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VOLUME XV.
SANDEitSVILLE. GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, JULY 31,-1861.
NUMBER 31.
J. M G. MEDLOCK,
editor and proprietor.
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Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators.
Executors, or Guardians, are required bylaw to be
1 Id , t he first Tuesday in the monlh. be
tween the hours often in the forenoon and three
§1 00 per square
cents pel squa" f
in the afternoon
at the Court-house in the county
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Miscellaneous.
HAFD TIMES;
OR, THE PHILOSOPHERS.STONE.
BY OLIVER OPTIC.
CHAPTER I.
‘What makes yon look so dull this
morning Ellen! inqu r ul M'. Ones ter,
merchant in a smdl wav, «>f his wife.
They had been married about a
year, and thus far not an id natured
word had been spoken by them. At
his marriage, Chester had taken a
small but co veuient house in the up
per part of the city. He had been
able lo furnish it in a plain nta tier;
but since bis marriage, his business
had added many articles ol luxury to
his small establishment.
•The t m-s’ had begun to tighten up
however, and business was dud. 1 he
notes were due; and lie had '<> Joestir
himself to make his payments. For
tunately for him, however, as the
stringency in the money market began
to weigh heavily, his fathers adminis
trators placed him in possession of two
thousand dollars, which had been re
served to await the contingency of a
law suit, and which had now been sat
isfaclor.lv settled.
With this sum he had been able to
pay his more pressing demands, and to
lay by a surplus of five hundred dol
lars to meet a note which would fall
due some months hence.
The receipt of this sum ind iced him
to increase the luxuries of his lum>e.
The parlor had been newly lurm.-hed,
and the old parlor furniture plan d in
the sitting room. They had every
thing that was necessary tor comfort
or creditable appearance in the world.
‘You look so very dull,’continued
the husband as he rose fro::, the bleak
fa.-t table.
Ellen looked at him with a lagntud
smile, but made no reply 7 .
‘What ails you?’
‘I was tliinkn.g how lonesome I
should be here ail day,’ replied she.
‘Lonesome? Why don’t you go
out arid take the air? Walk down
Washington street, and aro nd -he
common—it will revive your Sj ir.ts.
blow absurd you taik 1 W alk
around the common in the month of
D. cent her! Why, I would freeze to
death.’
‘Not so bad as that,’ replied the hus
band, chucking his wile under the
„ chin.
‘Go to the Atlieneurn and see tlie
pictures.’
‘I couldn’t do that every day, and
you don’t know l.ow lonesome 1 am.
‘Can’t you read ?’
‘I don’t want to read all the time,
then.’
‘But Fred, I have been thinking of
something,’ and a smile played upon
the pretty bps of the young wile.
‘What, Ellen ?’
‘I miss something in our house.’
‘Do you?’
‘0, very much indeed.’
‘Well Ellen, what is H?’
‘A ptano; it vvouid be so very nice
to practice these long dreary days. 1
should be as happy as a princvss it 1
only had a piano.’
Mrs. Chester's father was in affluent
ciieuinstances, and Letoreshe was mar
ried she had been accustomed to many
luxur.es which Iter husband's limited
means would ue>t permit liim to pro
vide.
( ‘But, Ellen, I cannot afford a piano.
Hie t ines have not beeiuso hard for
ten years.’
‘You have got five hundred dollars
in the bank.’
‘But I reserve that to pay a note.’
‘Don’t you expect io make enough
to pay u ?’
‘It is very doubtful; my business
hardly pays expenses.’
‘You will be able to pay that, I
know,’ continued the petitioner.
‘Well, my dear, you shall have the
piano.’
‘Yon are a dear hns 1 and. You
will get me one at Chiekering’s
‘Any kind you please, my dear.’
And before dinner time the instru
ment came home, and Mrs. Cheater
was as happy as a piano could make
her, aibeit she bad but little idea of
the significance of ‘three j^r cent, a
month,’ and protested notes.
CH \PTER II.
Men said that the times would be
better, b t the prophecy was in vain.
Merchants failed, brokers failed, banks
and insurance companies failed. Bu-
siness.was duller than it-had been for
tlie last tw nty v< ars. Poor men
lounged at the coiners of lhe streets,
vainly waiting for a j >l>, while their
w-tves and ch'.dieu shivered with the
cold, and hung, red evi n for a crust
oI. bread. Rain and disease were the
oider-of the day. and m< n wondered
what would be the end of it all.
Fn d Chester’s business did not pay
his shop expenses, to say roilimg of
his.household, and when the note fell
due lie had not a dollar towards re
deeming it. Ruin stared him in the
face and it was now his.urn to look
sad.
Four hundred dollars wrs a small
sum, yet lie could not raise it. Even
three per cent, a mouth witli ‘collat
es i.’
Something must be done Some
friend must gel bun out of the scrape,
or he vvouid certainly fail. 11.s wife’s
father was wealthy, but he married his
daughter against his wishes, and ther**
vvas no hope in that quarter. But El
len’s tu'cle a blunt lion si master ma
son, had id wavs looked kindly upon
h m, and perhaps ho would open his
purse strings.
The note was due on the following
dav, and he decided to make the ap
plication to Uncle Luke, as he was
familiarly called.
In the course of the afternoon, he
happened io ca 1 at the store, a d Fred
stated his position.
‘Eh?’said the blunt old mechanic
‘I thought things were going on swim
ming! v w itii you.’
‘So they wen-, but the times were
so ducedly hard th it I cannot in ike
etio gh to pay expenst s,’ replied Fred
with a dolo ous expression of counte
nance.
‘Where’s the two thousand dollars
yon received from your father’s estate?
T paid mv debts with it.’
‘But didn't you tell me that you
didn’t owe above three thousand dol
lars ?’
‘I paid off fifteen hundred.’
‘And the rest?’
‘Well, that went, in varous ways.’
‘And your stock is all mortgaged ?
‘Yes, for one thousand.’
‘You have done good business?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, well, I am in a liurrv just
now, but I will go by and by and dine
with you, and will ta k it over,’ and
Uncle Luke went out of i lie shop.
Fred did not like his uncle’s inquis
itiveness, but he had strong hopes tUai
he would help him out ot his present
difficulties.
Writing a hasty note, he dispatched
his bov to inform his wife that Uncle
Luke would d'ue with them.
CHAPTER III.
Dinner came, and so did Uncle Luke.
Ellen had a nice dinner ready, and
her preitv lace was covered with smiles
when she welcomed the honest >ld
man to partake of tlie hospitalities of
In r b‘.aid.
Uncle Luke seated binis. If at the
table. Llis accustomed smi e Had dis
appeared, and he looked tather stem.
‘Fred,’ said he sud eiby, as the
young merchant inserted his fork m
the breast of a nieeiy browned tu- kev,
•\ou have not found the philosopher’s
stone.’
Fred suspended tlie operation of
carving the turkey, and gaz-d with a
lo. k of a>tonislnnent and surprise full
in tee f..ee of the speaker.
‘What do you mean, Uncle Luke,’
said he.
‘You don’t know what the philoso
phers stone i®, do you ?’
‘No.’
T f .und it out when I was quite a
vouiig man, and what prosperity has
crowned me, I owe. io that..’
‘Pray explain, Uncle Luke.’
‘After dinner I vviH.’
Some how, in spite of tne extraordi
nary prepara'ions Ellen had made for
the reception ol her uncle, the dinner
did not pass off very pleasantly.
There was reserve on his part that
threw cold water on tlie whole affur.
But it was finished at last to the relief
ol all.
‘Now, un le, come into the parlor
and Ellen shall play vou a tune o r
two on her piano,’ saul F.ed, as he led
‘It is not his fault uncle. I teased
it out of him,’ she replied.
‘Then he is a bisrger fool than I took
him tf be,’ said uncle Luke, potempt-
uously. ‘And when he was not Going
business to pav expenses, you dine on
roast turkey, and all manner of fancy
stuff.’
‘Uncle Luke, though conscious ti a
lie was meddling with that which did
nit be ong to him, could not control
Ins ind'guation at the wanton extrav
agance of the young couple. He felt
kindly towards tuein, as he always
ad, and th ugh his words were hard
and eohl, he intended io do them a
kindm ss.
‘Yes, Ellen, and vou wear a silk
gown for every day, and to crown all.
you have got a piano. Do you expect
to pav your note in this manner, Fied?’
lie continued, ‘here is tlie secret of
ha'd times; sdk dresses, roast turkeys,
ice creams and pianos.’
‘ Things were gomg on well with me
when 1 bought the piano,’ suggested
F.ed.
‘No matter, you are a big fool. Now
I will tell you what a philosopher’s
stone is.’
‘Well, uncle, what is it?’
‘Live within your means. If you
earn hut one dollar, spend only seven
ty-five, cents,’ said uncle Luke, as he
put on his great coat and ed..ed to
wards the door, without even alluding
to the important topic in which Fre«l
felt so inueli interest.
‘But, uncle Luke, you can lend me
the money I want ?’ asked Fred, dis
tny ied at, the thought of a failure.
‘N", I cannot.’
‘T ien I must fail.’
‘You ought to have thought of that
when y<ui bought the piano,' replied
otic e Luke, sternly. ‘Do you know
Waters ?’
‘The Carpenter?’
‘Yes.* Apply to him and he will
lend you money.’
‘But he is almost a stranger to me,’
said Fred.
‘N i matter, go to him,’ and uncle
Luke left tiie hous ;-
‘O, Fred, this is all my fault,’ said
E leu bursting into tears.
Fred appiie 1 to Waters.
*What security can you give?’ asked
the carpenter.
‘1 ;on’t know,’ said Fred doubling
ly. ‘Mv stork is inoitgaged.’
•No household furniture?’
‘No.’
- ‘What have you got?’
‘A piano, and
‘That will do, give me a hill of sale
for that. If not paid for within thirty
days the pi mo is mine.’
Fied assented, and received the
money. The papers vveie executed
and Fred g-t out of his difficulties. .
During tiie succeeding thirty days,
he tried hard to raise the money to re
deem the piano, without success
Wateis took the piano at the appointed
time, and seemed perfectly satisfied
witii 1 is baigain.
A f w days sifter, the young couple
were surprised to receive an invitation
to dine vv ith Uncle Luk , and to their
astoni hmeni, when they arrived, they
found ilie piano in his little parlor.
‘Did you buy tins ?’ ,
.But uncle Luke would answer no
questions, yt he piomised to in.-ik*-
mem a pres nt of it as soon as he paid
all Ins debts.
The dinner consisted of corn bread
and baked potato®, with an apple pi
lor dessert.
~uailv good
apol giz- d for the singular fare he had
placed before them.
But they understood tlie meaning
of it. It was intended as a lesson to
t.iein nid they profited by it.
They brought home the pliil so
pher’s stone, and begun to live by an
humbler system. Tne hired girl was
discharged, and Eden had so much to
do in attending to In r household hu
ms that she had no time to be lone
some, and they were much happier
than when she moved all dav in the
parlor; and Fre ’s busin ss prospered
again, lie paid off his mortgage; and
the piano was duly returned to them.
Uncle Luke^vas in unu-
spirits, and nev> r once
tne vvay.
‘On her what?’ said the old man,
with a start of surpii.-e.
‘On her piano, of course.
‘Tnen vou keep a piano?
‘C*rtaihly: we could not possib y
get along without one, could we El
lei) ?’ ^
‘Oli, it’s such a c nnfort.’ (
‘Such a luxury, you mean,’ an
swered uncle L ike with a sueer, ‘what
did you give for it ?’
‘Five hundred.’
‘Is it paid for ?’
‘Certainly it is.’
‘And 3'onr note due to-morrow,
which you cannot meet?’
Fred glanced at Ellen, who looked
as woe begone as though she had lost
every friend she had in the world.
The Way to bTOP a Paper.—If
you wish to su>p your paper p.iy for it
full to the tune y<>u cease taking it, as
all honest Ilian should do. Don’t go
sneaking t> tlie postmaster, and tell
mm to send yout paper back ‘refused,’
but si nd fur your bill; deposit tlie
amount with the postmaster and ask
him to forward it; or go to the office
of publication youiseil, and pay your
holiest dues like a man. Some people
complain mat they can’t slop a pap< r
tnau they have once subscribed for ;
but there is no difficulty in it, -f they
tuxe tne right way ; pay up all you
owe, an I men if ti e piper is continued
eo nary to your outers, you are not
palde lor it. If vou don’t like this
mere is st.ll a Uelier way ; pay f >r it in
advance, anti at the time order it
snipped unless renewed when the pay
.-loos. You tueii ie.ui your own paper
and noL the editors.
Zouave.—Tuis word is much used,
but is most frequently incorrectly pro
nounced. Many speak it—Zoo ave,
giving the sound of two syllables. It is
eoirectly pronounced m one syllable,
as though wriiieii Zwave, the a having
the Italian sound as m fan. Tne word
com. s fiom ih.* Arabic Z >uauna, a con
federacy of the Kabyle tribe, who live
on tlie” mountains back ot Algiers.
The original Zouaves in the Fiench
service w here composed of Arabs from
the country near Algiers.
From tlie Richmond Di-pntcli, July 23.
Sunday's. Work—De»trnciion of Scott’s
Ke^ular A.my,
‘Send me good troops, not volun
teers.’ These were tlie words of Gen
eral Scott to the G ivernment, during
his unluckv wars in Florida; and this
was the sentiment on which he acted
in preparing for the great encounter
with the South on Sunday last. He
had collected at Washington all >l*u
troops of the regular army <>n the East
of the Kocky Mountains. The forces
from Jefferson Barracks and St Louis,
with which General Lyon had been
hectoring for two months over tlie peo
ple of Missouri, had been brought to
the Potomac. The three batteries of
the regular army tlia had been sent to
aid the column of Patterson in its pro
j-cted match into the valley of Vir
ginia—a march, however, which Pat
terson did not i ff.-et—had been
brought down for the work of Sunday,
by a'cunning stroke of strategy. The
whole forces of reg dar troops that had
b en co icoting t»v degrees in Wash
nij on since F bruarv last, bail b eu
marshalled for this special seivice.
All had been crossed ov -r the Poto
mac and formed into the advancing
column widen was to precipitate itself
upon our left fl ink oil .Bull’s Run. and
enforce success by an irresisiable coup
de main. In the column of thirty five
thousand men winch charged upon
.Johnston's division, not less than ien
thousand were thoiougli'y trained ®ol
di is of tlie tegular army, including all
tne finest batteries ot the Federal ser
vice, wnich had been diligently
Drought together front long dismnees
for the special work of this important
day. It was an army of those ‘good
soldiers,’ vvih wh eli Gen. Scott de-
f ghts to fight, and w! o n he is in the
nahit of thinking invincible against
volunteers, that the litttle band of
Southern tro ps who never were un
der fiie before, iiterally beat to death
on Sunday. Our brave Southern vol
unteers not only whipped their own
number of Yankee troops, but they
whipped in addition, ten thousand
orojs of the regular Utvted S.a.es Ar
ia . The fifteen thousand men under
Johnston hi at thirty-five thousand of
the enemy, including their best regi
ment of the crack batteries of the reg
u ar army of tti - United Suites. It is
the fac' that this latter-force was en
countered, which explains tne terrific
Mortality that our column suffered.
The (lav’s w-.rk cost ns dear; but it is
a performance that makes an everlast
ing record for Southern prowess, as
compared with Northern instibility
and in efficiency in the fie d.
Tne fight, too, was in open field and
in fair encounter. The enemy, rood
looting his unpk asant experiences ot
Thursday, avoided our strong works
opposi e Ceiitreville, on Bull’s Run,
and endeavored to outflank Johnston s
division, which were posted higher up
the stream, und-r.ahe protection <>f
strong works at tl e Stone Bridge. To
meet arid d feat this fl muiug move
ment. Johnsum marched out from hi
position at the S one Bridge, advance!
a considerable distance to the front,
and met the enemy It- fore lie had
made anv progrei-s in hi-® fl inking m >ve
ment. Meantime hums wi re kept up
in ihe most active manner a ainst our
p or'>t fl i ik and our c nitre. B it the
heavv onset throughout the day was
Co. t i.ued against our left flank : and
on liuii id the main battle Was fought.
!o' seven hours dt i Johnston make
go d It is resistance agnnst more than
double his nutnuer, composed in part
of the flower of the Federal army. Ter
rific as was his loss, he still held his
advance position, a d wa- strll main
taining a successful enco inter wotli
nis adversary, when, at four o’clock,
G n. Davis, finding tlie attack else
where upon our lines to b • little more
than a feint, advanced the centre to
th*- snpj oit ol J> hnstoti, and decided
tlie fonnne of the day.
It would be idle to attempt to up-
I orton the credit of tne dav among
our able and consummate Generals.
The first praise is due to G tteral
B anregar i, who planned the d fence,
and prepared so admirably and com
pletely the fortune that was won.
Each division of our gallant artliv did
its duty, ns whole duty, without fault-
er or default. Tne pi in of battle chosen
by tlie e .emv forced tiie heavy fight
ing upon Gen. Johnston’s command,
who met the danger and fought the
good fight, as tliei. country expected
them to "O. To say ‘well done, brave
and faithful soldiers,’ is to give ex
pression to the language of every
heart and tongue. Eve y soldier and
every officer did his duty, and hence
forward, through all time, it will be
the highest pride of every man. in that
gallant army t>> say that lie was at
Manassi s on the 2L<t of July.
Sowing • ild Oats.--In all the
wide range of acoe] t d maxuiis, there
is mine, lake it t»»r all in all, more
thoroughly abominable than this on. - :
•‘A young fellow must sow ItL wild
oats.” L Kile at it on what side you
will, and I defy you to make any tiling
but a devil’s maxim of it. What a
man—be he voting, old, or mid.lie-
age. I—-sows, that, and nothing else,
shall lie rean. Tiie one only tiling to
do with wild oats is to put them care
fully into the hottest part ol the fire,
and ge them burnt to dust, every seed
of them. If vnusiw them, no matter
in what ground, up they will come,
with long, tough roots, like conch grass,
and luxuriant stalks and leaves, assure
as there is a sun in heaven—a crop
which itlurus oues heart cold to think
of.
THE BATTLE OF M AN ASS A?-
Tne following graphic description
of-the battle of Manassas we clip from
tlie correspondence of the Charleston
Mercury :
THE GREAT BATTLE.
Bull’s Rux, Scxday Morning, 1
July 21, 10 o'clock, j
It seemed to be conceited, that this
was to be the day of trial for which we
have been working for many months
past, and, in common with the im
mense mass of men assembled here, I
have taken tny position upon Bull’s
Run to share the fortunes of tlie con-
te.-t.
The scene, a moment since, and yet,
is unutterably sublime. Upon the
hill, just one and a third miles off, the
en< my are placing their arttllerv. We
see them plunging down tlie Centre-
viile road to the apex of the i ininetice
above Mitchell’s Ford and di ploying
to tlie right and left. Dark mas-es are
drifting on wt.h the power < f fate in
the road. We see the columns mov
ing, and, as they deploy through tlie
forests, >ve see the clouil of dust over
them to mark their course. When
the dust ceases, we are sure that they
have taken their position. The firing
now commences from two batteries to
tlie right and left of the road. It is
constant, and another has been opened
about a mile lower down. *Ti)at, how
ever, has been firing for an hour past.
Tin yareserved witu great rapi l t- and
precision, and, as we are within range,
and uncertain, therefore, when they
will favor us, there is quite an interest
in their position. Our own troops
are in the dense forest that lies below;
us on Bull’s Run.
They are still; not a gun has yet been
fired, and there would seem to be
nothing to indicate their presence. Of
their presence and their r admess the
enemy is advised, however, and is
making all the headway lie can. Ol
the precise position, l.owever, they are
still unadvised; and in every clump
of trees, and all along the line, they
are plunging shots. So far, however,
none have told. Our own batteries
are in reserve, ready for a spring t<>
any point that may come to be availa
ble. The hospital is again the object
<>f their tire; and the battery, I men
tinned as a mile below the ford, having
heavier guns than mere field piece®,
and one at least rifLd, is now playing
upon it.
The object, however, of most in
tense inteiest is a lute of dust that be
g.ns to rise above tlie mass of forest
lying for miles away to the right of
tiie enemy. That it is a moving col
umn is evident, hut whether of our
own or the ene ny is the principal
question. If ours, tfe are taking tfie
eueinv in fl nk. if theirs, they out
fl.ak us. It moves towards the ene
mv, and a courier that joins us re
ports that it is the hr gade of General
Cocke. On it goes. There is no cor
responding column of the enemy. The
movement pr anises success. The ene
my may have stationed a force in an-
"litieipation, but if nut, we fall upon their
3<n flunk
Half past Ten ’o clock, A. M.—
Tln-re is firing pon our flunking col
umn. Tiie enemy had opened their
battery upon it half wav. Thu col
umn responds. The firing becomes
rapid—musketry ! rapid. Gent nils
Beauregard, Johnston, and Bonham
have just come to the hill where I have
been standing. The whole sc- tie is
before us—a grand, moving diorama.
Th • enemy have sent a hall f om their
t illed cannon at us. Another. They
pass over us with a sound that makes
our flesh crawl. All have lelt the
spot but Generals B< auregard, Bon
ham and Johnston, and their aids.
The tir.ng hasoeased at the head of
our flanking column. It is renewed
again, nearer, I think, to tiie enemv.
Another bali exactly over our heads.
A veiy sustaining force follows our
flanking column. The enemy, firing
at our Generals, has dropped a s .ot
among the wagons in tlie edge of the
woo s below, and they dash off. An
othi-r shot follows them as they flv,
and plung s in tire ground but a few
feet behind one of them.
•Eleven delude.—The firing has been
awful. Tiie hen?is of the flanking and
resisting colums are distinctly visible
from tne smoke that rises above ihein ;
and they stand stationary for a long
tune, but at last the enemy’s column
goes buck—a column of dust rises i i
their rear- -a shout rises t at roars loud
as the artillery lrom our men—the en
emy’s the slackens—our reserves ad
vance- the dust rises on to the position
Intelv occupied by the enemv—we tri
umph, we triumph, thank God ! Tne
dust still rise® in the rear of the enemy,
as tit -ugh they were retreating rapidly
Quarter Hr fare 12 Odoc'c.—The en
emy make another si&nd. Again,
there is the roar of musketry, lonz,
like tlie roar of distant and proirauied
thunder. Again, the roar, hut always
at tlie head ot the enemy’seolumu. A
column of dust rises to the left <>f our
forces and passes to tiie enemy’s rigui.
It. must be intended to flank them. It
is fearful to tui k how many heart
strings are wrung by the work that
now goes on—how many brave men
must be mangle*! and in anguish.
Again, the enemv lias lallen back to
another point halt a mile in the rear;
an t the spirals of tlie smoke curl up
the side of the mountain in the back
ground. Tlie whole scene is in the
Died nont valley, which I have often
not iced to have slept so sweetly to the
West of Ceiitreville, and sweeping <>n
down to tlie Soutn. It is nearly level,
or se«ius so,_and the Blue R*d^e rises
to lorm the dark background of a most regret that their right to his respect
:i± a. huri lioon ft! an rl roarl fn 1 ft.
magnificent pictute.
_ had been vindicated at so dreadful a
Twelve o'clock, Noon.—The batteries sacrifice. Many wounded still stood
first Ojeningjiave been silent for in the ranks, and exhibited the unal
half an hour, and the whole extended
valley is now the thick- of the fight-.
Wlie.e the enemy iast took his stand
retreating, is fearful—the dust is
d nser tiian the smoke. It is awful.
They have been repulsed three times—
so it is reported bv tlie courier—and
now th- v have taken their bloodiesi
and final stand.
Half Past Twelve o'clock.—The firing
now is at ns height. Never until now
had I dreamed of such a spectacle;
for one long mile the valley is a bon
ing crater of dust and smo <e.
Quarter JEfore One o clock.—The
fray ceases; Generals Beauregard and
Johnston dash on to the scene of ac
tion, and us we cannot doubt that the
enemy has again fallen back, it looks
as though they were on their way to
Washington.
One o'clock—Column after column
is t rowu in fioin all along the line of
Bull’s Hun to fall upon tlie left flank
of the enemy, and the firing is again
renewed as though nothing had been
done. An effort would seem to have
been made to outflank us, and it lias
brougnton another engagement further
off, but on a line with the first. The
cannon established oil the hill was a
feint at the Mitchell’s Ford, while of
both armies the effort was to oft flank.
These guns now but play at the coi
ainiis of dust as they rise from the in
fantry and cavalry as they tramp past;
and as tlto-e columns near the point
where I stand, they have brought a
dozen bulls at least within 100 yards.
Fifteen minutes pant One o clock —
The tiring has almost entirely ceased,
but still our reserves are pouring in.
Tne enemy seems to be making an at-
leinpt to cross at Mitchell’s Ford. All
at Mitchell’s For.1 is a feint, and it is
now certain that the grand battle
ground for empire is now to tlie west,
beyond the Slone Bridge, on B dl s
Run, and I go there.
Evening.— At two o’clock I arrived
on the ground ; but of tlie other
.-cenes of the eventful battle, I have
nothing more to say, save this only,
i hat at five o’clock the enemy was at
last driven from tlie field, leaving
most of the guns of Sherina i.s Battery
behind them, with an awful list of
dead and wounded.
It will be evident to any one who
becomes familiar with the events of
ihe day, that I misapprehended many
of tlie occurrences. Tne ttaok was
made at a point above S*>ne Bridge
on Bull’s Run by the whole disposal
lorcn of the enemy, led by General
McDowell. Tne importance of the
movement was not at first estimated,
and it waij met by Gen. Evans, with
only the Fourth Souih Carolina R'gi-
meiit, Col. S oan, the Independent
Louisiana Battalion, Major Wneat, and
two guns of the Washington Artillery.
The charge of the enemy was met with
an intrepidity that was beyond all
praise, and the whole Column of the
enemy was held at bay until reinforce
ments came. These were led on by
Col. Jackson, Col. Bartow, Gen. Bee,
and en. Jones. The conflict went • n
in a fierce and t rrible struggle or the
Confederate troops against great odds,
and amidst terrible slaughter.
At the crisis of the engagement two
regiments of South Carolinians, Kei-
shaw’s and Co -ke’s, were ordered to
advance. Kemper’s battery was at
tached to K -rshaw’s. As these tn ops
advanced, they were jo ned by Pres
ton’s regiment, of Cocke’s brigad ■. A
tremendous charge was male, which
decided the fate of thi day. After
acts of incredible valor, tlie enemy
were driven off far to die North. As
thev retreated on. the 1 ruddock Road
to Ceiitreville, a charge was made up
on their by a portion ol cavalry, and
l think of the Radford Hangers. They
dashed upon them about a mile away,
and the dust above them for ten min
utes rose up as from tlie cater of a
vo’eano. Tne punishment was severe
and rapid.
Colonel Hampton’s L gion suffered
greatly. It came last night and
in uched directly in battle. When I
went upon tlie ground I heard that
Colonels Hampton and Johnston were
Ki 11e rut tif erwards I met Colonel
Hampton riding Horn the field, wound
ed baily, but exhilarated at the
thought that liis men had exhibited
surpassing intrepidity, and that Gen
eral Beauregard himself had relieved
him and Ik! his Legion into battle.
Colonel Sloan’s fourth Regiment
South Carolina Volunteers suffered as
much. Tney stood decimated at every
fire until reinforcements came, and
thev exhibit a sad r meant of the no
hie body of men that entered into bat
tle.
Tlie Second Regiment, Colonel Ker
shaw, did fearful execution at the cri
sis of the contest, hut suffered has.
The Fourth Alabama R;giment,
Col. Jones, and tlie Eighth Georgia
Regiment, Col. Gardner, suffered great
ly.
Wearied and worn and sick at
heart, 1 retired from the field whose
glory is scarcely equal to its gloom,
and I have not the time or strength to
write more.- I send my field notes as
thev are.
President Divis came upon the
ground -just as tlie battle ended, and
tlie wildest cheering greeted him. He
rode aU>ng the lines of war-worn men
who had been drawn off fn m action,
and he seemed proud of them and of
nis right to command such noble men,
but it was tempcteJ witu a feeling of
terable purpose to stand there while
,thev had strength to do so;
How many of tHe enemy were kill
ed, we have no means of knowing, but
it must have been much greater than
our own. Our men shot with the ut
most possible coolne«s and precision,
and th y must have claimed this com
pliment.
We took Sherman's Battery, sixteen
guns, and three guns from those bat
teries that opened upon us first above
Mitchell’s Ford.
These are facts reported to me on
the ground at sundown, but they are
npt necessarily correct. I have hesi
tated ta say anything, but upon the
whole have thought it best. I will
send a correct list of our casualties to
morrow.
There was an engagement at the
batteries above Mitchell’s Ford, in
which the Fifth, Seventh and Eighth
South Carolina Regiments were en
gaged, but the facts have not yet tran
spired bevond the taking of the guns.
L. W. S.
A Word to Boys.
Be polite.—Study the graces, not the
graces of the dancing master, of bow
ing and scraping; not the foppish, in
fidel etiquette of a Chesterfield, but
benevolence, the graces of the heart,
whatever things are true, honest, just,
pure, lovely, and of good report. The
true secret of politeness is. to please, to
make happy—flowing from goodness
of heart—a fountain ol iove. As you
leave the family circle for retirement,
sav good night—when you rise, good
morning. Do you meet or pass a
friend in the street, bow gracefully,
with the usual salutations. Wear a
hinge on your neck—keep it well
oiled; and above all study Solomon
and the epistle of Paul.
Be Civil.— When the rich Quaker
was asked the secret of his success in
life he answered’ ‘Civility, friend, civil
ity.’ S une people are uncivil, sour,
sullen, morose, crabbed, crusty,
haughty, really clownish and impu
dent. Run for your life I ‘Seest thou
a man v\ lse in his own conceit 1 There
is more hop ■ of a fool than him.’
Be Kind to Ecerxjhodij.—There is
noti.ii g like kindness. It sweetens
ev mything. A single look of love, a
smile, a grasp of the hand, has gained
im rc friends than both wealth and
learning. ‘Charity suffereth long aud
is kind.’ See 1 Cor., XIII.
Never Ft-ike Back.—That is, never
render evil for evil. So ne boys give
eve for eye, tooth for io >th, blow for
blow, kick for kick. Awful 1 Little
b >ys, hark 1 What says Solomon?
‘Sur. lv the churning of milk bringe h
forth butler, and the wringing of the
nose briimeth blood, so the forcing of
wrath bringeth forth strife.’ Recom
pense to no man evil for evil; but
overcome evil with good. ‘Love
your enemies, bless them that curse
you.’
In replv to a question, avoid the
monsvllables yes and no. thus: ‘Is
your father in good health?’ instead of
saying. ‘Yes, sir,’ say, ‘Very good
sir, thank you.’
Avoid vulgar, common-place, or
slang phrases, such as, ‘by jinks,’ ‘first
rate,’ ‘I’ll bet,’ &c. Betting is not
merely vulgar, but sinful, a species of
gambling. Gentlemen never bet.
TLink before you speak.—Think twice
think what to speak, how to speak, to
whom to speak, and with all to hold
up your hi ad, and look the person to
whom you are speaking full in the face,
with modest digmtv and assurance.
Some lads have q. foolish, sheepish
basi fulness, shear off, hold down their
h- a Is and eyes, as if they were guilty
of sheep stealing! Never be ashamed
to do right.—Morning Star.
A Word to the Wise.—SuetoNi*
GS reports that Caius Rabirius having
een condemned by Ctesar, the thing
that most prevailed upon the people,
to whom he had appealed, to determine
the cause in his favor, was the animosity
and vehemency that Caesar had mau-
ifrstea in th >t sentence. Not persons
alone, but principles also, m iy be pro
jected from condemnation by bitter
assdtdt. The angry partisan of a good
cause outwits himself. Truth is dam*
aged by denunciatory champions.
In a city of one of the Southern
Siat -s which has not yet seceded from
ihe Union, a prominent member of one
of the Presbyterian churches told his
pastor that he would quit the church if
be did not pray for the Union. The
minister, who is as full of humor as
overflowing with loyalty to the South,
replied to this, “Our church does not
believe in praying for the dead." The
joke got out, oj. course, and even the
Union men heard it with a smile.
Words in Use.—While there aro
nearly 100,000 words in the English
language, scarcely any one writer uses
more than 10,000, and few people in
conversation use over 3000. Shak-
Speare has not more than 15,000, and
Milton but 8000. The wants of the
world require but few words for their
expression. The Egyptians had but
800 hieroglyphics, iu which their his
tory for successive ages was written*
A thick-headed squire, having been
worsted by Sydney Smith in an argn-
ment, took Ins revenge bv exclaiming
—‘If I tiad a son an idiot, I’d mak$
1dm a par .on,’ ‘Very probably,’ re-
pliel S.dney, ‘bail see your fatner
was of a different mind.’