Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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RATES OF SUBSCRIPTION.?Two Dollahs per annum, and One Dollar for six month*. Subscriptions are not taken for a lets period than six months. Liberal deductions made to clubs of ten or ? more subscribers. RATES OF ADVERTISING.?One Dollar per square o! one inch for the first insertion, and Fifty Cents per square for subsequent insertions less than three months. No advertisement counted less than a square. Liberal contracts will be made with those wishing to advertise for three, six or twelve months. Ad? vertising by contract most be confined to the im? mediateousiness of the firm or individual contrac? ting. Obituary Notices exceeding five lines, Tributes of Bespect. and all personal communications or matters of Individual interest, will he charged for at advertising rates. Announcements of marriages and deaths, and notices of a religious character, are respect full y solicited, and will be inserted gratis. BY HOYT & CO. ANDERSON, S. 0., THURSDAY, JULY 13, 1876. VOL. XI-NO. 52. ? LEGAL ADVERTISING.--We sre compelled to require cash payment* for advertising ordered by Executors, Administrators and other fiduciaries, and herewith append the rates for the ordinary notices, which will only he inserted when the money comes with the order: Citations, two insertions, - - $3.00 Estate Notices, three Insertions, 2.00 Final Settlements. , fire insertion* - ? &00 TO CORRESPONDENTS.?la order to receive attention, communications must be accompanied by the true name and address of the writer. Be jected manuscript* will not be returned, unless the necessary stamps are furnished to repay the postage thereon. 49* We are not responsible for the views and opinions of our correspondent*. All communications should be addressed to "Ed? itors Intelligencer " and all checks, drafts, money orders, Ac, should be made ^g^^~^order ?Anderson, sic. THE ORATION AT THE FORT. A Graphic Account of the Fight that Moultrie Made. The oration delivered by Gen. Joseph Brevard Kerehaw, at Fort Monltrie. on June 28th, is as follows: America has reached an epoch in her history. The nation pause? in her majestic career. She bends in reverence at the shrine of her fathers. Her great heart is filled with awe and apprehension. An impenetrable cloud veils her future. Lurid lightnings flash along its glowing surface. Muttering thunders agitate the 'firmanent, and the roar of raging tem? pests, near at hand, shake the rocking earth beneath her feet A great crisis approaches?she recalls the years that are gone, marks well the footprints of her unexampled progress hitherto, ' gathers fresh hope, faith and courage?a new inspiration from the fountains, whence all her greatness flows, ere she goes forth to meet the future, and starte - again upon her onward march, as a giant refreshed with wine. As yet her soul is vexed and troubled. Her children are noi at peace. A great fratricidal war has swept over the land? the march of. mighty armies, whose muffled tread shook the continent, mark? ing their awful progress with blighted homesteads and tombless graves, and bat? tle-fields bathed in brothers' blood?"a track of grim desolation, of Unutterable . ruin." One-third of the States, battle scarred, scathed and blasted?their insti stitutions, consecrated by constitutional recognition and guarantees, suddenly and violently uprooted?their social order subverted?their capital obliterated? their governments in stranger and hostile hands?debased, corrupt and oppressive ?^prostrate before the conqueror the con? quered lay, "Nor found a generous friend, a pitying foe, Strength In her arm, nor mercy in her woe." The whole country infested with ruth? less demagogues, preying upon the vitals cf the State, "usurping all the functions, ?only to violate all the ends of civil socie? ty ; the revenues of the Commonwealth, a mere fund for the support of the vicious, the profligate and the idle.1' The grand, . yet simple, dignity of the Republic sup? planted by a degrading and extravagant imitation of the Courts of Kings. The people groaning under the burden of un? exampled and ruinous taxation, trade languishing, commercial credit failing, mechanical industries paralyzed, manu? factures pining, agriculture profitless, the commui.e threatening. These, the baleful fruits of civil war, fostered and fed by the malignant passions that yet survive. - Not thus shall America face the com? ing century. In this Centennial year she bids her children go in memory to the time when the Republic suffered the Sags of birth, amid the clash of arms, e rattle of musketry, and the thunders of artillery, the shoutings of the captains, and the. din and roar of'battle. To? gether, as prodigal children wasting a precious heritage, to turn to our father's house?-to drink once more of the limpid springs of the ancestral homestead?to breathe its pure atmosphere, to worship at the old altars of liberty and patriotism ?to stand beside the graves of the fore? fathers, hand in hand, and heart to heart, and there and thus renew the pledges of brotherhood, and receive an inspiration for the great battle for the redemption and restoration of American constitution? al liberty?the inalienable birthright of the American people. And so all over this fair land, from the shores of New England, birthplace of liberty, to California's golden sands? from Ontario's tideless sea, to the coral reels of the Southern Gulf, the great American family, with mercy and peace, and piety and reverence in their hearts, celebrate this Centennial of their liberty and independent nationality. And so do we, this day, the people of South Carolina, in the name of our ven? erable sires of the Revolution?the Rut ledges, the Pirickneys, the Middle tons, the Gradsdens, the Hogers and the Lau renses?of Moultrie, Marion and Sumter, and their noble compatriots, on this sacred spot, consecrated by their heroism to the liberty, unity and fraternity of the American people, welcome to our Pal? metto State, with honest and true hearts, our brethren and countrymen; our hon? ored guests, representatives of the land of Otis, Adams and Hancock?of Hamil? ton, Livingston and Jay?our neighbors, friends and comrades, sons of the young? est of the Old Thirteen, Georgia, the great and gallant Empire State of the South, and all our countrymen, who have honored us by their presence, on this, South Carolina's great festal day. She bids you welcome, thrice welcome?greets you as brethren and friends?and pledges you an untarnished faith and honor, that it shall not be the fault of her true sons, native or adopted, if our common coun? try be not the home of a happy, free, united and prosperous people, and her career onward and upward, glorious and triumphant forever. I speak to my countrymen; a South Carolinian to Americans. Let your ends be just; we ask no more. Together let us obliterate the passions and prejudices of an irrevocable and lamentable past; bind up its braised and mangled victims, and bury, deep in Lethean waters, all but the memory of its brave and generous deeds and grand achievements, a com? mon and glorious heritage of the Ameri? can people. History teaches that the pas? sions and resentments of civil wars are most evanescent; oblivion veils their errors and their crimes, and memory cherishes their virtues and deeds of valor. Rome inscribed upon her eagle-crowned banners no record of civil conquest. It was Charles Sum n er, the great Senator of Massachusetts, who commended to en? lightened Christian America the gene? rous policies of Pagan Rome. The heart of the most loyal Briton glows with pride iu the iron rule of Cromwell, and reveres the noble virtues of Hampden and Syd? ney. England's historian of to-day de? clares that Washington and George the Third were alike pure-minded?that "George the Third was never at heart a tyrant, nor was Washington ever at heart a rebel." No name upon the roll of South Carolina's worthies of the Revolu? tion is more highly cherished than that of the martyr Hayne?victim of a bloody and revengeful policy; yet, of no act done in her name in that eventful strug? gle is England more ashamed, than the ruthless sacrifice of that young and gifted life. Washington's administration was the subject of the most bitter invective, and the fiercest denunciations, and on the day which terminated his official career he deemed it necessary to vindicate his character, as a patriot and a states? man, from the most malignant and de? grading aspersions. The men of to-day, whoso counsels are darkened by passions and prejudice, are not competent to judge the abstract right of the bloody and disastrous controversy from which we have so recently emerged. Who can amend the past?recall its Sunders and its crimes? To discuss em now is the office of revenge?to open afresh but half healed wounds; to lacerate broken hearts and agonize crushed and wounded spirits; to fan the flames of envenomed and malignant hate; to do the work of devils and demagogues; to raise upon the body of the Stat$ foul and festering boils and putrefying sores, full of deadly corruption, fatal to the Commonwealth. Let the appeal be to posterity, that august tribunal for the arbitrament of human conduct _ and opinion. Calm and impartial, as it is re? moved by time from the men and issues submitted to its judgment, its decrees approximate the exact and infallible truth only attainable in the forum of the Supreme and Omniscient Judge of the Universe. It will decide with justice, tempered with filial tenderness and mercy. In this our Southern land, we cherish, with a reverence almost religious in its devotion, the memory of two illustrious Americans, whose virtues shine in his? tory with equal and full-orbed perfec? tions. As the sun in the .heavens, abso? lutely peerless, if not absolutely faultless, Georee Washington and Robert E. Lee stand forth as our grand models of human excellence. When their bright unsullied blades were sheathed, and the issues of war determined, vengeance found no place in their hearts. It shall find no abiding place in ours. No kindly word or generous deed, com? ing to us whence it may, shall be un mated. The hand of conciliation and fraternal recognition extended to us, in honor and honesty, shall ever be met with the responsive pressure of a friendly and brotherly grip. In this spirit we welcome this day the gallant and faithful sons of the North, and reciprocate in our humble way, in no niggardly or grudging spirit, the gen? erous, courteous, and distinguished Los-, pitality with which. Boston, and New York, and all New England, welcomed and honored our gallant and faithful sons, to commemorate with them the glories of'Bunker Hill, and the splendid achievements of New England's heroes of the Revolution. The Revolution of 1776, that brought to America Liberty, Independence and National Unity, initiated at Boston and Bunker Hill, was re-echoed from Charles? ton and Fort Moultrie. The Revolution of 1876, that brings harmony, union, and a restored nation? ality, initiated at Boston and Buuker Hill, finds an echo this day in the hearts of South Carolinians at Charleston and Fort Moultrie. They were the leaders then as now; but as our fathers shared the dangers, the horrors, and the fruits of the first, so we claim no. inferior place in the revolution that shall restore to all Americans liberty, equality, und fraterni? ty. To this generous contest we invite the men of the North. If they found us in the unhappy past foemen worthy of their steel, they shall find us in the com? mon struggle for a restored nationality, faithful and unfaltering comrades. FORT MOULTRIE. A hundred years ago, the bright sum? mer's sun witnessed, upon this spot, a scene of moral grandeur and historical interest seldom surpassed. Many occa? sions have far transcended it in the num? ber of actors, the splendor of martial array, "the pomp and circumstance of war, and in conscious interest and im? portance ; none in the real magnitude of the issue involved; none in the brave and simple faith and devotion of the patriot band here assembled, and few in the comparative value and importance of its wonderful results. To produce this singular spectacle; to realize its true character and the spirit which animated and sustained the actors in the glorious drama; to recall the memory of their achievements and honor their virtues and their fame; this the pious pilgrimage that gathers here to day, this grand assembly of American soldiers and citi? zens, at the call of a patriotic and repre? sentative band of South Carolina's best, bravest and most honored sons, equally enlightened, liberal and generous in peace, as brave, magnanimous and dis? tinguished in war?a veteran organiza? tion of worthy scions of their great pro-, to types of the past, who have vindicated upon many a bloody field, and by many an arduous service, the honor and fame of their beloved State, and justified their claim to the proud title of "Guardians of the Palmetto." On the 28th June, 1776, this then barren island lay in the bosom of the waters, a wild and deep swamp, covered with tile dense and picturesque verdure of the live oak. myrtle and palmetto, and bordered by a broad and beautiful sandy beach. At this spot stood an incomplete and modest structure, a novelty in de? fensive fortification?a rude pen of pal? metto logs from the adjacent forest, with walls sixteen feet .thick, filled in with sand, having a sea front east and west of some two hundred feet, and on all other sides in an unfinished and exposed con? dition, furnishing but little cover to the inmates. Within this primitive and ex? temporized fortress platforms were raised, and some twenty-eight guns, twenty-six, eighteen and nine-pounders, were mount? ed. In the magazine were twenty-eight rounds of ammunition for this armament. The garrison consisted of Moultrie's Second South Carolina Regiment, and a few volunteers, aggregating about four hundred men. At the eastern extremity of the Island were stationed Thompson^ Regiment of Rangers, (300,) Clark's North Carolina Regulars, (200,) and fifty militiamen. With this force were two guns, an eighteen and a six-pounder.? At that point North Island was separated from this by a channel, not more than eighteen inches deep at low water mark. Col. William ^Moultrie commanded the Island, and Col. William Thompson, popularly known as "Old Danger," the eastern outpost. Gen. Armstrong with one thousand five hundred militia, held Haddrell's Point, and a garrison occupied Fort Johnson and the fortifications of the city. The whole force aggregated nearly six thousand men, commanded by General Charles Lee, of the Continental Army, with headquarters at Charleston. A British fleet of fifty sail, under the com? mand of Admiral Sir' Peter Parker, lay in the harbor and adjacent inlets. The squadron of attack consisted of the flag? ship Bristol and the Experiment, men-of war of fifty guns each; the frigates Actoon, Active, Solebay, and Syren, of twenty-eight guns each; the Sphynx, of twenty guns, and the sloop-of-war Ranger, and the Thunder Bomb, of eight guns each. The British land force on Long Island numbered some two thousand infantry and seven hundred marines, under the command of Gen. Sir Henry Clinton, with the Earl Corn walIis next in authori? ty. Their purpose was to ford the inlet, drive in Thompson's outpost, and move upon the fort on the land side, flanked by a flotilla of armed boats and small craft, moving by the inland passage back of the Island. The brave defenders devoted them? selves to their work with a sublime faith, against all seeming probabilities.? Britannia then indeed "ruled the waves" and held imperial and acknowledged sway as mistress of the seas. Her fleets were held invincible, and the British in? fantry considered the best in the world. Hitherto the Americans had shared their glory and renown, and held their prowess in exaggerated esteem. What could this mere handful of men, with their little log fort and feeble armament, expect to accomplish in the impending conflict? Their general, Lee, once a colonel in the British array, evidently expected a catas? trophe. His chief concern, up to the day of the battle, was for the escape of the garrison. He did not like the post; said .there was no way of retreat," called it "a slaughter pen," wished to withdraw the garrison and give up the post. De? clared it "absolutely necessary to have a bridge of boats for a retreat." June 7th, thought Moultrie should have "two means of retreat," and urged "expedition in finishing the bridge." June 9th, wrote again about the bridge. June 10th. that it was "absolutely necessary for the common safety that the bridge of retreat be finished that night," the com? modore's slrip having crossed the bar. Day after day he wrote, expressing his solicitude about a means of retreat, up to the night of the 27th. He had but little confidence in the troops; thought Moul? trie "too easy" for the command of so important a post, and declared his opinion that Thompson'" two guns "could be carried off whenever the enemy thought proper." Armstrong, too, wrote Moultrie, "I wish the situation of the bridge may not be fatal to us." One Capt. Lampriere, a brave and expe? rienced seaman, said to him, "Sir, when those ships come to lav alongside your fort, they will knock it down in half an hour." Under all these discouragements, the morale of Moultrie and his command was magnificent. He tells he never was un? easy about his means of retreat. "Never imagined that the enemy could force him to that necessity;" considered himself "able to defend the post." Replied to Lampriere that if the fort was knocked down they would "lie behind the ruins and prevent their men from landing." On the 16th, writes, "We are all in high spirits." His only concern was for a supply of ammunition. He was only entrusted with twenty-eight rounds.? Major Ben Huger was a brave and gal? lant officer, who fell on the lines of Charleston, by the fire of his own men, May 10th, 1779, a date, the anniversary of which long afterwards was made memorable as that upon which the spirit of Stonewall Jackson "passed over the river and rested under the shade of the trees," the victim of a similar accident. Juno 8th, Major Huger writes to his wife at Georgetown: "Sullivan's Island will be the spot first attacked, and which I imagine will bear the brunt of the action. This seems to be the general opinion. * ? * I dined there yesterday, and never in my life did I see men in better spirits, or more anxious for battle.? Should they be attacked, I believe the contest will be a glorious one. I have not the least doubt of victory, and am of opinion the contest will end at Sullivan's Island. * * * We have about five hundred men here (Charleston) and though not so numerous as we could wish, yet I think well able to cope with three times their number of men in so glorious a cause." How nobly he illus? trated that grand sentiment of the poet? "Thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just, In so glorious a cause." y Look where we may, my countrymen, into the record of those grand old days? in the archives of government?in official ?and State papers, in the acts of assem? blies, in public addresses, or in private, and even domestic, correspondence, these glorious words ever recur, ringing upon the ear and stirring the hearts of men, like some celestial trumpet-call. Nothing could daunt the courage of men thus animated. It was an inspira? tion under which they acted?those glori? ous men. of 1776. They were no longer men; they were the ministers of a cause ?a grand, a glorious, a heaven-born mis? sion?to bring to suffering, oppressed and despondent humanity the assurance of civil and religious liberty, reasonable, regulated, orderly, equal, and uniform. Liberty and Independence?the right of local self-government for homogene? ous communities and peoples. These were the glorious watch-words that fired the hearts and nerved the arms of our ancestors, and brought them face to face in deadly conflict with the greatest power on earth, severing the ties of brother? hood, nationality and allegiance; throw? ing off her protection, and braving her strength. \ In this invincible spirit, this sublime faith, Moultrie and Thompson, and their heroic comrades, awaited the onset of their heretofore invincible foe, that memorable morning, a hundred years ago, fraught with consequences of inesti? mable importance to millions of the human family yet to be born. Had that little log fort fallen that day, Charleston and the Carolinas would have fallen? there would have been no French alli? ance ; British power and resources would have triumphed; there would have been no Independence to America; no vindi? cation of the principles of liberty and the right of soil-government; no French Revolution; no subversion of old, obso? lete, and despotic systems. The march of civilization would have been arrested, and human progress stayed. At an early hour that morning, Moul? trie, visiting Thompson's outpost, dis? covered the boats back of Long Island in motion, and turning seaward, saw the men-of-war loose their topsails. Hurry ing to the fort, he ^prepared for action. The long-roll was beat, the garrison was aroused, the officers and men rushed to their positions, the guns were manned, the matches lighted, every nerve braced, and every heart strengthened by a silent appeal to the God of Battles. Not long did they wait the dread mo? ment. With top-gallant sails, royals and sky-scrapers spread, the fleet sailed majestically up the channel, "like float? ing mountains," under a slow fire from the fort, lay close in, and dropped their anchors, in the calm confidence of an easy and assured victory, and opened upon the fort a furious cannonade. Says the British annalist of the day : "While the continued thunder from the ships seemed sufficient to shake the firm? ness of the bravest enemy, and daunt the courage of the most veteran soldier, the return made by the fort could not fail of calling for the respect of, as well as highly incommoding, the brave seamen of Britain. In the midst of that dread? ful war of artillery, they stuck with the greatest firmness to their guns, fired de? liberately and slowly, and took a cool and effective aim. The ships suffered accordingly; they were torn to pieces, and the slaughter was dreadful. Never did British valor shine more conspicuous, and never did our mariners, in an en? gagement of the same nature with any foreign enemy, experience so rude an encounter. * * * The quarter? deck of the Bristol was at one time cleared of every man but the Commo? dore, who stood alone, a spectacle of in-' trepidity seldom equalled, never ex? ceeded." Within the fort, Moultrie smoked his pipe, gave his orders and passed the word!, "Mind the Commodore, mind the fifty-gun ship." The officers and men shouted the battle cry, and worked the Suns. How they "minded" the Commo ore and the men-of-war, their losses demonstrate. The captains of both ves? sels were wounded. Cant. Morris, of the Bristol, fatally. The Bristol lost forty killed a"tad seventy-one wounded, the Experiment, twenty-three killed and seventy-six wounded. It was a very hot day, and this was very hot work, handling and working heavy ordnance/ amid the roar, and smoke, and blaze of battle, the villanous smell of sulphur and saltpetre, the howl? ing and hissing and crash of shot and shell, and the thunder of the guns. The men threw off their coats for the work, and Moultrie. refreshened them with five buckets of grog. It must have been "good old Jamaica," so called by our fathers. Long years afterwards, Moul? trie writes of it: "Never had I a more agreeable draught than that which I took out of one of those buckets at the time." What soldier that ever endured the heat and thirst of battle does not sympathize with this grateful apprecia? tion of the well-timed and refreshing draught? Yet, alas, how fatal it often proves to health, honor and happiness. All the while the battle raged inces? sant; the Thunder Bomb dropped her shells with wonderful precision, and broadside after broadside hurled tons of iron against the little Fort. Once, three or four broadsides struck it at the same instant, and gave the merlons such a tre? mor that Moultre thought a few more such would tumble them down. Moul? trie says, "it was an honorable but a most unpleasant situation." Gen. Lee seems to have agreed in this opinion. He visited the Fort through a heavy line of fire, pointed two or three guns, and then with a pleasant compliment to Moultrie, returned to the city. "Never," said Moultrie, "did men fight more bravely, and never were men more cool. Their only distress was the want of pow? der. * * * There cannot be a doubt, but that if we had had as much powder as we cpuld have expended in the time, the men-of-war must have struck their colors, or they would cer? tainly have been sunk." For the want of powder the fire be? came so slackened for a time that the enemy thought the Fort abandoned. At the southeastern angle of the Fort, the regimental colors were planted on the bastion. It was the first American flag displayed in South Carolin" It was pre? pared by Moultrie under iJe orders of the Council of Safety, and raised at Fort Johnson, September 17th, 1775. A large blue flag, with a silver crescent in the dexter corner. It was designed after the uniform of the South Carolina troops, which was blue, with a silver crescent on the cap front, inscribed with the grand motto, "Liberty or Death." Early in the action the flag-staff was shattered by a shot, and the flag fell outside upon the beach. Thousands of spectators with eager eyes and anxious hearts?fathers, mothers, sisters, sons, daughters, wives and lovers?watched from yonder city the progress of the fight, and when the cry went forth, "the flags is down," hor? ror and despair seized the shuddering crowd. There was a Sergeant, William Jasper, born about the year 1750, at Charleston, tradition says of an Irish family. _ When he beheld from^the opposite bastion the fall of the flag, with a courage and en? thusiasm characteristic of the Carolina Irishman, exclaiming, "Let us not fight without a flag," he leaped down from an embrasure, passed through the iron hail of cannon shot and shell, along the entire length of the Fort, seized the flag, fas? tened it to his sponge staff, fixed it firmly upon the bastion in view of the whole fleet, and leaped unhurt from the parapet to the platform, amid the hearty cheers of his gallant comrades. A deed more noble, more heroic, is not recorded" in human history; no incident more worthy of embodiment in imperishable marble and brass, upon the monument reared by Charleston in honor of this glorious day. The name and fame of Jasper will go sounding down the ages of remotest time, a distinguished and illustrious example of the most exalted heroism. 'One Sergeant McDaniel, whose name proclaims the Scotch descent, when borne away in the heat of the battle, mortally wounded and mangled, lifting his dying eyes upon his comrades, exclaimed:? ''Huzzah, my brave fellows 1 I die, but don't let the cause of liberty die with me!" Words of eulogy were wasted upon an incident like this. Meanwhile, how fared the brave Thompson at his advanced post? His Bangers were riflemen, the best marks? men in the State, himself the best shot in his regiment. None of them had ever fired a cannon. Their idea of gunnery I was very simple?to load, aim well, fire, wipe out, and repeat the process. They had no idea that any ball aimed by them could miss the mark, but firmly believed that every grape-shot found its victim. So, indeed, it seemed that day; for they I completely cleared the decks of the ad? vancing flotilla., and baffled and repulsed the vessels and boats composing it. Sir Henry Clinton bravely marched his troops to the water's edge; but the re? pulse of his boats, and Thompson's de? termined resistance, induced him to de? cline the attempt to ford it. He found the water too deep under the circumstan? ces. Dr. Johnson, from an English paper of the day, has preserved an epigram upon the occurrence: "By the Rod Sea the Hebrew host detained, Through aid Divine the distant shore soon gained, The waters fled, the deep a passage gave, But this God wrought, a chosen race to save. "Though Clinton's troops have shared a different fate, 'Gainst them, poor men, not chosen sure of Heaven, The miracle reversed is still as great? From two feet deep the water rose to seven." * Lee perceived this repulse. It gave him more confidence in the courage and ability of the State troops, and he imme? diately entrusted Moultrie with "more ammunition. With it came words of cheer from the more hopeful chieftain. He writes: "Honor and victory, my good sir, "to you and our worthy countrymen with you. P. S.?Do not make too free use with your cannon. Cool, and do mischief." It was now 2 o'clock p. m., and the battle raged with renewed fury. The Bristol had her cable cut, and drift? ed with her stern to the fort. The gen? tlemen of the garrison redoubled their attentions to the Commodore, and raked the doomed ship most fearfully. The ActieoD, the Sphynx, and the Syren at? tempted to gain a position on the unfin? ished western front of the fort, and thence enfilade the garrison. Becoming entangled in the shoals of the middle ground, they attracted the fire of the tort. The Actsean ran aground, the Sphynx lost her bowsprit, and the Syren gladly hauled off. And so the day wore on, with its tre? mendous issues. The sun went to rest, night veiled the scene, and the stars in the summer sky, unheeded, looked down with calm and peaceful lustre upon the flashing guns, amid the thunders of the battle. Moultrie, for want of ammuni? tion, again slackened his fire, and the garrison distinctly heard their shots strike the ships and crash through their tim? bers. At length the brave and stubborn foe abandoned the disastrous conflict, slipped his cables, and dropped down with the tide, and the battle ceased. The weary soldier sank to rest and slept the victor's blissful sleep, and dreamed sweet dreams of home?of proud and happy greetings from, loved and lov ing ones?of fair women, bright and beautiful ?s artists' dreams ot angels, weaving for him crowns of victory, and j save the sentinel's solitary tramp, and the gentle murmur of the rippling tide I along the beach, silence reigned supreme. In the distance gleam the city lights. No rest as yet was there. The darkness and the silence brought thither to many an anxious heart, fear, doubt and despair. The battle was over, but, ah 1 who had gained the day ? And, ah ! who was left to tell. With the morning's dawn, the men were again at their guns. They opened upon the ill-fated Act aeon, which still lay aground. Her brave, but unfortunate, commander sullenly responded, fired the ship, and left her with guns loaded and colors flying. Cant. Milligan, with a party, boarded the burning vessel, turn? ed her guns upon the distant Commodore, fave him a farewell shot, seized the ship's ell and other trophies, and left her to her inevitable fate. Immediately her magazine exploded; a great pillar of smoke ascended from the blazing ruin, expanded at the top, and assumed the form of a gigantic Palmetto tree, em? blem of ttie new-born State emerging from the ruins of the proud symbol of Britain's sovereignty in America. Clinton now made a last attempt, to cross from Long Island, but the intrepid Thompson and nis brave command again confronted him with terrific volleys and drove him behind the batteries as before, discomfited and despondent. The same day, Sir Peter Parker with a heavy heart, sailed away northward with his fleet, followed on the 30th by Clinton, with his dejected command, and South Carolina had rest for more than three years from the invading hosts of Britain. Congratulations and well-won compli? ments flowed in upon the victors. Gov. Rutledgc in person tendered his thanks and the plaudits of the people. He pre? sented his own sword to the brave Jasper, and tendered him a commission as a re? ward of his gallantry. That noble spirit, modest as brave, gratefully declined the proffered honor. "I am content," said he, "to be a Sergeant; my education does not fit me for higher office." Oh, for the revival of sentiments like these, obsolete, and almost extinct in these degenerate days, when demagogues madly scramble for office, and the highest positions are often won by unblushing incompetency and unscrupulous villainy. Gen. Lee added his testimony to the heroism of the command, declaring that "no men ever did, and it is impossible that any men ever could behave better," and Con Sress returned thanks "to Maj.-Gen. Lee, ol. William Moultrie, Col. William Thompson, and the officers and soldiers under their command," and the Legisla? ture changed the name of the fort to "Moultrie," in honor of its gallant de? fence. On the 30th, the day that Clinton sail? ed, Mrs. Barnard Elliott presented Moul trie's regiment with a stand of colors, assuring them that their gallant beha? vior in defence of liberty and their coun? try "entitled them to the highest honors." Three years afterwards, these colors were planted upon the Spring Hill Redoubt, in the disastrous assault upon Savannah. One was planted by Lieutenant Bush, who wep immediately shot down. Lieu? tenant Hume, in planting the other, met the same fate. Lieutenant Gray, sup Sorting them, received his death-wound, asper seized the flag and planted it, and when the retreat sounded, mortally woun? ded, he brought them off the field, and covered with glory and honor, cheerfully yielded up his .young life, a willing sac? rifice upon the altar of liberty. Just be? fore he died he said to Major Horry: "Tell Mrs. Elliott I lost my life support? ing the colors she presented to our regi? ment." "Yet, soldier, thy illustrious name Is known, Thy fame supported, and thy worth confessed; That peerless virtue which in danger shone, Is shining still where thou art laid to rest." A century has rolled on to join the march of time. The American States have become a mighty Republic, the Seer of the most powerful Empires and kingdoms. The heroism of her sons in 1776 has been transmitted to the genera? tions that succeeded them. Twice has she defied in arms the British power, and twice been crowned with victory. Her flag has waved in triumph over the Em? pire of the Montezumas, and brave Car? olinians are here to-day, bearing the Pal? metto banner, first planted on the Castle of Chepultepec, and first on the Garita de Belen, gate of the Mexican capital. Vast conquests have been made, ana her dominion extends from ocean to ocean. Immense forests have been felled? gloomy wastes made fertile fields. Great cities nave been built, roads, canals, rail? ways and telegraphs, and all the appli? ances of the most advanced civilization multiplied. Large manufacturing and mining interests established; agricultural industries developed and progressing in accordance with the latest discoveries in natural science; innumerable churches, schools and colleges, afford the highest facilities for religious, moral and intel? lectual culture; and broad streams of immigration pour in yearly uppn our shores, adding to an ever-increasing pop? ulation. America stands to-day a stu? pendous example of national develop ment and achievement Standing as it were upon an eminence, and taking a retrospective view of her history from the day when a still, small voice awoke the dreams of Columbus, gave to the world a new creation, shook into action the dormant energies of man? kind, moved the stagnant fountains of human thought, and incited the nations to enterprise, discovery and progress, to this full development of American pro? gress, who can fail to see that an Al? mighty Providence originated, guided and accomplished this grandest, highest, most wonderful and most beneficient manifestation of His intervention in hu? man affairs? Who, thus believing, can admit the monstrous thought that this ' divine experiment is doomed to prema? ture failure, that the sun of America's greatness is to be extinguished, in the midst of its meridian splendor, in the foul waters of discord and corruption? It cannot, must not, will not be. Among no people on earth is there more private virtue and general intelligence than here ; and these must triumph over the malig? nity of faction, and the low acts of cor? rupt demagogues. The moral sense of the nation cannot always remain blunted. Virtue, "sweet spouse of Liberty," shall not always sleep, nor strife and faction always rule. The dark night of passion and prejudice and bitter malignity is already melting away in the coming morn of the new century. We possess every requisite for the hap? piness and prosperity of the people, but a faithful, honest and just administration of public affairs. True, poverty, distress ana gaunt famine, for the first time in our history, stand at our doors, and children in Carolina cry for bread. Yet never were our skies more propitious, or the soil more prolific of rewards to the hus? bandman. It is only that we are robbed by greedy politicians of the fruits of our industry. True, three-fifths of our capital has been swept out of existence, but by a beneficient compensation the means of doubling the productive capacity of the soil, and of largely adding to oar com merce, are discovered at onr doors in in? exhaustible deposits of fertilizing phos {>hates, of greater value than all we have ost. The change in our domestic institutions and relations with onr laborers was only a question of time. The march of pub? lic sentiment upon that subject could not have been stayed by human power. So, also, it is evident that the world is to pass under the rule of popular govern? ments. The law of castes will either be brought to conform to it harmoniously, or the weaker will be trampled out in the higher progress of the superior. The ultimate and assured nope of the country is in the virtue and wisdom of the people. The danger is in the cen? tralization of power and the rule of cor? rupt leaders of the people?an unbridled and unscrupulous Democracy, trampling upon all the rights of the people, ruling in their name and sustained by their power. Imperialism here is an impossi? bility. The free air of our country would be deadly to kings and tyrants. That I many-headed monstei?a consolidated and corrupt government of demagogues -is that which endangers our liberties. Its only alternative and correction is to be found in the power of the States to secure their rights under the constitution. Secession as a remedy is gone, perhaps forever. For us of the South it is dead beyond the possibility of resurrection. But in some form the statesman of the future will so hedge around the rights of the States, by wise and peaceful remedies, as to render liberty secure, and oppres? sion impossible. When that day shall come, the English speaking States of the world may find protection, peace and prosperity beneath the starry banner of our country, upon whose azure field of union each particular star shall shine with a separate and equal lustre. Citizens of South Carolina, in this day of bitter humiliation and dire distress, let not these sanguine dreams of the future seem to you out a mockery ofyour woe, your unutterable wrongs. Truth and justice are eternal, and always bring enduring compensation for transitory in- I terruption of their free course. The day of wrong and misrule, I fully believe, is passing away; the day of de'iverance is < near at hand. If, however, discord and distrust shall still rule the hour, and place the lash of persecution once more in the hands of i malignant ministers of vengeance, to1 humble, and crush, and degrade, let the scions of the old revolutionary stock of the South still display that God-like forti? tude that endures unmerited and irreme? diable wrong, as true manhood always endures unavoidable and insuperable calamity, with faith, courage, patience. Such wrongs, thus endured, find sure and ample remedies and retributions most righteous. "A little, while along the saddening plains, The starless night of desolation reigns, Truth shall restore the light by nature given, And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of heaven; Prone to the dust, oppression shall be hurled. Her name, her nature, withered from the world." Appearances. There are two things that are hard to bear. It is hard for a man who was born poor, raised poor, lived poor and clothed poor, but who has. by some freak of for? tune, become suddenly rich, to bear, with moderation, his riches. He is apt to grow detestably proud and haughty. He is liable to become of great importance in his own eyes, and look down with con? tempt upon every one else. Such a one is apt to conclude that when he dies, all the machinery of the universe will be thrown out of gear. The fact is, there are few men who can bear, with becom? ing modesty, a sudden elevation from the ceBar to the garret. They grow giddy, and render themselves ridiculous and hateful in the eyes of all sober-minded men. It is also hard for one who has been accustomed, for a long time, to the ease and comforts which riches bring, to adapt himself to the hardships and inconven? iences which attend poverty. Poverty is bearable, provided we have been poor all our lives, and, have never known any? thing else; but it requires something more than philosophy, to enable us to endure poverty after having enjoyed the comforts of wealth. All sorts of means will be employed to prevent facts from taking their legitimate course. It is useless to try to conceal the fact that the late war and the series of events which followed in its train, reduced multitudes of our Southern people to well nigh abject .poverty. For more than ten years the majority of this class of people have been straggling to keep up appearances. They have dressed as they did when times were better; their table has been furnished as when they were rich; their furniture and everything of this sort, has been of the most fashionable style. All this has been done with the vain hope that something favorable might turn up which would restore them to their former affluent circumstances. It would have been far better for all parties, had such persons at the close of the war, at once given their property for their debts, and met the actual condition of things man? fully. Had this class of our people done this, and heroically gone to hard work, by this time the crisis would have been past. They would have caught the flood tide of high prices of cotton; but this time, in aU probability, is gone. Many are still struggling to appear what every one who knows anything about them knows they are not. Such a course may have much of pleasure which we experience in dreaming; but, like a dream, it is a base fabric woven on the loom of distracted thoughts. It would be far better for every one who is in? volved, to meet the crisis at once. Let the creditor and debtor deal fairly and honestly with each other, and let the man who is pressed down with debts take a ground start. Let him start in the world without anything, if it be necessary. Let him acknowledge that, he is poor, and honestly live so as to ap? pear what he really is. Such a course would not make the country any poorer. The same amount of property would still be in the country that is now, and it would be in a better shape. Such a course may be humilia? ting, but there is not necessarily any? thing dishonest in it. On the contrary! it can scarcely be said to be strictly hon? est for an individual to attempt to appear to be what he really is not. It is a spe? cies of deception.? Yorkville Enquirer. ? Some of the newspapers are aston ished at a horse's pulling the plug out of the bunghole of a barrel for the purpose of slaking his thirst. It's extraordinary. Now, if the horse had pulled the barrel out of the bunghole and slaked his thirst with the plug, or if the barrel had pulled the bunghole out of the horse and slaked its thirst with the plug, or if the barrel had pulled the bunghole out of the plug and slaked its thirst with the horse, or if the plug had pulled the horse out of the barrel and slaked its thirst with the bung? hole, or if the bunghole had pulled the thirst out of the horse and slaked the plus with the barrel, or if the barrel bad pulled the horse out of the bunghole and plugged its thirst with the slake, it might be worth while to make a fuss about is 1 OUR CENTENNIAL LETTER. The Wohdebs of the Abt Gallery ?Its Statues, Paintings, Bronzes," and Works of Abt. Special Cbrrctpmdencc oj the ?nderton IntclHgencer. Philadelphia, July 3,1876. I confess I approach the description of the Art Gallery with something like a feeling of reverence. Very often in my past letters I have treated grave subjects in a light and trifling manner, and it is hard to repress the spirit of fun which seems to meet you everywhere. Fat women in rolling chairs, and lean women on foot. Fat men waddling along like ducks, and rolling, as a sailor would say, scuppers under. Big heads in little hats, and little heads with no hats at all; in fact, all sorts of sights and sounds calcu? lated to disturb the gravity of a much sadder man than I am. In this Memorial Hall you escape the eternal, and infernal rolling chairs, which are constantly bump? ing against you in every other building, rolling over your favorite corns, knocking the bark off of your elbows, and disturb? ing your peace of mind generally. Memorial Hall, commonly known as the Art Gallery, is a noble building to look at; majesty and grace are in every line of it, from turret to foundation stone. It is just such a building as might have crowned the summit of the Capitolian Hill when Rome was the mistress of the world. Memorial Hall was built by the State of Pennsylvania, at a cost of one million and five hundred thousand dol? lars, and was loaned by the State to the Centennial Commission, to be used as the: repository of ite art "treasures during the Exhibition. The building is of white granite, being in the style known as modern renaissance. The area covered is an acre and a half; it is 365 feet long by 210 feet wide. A magnificent dome, 150 feet high, springs from the centre, capped by a colossal ball oh which stands Columbia holding a laural wreath. On each corner is our national emblem, the eagle, with wings outstretched and talons clenched, as if defending this sacred temple of art from foreign or domestic foes. In front of the main entrance stands the colossal figure of a soldier resting on his musket and looking stern? ly down upon the pigmy multitude that surge and crowd around his mighty pe? destal. The approach is up a noble flight of steps, and passing through a beautiful archway you find yourself in the vestibule of the hall. It is a grand sight I do not wish to speak now to the traveled few who have wandered through the wonders of the Borghese Palace, who have reveled in the art miracles of the Vatican and the Tuilleries, but rafter let me speak to the millions who have been denied the opportunity of a conti? nental travel, and for them I Bay the' sight is grand. I care not for your Ap polio Belvidere, or your Venus de Medi cis. Here is art enough for me?art, noble and true, bearing the divine stamp of godlike inspiration and breathing in every lineament and line?the same heavenly genius that made the marbles of Phidias and Praxeteies immortal. It is true that there is much that is crude, and much that is unworthy of such a hallowed association, but there were many interests to conserve, many con? flicting views to reconcile, and I. accept the gracious offering as a whole with thanks, blessed in the privilege of being permitted to see so noble a temple filled with a magnificent collection of art Where shall I begin? Ah! there is thy trouble. In one hall, among the Spanish collection, hangs a dead Christ, ' by Murillo; in another, among the Brit? ish collection, the guilty Macbeth looks down from the canvas of Maclise. He is surrounded by his court; he starte, af? frighted at the shadow of the ghostly Ban quo, and you can almost hear him shriek, in his terror, "Avaunt I and quit my sight! earth hide thee! thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold!" The wife of Cawdor's Thane is as noble a figure as was ever embodied upon the painter's canvas, as she waves the guests away while she looks upon her guilty husband. You can read in her sad face the heart agony which a few months later laid that mighty mind in utter and hopeless ruin. Daniel Maclise was a noble painter. Scotland may well be proud of her distinguished son. In an? other nook hangs a little gem that filled me with inexpressible sadness; the mil? lions passed it by unnoticed, and yet it was from the pencil of one whose name is immortal wherever art has a worship? per. It was a sick monkey, from the easel of Sir Edward Lendseer. There were many pictures more pretentious, but not one in the vast collection more truthful than this humble offering from one of England's greatest painters. Cold and silent now, beyond the reach of the plaudits of the whole world, I would remember the great artist only as he stood in the pride of his manhood and the zenith of his fame. It filled me with grief unutterable to think that the cunning finger that guided his magic pencil should clutch at last the maniac's, straw, and perish behind the bars of a mad man's cell. Albert Beerstadt is represented- by two of the grandest triumphs of his life?a view of the big trees of Mariposa, and his magnificent picture of Yosemite Val? ley. It is a grand conception, grandly worked out in the honest spirit of a gen? uine artist; but in another room hangs a Yosemite Valley, by Thos. Hill, of Ban Francisco, which, to my thinking, is one of the noblest pictures in the Exhibition. I have been there; I have heard the mighty roar of its tremendous waterfalls, and sat beneath the shadow of those cloud-reaching, granite h?ls that look like the walls of heaven. I have watch? ed the mist as it rose through those won? drous aisles and b?eh rt>*r%ed to sleep by the sighing of the pines that sounded like an angel's wail; and In all 'the grand essentials that go to make up that wild I mountain, landscape, no artist, living or I dead, has exceded Thos. Hill. Next in ! merit comes his Donner Lake, looking so calm and beautiful, nestled away among 'the mountains and yet indissolobly con nected with one of the saddest acts in the whole of our American history. [ Here perished forty -emigrants in 1846, I and for weeks the few that survived lived I on the bodies of die dead. Take heart, I young artist, wherever you are, as you look on these grand pictures, worth thousands and thousands of dollars, and remember, no matter how poor you are. that ten years ago this very July day, Thos. Hill was just as poor as you are. As an artist he was entirely unknown to fame, and he labored in his little studio on Montgomery* street, San Francisco, for hardly enough to keep body and soul together. These were indeed days of suffering and probation. If his heart sometimes nagged, his artist soul was full of strongest purpose, and after years of toil, to-day, amidst the collected genius of tbe world, his works ate almost with? out a rival. Here, too, are some of the most glorious Mosaics that ever the eye feasted on. Landscapes rjcb in color and beauty as ever brightened the dreams of Claude Lojraine. Entering, one room you are met at the door by a witching young sylph, partially enveloped in a net It i^simply It-looks as though you could shake it like a skein of silk; but near it is another by the same artist,/Corona, of Italy. The subject is the freeing of the dove. This is one of the naarvels of the Exhibition. ? ? The drapery is a miracle of art The lace on ber chemise 13 .worked out with a detail!, that speaks rather of the wonders of the \]oom than; the \ cunning of the sculptor a chisel. A little beyond is the finding of ^Moses, a magnificent concep? tion from \the chisel of Barzaghi?the head of the|infant Moses being beautiful beyond description. Close to it is the forced prayer-- one of tbe sweetest little gems ever cuu in marble. The subject being a child compelled, to say bis pray? ers before going f&L bed. He stands in his little night shirt wfVJh his hands to? gether; his lips drawn dowsya big tear stands in his eye, and. it is very .^svident that praying is not his strong suit' BuY my space grows short and I must close for this week by giving you the latest joke out Last week a Jerseyman on his way to the Exhibition met another sight-seer on the cars who hailed from the State of Maine. It is usual when you arrive at the grounds to go to the building of your State and register your name and address, so that your friends can find you. The Jerseyman inquired for the Jersey State building, and on reaching it looked around at his friend from Maine with a feeling of, very pardonable pride, and said, "What do you think of this?" The Maine man felt a little abashed, for the building erected by New Jersey is one of the chief ornaments of the grounds. After the Jerseyman had registered, they strolled out again, and my friend from Aroostook inquired of a policeman the way to the Maine buildiu-. That polite official immediately pointed to the structure which stands on the right of the gate and faces Machinery Hall.' The Maine man brightened and gave a contemptuous look towards his Jersey neighbor; but to make sure, he inquired again of another official at the door if this was the Maine building. The offi? cial blandly assured him it was. Aroos? took entered in and looked around. He could hardly believe his ! eyes., The wealth of the world was at his feet; the genius of the world had thrown around it a halo of glory. He gasped, he chuc kled, he almost danced with delight, and grasping his Jersey friend by the hand, he roared in his ear, in a sort of pig's whisper, "New Jersey is pooty good, but Old Maine is my huckleberry., I tell you when she takes hold she can clean them alh" The difference, after all, was only in a letter. Moral: Mind your i's. We ore all holding our breath for the fourth of July, to-morrow, and we are one hundred years old. Of that, next week. This , has been a busy week with us: the Caaets from West Point have been encamped on the grounds, and are a fine looking, orderly body' of young men. The Knights Templar, of Mary? land, have also gone into camp, and reg? iments from all parts of the Union are pouring in to take part in the celebration of to-morrow. Foremost among them is the gallant Seventh of New York city. Philadelphia is all ablaze preparing for the great trades' procession of to-night, which promises to eclipse anything seen in America during the present genera? tion. BROADBRIM. m ???_ ? A Dead Letter.?Mr. John Foray, special mail agent, has just received a letter, for proper disposal by him, which has a very curious history. It was writ? ten by a well-known Nebraska man, four years, ago, to a dealer in counterfeit money in an Eastern city. The writer encloses $5 to pay for $100 of crooked staff, which ho says he can easily shove off?$5 at a time?on the Indiana, to whom he is selling whiskey. He directs the crooked money to be sent to him through the mails in three different par? cels, so as not to excite suspicion, aria he adds that he will patronize the dealer to the extent of several thousand dollars in the bogus currency. This letter never reached its destination. It got into a crook in a mail car, and remained there till the other day, when it was found by a workman engaged in repairing the car at the shops in Chicago. It was handed' over to tbe proper authorities, who for? warded it to Special Moil Agent Foray, who will send it to the writer with some sound advice. The man is said to be an individual who, if accused of such an intent would shoot in ? second. He will, therefore, no doubt be surprised to receive his self-acpusing letter.?Omaha Bee ? "He put an enemy in his mouth to steal away his brains;" bet the enemy, after a thorough and practical search, re? turned without anything.