down on a candle box. thrust' his feet under the stove, ana gossip about politics and the Louisiana ques? tion. Every day or two he had to write or telegraph for new goods, ordering moie?~ coffee, tea, sugar or spices; and when the the goods came he had to open them and retail them out. As day after day_ went by people began to notice that Hippo? nam was growing thin and pale., lln looked careworn and harrassed, as if driven. He kept advertising, and people kept patronizing him. Other grocers could get time to go off on excursions, and sit down four hours at a time, and Slay checkers and dominoes, but. Hippo am could not get an hour to himself, except time to sleep. By and by he had to open an account with yet another bank, get more clerks and cash boys; and yet it came about that he kept a carriage, built a fine house> wore broadcloth, ana was elected mayor of the town. Of course a man couldn't go on in this way for many years without breaking down in health, and the day came at last when Hippoflam had the dyspepsia, the jaun? dice, heart disease, rheumatism and sev? eral other complaints. The shadow of death hung over him, while the grocers who hadn't advertised at all grew fat and ?ortly and had double chins on 'em. hey had time to go fishing, were never tired out looking over their accounts, and it wasn't once a year that they had to order anything more than a box of her? ring. Broken down in health, feeling mad at the world, and finding himself a victim of newspapers, Hippoflam one day drew all his money out of the bank, Eassed it over to a lunatic asylum, set is store on fire, blew up his mansion with a keg of powder, and then hanged himself to a peach tree in the back yard. The coroner cut him down, the jury sat on him, and the verdict was: "Adverti? sing killed him, and we hereby warn all business men to let his fate be an awful example against patronizing newspa? pers." ? When Frauklin Pierce was Presi? dent of the United States, an army officer who had served with him in the Mexican war, and who was personally intimate with him, committed some dereliction of duty in which the style of arms allotted for the quota of each State was concerned. The officer was immediately relieved from duty, and to avoid a court martial his frends urgently besought the President to allow him time to resign. "No, gen? tlemen," said the President, "if he were my own brother I would not do it" The officer was tried and dismissed the ser? vice. What a vast difference between Executive action then and that which we are pained to behold now prevails in Washington!