Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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,, DEVOTED TO . LITER A TU RE, MOR A LITF AND GENERA L INTELLIGENCE. SH^^SS The Sumter Wato] (ESTABLISHED Iii ISM.) V BK V WB??*??AT M#B*UNC1 Terms. Oaoj?e*.....U~..H.M JJ 8iS mgaltis... .........-.JJ. Three montas...:....?....,....-<. 1 va OBITU?BI?8,rTHlBUT?B OF B1?P?C* .nd all eomi-unleattoo? ?hielt tafceorr? pfWaU laur?ats, will be paid lor as adr?rtlaaaa?at?. TUB ?BF*iIB? TO 'SU?TBSP APT ?WpitBJD.;/^;'. MESSRS. Kmt?u? :-j^fV^?r- reading thc turee articles io your la^^ae, in reply to our communication*,'^ we, were tempted to examine our fcfafcjrad, with tb o view of discovering hokna issuing therefrom, and we furtively glanced at our lower extremities, thinking that the traditional club loot viust be there We were such a bad fellow, (according to the articles mentioned ;) oar views were not reasonable, but t^e dictates of passion, (eeo article on Gen. ' Kershaw,) aud " Vindicator" was compelled to quote Latin at us. Now, remembering, that using a long spoon, and speaking "Latin wero formerly supposed to be essential accomplishments in our interoourso with bis Satanic Majesty, we thought we must be the Devil Incarnate But on reflection, we bethought our? selves of this fact : that nearly every I man of prominence in this placo andi vincinity waa opposed to the Reform Party. Wo took courage, and came to j the conclusion, that there waa no ne- [ cessity to say of us, "Lets call. U?'but 1er up, for he speaks Latin, And that TY M deuat the 4?vll.N ' But, that we were quite sound in mind, and, that our views were precisely those entertained by nine tenths of tho community ia which we live. With your permission, wo will now| examino "Vindicator's" reply to our arti? cles. Ho tells us that the question of negro equality, politically, has no connexion with negro social equality and miscegena? tion. Thero we take issue with him, and would oall his attention to tho faot, that in the records of history, social equality was always conoeded before political The Poles, the Hungarians, the Irish, enjoyed a high social status long before they were admitted to political rights. The Jews, through all their martyrdoms; j held high positions in Spain and else? where, and were tho social equals of | ?hoir persecutors. If thoo the extension of civil and politioal privileges usually succeeded social equality, how long will a race made our politioal equals, by our own consent, abstain from demanding that social equality which has always been oonsidcrod of much loss importance than political equality. Can you sit iu Conventions with the negroes, can you sit in Legislatures with ? them, can you voto for them for high and honorable positions, and say that they cannot mingle with you^in the so? cial circlo ? Cou you entrust to thom, in whole or in part, thc making of your laws, the represen tat ?on of your interests, in Stato and National Logis!atures, and still deny thom tho right to sit with you at Church, at the opera, and at the firesido ? Perhaps "Vindicator'?w?llsay "yes wc draw a distinct line at that point." But what ?8 tBe nat]?*aJ^resuit ? The aim of the Keform 'Party4s to'obtain support from the negro voters-without this they cannot succeed. They offer tho negro a share of the offices-the Kadi cal Republican can beat; Urem at that j game. Tho RefomH&Smust offer some thing moro. Radicals having general? ly no social status to lose, will offer the negro social equality. They have- not done so yet, the lino of demarcation still exists, though drawn on sand. The negro will be easily purchased by suoh a price. The blaok man has a natural iistinct that the whites aro better than himself. This has always been so. St. Pierre mentions it as existing amidst the negro savagos of Africa, and all ex? perience tells us it exists hore. To be treated as the social equal of the whites, he would make any sacrifice. Should the Radicals tender them this boone, would not tho Reform Party have forced it upon thom ? Would the Reformers follow in this also ? If no, thou their hopes of success rest upon a straw. If yes, then this country is relegated to barbarism. There aro men who think miscegena? tion is not only our destiny but our duty. Among thinkers of this kind we will nientionJMiohelet, one of tho most powerful writers ot tho ago, and a Historian of acknowledged authority. In his celebrated work called "J/Amour," in the first chapter of the second book, he devotes eight pages of his brilliant and seduotivo language, to convinoe us that ^e ought to marry blaok women. Doctrines like these, when written in France, do us n o harm, but if the force of circumstances compels any party in tha South to adopt them as, their watch? word?, the result oan be easily imagined. Tho action ?f the Reform Party tends directly#to4foroe the Radicals to intro? duce aooial equality into their plat? form. To thia extent it is a great ?vii, and will lead to untold misohief. If the Radicals pursue this course, the ex? pariencc of the put shows that th? Reformers will imitate thoir example When the writer of these Hoes wai laboring, through tho press, to con? vince our people, that a very limited qualified suffrage ought Ito be getatod tp th'? negro, es the-best solution of, &e^ question et that ?Jrtre-the very men wno tie DOW advocating Ihc Reform Plat form/wer??bit teriy opposed to recog? nising the negro's* a*, political element at all. If such conversions can be made io tw oT jears,*w h a t may wenot look for in.lhe future F " "Vindicator" conoludes hie article With the motto of William, of Orange : "Je maintendrai." This noble sentiment, properly under ttood, will be "freely accepted by the Democratic Party. The Dictionary of the Frcooh Acade? my gives to the verb "maintenir" the following meaning-"Tenir au m?me etat, en etat de consistance," whioh in English is-"To hold to the same coa? lition, in a state of consistency." This ie our aim, this is our principle. Maintain your principles if you believe they are just and true. Do not look to the question of ezpedienoy, but to the ultimate end-the sure and permanent triumph of truth . over falsehood, of right over wrong.' Let us imitate the example of that heroio Englishman, the twentieth and last Earl of Oxford, who when required by James t?renounce his prinoiples, repliod : "I will stand by your majesty against all enemies to the last drop'ofmy blood; but this is a matter of conscience and I cannot comply." SUMTER. THE ART OF RETIOE.NOE. But there is art, the most consummate art, in appearing absolutely frank, yet never telling anything whioh it is not wished should be known, in being pleasantly ohatty and conversational, yet nevor oommitting oneself to a statement or an opinion whioh might be used against one afterward-ars est celare artcm, in keeping one's own counsel as well as in other things. It is only after a long acquaintance with this kind bf por son that you find out he has been sub tan(ially roticoBt throughout, though apparently so frank. Caught by his easy manner, his genial talk, his ready sympathy, you have confided to him not only all you have of your own, but all you have of other people ; and it is only long after, when you reflect quietly, undisturbed by the magnetism of his presence, that you come to the knowl? edge of how reticent he has been in the midst of this seeming frankness, and how little reciprocity there has been in your confidences together. You know such people for years, and you ucver know really moro of them at the end than you did in the beginning. You cannot lay your finger on a foot that would in any way plaoe them in your power; and though you did not noiioo it at the time, and don't know how it hos been done now, you feel that they have never trusted you, and have all along carefully avoided anything like confidence. But you are at their meroy by'your own rashness, and if they do not destroy you, it IB because they are reticent for you as well as toward you ; perhaps because they are good natured, perhaps because they despise you for your very frankness too much to hurt you ; but, above all things, not because they are unable. How you hate them when you think of tho skill with whioh they took all that was offered to 'them, yet never let you see they gave nothing back for their own part-rather by the jugglery of manner made you believe that they were giving back as much as they were receiving. Perhaps it was a little ungenerous ; but they had the right to argue that if you could not keep your own counsel you would not be likely to keep theirs, and it was only kind at the time to let you hoodwink yourself so that you might not be offended. In manner genial, frank, conversational, sympathetic-in substanoe absolutely secret, cautious, never taken off their guard, never se? duced into dangerous confidence, as careful for their friends as they are for themselves, and careful even for stran? gers unknown to them-these people aro the salvation as they are the charm of sooiety ; never making mischief, and by their habitual reticenoo, raising up barriers at which gossip halts and rumor dies.-Saturday Review. PROFANITY* One of the most common, t'and yet a most disgusting vioo of the day, is the use of profane language. The Good Book says : "What oomes out of the mouth de> fileth the man." Then some men are terribly defiled within. Somo love to hear themselves talk, and are yet so barron of ideas that thoy try to render emphatic their commonplace utterances by senseloss oaths in every sentenoe they utter. Few profane swearers have an idea of the terrible nature of their sins, or of its efleots upon themselves. , If the consequence* of this terrible vioe only resulted in the intense disgust of those who are unwillingly foroed to hear it, the sin would not be so dangerous; , but when the influence of the swearer's oaths is considered, io the offeot of this heart-hardening sin of blasphemy upon 1 the swearer himself, the matter becomes ' of terrible importance and deeply alarm? ing. Io the assumption of tho power , of God, in damning bis own soul, the \ swearer commits the sin of blasphemy, the most blighting to the sonl or any of the sins proscribed in the word of God. ' From a moral and social point of view, . ?t is a low, vulgar and senseless habit, i that no one with a parti?le of resspect . for himself Or others should engago in. The Scaffold. A WirBnUMDBBI BHD. ? R-e?o?lo_ of JlMN Jeter Petit Up? mt KtefuaaqneV "Vau-A Trafic a tory of I-ore ama M dr der. No criminal OM?, within tho memory of the. oldest .citizen, of Virginia, hu awakened throughout that Stat? ab in? terest or exoitement that can be ia any way compared with that created by the Drinker's f?rm murder, th? perpetrator of whioh paid the penalty of his crime io Riohmond on Friday last, by death ou the teaffold. The deed for whioh he forfeited his life was oomitted more than three years ago. To realise the guilt of the murderer, and the circumstan? ces of the crime, it is necessary for the reader to go back a few years to the days when war was still shedding its baleful light over the whole Southern oountry, when every Virginian was a soldier, and the State was one great battle-field. SEVEN TEARS AOO. One spring day, in the year 1863, a weary confederate moldier, travel-worn and footsore, stopped at the door of a farm-house in the oonnty of Essex. He was a young man, hardly of age, and the sallow oomplexion of his beardless face, no less than his hollow cheeks and fee? ble step, betokened the presence of dis? ease in his emaciated body. He drag? ged himself up the steps, and then al? most exhausted-too weak even to knock-sank upon n bench in the poroh. But there was no need for knooking ; a lady* to whom the dingy rebel 'gray was dear as the uniform worn by a dead and a living brother, discerned him long before he reached the gate, and now opened the door to give the soldier wel? come. In kind words she bade him enter and receive the hospitality whioh she, her sister, and their aged mother were glad to extend. He did eflter, and under that humble roof he lingered for months-for on the very night of his arrival disease obtained the mastery of his body. He was SICK ALMOST UNTO DEATH, and while the fever raged he was care? fully and tenderly nursed by the same kind woman whose thin hand had clasp? ed his as he crossed the threshold on that May eveuing. She was ever athis bodsi?o, administering the oooling por? tion and the soothing draught, bathing hit? burning forehead, exoluding tho too bright sunlight from the room, adjusting the rapings about his form, and reading to him when ho was convalescent and able to hear. These kind offices, under God, saved the life of Jas. Jeter Phil? lips. His preserver was Mary Emily Pitts. A NATURAL RESULT. She fell in love with her patient, and he, apparently, with his nurse. Sho was nearly ten years his senior, and there was but little trace ef youthful beauty in her face-sho was pass?e. But then she was intelligent and well read ; sho had a better mind and a warmer heart than her patient ; she was not homely, and she had been so kind to him during all those weeks of suffer? ing just drawing to an end. So thought Phillips, and he did what many other mon would have done. Hardly was he stroag enough to walk about, before the sick soldier fell upon his knees and swore he loved her beyond all else on earth. And she 7 She did what most women would have done under thosarao circumstances ; the patient, blue-eyed boy had won her hoart. She listoncd to his words of love, aooepted his offer of matrimony. On the 18th of July, 1865, a minister was summoned, and James Jeter Phillips and Mary Emily Pitts were, by the simple ceremony of tho Baptist Church, made husband and wife. AFTER MARRIAGE. For a short time all wont well ; but only two months after marriage Phillips became restless, and talked of doing something fora living, and, in truth ho was now well enough to work. His wife and the members of her family begged him to stay in Essex and oarry on the farm. But no, he had a father and mother in Eastern Virginia, near Riohmond, and he would go and consult them about his future business. So one night he paeked up his clothes and tho next morning started off, promising to come back in a few weeks. But woeks and months, nearly a year, passed before he was again seen in Essex ; and mean time his wife grow thinner, paler, sadder, and though she said she often heard from him, people began to whisper ?de? sertod," when her name was mentioned. THE RETURN. But he did come at last and remained in Essex until February, 1867-six months and more. Then, to hor great joy, he proposed to take her to his own home, whioh, he said, was in tho coun? ty of Henrioo, not far from Riohmond. On the 16th of February they lett the old homestead in Essex and took the oars for Riohmond. On Saturday eve? ning they arrived in the city, and put up at the Virginia House, a seoond class boarding-house near the Capitol square. To the landlady Philips intro? duced his companion aa his wife, and they ocoupied a room together. The next morning they took breakfast to? gether, and were seen at the table by several of the boarders. She spent the morning in her ohamber, complaining of beinjPiQwell ; he went out, and did not return until after dinner. She was nit ' ting with the landlady in the parlor, when a footstep was heard on the poroh, and she ran out, exolaimiog, ?There's Jeter now." She was never seen again at the boarding-house, and the only elua, to her whereabouts was a romark made a few momenta before, to tho of feet that ber husband TU going to uko her to the country to see bia relations, with whom she was unaoqoainUd. * ? D?AD WOMAN IN THE WOODS. Just elevsn days after that Son day, ian old gentleman of H enr ico County, walking through his wooded property, found the dead body of a woman lying almost immediately in his path. The spot was an unfrequented one, a long distance from th?> farm house, but not ?ery far from a negro eabio. No at? tempt had been made to hide the body. It was lying upon its faoe, and the damp garments were decently smoothed out. One hand was nuder the head, and the other, stretohed out at full length, tightly olasped a tuft of grass. There was bruises about the eyes ; the nose was broken ; there wete finger marks about the throat and the arms ; legs and abdomen seemed to hare boen beaten with some heavy, blunt intra ment ; on the ground, just beneath the breasts, was a pool of what appeared to be blood and water. AN INQUEST HELD. The finding of the body having been reported to the nearest magistrate, an inquest was held, and the jury found that disceased came to her death by violence at the hands of some person or persons unknown, whereupon the body received a pauper's burial. But the facts being published in the newspapers of the day, created an excitement almost unparalleled, the officers of the law were aroused, and every effort was made to discover the perpetrator of a murder committed under auch mysterious cir? cumstances, and upon a young and ap? parently respectable woman. But all effort seemed unavailing, and when af? ter two months the murdered woman bad not been identified, new sensations took the place of this, and the "Drink? er's Farm Murder" seemed forgotten by the world. ARREST OF PHILLIPS. Meanwhilo a zealous magistrate and an expert deteotive were at work, and four months after the finding of the body the community was startled by the announcement that a young man hith? erto of unblemished reputation, and the son of an ex-sheriff, had been arrested as the perpetrator of the Drinker's Farm murder, and committed to jail. The accused was Jeter Phillips. Tho mur? dered womau was said to have been his wife. The news was the more startling, beoause Phillips was supposed to bo a single man, and at the time of his arrest was actually engaged to be married to tho daughter of a well-known citizen of Henrioo County. But in his trunk were found artiolcs of woman's apparel, several woman's trinkets, and books with the name ''Mary Emily Phillips" upon tho flyleaves; and, to crown all, thc certificate of mari ?age was brought from Essex County, and with it came tho brother of Mrs. Phillips, who had been presont at the wedding, and who idonti&od the exhumed body as that of his murdered sister. LODO ED IN JAIL. The prisoner was vory soon visited by Miss Roxanna Pitts, the sieter, and Mr. B. F. Pitts, the brother of tho de? ceased. "How are you Frank ? How aro you, Roxy ?" exclaimed Phillips. Both drew back, and tho brother cried out, "Don't touoh him, Roxy !" Phillips repeated the words, "Don't touoh mo," and with head hung .retired to another part of the cell. "WHERE IS MY SISTER ?" Miss Pitts then asked : "Mr. Phillips, whoro is my sister, whom you took from us on tho 15th of February ?" No reply. Presently Phillips inquired when Mr. Pitts left home. The lattor exclaimed, "Home ! Whoso homo ?" No reply was given, but Philips sat down and Mr. Pitts oontinued : "Where is your wife ? Did you carry her to Surry, as you said ?" Still no answer, and Miss Pitts then asked, "Oh ! Jctor, do you remem? ber what occured in our parlor on the 13th of July ?" Sho alluded to his wed? ding day. "A groat many things," ho replied. "Do you remember when you sat on the sofa with Miss Anna Dishman and she asked whether you wore frightened? You told hor 'No ;' and asked if your voioo trembled, when you said, 'I will.' You said Em was moro frightoncd than ou." Tho prisoner again hung his head iu silonoe. Frank Pitts then asked, "Do you re member promising to proteothor, saying olearly you would ?" Receiving no reply, Miss Pitts asked if 4)0 knew that Dr. Baynham, the min? istor who performed tho marriage cere? mony, was with them. "I have heard so." "Can you faoo him ?" "Yes/' "Can you face our mother ?" "Yes, I can." "Your mothor ?" "Yes, loan faoe anybody," ho answer? ed, with a slight smile. Miss Pitts thon rcmarkod in a low tone, "I left at home a heart broken mothor and sister, who have not tasted food sinco Saturday. You have dis Eraood one mother and broken anot ho r's eart t Here we stand side by side, with a just God looking down upon us 1 Can you deny that you murdered my poor, dear sistev ' > "I refer you to my counsel for an an swor to that." "I left at home," continued Miss Pitts, "a mother wfcd wanta to know HER DAUGHTER'S DTINO WORDS. What did my Sister say ?" The prisoner was still silent, and the visitors rose. Miss Pitts exclaiming, as she looked onoe more upon the prison? er. "My God I My God 1 Could he offer me thc hand that olasped my sis? ter's throat I" Phillips turned away with torus in : > 3 TRIAL A ND' OOM Vl?TIOH. ' " 8000 after came the trill, Whan, (o the preaence of aa immeqse audience, tho. nore and nore convicting testi non j wee addaced. It waa proved that Jeter Philipa bed married Mary Bmily Pitt? ; that they mme to Richmond on the 17th of February, 1667 ; that they were at the boarding house and on the street together on the next day;, that eleven day? after she was found murder? ed in Drinker's Wood ; that her hut* band bad made no inquiries for her ; and that during these eleven days he had plunged into a round of gayety lit? tle befitting the cir o urns tan oes. Let tere were also produced written by him to his wife's family, weeks after her dead body was found, in whioh he prc? sented, first, she was with him and well, then she was siok, and finally she had the look jaw, and her life Was despair? ed of by the physicians. It was estab? lished that he had always deported him? self as an unmarried man ; that he had been paying attentions lqoking towards marriage, with a young lady of Heorieo County ; that hts family were kept jin ignoranoe of his marriage; and that he was in the house to whioh the body of his murdered wife wat* brought by the coroner, and would not go to see it. Yet the evidenoe was purely circumstan? tial, and first jury oould not agree upon a verdict. Another could not bo found in the oity nor country, and a ventre had to be summoned from remote parts of the State. Then he was convicted of murder in the first degree, and sentenoed to be hangod on tho 6th of November, 1808. But in this case there was to bo a most unusual and omphatio fulfilment of the old saying, WHILE THERE'S LIFE THERE'S HOPE. First, the case was carried to the Court of Appeals on bills of exception filed by the prisoner's oounsel during the progress of the trial. This involved respites and a delay of months, but the high tribunal to whioh the appeal was addressed saw nothing in the toohnioal questions raised, and in a learned de oission affirmed the judgment of the lower judicatory. Everybody then thought that Phillips must die, and he, deeming death nigh, is said to have made a confession to his spiritual advi* ser, and given, instructions as to the disposition of hie trunk and its contents. But not so. His oounsel bad in the meantime matured a plan involving, as it turned out, a whole year's delay. The case was brought before the United Statos District Court (Judge Under* wood) on a writ of habeas corpus, and the prisoner's discharge was asked for on the ' ground that the judge by whom tho sentence of death was pronounced was disqualified by the Fourteenth amendment to tho Constitution of the United States, and that the judges of the Court of Appeals, by whom the sontenoo was affirmed, woro laboring under tho samo disability. It took Judge Underwood a long while to get into the merits of the oase, but finally ho decided adverbely to tho potitioner, and an appeal was takou to Chief Justice Chase, who also, only last spring, decided that Phillips was not entitled to discharge. While these matters were in progress, the Governor of course had to be appealed to, to stave off the day ot execution, and Phillips was TWELVE TIMES RESPITED. Whoo Chief Justioe Chase's decision became known a desperate effort was mado to obtain a commutation of the sentence of imprisonment for life, and a petition to that end, signed by about five hundred persona, was presented to Gov. Walker. The Governor took a few weeks to consider the matter, but his final de? cision was announced on the 15th inst. It was that PHILLIPS MUST DIE. Tho prisoner's spiritual adviser, Rev. Dr Jeter, (after whom he was named) was selected to inform him of his fate and went immediately from tho Execu? tive mansion to tho county jail sod ob* taiued an intcrviow with the doomed man. On entering the coll Phillips rose and stepped forward, and extended his hand to tho doctor. After inter? changing a few commonplace remarks, and after a briofbut solemn and sug? gestive silence, the reverend doctor gently as possible broke tho nows, and with tearful eyes told Phillips that tho end of his days was fast approaching. Phillips received the information stoic? ally-yea, almost indifferently, merely remarking: "Well, I thought that's the way it would bo." ile evinced neither emotion nor surprise. The stolid de? meanor and unconcerned manner which ho has all along maintained, was in no wise altered. He stared fate in the fuoe and made no sign of fear nor show of remorse. The dootor remained with him about half and hour, advising him to look away from tho things of this earth, to ocase to hopo for human inter? position, to settle his worldly affairs, and to make his peace with his Qod. HIS DEPORTMENT IN PRISON. Tho deportment of Phillips in prison is worthy of notice. During the whola of his loog imprisonment he nover but onoe seemed affected by the prospect of death. Not that he showed absolute in? difference, but, ho was? man of strong will and had sohooled hlmsolf to taking things coolly. Ho nover showed sur? prise, he seemed emotionless, Nothing ever wrenched a tear from his oye. Ta the last hr was in exoellont health, and his handsome personal appeaxanse was altered but li'ttlo by confinement. His appetite was always excellent, and he always slept well. He read his Bible and hymn book rogularly, but never seemed to caro particularly for the com pauy of clergymen, though he alwaya received them politely. Ho was an ?oigoaa ta til ?Uh whom be cam? io contact. '. >s . TH? LA8T NIORT OT F.A&TB. Ak an early hoar yesterday nor o log th? father of tho doomed maa proceed ed to tho Executive mansion "and mada a fermai appeal to tho Governor (or a commutation of sentence of the oourt, stating thai the disaatroua consequence that had already he fal leu tho immedi? ate mombers of bia family would proba? bly, bo greatly aggravated bj the exe? oution of hia son, The GOT ern or H s ta oed with feeling to the appeal of ibo distressed parent,, ?ut deolined firmly to grant his request. Mr. Phillipe soon afterwards conveyed to hia eon tho intelligence that tho lagt ray of hope had departed and waa sur {irised to hear from hie eon's own ?ps what he never before believed, that ho WAS QUILTY OF MURDERING: UIS WIFE. The scene was t roi j distressing ; both were in tears, and the venerable, man told hia eon that be had boped that he would at least have the consolation of going to hie grave with the belief that hie ton waa innocent of a crime so foul and unnatural. He then bade him farewell, forever ; and last night Mr. Woodward, the minister, was with the prisoner during the fore part of tho eve? ning, and the prisoner engaged freely in conversation with him. About 10 o'clock the minister shook handB with the prisoner and left him. Ile then lounged about the room till about 1 or 2 o'clock, when he undressed himself and went to bed. After lying a few moments he beeame quite restless, and cross, and eat upon the side of the bed. Here he sat awhile and finally got up and walked up and down tho floor for a few moments, and then went to bed and slept soundly until 6 o'clock this morning. PREPARING FOR DEATH. At 5 o'olook he awoke, rubbod his eyes and stared vaoantly about the room. He arose in a few moments thereafter, stripped himself to the waist, washed himself and combed his hair. He took considerable care in the ar. rangement of hia ourla. After thia he took his Bible, opened it, and read a ohapter. ; He showed no signs of nervousness during thia time, but read with groat composure. At a few minutes before 1 o'olook the prisoner was brought in the yard by Deputy Sheriff Walsh, who walked immediately behind and supported him. They were 'flowed Drs. Jeter and Diokinson. His arms were pinioned in front of him. He wore a linen coat and blaok pants and black slouch hat. He walked slowly and cautiously up the stops, his eyes all the whilo resting on the ground in front of him. He wore a sad look, but not a muscle of the face moved. ON THE SCAFFOLD. Mounting the scaffold he took a seat in a chair immediately under the beam. Sheriff Smith then from the scaffold, and with great teoling, stated that he had been called upon to perform a solemn duty, ono whioh was the most painful he had ever had to perform, and, turning to the prisoner, said : "If you have anything to say ample time will be given you." The Rev. Mr. Dickson thon stepped forward and raad the prisoner's DYING CONFESSION. "I acknowledge that I am guilty of the crime for whioh I am oondemned, and do servo the punishment whioh the lawpro nounoes against mo. Circumstances of my crime are mainly as they were pre? sented in tho testimony on my trial. I lived unhappily with my wife. I scarce? ly know whoo I formed the purpose of getting rid of her. Whilo on my last visit lo hor mother, I revolvod tho'' subject in my mind. After I brought her to Riohmond, my purpose was settled. I borrowed a pistol, and on Sun? day evening took her from thc boarding house and we walked to the place whore her body was found, and murdoreoT her. I oonfess the greatness of my guilt, and I do not understand how I should have been lcd to commit such a dreadful deed. I havo confessed it with sorrow before God, and hope that ho has forgiven me through tho merits of Jesus Christ. Ao knowlcdging my sin before the world, I hope that all will forgive me now. 1 die io peace with all men, but with a deep sonso of my guilt and untv?. thiness. I wish to say distinctly, bofore God and all poisons present, that I am alone in my guilt. Not one suggested my crime to mo, knew my purposo, or gave me the slightest countenance in my deed, either before or after the act.. AU the rumors that I was engaged to bo mar? ried or was in love aro entiroly false. I had no motivo for the commission of ' my crime, but to escape from a connec? tion whioh seemed to destroy my pros ' peots for happiness in life. I bid you all farewell, hoping that we may meet again where sin and sorrow are un? known. Lot others bo warned by my example and fate. And now I yiold my body to tho dust, in hope of a joyful resurrection, and I commend my soul to God, who gave it, and tho Lord Josus Christ, who I think, redeemed it by His precious blood, and fitted it, through grace, for?His eternal kingdom. > (Signed) JAMES JETER PHILLIPS." A PRAYER FOR TUX CONDEMNED was thoo offered up to the Throne of : Ornoo by tho Hov. Dr. Jeter, after whioh Dr. Jetor turned to the doomed man, and his extended hacd was taken 1 by Phillips, who rested his hoad upon the doctor'? shoulder and wept. Dr. 1 Diokinson neat took him by the hand, 1 when he again wept upon the- abeulder ' of that gentleman. The prisoner then 1 cordially shook Sheriff Smith and others on the soaffold by the hand, thanked the officors for their kindness, and . stated his roadineis to die. At 1.20 o'clock tho spiritual advisers of Phillips birlo* S?S37SSi5 SharttT Wah* plkoeT thebh?* otp ?W th?>i*Oft?r,? beadj pinioned bin ttfcnd?, a*d he aterrped firmly forward (o tb? ??tttW ol .Ut drop. While Mi thU petition be stated to' Sheriff Smith that he bia 0,00e bat the kiadliest fte!inga toward bia ead his officer*, ?nd requested hito to uy 80 those present, which the sheriff pro* ceeded to do. His -leg? werb theft, pinioned, ?ad, at a given signal, frons the sheriff, ot precisely 1.X&. o'clock James Jeter Phillipe WM U LAUHOUKD INTO JtTEBHITY. '.. Thes body fell with ? dall, beet j thad, ?nd for ft moment there- wes ho motion ?ave the vibration ea used by th?, fail; then followed ft series of violent straggles and convulsions, which grew leas frequent ?nd moro feeble .daring the succeeding few min?tes, at tho ena of which time no signs of life were ?bible. A Poofs Dr earn of tho Soul, BT L. MARIA CHILD. For, aa ba ell bardi, he waa born of beauty, And with a natural fitness to draw dowa AU tones, and shades of henty to bia soal r Bren as the rainbow-tinted sholl, whlob lies Hiles deep at the bottom of the sea, hath all Oolors of skies and flowers, and ??ms and plumes. Forms are Uk? sea-sheila oa the shore j they show Where the mind ends, and not how far it has been. Tutu?. HIDDEN among common stones, in a hill sido of Germany, an agate reposed in deep tranquility. The roots of a violet twined about lt, and as they embraced more aad more closely, year by 'year, there grew up a silent friendship be? tween tho stone and the flower. In Spring, when the plaint moved above the sarfaoe of the earth, it transmitted genial san warmth, and carried dim amethystine light in to the dark home of the mineral. Lovingly it breathed forth the seorets of its life, but the agate eould not understand its speech ; for a lower form of existence has merely a vague feeling of the presenoe of the grade above it. Bat from eiroling de? grees of vegetable life, spirally, through the violet, passed ? subtle influence into the heart of the agate. It wanted to grow, to spread, to piss upward into the light. But the laws or? its being girdled it roand like a ohain of iron. A shepherd came and stretched him? self fondly by the side of the violet, and piped sweet pastoral musia, thinking the while of toe fragrant breath and deep blue eyes of her he loved. The flower recognized tho tones aa a portion of its own soul, and breathed forth porfumes in harmony. Her deeply moved inward joy was felt by the mineral, and kindled enthusiastic long? ing. Under the glow which renders all forms fluid, the chain of neoessity. re? laxed, and the agate expressed ita aspiration for vegetable life in the form of mosses, roots, and leaves. But soon it touched the wall of limitation ; up? ward it could not grow. A compounder of medioines and amulets came digging for roots and minerals. He pounded the moss, agate to dust, and boiled it with the violet. The souls passed away from the de? stroyed forms, to enter again at some perfect unioa of thought and affection, -a marriage between some of the infi? nitely various manifestations of this central duality of the universe. The spirit of the agate floated far, sod was finally attracted toward a broad inland lake in the wilds of unknown America. The water lilies were making love, and it passed into the seed to which their union gave birth. In the deep tran quility of the forost, it lived a snowy lily with a golden heart, gently swayed on thc waters to the sound of rippling murmurs. Brightly solemn was the moon stillness there. It agitated the breast of the lily; for the mild planet shed dewy tears on his brow, as he lay sleeping, and scoured lo say mournfully, "I, too, aro of thy kindred, yet thou dost not know me." Soon came the happy days when the lily wooed his bride. Gracefully she bowed toward him, and a delicious lan? guor melted his whole being, aa he fondly voiled her in a goldeu shower ol aroma. Its spiritual essence pervaded the atmosphere. The birds felt its in? fluence, though they know not whence it was. The wood pigeons began to coo, and tho mocking bird poured forth all thc loves of the forest. The flower* thrilled responsive to their extremem roots, and all the little blossoms wanter, to kiss each other. The remembrance of mineral exis? tence had passed away from the lily but with these sounds came vogut reminiscences of ki ml ted vibrations, th a wrote the aspiration of tho agate ii mossy hieroglyphics on its bosom - Among thc tall trcej, a vine was dano ing and laughing in the fnoe of the sun "lt must be a pleasant life to sw.in< so blithly high up in the air," though the hlj : "0, what would 1 give to h so much nearer to tho stars I" H reared his head, aud tried to imitate th vine; but the waters gently swayed hin backward, and he jfoll ?a leep on th bosom of thc lake. ' A troop of buffaloe came to drink, aud in sport they pullet up the lilies, and tossed thom on thei horus. Tho soul, going forth to enter a rte" body, ai rived on the Southern shores c tho Khono, at tue courting time of blot souls, and became a winged seed, frot wbioh a vino leaped forth. Joyous wa its life in that sunny elimo ot grapes an olives. Beautiful rainbow-tinted la ?ric hovered ubout it in swarms. Tho waltzed on the leaves, arid swung frot the tondrils, playing all manner c merry tricks, If a drowsy ono fe! asleep in the flower-bolls, they torm?n ted him without mercy, tickling his no* With a butterfly's feather, or pipin, thom, e,bU^?jjfv. woura; ' tNtfbe 1|K9 minute,, the who o troop ^MfW^M eg.i?, making ugly feoea from: %$t|fttf 3 boU i. tho tree. ^Vi^?^K^ #Uh deWK?rOOpa ^ quiet loves with4 ?o^U^olWoll^ trumpets, and ? grotesque a ooo mp* W meai of cricket-iaiping, * But th? Wc* ?oma delighted ia th* frollceom? little ?3 imp? ; for tho ir oanera wer? vqtj e??H ?og, and7 at heart they wera reaVfrleode to tove, and always H^J^MOf^ Strfumea, or presenta of:gojdotf .??oww'* \ oat j from ono to a tot nar? ob theJi.tioy wanda. They could not revell'seorita, ' j If th?y -would ; bee??ae th? flowers .aaa1 j the fairies have -no sooreta ; hut mabt'a . graceful song they san jr of Mot h-f-aihcr -' \\ kissed by fly ?wing, as ?ho lay pretending to be asleep in a fox-glove t? br Wm Star-twinkle serenaded uaw drop in the * . bosom of a rose. ' ..? It was a pleasant life ina raina led > among the butterflies and fairies ; >> but *1j the stars seemed Just aa far off as' whoo/ \$ he waa a lily ; ana wheo ho aavr tho' ' ; great trees spread their branches high above him, he Wished that he could grow strong, brave, and self sustaining,, like them. .While-auch wishes wor? io his heart, a traveler passed that way," 9 singing light carols aa he wont- With : oareless gay o ty, he s witched the vine, \ jg the stem broke, and it h ung fain tin g /? from the branches. The fair iee mourned ' . over the drooping blossoms", and sang. ^ sweet requiems as its spirit pasaed . away. *m On tho.heights of Mount Helicon, " oak-blossoins were tremulous With, love 7? when the vine spirit floated over thora. He entered into ah acorn, and bo?amo h 1 an oak. Serenely noble waa bia. life, ia a grove oonseorated to the muses.-- ; With ealm happiness he pasted upon the J silent stars, or watohed his oWa majestic - S shadow danoingon the Tardant .turf,.*'^? enameled with, flowers, which filled tho | whole air with fragrance. * The oliv* t$& trees, the walnuts, and tho almonds ; whispered to him all ibo stories-of their ! loves, and the zephjrs, as they flew by. lingered among nie branohea, to tell U marvellous stories of the winds they had kissed in foreign ol i m es. The Dryads, aa they leaned against bim, and - lovingly twined eaoh other With vernal orowns from his glossy leaves, talked of primal spirit?, veiled ia never-ending var io ti os of form, gliding in harmonies through the universe. The marmor of bees, the musio of pastoral flutes, and the silver flow of little waterfalls, mingled ever with the melodious ehlma ' of these divine voleos. Sometimes lona j processions of beautiful youths, orowned with garlands, and bearing branches of ^ laurel, passed slowly by, singing choral hymns in worship of tho muses. The guardi?n nymps of fountains up among the hills leanod forward on thoir flowing : urns, listening to the tuneful sounds; aod often the flash of Apollo's harp, might be seen among the tree?, lighten? ing the forest with a golden fire. Amid this quiet grandeur, the oak Forgot the prettiness of his lifo with tho uimble fairies. But when he looked down on little stream? fringed,with oleander and myrtle, or saw bright" winged butterflies and radiant little birds sporting in vine-festoons, he Felt a sympathy'With tho vines aol the blos? soms, as if they were somohow allied 4o his own being. The motion of the buny . little animals ozoitod a vague restless-, ness ; and when he saw goats skip from rook to rook, or sheep following the flute ot the shephered far ovci the plain, the sap moved more briskly in his veins, and he bogan to ask, "How is it beyond ! those purple hills ? Do trees and Dryads live there ?.. And those moving things, are their loves more lively and perfect than ours ? Why cannot f also follow that musio? Wby must I alun? ?till, and wait for all things to como to mo ?" Rvert the. brilliant lizard, when ho orawled over his bark, or twined about his stems, roused within him a faint desire for motion. And when the Winds and trees whisperod to him their pastoral romances, he wondered whether the nines, tho hazlos, and the zephyrs, them beyond, could toll the story of .love between the moon and the bill?, "that - met so near them, to bid eaoh other farewell with such a lingering kiss. There carno no answer to the*o queries ; but the marble statue of Euterpe, iii tho grove below, smiled significantly up iu him, and tho bright warbling* of Auto wore heard, which Roundod Uko the ultcranoe of her smile. A Dryad, ..owned with laurel, and bearing a brandi of lauro) in her hands, was. in? spired by tho muso, and ?pake prophet? ioally : "That wo? tho .divino vo ico of En'.eipo; sho says, bo patient, and I will reveal ull things." li ing stood the oak among those (3 ro? dan hills. Tho Whisperings ef tho forests became Uko the voices of famil-V tar friends. Dut those grand choral.. & hymns, accompanied by warblings, O?TJ liutorr o's Auto, with harmonic vibration*^ from Erato's silver lyre, and Apollo's, ??olden barp, remained mysteries pr.o^f , ound as the stars. Yet all hi? fibcM unconsciously moved iu harmony,. tho unintelligible sounds passed into his inmost being, and modified his outward r {row J.h. Io process of tithe, a wood-'' ittterfollod the magnificent tre*, for illara to un altar of Jove i aod wuopiugjjt&e Dryads throw moKses and groen gof^' a lands over tho decaying runts. . -' Ai They .say an Idaho girl puts on style beoau-to soo oleaos her tucth with tho butt and ol' u.blacking-brush. S ho say? she w is brought ap to be neat, and doesn't cure what fulks thluk.