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? % w Mr "lewis m. grist, j. ^ glit |n^ffltott ^anflg jttosgaptr:, /or % |rcmotiim^n|t falitital, ^^i!rini)laral ait& Coimmrcial jntots gf % San% ^ VOL. 12. YOEKYILLE, S. O., THUESDA^ FEBRUARY 38,. 1867. . .!,. :; ., ,;?:,NO.;,4" -? * ** 1 T i ? " ' i?r\.i i nmitv inir itv iim avin. (Drigittiri focttg. For the YorkvlUe Enquirer. THE VIOLET. Sweetest, gentlest rtower of the Spring, What pleasing thoughts thy blossoms bring, Peeping forth, bright Heavenly blue, Sprinkled o'er with a sparkling dew. From out thy folding leaflets green, Thy modest beauty gladly seen, Hails first the morning's rosy dawn That plays upon the grassy lawn. I greet thee gentle sweet of love, Thou seem'st a herald from above; A harbinger of hope and truth To light the gloom of way warc^earth. Thy sweet perfume borne on the air, Recalls a season bright and fair, When joyous songsters plume their wing, (Jay, glad'ning notes of pleasure sing. I love tnee?rrau ana tonaer uunu? Born but to bloom a pensive hour; I'll cull thee from thy parent stem, Bright Heavenly creature, darling gem. I'll shield thee from the chilling breath Of winter cold, who brings thee death, And water thee and bid thee bloom, Within a student's silent room. Thine azure hue, like Heavenly skies, Will cheer me ere it fades and dies, 1 Thy fragrance sweet, will frequent lend, A voiceless thanks while thee I tend. To shield thee from the winter's harm, And keep thy beauty bright and warm, This will my fondest care repay, Then thou must droop and fade away. DONALD. JU Original pouvclette. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. ELINOR WESTVELT; OR, The Tory's IVieoe. A STORY OF THE REVOLUTION OF 1776. BY CAROLINE F. PRESTON. CHAPTER XVI. A COUP DE MAIN. Perhaps it will be thought that the peddler had now given up all hopes of recovering his pack.? He had ascertained one thing, that Captain Peterson was not, as he had supposed, in the hands of y this company of soldiers. Nevertheless, it irked him exceedingly to leave his property in the hands of these Philistines, as he considered them, and the success of the trick which he had played off upon Allen, encouraged him to attempt one more. As they now had their suspicions aroused, it would be necessary to wait till midnight for the prosecution of his plan, or at least, until sleep had enveloped the soldiers in its quiet embrace. This, he accordingly prepared to do. He was now looking upon them from a different quarter, where there was less necessity of concealment, though he could see equally well what followed. He could hear, by listening intently, (for other sounds being hushed, the voice was carried to a greater distance) what was going forward. He was alarmed by a suggestion which Hewes made, that the contents of the pack should be distributed now, and was fearful that the proposal would be acceeded to, as one or two of the rest spoke in its favor. If that suggestion were adopted, of course it would be impossible for him to go about to each one and gather the articles of property which belonged to him, while, if they remained together in the pack as at present, it would be comparatively easy to seize and make off with it. It was, therefore, with a sensation of relief that he heard the Lieutenant veto the proposition. ? "No," said he, "it's more convenient to carry as it is. We've got to be round here sometime yet, and won't divide till we are ready to go back." Of course no more was to be said, since the one in command had decided. "Well, old fellow, you've saved me some trouble," muttered the peddler to himself, "and although you didn't mean to, yet I'm obligated to you for so much. Now if you're disposed to do a fresh favor, you'll just stretch out and go to sleep ac cnnn as p/uivenienti I onlv wish Darson Jones was here with one of his long-winded sermons. I rayther guess, before you'd got to nineteenthly, you'd be as sound asleep as ever you was." The soldiers gathered together in a circle, and from what the peddler could gather, ?for he could not hear distinctly when the tones were low, ? were telling stories of old campaigns. Occasionally a loud laugh attested to the success of the narrator. But as the evening advanced and the stars came out, one by one separated from the group and lay down on the grass with the evident intention of courting slumber. Although there was no apprehension of an attack from any quarter, yet Lieutenant Eustace thought it well that military usage should be observed, and W accordingly decided to have a sentinel put on watch. ^ Perhaps he might have been disposed to dispense with what seemed, under the circumstances, scarcely needful, if he had himself been compelled to share the duty. But his office as commander exempted him from this troublesome task, and, therefore, be felt that he could afford to insist upon miltaiy punctilio. "Hewes," he said, "you will stand sentinel this evening until twelve o'clock. At that time you will wake up Dunbar who will relieve you." Hewes did not dare to remonstrate, although he thought it by no means necessary to disturb his rest, and confident that nothing was to be apprehended, resolved to wait till the rest were asleep and then sleep himself. The peddler had enough knowledge of human nature to judge that this would be likely to happen. Such a proceeding would be dangerous in a large camp, but in a roving march of a half dozen soldiers, as at present, the rules were somewhat relaxed. Time passed. Hewes. as loner as he nerceived that any one was awake, sat up and preserved the air of one who ^ was watching faithfully. The peddler looked on with interest and waited with repressed eagerness, for the time when he could execute his purpose. He observed where the pack had been placed. This had been thrown, together with a variety of other articles, upon the ground, and the soldiers were lying in a circle round about, making it, of course, the more difficult to get it without discovery. The result of detection would probably be more serious now than in the day time, as any soldier, on waking, would at once discharge his musket at any figure he might see. Some might have regarded such a risk as too great for the recovery of a piece of property, but the peddler was by no means destitute of courage. He had incurred danger many times, and rather liked the excitement of it. He, therefore, prepared himself with cautious coolness, tor undertaking this hazardous task. One after another indicated, in a manner not to be mistaken, that he had yielded to the drowsy god. The officer was the last to yield, but he, too, at length betrayed by his deep breathing, that he was asleep. The sentinel lifted his bead and listened intently, J "They are all asleep," he muttered in a tone of satisfaction. 4 4I might as well follow suit" Accordingly, to the great relief of the peddler, who was looking on, he threw himself back and in five minutes, he too, was asleep. "Now'smy time," thought the peddler. "I reckon I can get along without making much noise. Anyhow, if they should happen to fire at me, they'll be confused Eke, and I shall be off before they know what's going on." He began to prepare himself for the attempt Having observed that the shoes, which he wore, creaked slightly, he drew them off, and laid them on the ground near by. Next he buttoned up his coat tight, so as to make it look more like a military uniform, and likewise to make himself a smaller mark for the enemy in case he was unfortunate enough to have a bullet sent after him. "Now I guess I'll do," he said, and commenced his approach to the sleeping soldiers. His approach was as cautious as described once before. Every few steps he would pause and listen to see if he detected any difference in the sound of fbp hrpathintr but there was not one who was in a condition to suspect the neighborhood of an enemy. A silence reigned which would have been almost oppressive but for the occasional snore from one of the sleepers. The peddler had now reached the outer circle of the sleepers. He was near enough to Hewes to touch him if he had so chosen. Compelled to pass between two, he decided to go between him and Dunbar, being decided by the fact that these two were further apart than either of the rest, and he would be less likely to touch them. He succeeded in reaching the pile of baggage in the middle of the circle without attracting attention, or in the least disturbing the sleepers. He had no difficulty in picking out the pack from the pile. Taking it between his teeth, lie commenced a cautious retrograde movement. In this he was not quite so successful He'had crept along till he was just between Hewes, the sentinel, and Dunbar. At this moment, the former cleared his throat, as one who is on the point of waking. Without an instant's thought, the peddler sank down beside him, stretching out his limbs like the rest of the sleepers. "Eh, Dunbar," said Hewes, with his eyes scarcely open. The peddler at once inferred that Hewes had taken him for Dunbar, and, as the best method of preventing an examination which would have discovered that this was not so, he grunted out in the tone of one who was overcome with sleep. "What?" ' '~*r ' * * ? 1 ? T lAnfonont "lou ve to stana waicn now. mc uicuieum? told me to wake you at twelve o'clock." "Well," muttered the peddler in the same drowsy tone. Glad to get rid of this responsibility, Hewes composed himself to sleep again. This required little time, as he was already more than half in a state of stupefaction. The peddler lay by his side, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of leading to another question which might not be so readily answered. "A pretty sentinel I'll make," he thought to himself, and he could not help being amused at the responsibility which had been shifted upon him. When ten minutes had elapsed he rose by degrees, and crept out of the dangerous circle carrying with him his pack. Reaching hisformer place of concealment he put on his shoes, and hastened away. But before going he could not help venturing on one practical joke. Drawing out his pistol he fired it in the air, and without stopping to witness the scene of confusion which followed, he was a mile away before the soldiers fairly discovered their loss, and when the darkness made pursuit quite impracticable. CHAPTER XVII. A CONFERENCE. When Major Amor}7 obtained leave of absence from headquarters to visit Mr. Westvelt, it was for three days only. Circumstances, however, rendered it desirable that he should remain there longI er, in order to carry out the designs which he had in contemplation. These were, mainly, the prevailing upon Elinor to yield him her hand in marriage. Great as was his vanity, he could not help seeing that this would be no easy task. Though Elinor treated him with politeness, her manner, if not actually cold, was at least, by no means such as to encourage him in his suit Instead, however, of being discouraged, Major Amory's determination was only strengthened. It would scarcely be cor rect to say that he was in love with Elinor, tnougn he was undoubtedly attracted by her beauty. But the chief inducement was, unquestionably, the fine property, which he had reason to believe she would inherit He had this ground of encouragement, that Mr. Westvelt was in his favor. But even with this, three days furnished but a short time to carry on the siege. He accordingly obtained a further leave of absence for a week, on the plea that parties of j the enemy were prowling about the neighborhood whom he hoped to get into his power. As there was no active sendee for him in the camp, this permission was readily accorded, with an accompanying expression complimentary to his zeal. Armed with this, he sought the presence of Mr. Westvelt. "Well, Major Amory, what news?" inquired the old gentleman. "Some which affords me great pleasure. I hope it will not be considered otherwise by my entertainn ers. "Surely not, if, as you say, it pleases you. Bui let me know what it is." "This letter will inform you sir," said the Englishman passing to Mr. Westvelt the letter which he had received from Sir Henry Clinton authorizing his further stay. "Why this is capital," said Mr. Westvelt with satisfaction. "But what should lead you to think we should regard it any other light." "Excuse me, my dear sir, if I confess in the firsl place that it was not so much with a view to the public service that I sought this addition to m) leave of absence, as from motives of a more private character.'' "I think I understand you," said Mr. Westvelt "an/t win have mv best wishes for your success." "I only wish your niece was of a similiar mind but I regret to say that she does not treat me as ] should desire." "She has not dared to treat you with impolite ness?" demanded the uncle, with a flash of indig nation upon his face. "Nay, not that. But she has, while treating m( with perfect courtesy, made me feel at the sam< time, that she regarded me only as a guest, and wa not disposed to encourage me by any demonstra tion of friendship or cordiality greater than that re lation sanctioned.'' "Have you declared yourself her lover?" "No sir, I thought it would be premature. Bu you remember I requested you to speak to her." "So I did." "How did she receive the communication?" "That is more than I can say, since we were in terrupted in the.midst of the conference." i "I am afraid her attachment to this young A merican officer will prejudice her against me." "If that is the case, I will disinherit her," sai< Mr. Westvelt angrily, forgetting the rather impor tant circumstance that the property was not his , but his niece's. "Perhaps, sir, you might assist me materially by speaking to your niece on the subject, and using the influence which you possess, in my favor. You could, no doubt, think of arguments likely to weigh with her." "By Jove, sol will." "Then, sir, in order to give you a more favorable opportunity, I will go out and take a short walk.'' "Ay, let it be short then, as it may be well for you to be present yourself, as soon after I have seen her as possible, and while what I have said is still fresh in her remembrance." "My dear sir, I shall feel deeply indebted to you," said the wily Major, "and believe me, not the least of the inducements which I have in seeking this marriage is that of allying myself with you for whom I feel so deep a degree of reverence and respect, and if the affair is satisfactorily conducted I trust you will still retain the management of the estate, which your experience will enable you to do to so much greater advantage than I could." This was very adroit on the part of Major Amory, any enlisted Mr. Westvelt much more strongly in his favor than before. Now, not only political sympathy, but pecuniary motives urged him to foster and encourage the suit of one lover, and to frown upon that of the other. "I trust you, Major Amory," said he, "and you may rely upon my using the whole extent of my influence.'' "Thank you again, sir. I shall await your report with the deepest anxiety." "Don't be despondent; Elinor will not dare to disobey me. She shall be your wife within the week unless I greatly overrate ray influence." Major Amory's eyes sparkled with exultation, and he grasped the hand of Mr. Westvelt "You have anticipated my request sir. This attachment to the rebel Yankee seriously alarms me, and I am convinced that the only way to put an end to the matter is to make her legally mine." "I doubt not this will be the best course, though it seems to me you are too apprehensive of danger from this quarter. Out of sight, out of mind, you know." "So it is said, but I don't believe it Moreover, are you certain that they do not have interviews ?" "How can they ?" inquired Mr. Westvelt, with surprise. "He is in the American camp, at Whiteplains." "On the contrary, sir, I have every reason to believe he is in this neighborhood.'' "In this neighborhood!" "Not only that. I have certain information that he has had an interview with Miss Westvelt, within two days." "Good Heavens! Can this be possible ? Are you sure that you have not been misinformed?" ' 'My information is most positive, sir. There can be no possibility of a mistake." "But from whom does it proceed?" asked Mr. Westvelt perplexed. "How could all this happen without my knowledge. At what part of the day did this happen ?" "Do you recollect Miss Westvelt's declining to ride out with me in the morning?" "Yes, she said that she had a headache." "That headache, however, did not prevent her keeping an appointment with the rebel Yankee at ten o'clock." "And where did this interview take place ?" "Near the old cabin, some half a mile from the house." "The shameless girl! How dare she do this in defiance of my authority! I will instantly summon and tax her with it." "Stay," exclaimed Major Amory, in alarm, "do not, I beg of you, be precipitate. For my sake delay." "But to what purpose?" demanded Mr. Westr velt "Your niece, if too harshly reproved would assume an attitude of defiance. She is a girl of spirit" "Would you counsel me to coax and wheedle her into compliance ?" asked Mr. Westvelt, half disposed to be angiy with Major Amory himself. "I would first resort to persuasion, and if that fails " Majory Amory hesitated. "Well, if that fails," said Mr. Westvelt, impatiently? "I was about to say, sir, that in that case I have * -I t .Ml 1__ 1 1? l/vd , an argument whicn L tninK win oe caicuutoeu, ?i least, to produce an impression upon her mind." "And what is that?" asked Mr. Westvelt, eagerly. "I will tell you sir." Major Amory approached Mr. Westvelt, and first looking cautiously round to see that there was no one near likely to profit by what he was about to say, remarked, "This Yankee lover ofher'sis in my power." "In your power? Is it possible," exclaimed Mr. Westvelt, eagerly. "But how did it happen ?" "Briefly, sir, I became aware of the approach, ing interview, and by my directions, after it closed, the fellow was seized, and is at this moment in close confinement You will readily understand 1 that when Miss Wesvelt comes to know this she will scarcely goad me on to employ this power." "Capital, capital!" exclaimed Mr. Westvelt "I always hated the fellow. I will at once speak with Elinor." "But not a word of this matter?at present, if ! you please." Mr. Westvelt rang the bell, and requested the ! servant to inform our heroine that he wished to see her. CHAPTER XVni. A TERRIBLE ALTERNATIVE, t Not suspecting her uncle's object in summoning her, Elinor entered his presence. "You sent for me, uncle?" she said inquiringly, i "I did," said Mr. Westvelt, briefly. "Has anything happened?" she inquired, noticing an expression on her uncle's face which - ?fViof wou nnrlor flip uwnv rvf J bCUillUU W UiUlUtlA/ VUUV UV l.uw vuv wi.H(r v. s some excitement. r "Something that I hope will happen," said Mr. i "VVestvelt. "And what is that?" asked Elinor, unsuspici, ously. "I refer to your marriage with Major Amory." , Elinor started, and an expression, half of appre1 hension, half of disdain, came over her features. Before she had time to speak, her uncle contin ued. "I commenced speaking to you on this subject yesterday when we were interrupted. It is best that ; the matter should not be delayed longer. It is i my wish as well as Major Amory's, that the mar3 riagc should take place as early as possible. In - the present troubled state of the country, I am - convinced that this will be the best for many reasons. With an English officer for your husband the estate will be safe, and " t "Uncle," said Elinor, hastily, "you must allow me to speak. This is a subject where anything like precipitancy is unseemly, even if a marriage wit! Major Amory were within the limits of my pos - sible consent You speak as if the matter wai settled, and nothing remained but to fix the day.' "Why, so it is settled," said Mr. Westvelt warmly ? "I have given my consent." 1 "But I have not given mine," said Elinor, Big - nificantly. , "I speak as your uncle and guardian," said Mr Westvelt, sternly. "And I acknowledge no righ&, on your part, springing from either relation, ^interfere or dictate in a matter so purely personal" "'Your acknowledgement, Miss," said her uncle haughtily, "does not affect my rights in one way or another. I command you to receive Major Amoiy at onoe as your accepted lover, and prepare for a speedy marriage.'' "Methinks," said Elinor, spiritedly, "Major Amory chooses a singular way of wooing. Instead of urging his suit in his own person, he induces you to command me to reoeive him as my aooeptr ed lover. This is scarocly the way to win the favor of any maiden of spirit, or with a proper self appreciation." Somewhat calmed down by this representation, Mr. "Westvelt condescended to say? "For this course, Major Amory does not deserve blame. He consulted me on the subject, and I advised him to wait until I had seen you." Not yet mollified, Elinor prooeeded, "I should suppose that I was the one to he first consulted." "That," said Mr. Westvelt, sarcastically, "appears to be Mr. Peterson's opinion." Elinor flushed, but she remained silent This silence provoked Mr. Westvelt more than open contradiction would have done. "If the hound appears in this neighborhood to my knowledge, he shall be shot like a dog. I counsel you, Miss, to advise him of this." Elinor's heart beat fearfully at first, but quickly concluding that this was only a chance remark, and not intended as a reference to her lover's recent visit, she decided to answer in a non-committal manner, and yet she had too much of a woman's instinct not to defend him from implied censure. "Captain Peterson," she said, laying stress on the title which her uncle had purposely omitted, "is not one to shrink from danger. He is by far Major Amory's superior in every respect." "I tell you he is a beggarly rebel," said Mr. Westvelt, bitterly. "To rebel against oppression," returned his niece calmly, "is rather a merit than a fault, and if, by their patriotic saorifioes, the oolonial troops have deserved the nams of "beggars," it is a proud title which they may well consider honorable." "When you see your lover dangling from a gallows, you may not speak quite so complacently, Miss," said her guardian. "I hope," said Elinor, shuddering, "that sight may never greet my eyes, yet if it should, it is not the punishment but the deserving of it that- entails dishonor." ? -nr . 1. 1 * 1 _ ! Mr. w estveit was aooui; 10 uuiie a. paooiuuuic reply, when looking from the window, he perceived Major Amory coming up the walk, and already on the point of entering the house. "You have complained," said he "that Major Amory did not himself broach this subject to yoa 'You shall complain no longer, I will send him in at once." "But uncle " Mr. Westvett, however, had already left the room, and was speaking to the officer. What he said was scarcely fitted to encourage a suitor, though he avowed his determination to subdue the stubborn will of his fractions niece. It was after this communication that Major Amory entered the room and advanced to the lower end where Elinor was seated. Fully resolved to attempt persuasion first, he said in a conciliatory manner, "I fear Miss Westvelt, that your good uncle in the fulness of his zeal to promote my cause with you, may have subjected you to annoyance." "He has certainly gone father than he was warranted in doing," said the maiden, gravely. "Receive my apologies then," said Major Amory. Elinor bowed. "Yet permit me to renew the subject in a less objectionable form. Hear my assurance that from the moment I first saw you, my love has steadily grown up until now I feel that my happiness is dependent upon your regarding it with favor." "I am very sorry to hear this, Major Amory. I thank you for the compliment you have paid me, and wish it had been bestowed where it was more likely to meet with a return." "At least you will let me hope," said Mtjor Amory. "I could not do so in justice to you," said Elinor gravely, "since it would be only holding out a false hope." "You speak according to your present feelings. But may not my devoted affection alter your determination ?" "It is quite impossible, Major Amory. But this is a painful subject, and can be agreeable to neither of us. Let us agree to drop it" "Stay a moment Since you speak so confidently you must have some objections against me." "I have." "And that is ? " "That I do not, and can never love you." "I can understand that you do not love me, but how can you so positively declare that you never shall. Is the fact of my being opposed to the beggarly colonial troops an objection!" "Passing over your sneer which scarcely beoomes you," said Elinor, quietly, "I may say without reserve, that this would be an objection. I did not mention it, because it did not affect my decision." "Thenyou will not extend to me any hope?" "I can not, Major*Amory." "You are willing to incur your uncle's displeasure ?" "I regret it, but regard it as a minor evil." By this time Major Amory had lost his temper. His pride was humbled at the thought that his advances had met with so decided a repulse, and that, at the hands of a country maiden ? he who had fancied in his abundant vanity that more than one metropolitan beauty would have welcomed his suit Losing partial command of himself, he said, "Apparently I am not so fortunate as Mr. Henry Peterson, who is, I suppose, the custodian of your affections." "If you do suppose so,'' said Elinor calmly, ' 'you should have known beforehand that your suit ' u k " VTUIUU UV Ul TUUi. "Perhaps so, while he lived," said Major Amory significantly. ' 'What!'' exclaimed Elinor turning pale. "Has anything happened to Henry? Speak, I beseech you. Tell me that he is not dead. "He is not" "What then did you mean?" "I meant this, Miss Westvelt I might as well explain, so that we may understand each other.? The rebel Peterson is a prisoner, and in my power. ' If you persist in your refusal of my suit, his life - becomes a forfeit" 1 ''Good Heaven, you will not be such a monster.'' "Not if I become your husband.'' 1 "You are deceiving me. You are playing upon 1 my fears," said Elinor with sudden anger. "I swear to you, Elinor Westvelt, that what I ' have said is true. Your lover is in my power, and his life depends upon the course you may pursue. r To-day is Thursday. I will give you two days in : which to make your decision." 1 He bowed slightly, and left our heroine in a state of mental distress not easily described. [to be continued next week.] , Paper Pantaleits.?Among the new devices of the day are paper pantaletts for ladies. A com_ pany has been organized at Mechanics Falls, Me., to manufacture borders to ladies' drawers and children's pantaletts?an ornamental appurtenance to be buttoned to the garment which may be readily replaced when soilecL IpSttltanm gUMitif THE DYING CALIFORNIAN. Lie up nearer, brother, nearer. For my limbs are growing cola, And thy presence seemeth dearer, When thy arms around me fold. I am dying, brother, dyingSoon you will miss me in your camp, For my form will soon be lying Beneath the ocean's briny surf. Harken to me, brother harken,? I have something I would say, Ere the vale of vision darken, And I go from hence away. I am going, brother, going, But my hope in Goa is strong ; I am willing, brother, knowing That He doeth nothing wrong. Tell my father, when you greet him, That in death I prayea for him, Prayed that I might one day meet him In the world that s free from sin. Tell my mother?God assist her, Now that she is growing old? That her child would glad have kissed her, w uen nis ups were piue uuu cuiu. Listen, brother, catch each whisper, For it is my wife I speak of now ; Tell, Oh! tell her, how I missed her, When the fever burned my brow. Listen brother, closely listen? Don't forget a single word; Tell her, in death my eyes did glisten With tears to memory 'shed. Tell my wife to kiss my children, Like tne kiss I last impressed. Hold them as when last I held them, Folded closely to my breast. Give them early to their maker, Putting all her trust in God; And He never will forsake her, For He has said so in his word. Oh! my children, Heaven bless them, They were all my life to me: Would I could once more caress them, Ere I sink beneath the sea. 'Twas for them I crossed the ocean; What my hopes were, I'll not tell, But I gained an orphans portion, And He doeth all things well. Toll mv sister, I romember Every lclndly parting word, And my heart nas been kept tender By the thoughts their memory stirred. Tell them I never reached the haven Where I sought the precious dust, But I've gained a brighter Heaven, Where the crold will never rust. Tell them to secure an entrance, For they will find their Father there; Faith in Jesus and repentance Will secure for each a share. Hark! I hear my Savior calling? 'Tis his voice I know so well; When I am gone, Oh! don't be weeping; Brother, here is my last farewell. From the New Orleans Picayune. THE FIRST IMPEACHMENT. The first impeachment case ever tried by the Senate of the United States was that of a justice of the Supreme Court The accused was Judge Samuel Chase, a native of Maryland, and, in his time, one of the leading men of the country. He had been an ardent patriot during the war of the Revolution. He was repeatedly a member of the Continental Congress, a signer of the Declaration of Independence and a member of the Maryland convention which ratified the Federal constitution. In 1796 Washington appointed him to the bench of the Supreme Court He was a man of great ability and very ardent temperament. Being a very decided and free spoken Federalist in tne party contests of the day, he was particularly offensive to the Jeffersonians. When Jefferson came into power, his political friends, led by John Randolph, of Roanoke, then rising rapidly into the great distinction he subsequently acquired as nn orator, instituted an impeachment of Judge Chase. The party character of the prosecution is sufficiently shown by the voting on the articles of impeachment, and the collateral questions preliminary to the trial. The debates did not show this flagrautly, for the difference between the parties grew out of constitutional doctrines; and there was nothing offensively personal and cowardly selfish among the public men then, such as the furious disputants of this day display in political warfare incessantly and shamelessly, The oourse which the impeachment took was, by motion, February, 1804, for a committee of inquiry, whether grounds for impeachment existed.? This was adopted by a vote of 81 to 40, and the committee was appointed, of which John Randolph was chairman. On the 6th day of March, the committee reported in favor of impeaching Judge Chase. Richard Peters, of the United States District Court of Pennsylvania, had been included in the required motion of inquiry, but the committee reported that there was no ground for including Judge Peters. The House immediately appointed a committee to go to the bar of the Senate and acquaint that body that the House had ordered the impeachment of Judge Chase. On the 13th of March a committee was appointed to prepare the articles of impeachment. These were reported on the 26th, approved by the House, and seven managers of impeachment appointed. The Congress then adjourned, and the impeachment lay over till the next session to be 'held in November of the same year, 1804. The material charges were based on two judicial acts of Justice Chase, whilo holding Circuit Courts ?one ill Pennsylvania and one in Virginia. The two cases in which his delinquency was asserted, were the famous trials of John Fries, for treason, and of James Thompson Cullender, lor sedition.? These figure among the most exciting topics of discussion during the whole period of the struggle between the Federalists and the Republicans. The Fries case was tried in Philadelphia. In the spring of 1799 an insurrection broke out in the counties of Bucks and Northampton counties, iPenn.,) against the execution of tne laws of the Jnited States, for assessing and collecting direct taxes. John Fries was indicted as ring leader, and tried on a charge of high treason. On his first trial his counsel pleaded, that, resisting by force a particular law of the United States, does not amount to levying war against the United States, in the meaning of the constitution. The court, composed of Justice Iredell and Peters, ruled against them, and Fries was convicted. A new trial was granted, on another ground, and on the second trial Justice Chase sat with Judge Peters. On tliis trial Judge Chase announced, in advance, to the prisoner's counsel, that the opinion of the court was made up on this constitutional point, and the mi-. 1 counsel need noc argue 11. jluu wuusw a-uiuu from the case, and Fries was convicted without defence. It is this ruling which was declared to be so "arbitrary, oppressive and unjust," as to demand impeachment. The other case arose in the Circuit Court of Virginia, under the sedition law of John Adams. That famous act made it a misdemeanor, punishable with fine and imprisonment, for any person to write, print, utter or publish anything intended "to defame the President of the United States or bring him into contempt or disrepute." Under this act James Thompson Callender was indicted for having published a political article against President Aaarns, under the title of "The prospect before us. " On the trial Judge Chase overruled the objection of one of the jurors, that he had made up in his mind that the publication was seditious, and constrained him to serve on the trial. It was also charged that he had arbitrarily, and for rnerelypolitical purposes, ruled out important testimony offered by tne prisoner. There was a special charge of indecent partisanship in his charge to a grand jury in Maryland. These are the material points on which the testimony was taken, and on which the argument was made. # . The trial was called up early in December, but it was not till the 4th of February, 1805, that Judge Chase appeared at the bar, pleaded to the impeachment, and read his defence, which was extremely able. His counsel were Messrs. Martin, Harper and Key, ot Maryland, and Hopkinson, of Pennsylvania. The managers for the House of Representatives were John itandoipnj jr.,; u. a. Jtvoaney, 01 Delaware; Joseph H. Nicholson, of Manland; Peter Early, of Georgia: Geo. Boyle, of Kentucky; G. W. Campbell, ofTenessee; ana Mr. Clark. Vice President Geo. Clinton, of New York, presided. It is only when the President is impeached that the Chief Justice presides at the trial. The examination of witnesses occupied the court to the 30th, on which day the testimony was closed, and the argument began. It was opened for the managers by Mr. Early, who was followed by Mr. Campbell and Mr. Clark. For the defence, Mr. Hopxinson opened, and was followed in the following order by Mr. Key, Mr. Martin and Mr. Harper. The closing of die case for the House of Representatives was reserved for Mr. Nicholson ana Mr. Randolph. The array of forensic ability was very great? Nearly every man on both sides had a national reputation for eloquence and learning; and the questions they discussed were of the hignest importance. The whole debate may be profitably studied, as aids to the right understanding of what is law and duty in these times; when the same questions and principles are again brought into momen uuus lmpuruuiw. - -. . - \ On the 1st of March the judgment of the Senate was pronounced, each member of the Senate being in his place when called, and answering guilty or not guilty on each charge and specification. Thirty-four Senators were present A majority of the Senators pronounced him guilty on three of the eight articles prepared. Two of these relate to the ruling in Callender's case, and the other, the eighth in order, related to the charge of departing from the duties and proprieties of his station by delivering a political harangue, in the form of a charge, to the Grand Jury of the United States Circuit Court iu Baltimore. On the charges growing out of the Pries case he was acquitted. There was not a vote of two-thirds on any of the articles, and he was accordingly pronounced to be acquitted on all. The time actually employed in the trial, from the opening by Mr. Randolph to the rendering of the judgment of the Senate, was, from Feb. 9th, to March 1st, twenty days, Sundays included. From General Early's "LastJYear of the War." _ BURNING OF CHAMBERSBURG, PA. While at Martinsburg it was ascertained beyond all doubt that Hunter had been again indulging in his favorite mode of warfure, ana after his return to the Valley, while we were near Washington, among other outrages, the private residences of Mr. Andrew Hunter, a member ol the V lrginiaSenate; Mr. Alexander It. Boteler, an ex-member of the Confederate as well as the United States Congress, and Edmund I. Lee, a distant relative of General Lee, all in Jefferson countv, with their contents, had been burned by his orders, only time enough being given for the ladies to get out of the housea A number of towns in the South, as well as private countiy houses, had been burned by the Federal troops, and the accounts had been heralded forth#in some of the Northern papers in terms of exultation, and gloated"over by their readers, while they were received by others with apathy. I now came to the conclusion that we had stood this mode of warfare long enough, and that it was time to open the eyes of the people of the North to its enormitv by an example in the way of retaliation. I did not select the cases mentioned as having more merit or greater claims for retaliation than others, but because they had occurred within the limits of the countiy covered by my command, and were brought more immediately to my attention. I had often seen delicate ladies, who had been plundered, insulted and rendered desolate by the acts of our most atrocious enemies, and while they did not call for it, vet in the anguished expression of their features while narrating their misfortunes, there was a mute appeal to every manly sentiment of my bosom for retribution, which I could no longer withstand. The town of Chambersburg, in Pennsylvania, was selected as the one of which retaliation should be made, and McCausland was ordered to proceed with his brigade and that of Johnson and a oatteiy of artillery to that place, and demand tthe municipal authorities the sum of $100,000 in gold, or $500,000 in United States currency, as a compensation for the destruction of the houses named and their contents: and in default of payment to lay the town in ashes, in retaliation for the burning of those houses and others in Virginia, as well as for towns which had been burned in other Southern States. A written demand to that effect was sent to the municipal authorities,* and they informed what would be the result of a failure or refusal to comply with it. I desired to give the people of Chambersburg an opportunity of saving their town by making compensation for part of the injury done, and noped that the payment of such sum would have the desired effect, and open the eyes of the people of other towns at the North to the necessity of urging upon their Government the adoption of a different policy. McCausland was also directed to proceed from Chambersburg towards Cumberland, in Maryland, and levy contributions in money upon that and other towns able to bear them, and, if JaoffAw fbo of tViP rvml nita |JU331UIU IV UCOUVj iuv> iiiuviniivi j HV vuv WVH |/.?w near Cumberland, and the machine-shops^ depots, and bridges on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, as far as practicable. On the 29th of July, McCausland crossed the Potomac near Clear Spring, above Williamsport, and I moved with Rodes's and Ramseur's divisions and Vaughn's cavalry to the latter place, while Iraboden demonstrated with his ana Jackson's cavalry towards Harper's Ferry, in order to withdraw attention from McCauslana; Breckinridge remained at Martinsburg and continued the destruction of the railroad. V aughn drove a force of cavalry from Williamsport and went into Hagerstown, where he captured and destroyed a tram of cars loaded with supplies. One of Rodes's brigades was crossed over at Williamsport, and subsequently withdrawn. On the 30th, McCausland being well under way, I moved back to Martinsburg, ana on the 31st the whole infantry force was moved to Bunker Hill, where we remained on the 1st, and 2d, and 3d of August. On the 3rd of August, McCausland reached Chambersburg, and made the demand as directed, reading to such of the authorities as presented themselves, the paper sent by me. The demand was not complied with, the people stating they were not afraia of having their town burned, and that a Federal force was approaching. The policy pursued by our array on former occasions had been so lenient that they did not suppose the threat was in earnest this time, and they noped for speedy relief. McCausland, however, proceeded to carry out his orders, and the greater part of the town was laid in ashes. For this act I alone am responsible, as the officers engaged in it were simply executing my orders, and had no discretion left them. Notwithstanding the lapse of time which has occurred and the result of the war, I am perfectly satisfied with my conduct on the occasion, and see no reason to regret it Voices?What they Indicate.?There are light, quick, surface voices that involuntarily seem to utter the slang, "It won't do to tie to. The man's voice may assure you of his strength of purpose and reliability, yet the tone contradicts his speech. "" xl I*? JAA? f!+wnn/-? TTAtnna men meru uru iuwj uccp} ouvu^ ?VJWO the words seem ground out, as if the man owed humanity a grudge, and meant to pay it some day. The man's opponents may well tremble, and his friends may trust his strength of purpose and ability to act. There is the coarse, boisterous, dictatorial tone, invariably adopted by vulgar persons, who have not sufficient cultivation to understand their own insignificance. There is the incredulous tone, that is full of covert sneer, or a secret "You can't dupe me" intonation. There is the whining, beseeching voice, that says "sycophant" as plainly as if it uttered the word.? It cajoles and flatters you?its words, "I love you: I admire you; you are everything you should be. Then there is the tender, musical, compassionate voice, that sometimes goes with sharp features, but always with a genuine benevolence. If you are full of affectation and pretense, your voice proclaims it If you are full of honesty and strength of purpose, your voice proclaims it If you are cold, and calm, and firm, and consistent, or fickle, and foolish, and deceptive, your voice will be equally truth-telling. You can not wear a mask without its being known that you are wearing one. You canno' -hange your voice from a natural tone without it. .ing known that you are doing so. UlI/tAil njlAJUl A X AilJU OJ1 m l?)Mt -The name of each tribe of Indians has a signification, which is represented by a sign that is well understood by them all. . The Camanche, or "Snake," is indicated by making with the hand a waving motion, in imitation of tne crawling of the reptile.: The Cayenne,' 'Cut Arm,'' by drawing die hand across the arm to imitate the cutting it with a knife. .. Arapahoes, or "Smellers," by seining the noee with thumb and forefinger. The Sioux or' 'Cut-throats,'' by drawing the hand across the throat The Pawnees, or "Wolves," by placingthe hand on each side of the forehead, with two fingers pointing to the front, represent the narrow, sharp ears of the wolf. The Crows, by imitating the flapping of the bird's wings with the palms of the hands. * On approaching strangers the prairie Indians put their horses at full speed, and persons not familiar with their peculiarities and habits might interpret this as an act of hostility; bnt it is their custom with friends as well as enemies, and should not cause groundless alarm. 4,. When a party is discovered approaching thus, and are near enough to distingush signals, all that is necessary in order to ascertain their disposition is to raise the right hand, with the palm in front, and gradually push it forward and back several times. They all understand this to be a command to halt, and if they are not hostile, it will at once he nheved. The astonishing ap tness of the Indians in' 'tracking" is shown by this interesting passage from a writer on Indinn character: "Almost n.i the Indians whom I have met with are proficient in this species of knowledge, the faculty of acquiring what appears to be innate with them. Exigencies of woodland and prairie life stimulate the savage from childhood, to develoPe faculties important in the acts of war and of tne chase. I have seen very few white men who were good trailers, and practice did not seem very materially to improve the faculties in this regard. They have not tne same acute perceptions of these things as the Indian or the Mexican. It is not apprehended that this difficult branch of woodcraft can be taught from books, as it pertains almost exclusively to the school of practice ; yet I will give some, facts relating to the habits of the Indians that will facilitate the acquirement A party of Indians, for example, starting on a war excursion, leave their families behind, and never transport their lodges; but when they move their families, they carry their lodges and other effects. If, therefore, an Indian trail is discovered with the lodge poles upon it, it has certainly not been made by a war party; but if the track do not show the trace of the lodge poles, it will be equally certain that a war or Hunting party has passed that way, and if it is not desired to come in conflict with them, their direction may be avoided. An Indian, on coining to a trail, will generally tell at a glance its age, by what particular tribe it was made, the number of the party, and many other things connected with it astounding to tne unitiated. # I remember upon one occasion, as I was riding with a Delaware upon the prairies, we crossed the trail of a large party of Indians traveling with lodges. The tracks appeared to me to be quite fresn, and I remarked to the Indian that we most be quite near the party. "Oh, no," said he, "the trail was made two days before, in the morning," at the same time pointing to where the sun would be at about 8 o'clock. Then seeing my curiosity excited to know by what means he arrived at tins conclusion, he called my attention to the fact that there had been no dew for the last two nights, but on thejirevious morning it had been heavy. He then pointed out to me some spears of grass that had been pressed down into the earth by horse's hoofe, upon which the sand still adhered, having dried on, thus clearly showing that the grass was wet when the tracks were made." CAUGHT IN HIS OWN TRAP. Once two ministers of the Gospel were conver, sing on extemporaneous preaching: ' Well," saia the old divine, waxing warm, "you are ruining yourself by writing your sermons and reading them off. Your congregation cannot become interested in your preaching, and if von are called upon to preach unexpectedly, unless you could get hold of an old sermon, you would be completely confused." The young divine used all his eloquence, but in vain, to convince the old gentleman that the written sermon expressed his own thoughts and feel, ings, and if called upon he could preach extemporaneously. "As we are of the same faith," said the young minister, "suppose you try me next Sabbath morning. On ascending the pulpit you can hand me a text from any part of tne Bible, and I will coni vince you that I can preach without having looked at the text before I stand up, Likewise, I must be allowed the same privilege with you, and see who will make the best of it The idea seemed to delight the old gentleman, and it was immediately agreed upon. The following Sabbath, on mounting the pulpit, his senior brother handea him a slip of paper, on which was written, "And the ass opened his mouth and spakefrom which he preached a glorious sermon, chaining the attention of his delighted hearers, and charming his old friend with his eloquence. In the afternoon, the voung brother, who was sitting below the pulpit, handed his slip. After rising and opening tne Bible? the old man looked sadly arouna?"Am I not thine ass ?" Pausing a few minutes, he ran his fingers through his hair, straightened his collar, blew his nose like the last trumpet, and read aloud, "Am 1 not thine ass?" Anotner pause, in which a deadly silence reigned. After reading the third time, "Am I not thine ass?" he looked over the nulpit at his friend, and in a doleful voice, said, "/ think I am brother." The Doctor.?Everybody knows the doctor; a very important person he is to us all. What could we do without him ? He brings us into this world, on.! fnu iroon no no Inner in it. as he can. and as UI1U U1VO VV avv|/ uu >v?q M. -- f _ long as our bodies can hold together; and he is with us at that strange and last hour, which will come to us all, when we must leave this world and go into the next When we are well we perhaps think little about the doctor, or we have our small joke at him, and his drugs; but let anything go wrong with our bodies, that wonderful tabernacle in which our soul dwells?let any of its wheels go wrong?then off we fly to them. If the mother thinks her husband or child dying, how she runs to him and urges him with her tears! how she watches his face, and follows his searching eye as he examines the dear sufferer; how she wonders what he thinks! what would she give to know what he thinks! what would she give to know what he knows ? how she wearies for his visit! how a cheerful word from him makes her heart leap with joy, and gives her spirit and strength to watch over the bed of distress! Her whole soul goes out to him in unspeakable gratitude when he brings back to her from the power of the grave her husband or darling child. The doctor knows many of our secrets, of our sorrows, which no one else knows; some of our sins, perhaps, which the great God alone else knows. How many lives ana hearts he carries in his heart and in his hands 1 So you see he isa very important person, the doctor, and we should do our best to make the most of nim, and do our duty to him and to ourselves. Historical Fictions.?Gen. Eariy, of the late Confederate army, in his pamphlet giving a history of his campaigns in the Valley of Virginia, asserts that the Federal generals, including Generals McClellan. Grant, Meade ana Sheridan, never failed, in all tneir despatches, to place the forces of the Confederates opposed to them at three or four times their real number. In these assertions, General Early is supported bv other Confederate commanders. At the battles before Richmond, when Gen, McClellan estimated General Lee's jinny in defence of the city at over 200,000, it is affirmed that the Confederate force did not exceed 70.000; at the battle of Antietam, when the Confederates were estimated by Gen. McClellan at over 100,000 there were but 30.000; at Cold Harbor, when Gen. Grant put down Gen. Breclcrinidge's command at 15,000, there were but 3,000; and, in the campaign in the Valley. Gen. Early asserts that Gen. Sheridan frequently reported the capture of a larger number of prisoners than his whole army.