The Carolina Spartan. (Spartanburg, S.C.) 1852-1896, April 05, 1866, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

4 '/ < . ' - * ' . i ? * ? ' ; ? . $ II, , .,J J_? II I ! -ft, sss e"aa?i,iaa iffiatai. BY F. M. TRIMMIER Devoted to Education^ Agricultural, Manufacturing and Mechanical Arts. $2 00 IN ADVANCE <r # _ .4 <3 VOL XXIII. SPARTANBURG, S. C., THURSDAY, APRIL S, I860. NO. 10 T II 1Z 8MWUBM 8SPMSA2J I 3 T V D L 1 S II E t> EVERY THURSDAY 3IOUMNG, A T Two Dollars (Specie) In Advance. RATES OF ADVERTISING. Oue Square, First Insertion, 51 ; Subsequen Insertions, 75 cents. For the Carolina Spa. tan. Manuscript Found in a Prison Cell. My hours arc numbered ! A felon's doom awaits me! From my damp dark cell, I go forth to the gibbet and tha halter! Tomorrow's sun will set upon my unhallowed grave?the grave of the assassin ! None will regret my untimely end. The eye ol pity will be dry?the voice of compassion mute as the spirit of the murderer takes Its flight. Ah ! I thank thee Ile&ven, that no kindred eye will behold tho cxecutiou of my doom; that no father, no mother liveth, to call me son; that no relative re maineth to call mo friend. Heath has taken all?all save one?whom I once fondly be lieved, had been sparod in mercy to me. Ah 1 why have we two, the last of our illfated race been reserved, only to become the victims of an accursed destiny ? And thou art dying Kllcn ! They liuvc told me so?and I am here in chains?I who should hold thee in his arms?I who, but peace my heart, ero I go mad ! * * * my pecuniary interest. Then it wus that this man?this cowardly black hearted wretch, who had cutcrtaincd a grudge against me for years, seized this opportu nity to avtngc it. What phrenzy seizes my brain at tho thought of the dastardly act ? lie sought Kllcu in my absence, and after guining her confidence, lied to In r about me, her betrothed, persuaded her that I was (also, had given my love to an other, and then, when she had been stun k It seems but yesterday that I held thee on my knee (a child myself) and kissed thy tiny hands and feet, and taught thy lisping accents to repeat, "Cousin Wal fccr." * * * Now does the vision of our childhood days, uprise before me?our journeys to and from the little school house?the paths on which we strayed in search of wild flow ere?the bridge over the brooks whereon we lingered to watch the changing shadows on the water, or to listen to the music of its flow. And the dear old houic 1 The cottage in the vale! I see it now, and the garden and orchard, the grove, the mead ow, the dancing rivulet, I see, I see ! Oh my God ! The face of a fair young girl at the latticed window shading her eyes with her hand us she watches at 6unset, for the coming of a youth who is hastening homeward across the fields. * * * We believe in the eternity o! our happiness, as we believe in the eternity of our love! A shadow at length fell across the sunshine of our Eden. Our mother?your own, m'ne by adoption?was seized with the fatal malady of our rucc ; our watchful care and tender love were powerless to save. The death summons cauic. Ah Ellen! think not luat i nave over ueen unimnuiui of that hour, when our mother, holding our hands in her dying clasp, demanded of me a promise?a promise, without which she said she could not die happy. I gave the promise to our dying mother, nay 1 took an oath, calling upon tne angels in Heaven to witness it, to devote my whole existence to her child, to love and cherish her, to protect her with my life* Have I not kept my vow'! Oh ruy (lod, do 1 net die for her now ! I could not shield her from harm, but I have avenged her wr rigs, and my life is tho penalty. Yes it iH for thee Ellen I die! This thought will bo proscnt with me in my last moment, and thrill with rapture my last heart throb. * * Men oall mo murderer, I, who slew the monster that in the name of husband destroyed thy happiness. They who condemn mo, know not the damnable wrongs he has inflicted upon thee and upon me. Did thoy know all, they would absolve inc bofore the great tribunal. * * Our wedding day hud been decided upon. A few weeks more would have made Ellen my bride?when I wus unexpectedly but peremptorily called to a distant part of the jTAtintrv nn Imuinfiuu itivnK-iurr fii<> ulm1? ,.f ned, broken hearted by the cruel blow, he succeeded in persuading the poor fiicndless orphant in to marrying him. Could the fiends in hell have conoeivcd a deeper atrocity, a more duinnablc revenge ! Had I known the truth at fit?t, 1 would have , rescued l.?r, the poor victim at once, tut | thinking that she loved him (forgive me | Kllcn) I would not have harmed a hair of his head, to have saved my own life. Mindful of my promise to the dying, I watched them 1 took lodgings across the street for the purpose of obseiving all that passed to be able at any moment to serve her lor I knew the man. I was not long in learning the truth. I was not long in discovering that Kllcn was suffering. T beheld her pale, and drooping, and sad. Sometimes I witnessed bursts of agony when no one was near. 1 beheld the tear streaming i eyes, and hands raised Heavenward as ii , j imploring aid, with an agony beyond ex- j nrtHiuinn T vHntioH -mrl w-iitorl \f Innirfh | - wwwra v?? y 1 ?? UVV1IVV* tiu?%v??. **fc | one evening?be still my heart, while 1 relate it! 1 saw the pale face of Klleu at a window ; her hand was pressed tightly upon her chest. Was it pain ? For she too had inhciitcd the fatal disease of our race. 1 saw hi in approach and gisticulute violently?his features distorted with ma lignant rage. 1 darted across tho street to the door of their dwelling?I heard tho sound of a blow?I rushed in. My God ! My God ! Upon the floor, where he had felled her, lay Klleu, my Ellen 1 I saw no tuore, for my eyes seemed balls of livid flame. I sprang upon him. Madness was in my brain?a tiger's strength was in my arm. At last! At last! I exclaimed, as my knife was buried deep?deep into his heart, and the life blood gushed up iu my face. * * * They came and laid violent hands upon me. llu, hu, ha! What cared I? My work was done ! I saw them raise Ellen, I thought her dead, but she was only stun ned, and opening her eyes, gazed at me with a look of glad surprise, then seeing the eorpse upon the floor, she comprehended all 1 burst from my captors?sprang to Ellen, and knelt at her feet. Ellen ! Ellen ! Kemcmber my vow ! ltemctuber all, and forgive me ! Farewell, farewell forever ! One look of tender compassion she cave nic?one look of deep passionate love, as I she tried to articulate my natue, when a ! crimson stream, flowing froui her parted lips choked her utterance. * * * I was i dragged away to prison. I VJ.. I v_ /I. | u^aiuiuuui^, cu. vyu. Marshal Ney's Death Scene ? | The vengeance of the Allied Powers dei manded some victims, and the intrepid NVy, who hud well nigh put the crown again ! on the head of Ronaparte, was one ol them. Condemned to be shot, he was let! to Luxemburg, on the morning of the 7th of December, and placed in front of n file of soldiers drawn up in line to kill hiin One of the officers stepped up to bandage his eyres, but he repulsed him, saying: 44 Are you ignorant that for twenty four years I have been accustomed to face both ball and bullets ?" He then lilted his hat above his head, and with the sauie calui voice that steadied his cohimus so lrequently in the roar and tumult of battle, ! said : 44 I declare before (lod and man that J I have never betrayed my oountrv ; may | my death render her happy. Viva la Prance !" He then turned to the soldiers, and striking his hand on his heart, gave the order, 44 Soldiers, lire !" A siinultan cous discharge followed, and the bravest ! of the brave sank to rise no more. He j had fought five hundred battles for Trance, not one against her, was shot as a traitor ! As I looked on the spot where he fell I could not but weep over his fate. True he broke his oath of allegiance?so did the others, carried away by their attachment to Napoleon, and the enthusiasm that hailed his approach to Paris. Still he was no traitor. ? i?I ?*?? Melancholy Suicide in Lynch, tit.*AG.?The Lynchburg News mentions the following case of suicide in that city : An aged lady, Mrs Mary Ross, wild of Moses Ross, living on Toylor street, near : the corner of Kighth, committed suicide i between eleven and twelve o'clock, on Friday night, by jumping into a well, on the i i~? i? i i _ j . - lub ui tier iiunuuiiu, some sixty or seventy feet deep. The deceased was about seventy years of age, and for some time hud been in failing health, which unsettled her : mind, and caused her thus to terminate ; her life by her own act. For some duys previous to her death her family had enI tertainod slight suspicion that her mind was not altogether in as healthy a condition as it should be ; but no serious conso tpiences were apprehended. On the night I of her death she retired as usunl; but about eleven o'clock hoi husband awoke and found her pluco vacant. Ho imtueI diatcly called up the members of his fami, ly, aud a search was instituted, which resulted in finding the mangled body of the deceased at tho bottom of the well, ller death must have been iufttanoous. The deceased is represented to have been an amiable lady, of exemplary piety, and beloved by all who knew her. Advice lo Young Men The following is worth reading by any body, and all who do bo?old or young? will find themselves amply repaid. The young men of the South are given much scusible and holesoroe advice. It is taken from the Memphis Avalanch ; The dangers which beset you nre bo numerous and great that it behooves us to point them out so as the more forcibly exhibit the duties which devolve upon them. The most of the young men of the South have returned from a struggle of four years, on which they ha~a periled all, and in which they have lost all. Impoverished and disappointed, they have returned to find poverty and disappointment at home. Poverty and defeat are apt to bring despondency. Arrcr despond! The young men of the South must hoar with a manly fortitude the evils that have resulted lrom an unsuccessful revulutim. They must be brave and cheerful, energetic and hopeful. They bore themselves during the unequal contest with a manliness and courage, which have excited the admiration of fiicnds and foes. Now they must not dc| spoud. No self reliant, virtuoU3 young man was ever known to fail. Let the young men j dare to carve out their own fortunes; to meet the stern realities and sterner duties of life with au unquuiling devotion to prin ciple. \\ ith no clou! iq on the brow, no bitterness in the heart, no vindictiveness in the spirit, let them on to the great battle > of life. They must be chcertul in poverty, hopeful in adversity, patient under defeat, and firm and self reliant in all circumstan ces. They must guard against sloth, idlcucss is the bane of all good, the destroyer of all mauhood. It paralyzes effort, precludes exertion, prcvonts improvement, blights genius, annihilates talent, and forbids hope. It tills the present with countless evils, and darkens the future with visions of wretchedness and ruin. It is a toe to virtue and a prolific source of vice. It ! ' palsies the bruin, unci sits an incubus on 1 the mind. It sleeps while others toil, and languishes while others flourish. It sows ! no Reeds, cultivates no field, reaps no har, vest. 1? acquires no knowledge, secures , no weul.h. Yet id!;.:Ts-> i-? ocuueti?o, and j is especially so at this time. I.et us urge ' our }'oung countrymen against the dangers ' oi idleness. It is thought that the change ; from the constant excitement of war?freiu j the sword and the battle?to the tr&nquili' ty of peace, is unfriendly to industry. The lack of excitement is apt to produce apathy and sloth. It will never so for she soldiers 1 ul a hundred well fought tields, for the he! roes of Manassas and Shiloh and the Wilderness, to settle down to a life of indolence. The battle of lite requires readiness of com1 bination, celerity of movement, quickness and perseverance of action. Hut idleness . binds the man, hand and toot, heart and brain, and so fetters him with its ponder- j ous chains, that he can put lorth no exar- j tion, and gain no victory cither in the field ! , of intellect or morals, or in the countless i I plains whore physical labor wins bloodless ! victories and gains unmeasured wealth. : ' Our yitung men are the hope of our deso- : 1 late South land They must revive our j I trade, vitalize our institutions, increase our i 1 products, restore our prosperity and re- I build our shattered fortunes. The results of the war have been very destructive to : i the lives of our old men. Muiiy of them > ' have been unable to survive the loss of , their children, the destruction of their pro- j ' pcrty ami the defeat of their cause. It is to our young men that we must look in : these times of disaster, and amid this almost universal ruin. W e expect nothing troin idlers and loafers, nothing from drones and loungers. The young men upon whom we place our hopes must be steady of purpose, quick of movement, and persevering of labor. Go not to I'ompeii or llcrculaj noum, not to Thebes or i'almyra, to tind i ruins; but go to Charleston and Columbia, to Kichmoed and I'utersburg, to Yieksburg and Atlanta, aud there listen to the question, "Why stand ye here idle ?" Again aur young men an: in danger of j forming habits of dissipation. Kxcitciuent . : they must have. The wild adventures ol . the war iuu>.t be substituted by the excitements of the drinking saloon or the gaui- , bling house. It is strange that any young man will venture where se iany have been shipwrecked. Genius has paled and imagination has sickened under the mouldering influence ot intoxication. Drunkenness has been the shame and degradation of our country, the ruin and disgrace of I our young men, the curse of our old men, and the prolilic source ot tears, anguish and death to our wives and daughters, our matrons and maidens, during the whole of the present century. Let not this terrible calamity be added to thoso we already suffer. v .. i- a .1 i J ? i * * > ?i ii 33 man uircu uuuuicu luousauu graves attest the disasters of the cruel war. < )ur ("onfedt rate dead far out numbered the living soldiers whon the oatuo was lost! Let this bo enough. Increase not this frightful number tv dissipation. (Juit yourselves like men. Kesist the tempter < Yield not to a vice whose vict'ma arc mini bered ly the thousands. We appeal to | you young men of the South, by the graves ; of the dead, by the poverty aud rags and ! wretchedness of the living drunkard, to ' shun the path cf iniquity, this road to certain ruin. Wo warn you by intellect stul titled, by passion inflamed, by all the generous principles eradicated hv il..? F??r#nl > . - "J I and rapid advance of crime, by the hands ; of the drunken murderer, reeking with his brother's blood. We warn you young men ot our dear native Son'h, not to follow after strong drink. We beseech you by the love of dear sisters, by the devotion c! noble mothers, by the sanctity of domestic life, by the glories of the past and the hopes of the future, not to become the slaves of an apetite that will bind you in chains which no earthly power can break. - ^ ? Always Tell the Truth.?The ground work of* our manly character is veracity, or the liubit of truthfulness ? That virtue lies at the foundation of every word said, flow common it is to hear parents say, " 1 have faith in my child so long as he speaks the truth. He may l.ave many faults, but I know he will not de ccive. I build on that confidence." They are right. It is a lawful uud just ground to build upon. So long as the truth re mains in the child there is something to depend upon ; but vyhon truth is gone, all is lost, unless the child is sp. cdily won back to verucity. Children, did you ever tcil a lie ? If so, you are in imminent dan ger. Return at once, littlo reader, and enter tha stronghold of truth, and from it may you never depart again. Western Emigration.?The tide of immigration is setting strongly Westward this spring. The Kansas City (Mo.) Jourual of Commerce of the 8th instant, says: "The immigrant trains, of all sixes and descriptions, from two to a dozen wagons, loaded with household goods und agricultural implements, many accompanied by small droves of cows and vuunir cattle, are pouring through our streets, wending their J way Southward and Westward to tho inviting lands of Missouri and Kansas. In the course of half an hour, while coining from Westport into the city, we counted twenty two wagons with their freight of furniture, farming tools and children. At tl.is rate the u>ual length of the migration season would give to Southwestern Missouri and Southeastern Kansas a population that will spon double the wealth uad production of tli jsc sections." A Volcanic Shock, in tiif. Ocean. ?The Captain ul the Kritiah ship Orient, at London, from Australia, reported that on Friday, November 17, at 7:lo A. M., in lat. .*>1 degrees 44 minutes South, and long. ltjO degrees 49 minutes Kast, with a moderate w ind from North nortwest, and a clear sky, tho bells of the ship began to ring, and the vessel trembled violently, as if she were passing orer a rough bottom in shallow water. In an instant ull was con fusion on board, as the crew and passengers thought she was settling down. The violent trembling lusted two or three minutes with nothing visible. The officers sounded the pump well and found no water; and sounded over tho ship's side with the deep sea lead but found no bottom. The conclusion ai rived at by all on board was that the ship had experienced the effects ol a sub marine volcano. ^ I ^ Ci ue ron, Small I'ox.?We clip the following from one of our exchanges: The mode of treatment is as follows: When the preceding fever is at its hight, and just before the eruption appeals, the chest is rubbed with croton oil and tartaric ointment. This causes tho whole of the eruption to appear on that part of the body to the relief of the rest. It also secures a f..!i n,..i .. ? ?a .? ? 11411 IIIIM l. 'lUj>KlU I I u; jMUII, UIIU U1U? J?I l"? vents the disease from attacking internal oreans. This is said to be the established mole of treatment in the Knglish army in China, by general orders, and it is regarded as a perfect cure. w? i ? i ? ? The Largest Farm in the World. ? Michael L. Sullivan, of Champaign Co., Illinois, has a great farm. It consists of 70,000 acres, 23,000 acres of which are under fence and in active cultivation.? Much of the work is done by machinery. IIo drives his posts by horse power, cultivates his corn by machinery, ditches, sows, and plants by nsaohinery, as that ah his laborers can ride nnd perform their duties. Mr S. gives employment to two hundred farm hands, two hundred horses, and a largo number of oxen. Among a collection of autograph letters by Lord Byron, lately sold at auction in London, was one in which he says : 4,l hope von will find nie an altered nersonarre : I y ^ . l 0- , dt> not mean in lodv, but in manner; tor I begin to find out that nothing but virtue will do in this damned world." It sold for seven guineas. Byron must have made this discovery late lu the day 4 The Late Jared Sparks ?flic Historian. Jared Spark?, the well known American historian, who died at Cambridge, Mass , on Wednesday, was born at Willington, Conn., May 10, 1789. Like so many of onr American public men, he rose from humble life by dint of his own exertions. We give the following sketch of his lifs : His earliest occupation was upon a (arm, and he also wrought in a grist and saw mill. This latter leaving much spare time, he devoted it to books, and thus imbibed a great loudness lor learning, which bo soon improved as well as he could io the couutry schools. Being next apprenticed to a carpenter, he worked at that trade for two years, during which his taste for learning became so strongly developed that bis motor cancelled his indentures, and Sparks became a village schoolmaster at Tolland, Conn., earning a living in summer, when tho school was closed, by odd jobs as a carpenter. It is a curious instance of his early straggles that he shingled the barn of the Rev. Hubbcll IxK>mi?, in consideration of that funlletuan teaching him Mathematics and atin. Another clergyman, the liev. Abiel Abbott, secured for bim a scholarship at tho Phillips Exeter Academy, in New Hampshire, on u charitablo foundation, which gave him at the same time education and a heme free of cost. So destitute was the young student, that he had to travel on [ foot to Mr. Abbott, at Coventry, and thence to Exeter, to begin his studies. Ha was subsequently sent to Harvard College, where he graduated in 1815. During his college life he taught for a time a small private school at Havre do Grace, Md., and while there served a short time in the militia, called oat to repel an anticipated attack by the British. He afterwards began the study of theology at Cambridge, Mass., and for two years, 1817-'19, was college tutor in Mathematics and Natural Philosophy. He also became one of an association by which the North American Review, established in 1816, was conducted. Tn May, 1819, he was ordained minister of a Unitarian congregation in Baltimore, and the next year published Letters on Ministry Ritual and Doctrine of the Episcopal Church, (8 volumes, Boston.) He remained in charge of the Church in Baltimore four years. In 1828 he published a life ot John Leayard, the American traveler, which became quite celebrated in Europe and America. This was the key note of his great career. After nine years of elaborate research and preparation, he published in successive volumes, from 1833 to 1857, his famous "Life and Writings of Washington," the most thorongh and reliable work on that theme extant. In 1840 lie completed the publication of the works ol Benjamin Franklin. All Mr. Sparks' bistorial works are distinguished by thorough rcsearoh, candid judgment, dispassionate criticism and accuracy and simplicity of style. Mr. Sparks was McLean Professor of History st Harvard College from 1839 to 1849, and President of the College from 1849 to 1853. In 1857 he made a tonr in Europe, and since his return ho resided in Cambridge, where ho died. ? < ?> I w Affairs in Alabama are represented by our exchanges from the interior as in a better condition than almost any of the cotton Stutf?n Willi .1 ,, .... .v,.. vav.i;jjiiuij3 iuv peopie are well satisfied with the new order of things, and bend every effort to reclaim, as may be in their power, the losses of the , war. The freed nj en rcalizo that work is I necessary for their support; and readily ' enter into contracts for the year at from seven to ten dollars per month. Consid' ering all circumstances, the ngricu'tural prospects of the State are excellent. Planters are entering into cotton raising on a large scale, tho treedmen work with alaority, and the most lavorablc results are expected. Labor is fully equal to the doluand. Saw mills and factories are being restored and built. Strangers are cordially welcomed, and meet with all the information and assistance they desire. The petroleum excitement is spreadiug in the interior of Alabama. A good deal of machinery has been ordered from the North by companies located in Memphis, Montgomery, and other places A gen? i tleman from Ncwbern is going to use tho ! ordinary well boting apparatus of the prairie country lor the purpose of testing the existence of petroleum. It is estimated that not less than five thousand new houses have been erected in j Memphis during the past your. Every day adds to the nnmbcr. Still there Ia ne abatement in the demand. On the contrary, there is as great a wail now as at any previous period lor all sorts of houses for business purposes, as well as private residences. [ Fights in a grog shop arc now called I spiritual knocking* %