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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j ;|it |nbepenbenf |,amiljj ftetosjjajjer: Jfor tjje promotion nf \\t political, Social, ^jritaltoal anb Commercial Interests of t|e Sontjj. |terms--$2.50 a tear, in advance. "VOL. 25' YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1879. . NO. 36. Jtlertfd ftrtirg. EACH OTHER. How little we know of each other As we pass through the journey of life, With its straggles, its fears and temptations, Its heart-breaking cares and its strife. We can only see the things on the surface, For few people glory in sin, And an unruffled face is no index To the tumult which rages within. How little we know of each other 1 The man who to-day passes by, Bless'd with fortune and honor and titles, And holding his proud bead so high, May carry a dead secret with him, Which makes of his bosom a hell, And he, sooner or later, a felon, ? May writhe in a prisoner's cell. How little we know of each other! That woman of fashion who sneers At the poor girl betrayed and abandoned, And left to her sighs and her tears, May, ere the sun rises to-morrow, Have the mask rudely torn from her face, And sink from the height of her glory To the dark shades of shame and disgrace. How little we know of each other! Of ourselves, too, how little we know! We are all weak when under temptation, All subject to error and woe. Then let blessed charity rule us? Let us put away envy and spite? Or the skeleton grim in our closet May some day be brought to the light. ffltc EST ~THE JUDGE'S STORY. i ^ It was when I 6rst began to* practice, com- j menced the Judge, lighting a cigar. I was admitted and opened an office in the village? | now city?of C., in the spring of 185-. I had | had but little business, and the case you have mentioned proved the key of my future success. I was sitting in my office trying to keep comfortable, the clock already pointing to 10.30, when the door opened and the keeper of the county jail entered. "We have a guest at our house who is quite anxious to see you, and requested me to bring you up to him, if you had not retired." I gladly put on ray coat to accompany the jailer, for I needed every cent I could earn just then, and announced myself ready to start It was not far to the jail, and we soon arrived there. After unlocking the usual number of iron doors, the jailer admitted me to the prisoner's cell, and remarked that when I was ready to go he would come and let me out The huge iron door closed with a clang, the bolt was sprung, and I was alone with my would-be client A a T had Riinnnsed. as soon as the iailer was " J ;?rry?? ? ?r out of hearing the prisoner came forward. He was a young, gentlemanly-appearing fellow, apparently about twenty-four years of age. Extending his hand to me, he said : "I am glad to see you, Mr. ; you are indeed kind to come to me at this untimely hour; but I wanted to talk to some one, and I feel that you will take an interest in my case. I have been arrested for the murder of Mr. Richards, the President of the Farmers' Bank of K., and for the robbery of the bank. Will you not lend me your assistance ?" I assured him that I would do all in my power for him, if he desired to retain me. He suddenly interrupted me by saying: "I beg your pardon, sir, I do wish to retain ^ou to defend me in my trial ; and a trial must, of course, take place," saying which, he landed me five gold double eagles. "I have heard but few of the circumstances of the tragedy," he continued, "as it occurred this very evening, and I fear that there are some things which will appear to be against ? me, but I trust that you will bring me out all right Do all you can, sir; employ more counsel, if necessary, but clear me, for I am innocent" I assured him that I had no doubt bnt we could clear him, and added: "Tell me what you know of the case, and the circumstances that you think appear r against you." "Well, I had a quarrel with Mr. Richards last evening, but it did not last long. I will tell you the whole story, sir. I am a clerk in the Farmers' Bank, of K., of which Mr. Richards was president I have been employed there nearly five years, and I think I have attended to my duties to the entire satisfaction of all the officere of the bank, and have been very much liked by them all, par ticularlv bv the president, who has invited me to his house a great many times. Now Mr. Richards, you must understand, has a daughter several years younger than lam; a lady with whom I have not only become intimately acquainted, but for whom I have conceived a strong attachment. Her father discovered that I was deeply in love with Clara Richards, and saw, I presume, that she was not wholly indifferent to me. Last Sunday I dined at their house, by invitation of Mr. Richards, and during the evening I told Clara the state of my feelings, and was overjoyed to learn that she reciprocated my love. We agreed that I should ask her father's consent to our marriage as soon as I should be able to support a wife. You see, sir, I am telling you " all," said the prisoner. "That is right," I said; "in fact, it is allimportant that you should tell me all." "Last evening, I called on Mr. Richards, and boldly asked his consent to our engagement. He was very angry ; said I was an impudent fellow; declared I should never speak to Clara again ; and in short he insulted me, accusing me of taking advantage of his kindness to ingratiate myself into the heart of his only child. Finally I, too, got angry, and can hardly remember now what I said; only I know I did not threaten him. At the close of our conversation he left the room, and I went directly to my room and to Ibed. This morning I went as usual to the bank, and as soon as Mr. Richards came down-he took me into his private office, and said to me that most men would discharge a AmnlAxr nnrlnr cimilot* r. r 'U1C1 & HUUi UUUV* ciiu am* v< * -cumstances, but as I was honest, capable and faithful, he would keep me, on condition that I would forget my presumptuous fancy. "'Why,' said he, 'Clara has more for pinmoney than your salary and then, after informing me that I would no longer be received at his house, he told me to return to my desk. Nothing unusual occurred during the day until just before we closed, when we received an unusually large cash deposit. As I was on the point of leaving the bank, Mr. Richards called me, and said : " 'Howard, here is a package containing 89,000 I wish you to take to Mr. Martin, cashier of the City Bank of C. You can ovnlnin to him ahnnt. our vaults not being: anv too secure, and apologize for coming at such r an unseasonable hour, and ask him as a personal favor to me to receive the funds on deposit Take a receipt and return in the morning ; you can take the six o'clock train this evening.' "I had a little money on deposit at our bank, and, having a payment due on my life insurance in C., I drew one hundred dollars, and thought I would pay that before I returned. I took the package containing the nine thousand dollars, and after receiving some money for ray expenses, I started. I arrived at my destination about half-past six o'clock, and went directly to Mr. Martin's house, but found that he had gone up town,. And later was going to the theatre. Whereupon I sought the principal hotel, thinking I .might see him there, but was disappointed here and there. I walked around where I thought I would be most likely to meet him until about half-past eight, and then returned 4o the hotel and took supper, and engaged a room, to which I went I sat down and read the evening paper until about half past ten when I started for Mr, Martin's house. As I came down stairs and opened the door, a bur ly fellow touched me on the shoulder and whispered: " 'I arfest you for the robbery of the Far mere' Bank of K., and the murder of Mr Richards.' "He placed the handcuffs on me and es corted me here; and now I have told you all I know of my case, and, so help me God, it is the truth. My name is Howard Burton ; ] have no parents." This is the substance of what Howard Burton related to me, onjhat Christmas eve, in his cell in the jail at U. 1 had not interrupted him during his recital, but had listened very attentively to every word. I was much interested in the young man, who was about my own age, and who I felt was innocent oi the horrible crime with which he was charged. I remained with him until long after midnight, and then, charging him to converse with no one on the subject of the murder as yet, but the next day being Christmas, I thought I would go to K. and learn what I could, as I knew my client would not be examined that day, but was sure he would the next. Justice then was much swifter than now. On my arrival at K., I. went directly to the bank, and found two or three detectives'there, and some of the officers of the bank. Nothing had been moved except the body of the murdered man. He was found lying on the floor with his skull crushed and his throat cut from ear to ear. Some of the drawers had been rifled, but aside from this there was nothing to indicate robbery. There was missing from the safe nine thousand dollars, but the locks afforded no evidence of having been tampered with. 1 found that belief in Burton's guilt was quite general. I proceeded to look around to see some indication of violence being used, but the locks of the safe and vault were in perfect order. There was a window in the president's office that looked out into a narrow passage that divided the bank building from a lawyer's office. It was securely guarded by an iron grating, and I felt that the assassin entered ' 1 1 mnnnAM fTIV ill l?AH nil Hit! UUUh, .1X1 kiic usuax iiiauuci, uu*vugU the door. There was no trace of the assassin and robber, as I said, but I felt that the accused man, my client, was innocent of the terrible crime of which he was accused. The cashier had gone to C. and lodged a formal complaint against Howard Burton, and the examination would be held the following day. I stood at the window in the president's office, staring vacautly out, hard at work thinking, when my eye noticed on the sash of the window in the lawyer's office just across the passage way, a little scrap of paper with the word "Paint" written on it. A suggestive thought flashed through my mind as I walked leisurely out of the bank and stepped into the law office next door. I was slightly acquainted with its occupant, who welcomed me and invited me to a seat. We talked of the frightful occurrence of the previous night for some time, and at length I said, rising to go : "So you have been painting a little, Mr. Harris ?" "Yes, sir; did you observe my new sign ? Kelley, the painter, has a young German working for him who is really an artist. He did all the work here, and it is almost worth what he charges to have Fitz Vogel's pres ence in the office. He is a witty, original Dutchman." "When was the paiuiing done?" I asked. "All done yesterday?be careful of your coat." I hade Mr. Harris good-day, and left his office. I had learned who painted that window, which was just what I most wanted to learn, without asking a leading question, or letting Mr. Harris know I was interested in Mr. Richards' murder any more than he. I made up my miud to see the German Vogel without loss of time, and find out if he saw Mr. Richajds after young Burton left the bank. I went to the paint shop, but found no one at work, all hands keeping Christmas. I learned where Vogel lived, and was soon in conversation with him. "You painted Mr. Harris' sign and office, did you not ?" I asked. "Yes, sir." "Well, what time did you finish up there last night?" "At six o'clock, sir." "Did you paint after dark?" "Yes, sir; after dark I painted the outside of the window, about half-past five ; the man in the bank lighted tbe gas, and it shone so brightly that I finished the window last evening." "Did you see the man in the bank handle any money ?" The German looked quite puzzled at this question, but answered: "Yes, sir; I noticed him counting a large pile." "What kind of a looking man was he?" O rtAAiljAAlrnir* man 1 fr tVflQ MV *T cii) ** gwu*ivuaiug miwu } ?v ?? Richards. If you don't know him, I will describe him to you." I answered that I had seen him, and then inquired what he did with the money. "He made a bundle of it and handed it to a young man, telling him to take it somewhere. I could not hear all he said. In addition to the bundle, he gave him what I judged to be a few dollars in change, and told him to come back in the morning. Then the young man went away. By-aDd by Mr. Richards put out the gas, and then I suspended work and went home." "Did you see Mr. Richards again ?" I asked. "Yes, I saw him in the cigar store as I passed." I concluded my examination ofVogelwith the question: "Did you know Mr. Richards was murdered last night, and the money in the bank stolen?" The German turned pale, and exclaimed, with much excitement: "Murdered! no; is it so? You don't think I it was me ? My wife Kathrina knows I came : straight home." "O, no !" I said, "I don't think it was you. ! You must not, however, tell any one you have talked to me, or it may result in your being 1 tnUnn Annof " Tla l-irnmioprl not. to sneak I taikUtJ tv WUlb. JLMXJ |7tvu??wvv> ? W- -M. ' of it, and I left him. I was now certain of my ability to clear j ray client, as I could prove he was sent on the J mission to C. I next wanted to find some one i who had seen him on the train, but I knew not where to obtain the information. Every one was talking of the murder, and public | feeling was indeed bitter against Howard BurI ton. Stories of his quarrel with Mr. Richj ards )Vere circulated with the usual exaggerations, and it seemed to be the unanimous 1 opinion that he was the cold-blooded murder| er. Still I was hopeful, and returned to C. | feeling quite confident of my ultimate suej cess. On my arrival, I held an interview ! with young Burton, and told him the result of ray visit to K. He was overjoyed, and ! expressed himself confident of being acquitted. Returning to my office, I looked up all the reported cases that bore any resemblance ' to the one in hand. The examination of mj J client was set down for the next morning, at | which time I went to the jail and accompa : nied him to the court room, accompanied by ] an under sheriff. We found quite a formida ble array of lawyers of note representing the prosecution. In addition to the learned District Attorney, there were two astute crimi nal lawyers who had been retained by the bank officers to assist him. The examination I was very brief, and after calling Mr. Rich, ards' servant, and receiving the testimony of the hotel clerk, Howard Burton was fully ! committed to answer the charges of murder I and robbery at the January term of the court. "Can you not think of some one you know, who saw you on the train from K. to C. on . the night of the murder?" said I. "No, sir; not one that I knew; but per haps the conductor will remember me. He [ had to change a five-dollar bill for my fare i and grumbled a little about it. "I will see him at once," said I, starting to go. - # "Do so, do so," said ray client, excitedly. "Call to his mind the young man who had a ? ? ?- ? ? T f hot am looninr* pen over uia ear. i icuicmuci um>uu the bank hurriedly, I neglected to remove the , pen, which I frequently carry over my ear, ; after the manner of clerka." I went directly to the depot, and learned that the conductor I was in 6earch of would arrive in about an hour. I waited, all impai tience, and upon bis arrival asked him if he i would do me the kindnees to walk up to the jail and see if he could identify Mr. Burton. He willingly consented, and upon arriving at the prisoner's cell, I introduced him to my client. The conductor gazed steadily at young Burton a moment, and then said : "Mr. Burton, be kind enough to put on your hat." Burton did so, and again he looked at him sharply, without a change of countenance. "Now, sir, please put your left hand in your waistcoat pocket." I was afraid the conductor was not going to identify him, but as young Burton put his hand into his waistcoat pocket, the lappel of his coat was drawn back, revealing upon his breast a unique Masonic pin, the badge of a Knieht Temolar. "I fully identify him as the person for whom I changed a five-dollar bill on my train which ' left K. at six o'clock on the evening of December 24th, and am ready to swear to it in any court of justice. You see, sir," exclaimed the conductor, "we learn, in our business, to remember faces, and noticing a pen over this young man's ear, I laughingly advised him to take it down. But what called my attention principally to him, was the fact that he wore a Knight Templar's badge. I stooped to examine it. You see it is a very curiously made pin, and he remarked that he was not strictly entitled to wear it; it had formerly belonged to his father, who was now dead. I shall be most happy to give my testimony in your behalf, Mr. Burton. And now, if I can get out, I will bid you good-evening, gentlemen." So saying, the gentleman withdrew. 1 saw that I could prove an alibi, and thus, undoubtedly, clear my client; but I was ambitious to do more. I wanted to arrest and convict the guilty party. The next thing for me to do was to see the keeper of the cigarstore, at which my Dutch painter, on his way home, had seen Mr.,Richards after six P. M., on the night of the murder. On the following morning I took the train for K., and on my arrival went directly to the cigar store, and then spoke to the man behind the counter of the murder. "0," said he, "poor man, poor man, he was in my store about an hour before they found him dead." "Indeed," said I; "did he trade with you ?" "O, yes, sir ; why, he came in here, as I tell ? ? ? J "Anna nirvana An TTOrU JUU, ttUU UUU^IJb OUIUD Vigmo vu kiiuv ?v.j night on which he was killed, and stopped a moment to chat with me. Then he looked at his watch, and said, 'It is a quarter past six. I must go in and lock up the bank and go home.' Just then his man.servant came in, arid said : " 'Mr. Richards, I have a note from Miss Clara, for you, sir.' "'Well, Thomas,' said he, 'I suppose it is for money ; that usually is the eubject of her perfumed notes to me; come into the bank a moment.' "In a little while I saw the servant going in the direction of Mr. Richards' house, and in about an hour afterward, his master was discovered in the bank, dead." This from the cigar storekeeper. I did not let him know I was attorney for the accused, and was soon turning my steps toward the late residence of the deceased. I was admitted by his servant, Thomas, and was soon conversing with Miss Clara, to whom I confided my relations with Burton." I asked her what time she sent Thomas to the bank the night her father was murdered. "I did not send him at all," she replied, evidently surprised at the question. "Well," said I, "we are going to acquit Howard Burton, and to take his place we want to find out who did the crime. Now, Miss Clara, are you sure you did not send Thomas to the bank the night of the murder r* "I know very well I did not," was her answer. "Then," I replied, "either the keeper of the cigar store is mistaken, or your servant Thomas is the murderer of your father." She did not look as much .surprised as I expected, at this assertion. "Mr. G.," said she, "the night poor papa was murdered, Thomas came through the hall and started to go up stairs. I wanted him to mend the fire, and called him into the sitting-room. As he entered, I noticed a Targe dark spot on his cheek and one on his collar. I half suspected him when I heard how anxious he was to tell the court about that unfortunate little difficulty between papa and Howard Burton, but I did not say any thing about it to any one, they were all so sure Howard was guilty." I told her to treat Thomas as usual, and not to speak of our conversation to any one. After receiving a letter she wished to send to Burton, I took my departure to C. Immediately on my arrival there, I went to my client, and communicated to him all I had learned, and delivered the letter. The poor fellow was supremely happy, and invited me to tea with him in his cell. He ate heartily, , and smoked a cigar with evident enjoyment. I took the first real night's rest that night I had since the death of Mr. Richards. I had i nreviouslv sworn out a warrant for the arrest 1 y of Thomas, to be served as soon as the jury should pronounce ray client not guilty. The i District Attorney opened for the people in an elaborate and very able speech, giving the details of the case, and then proceeded to examine the witnesses. Thomas the servant was the first called, i He swore to the quarrel between Mr. Richi ards and Burton, and that he heard Burton threaten Mr. Richards' life. Nothwithstauding I closely cross-examined hira, I failed to !* make him contradict himself, and when- he retired nearly every one in the court room was doubtless certain that Howard Burton was guilty. The next witness was the hotel-clerk, i who testified that Burton came into the hotel while he was attending to the guests from the , train that arrived in C. at about half-past six. Then followed the examination of the bank r cashier, who swore that the package of nine ; thousand dollars found on Burton at the time I of his arrest was deposited in his bank on the afternoon of the murder. After calling I several other witnesses, whose testimony was s of minor import/ the prosecution rested. I - then followed, and after a brief opeuing ad; dress, called the German painter, who swore to seeing Mr. Richards send Burton on the p errand, also to seeing Mr. Richards in the cigar store after six o'clock on the evening of i the murder. When I had finished with him, he was subjected to a severe cross-examina tion, in which he acquitted himself very creds itably. Then I called the conductor, who i swore to seeing Burton on the train on the night of the murder; he also swore that the train left on time, six o'clock. The cigar store man was next examined, who swore to talking with Mr. Richards at 6:15 P. M.; also to seeing him leave the bank with Thomas. My witnesses were all cross examined thoroughly, but did not contradict themselves in any particular. I then closed my case, and after a few remarks from the prosecution, the jury retired, and in fifteen minutes returned with a verdict of not guilty. My client and I were overpowered with congratulations, and never since in my professional life have 1 felt as proud and triumphant as I did then. As soon as quiet was restored, the sheriff approached Thomas, the servant, and said, in a loud voice, "Thomas Healy, I arrest you for the murder of Mr. Richards." The ex -1 t i .1 _ l _ . 1_ citement in toe court caused dy tnis udiooked-for and sudden proceeding was most intense. The prisoner was immediately taken to jail, followed by a crowd that were loud in their expressions of denunciatian?the same crowd that a little wnile before had marked Burton as the murderer. Well, to finish this story, I hffve little to add. I was retained by the bank officers to prosecute. Thomas Healy, and he was convicted of the crime. He protested his innocence almost to the last, but the night before he was executed be made- a full confession, stating that he had determined to rob the bank some evening when Mr. Richards was there alone. It was Mr. Richards' custom to go ta the bank in the evening, and when he and young Burton quarrelled, he, Thomas, saw his opportunity. His determination was strengthened by hearing Mr. Richards'remark on the day of the murder, as he sat at dinner, that there was an unusually large amount of cash on hand. The note in the case was one Miiss Clara had given him to take to her father some days before, but Mr. Richards coming home before Thomas found him, it had not been delivered as intended. By the aid of this note he had got Mr. Richards in the bank, and while he was reading it he struck him with a stove poker, and then cut his throat. He got no money as the reward for his crime, as the vaults had been locked. The night Thomas made his confession he committed suicide, thus cheating the gallows tree of its just due. Howard Burton was made cashier of the bank, and married Clara Richards within a year, and they are both still living. llteUauMuis MORMONISM IN GEORGIA. the killing of standing?the other side of the story. * Dalton, Ga., August 22.?Since so much has been said about the Mormon murder in north Georgia, by the press throughout the whole country, perhaps it might be well euough to give to the readers of the Constitution a little sketch or history of Joseph Standing, that they may know something about his character and the circumstances leading to his murder on the 21st day of July, 1879. It appears that Joseph Standing first made his appearance in Walker county, and succeeded in making arrangements to make his headquarters at a widow's house, the widow having two grown daughters. After remaining there for a while he succeeded in accomplishing the ruin of both of the young ladies. After this he then removed to Catoosa county, three miles from Yarnell Station, and put up with a man by the name of Elledge, who resided near the line of Whitfield county. El ledge's family was composed of himself, wife, two daughters and son-in-law. Pretty soon after these arrangements were made Elledge and his son-in-law obtained employment on the Cincinnati railroad, near Chattanooga, which caused them to be absent most of the time from their families. Joseph Standing and companion, Clauslen, continued to remain and make their headquarters at Elledge's residence, and very soon succeeded in converting Mrs. Elledge and her daughters to the Mormon faitb. Jane Elledge, the single daughter, had a child by Joseph Standing, which mysteriously disappeared immediately after its birth, which, at the time, caused considerable excitement in the neighborhood. After the excitement subsided, in the course of time, it was discovered that Jane Elledge had again become enciente by Joseph Standing, and was in that condition when the Elledge family emigrated to the Mormon country, a few weeks before Standing's death. And we are pained to say that his intimacy with women was not, by any means, confined to this one family.. Some three or four, if not more, rri/nrnfXT VlUMlpll I yvuug lOUlM l.VlUg IU l,UO ?v/A Station, whose names we prefer not now to mention, met with their ruin by this man; one of the young ladies is the daughter of one of the murderers. Nor does this tale stop here, as he has caused trouble in several families by being too intimate with their wives, and trying to get them to adhere to the Mormon faith, and persuading them to emigrate to the Mormon country. So great were the troubles in one family, on account of Standing's intimacy, that it caused the husband aud wife to separate. Now, as the good citizens of the country began to find out what kind of a man Standing was, and seeing that he was becoming bolder and more daring in his undertakings, every day, they became tired of it, and thought it should bestopped, and they approached Standing on several different occasions, and endeavored to persuade him to leave their families alone, and also to leave the country ; but he could not be prevailed on to do so, and finally some of the citizens in the neighborhood concluded that they might be able to frighten him off, and to do this they threatened to -give him trouble, by whipping, etc., but as Standing continued to remain in their neighborhood and did not seem to be at all frightened, these parties decided to put their threats into execution. On the morning of the 21st of July last, the following men, David D. Nations, Jasper N. Nations, A. S. Smith, David Smith, Benjamin Clark, William Nations, Andrew Bradlev. James Fausett. Huerh Blair. Joseph Na tions, Jefferson Hunter and Mack McCure met Joseph Standing and Clauslen in the road and informed them that they intended whipping them, and carried them near by to a spring. As seven of these men were opposed to whipping Standing and Clauslen, while at the spring they succeeded in persuading the other five of their comrades to abandon the idea of whipping them, and it was then agreed upon by all the mob that they would escort Standing and Clauslen to Varnell Station and board them on the train and have them leave this country. Now, as this was the arrangement determined upon, and that no violence should be done the parties, one of the men, Mr. Clark, perhaps, laid his pistol on the ground and was in the act of getting a drink of water from the spring, when Joseph Standing suddenly suatched the pistol from the ground, and, cocking it, demanded the whole twelve men to surrender. One of the men, realizing their situation, attempted to raise his gun, which caused Joseph Standing to fire the pistol, wounding one man by the name of Nations, in the cheek, and before Standing could fire again, he was shot down by one of the twelve men above mentioned. None regretted this sad affair more than these men, as they had no intention of doing anything of the kind, but necessity compelled them, and they regard their action in the whole matter as being entirely justifiable. After the killing of Joseph Standing these men continued to remain at their homes and in the settlement. No attempt was made on their part to escape, nor was there any effort on the part of the officers to arrest them, so far as we are informed, until a. reward was offered by Governor Colquitt for their capture and conviction. These men, on learning that a reward had been offered for them, went to James county, Tennessee. A requisition having been made upon the Governor of Tennessee, the Sheriff and his deputy, of Whitfield county, accompanied by a deputy and possee from Bradley county, Tennessee, proceeded to James county and arrested Andrew Bradley, Jasper N. Nations and H. C. Blair, near Ooltawa, and brought them and put them in jail at Dalton. They sued out a writ of habeas corpus, and were brought before Judge C. D. McCutchen, who, after examining the testimony which had been introduced at the coroner's inquest, and also other testimony, fixed the bail at the sum of $5,000 each. The friends not being there to make the bond, they were remanded to jail. Since then their friends have made good and sufficient bonds, but owing to the absence of Judge McCutchen, who is holding court at Spring Place, in Murray county, they were not set at liberty until the 23d instant, when the bond was accepted. These men all stand well in the community and their action was caused by the excessive libertinism of Standing and his associate. Jasper N. Nations is a member of the Cumbsrland Presbyterian Church at Tunnel Hill, and is in good standing.?Special to Atlanta Conetitwtion. FIFTEEN HUNDRED. GENERAL FORREST'S DESPERATE GAME OF POKER. Several years ago Gen. Forrest visited the city and stopped at the old City Hotel. That night several gentleman called to see him, among them a gentleman now connected with the Banner. The room had been crowded during the early part of the night, and Forrest had received the usual attention bestowed on him. Now, however, he was sitting off to himself, and appeared worn and tired out. Our informant wishing to have a talk with him about himself, sought him, and entered into conversation with him : "General," says he, "I've heard you were a great poker-player in your time." "Yes," says the General, "I have played some," and his eyes began to sparkle with the memory of old limes, and he at once seemed interested in the subject, for be it known that no one was fonder than he in recounting his wonderful exploits. "How much, Genera], was the largest stake you ever played?" "I once called $48,000 in New Orleans." "Did you win?" "Oh, yes! I won it." "What wag your hand, General ?" "It was three kings." "But," says he, "the hardest game I ever played was at Memphis. Just after the war closed, me and my wife went to Memphis, and we stopped at the Worebam House. The next morning we got our things together, and I emptied all my papers out of my trunk on the floor, and Mary (I'm not certain his wife's name was Mary, but that will do for the tale) went over and over them, hunting for something to raise money out of. I emptied my pockets, and Mary emptied her'n and between us we had seven dollars and thirty cents. After hutJtin' over -everything, we found that every man who owed me was either dead or broke. I hadn't one single paper on which I could raise a cent outen.. After we got through the pjle, I looked at Ms>rj and Mary looked at me. 'Now what's to be done, Mary ?' says I. 'I don' know/ says she, 'but the Lord will provide.' You see, Mary was one of the best women in the world, and she had a heap of faith in her religion. I looked at her right straight a long time, and at last says I, 'Mary, you, are a mighty good woman, and I'm going to .tell you something. There's to be a big dinner at this evening, and I'm invited. They always play poker at their house, and you have always been agin me playingj and I reckon you are right about it. But thiogs have become desperate with us, and somehow I feel if you wouldn't be agin me, but would pray for me, I could make a raise to-night.' "Says she: 'Bedford, I can't do it. It's wrong for you to do it, and I'd heap rather you wouldn't.' "But, Mary,' says I, 'I never was in such a fix before. Here we are with no money but seven dollars and thirty cents, and that won't pay our tavern bill. I can't loose no more than that, for I'll swear I won't bet on a credit. If I lose that I'll come home; and if I win, then we'll have something to start on.' Well, I argued and argued with her, but she wouldn't say yes. But at last she says: "'Bedford, I know your mind is set on it, .andlknowyou are going to bet, whether I'm willin' or not; so I won't say nothing more about it.' "But, somehow, I felt when I started that she was for me, and I just knowed how 'twould be.' "Well, I went some time before dinner, and, sure enough, they were ai it. They had three tables?one had a quarter ante, one a half, and one a dollar and a half. I wanted my seven dollars to last as long as I could make it, and so I sat down to the quarter table. 11 Ai1 .i. T We bet on until dinner, ana Dy mai urae i had won enough to do better; and after we had eat, I sat down to the dollar and a half table. Sometimes I won, and then again I'd lose on until nigh about midnight, and then I had better luck. I know'd Mary was setting up and praying; I felt like it and it made me cool. I set my hat down by ray side on the floor, and every time I'd win I'd drop the money in the hat. We played on and I didn't know nothing about how much I'd won. I didn't keep any count, but I know'd I was winning. I thought may be I'd won a hundred dollars, or may be two hundred, but I didn't know. I set there until day broke, and then we went home. I took my hat up in both hands and mashed it on my head and went home so without taking it off*. When I got to ray room there sat Mary in her gown, and the bed wasn't mashed. She'd set up all night waiting for me. She seemed tired and anxious, and though she looked mighty hard at me, she didn't say a word. I walked right up to her, and pulling off my hat with both hands I emptied it all right in the lap of her gown. And then we sat down and couifted it." "How much was there, General ?" "Fifteen hundred dollars even." "And that," added the General,"as he walked off, "gin me a start."?Nashville Banner. Oliver Cromwell.?Among many curious anecdotes which Whitelock relates respecting Cromwell, the following is not the least characteristic: Oliver, it was well known, appeared to favor the fanatics of that day, but he did not like to be taken liberties with. "There was," said Whitelock, "a secret experiWi'rtn ahmit tn snil and one of those frantic preachers waited upon Oliver and wished an audience, which was granted ; and when before Oliver he stated that the Lord wished to know where the secret expedition was going. Oliver answered, "The Lord shall know, and thee shall go with it; and he rang the bell and ordered him on board the fleet." Being afraid of cabals from the expelled family, he thought it dangerous to permit persons, particularly noblemen, to leave the kingdom without leave. A young nobleman, in the interest of Charles II., came to pay his respects to the protector, and solicit leave of absence from the country. Cromwell immediately granted the request, fyut said, "Well, let me see you soon again, but don't see Charles Stuart." '1 will not, upon my honor," replied the peer. The nobleman soon returned, and coming to pay his duty to the protector, Cromwell snatched his hat out of his hands, and with a penknife he cut open the lining, and from the inside took out several letters and papers directed to the friends of Charles. "0, shame," cried Oliver, "is this the way the English nobles keep their honor? Did you not promise not to see Charles Stuart ?" "I did not see him," answered the nobleman. "Then," said Cromwell, "who put out the candle, you or Charles ?" Cromwell had cunningly contrived to put a spy of his own into the peer's service, who discovered that at the interview the king first put out the lights.? HubarCs History. * f . CRUEL TO BE KIND. Twn frovpIpin rplaf.ps T^ird William I<en nox, were journeying together over a dreary common, when one remarked to the other that he trusted they should not fall in with any highwaymen, as he had one hundred pounds secreted in his boot. They had not gone many miles before they came to a most secluded spot where four cross roads met, and a gibbet at some little distance, with a skeleton body suspended in chains to it, showed that a human creature had met with an ignominious death. As the two travelers, who had met accidentally at an inn, passed the gibbet, three fierce, rough-looking men suddenly rushed forward, determined, as they swore with a dreadful imprecation, to have the money or the lives of the travelers. "Spare our lives! Take all I have 1" cried one. "Here it* is," offering a handful of silver. "That won't do," responded the highwayman. I'll soon see what you have about you." i "Stay," said the other. "My companion has our money hid away in his boot" Traitor 1" exclaimed his companion, while one of the gang, with blackened face and cocked pistol, proceeded to take off the boots nf t.hfl tprrifien victim. "If you've spoken falsely," shouted the first, "I'll give you an ounce of lead for your pains." "He has spoken truth," announced the searcher. "Here's a prize?a hundred pounds in Bank of England notes." Securing the money, the two travelers were blindfolded and bound fo a post, while the horse was taken out of their gig and turned | loose on the common. It was nearly an hour before they were released from their portion, during which period the ill-used victim vented his anger pretty loudly. Upon reaching the next town, where a deposition was made before a magistrate, the worthy justice commented in rather a severe strain upon the conduct of the base miscreant who had acted so treacherous a part. "Hear my paliation," meekly said the accused. ! "Stand down ; I've heard euougb," vociferated the man in authority. "One word," continued the other. "My object was not to wreen myself at another's expense. My companion told me he had one hundred pounds in his boot; I had twelve hundred in my waistband. Had I been searched, that must have been discovered, and would probably have led to my companion being searched ,* so I thought it better to sacrifice the smaller to the larger sum. I now return the money I was the means of his being deprived of, and in future recommend him to be more prudent in keeping his own counsel." ? A FISH STORY. John F. Ratclifie, of Portsmouth, Ohio, furnishes the newspapers with the following fish story : In the fall of 1831 the Scioto Fish Company was organized, the object of which was to put a fish gate at the mouth of Lawson's Run, in Wayne Township?now in the city of Portsmouth. Lawson's Run, or "Funk's Gut," as it is sometimes called, at that time had a very narrow entrance into the Ohio River?not exceeding twenty feet in width?the banks being perpendicular, and held by a luxuriant growth of willows. Above the mouth the run widened out in a hoain nf Hnmfi two acres. and contracted its mm* w* vvr ? w """ 1 banks again, further up, to about the same width as at its mouth. The theory was that the fish would leave the river when it was high and seek food and shelter in the run. So the fish gate was complete in 1821, and when the flood of 1822 was at its highest the gate was closed, and much anxiety was felt by those interested for the river to fall, and to learn whether they had caught any fish or not. The river fell slowly, but it soon became evident that there were plenty of fish in the basin. Suffice it to say it was the post marvelous. catch ever known Our best citizens claim that the entire two acres was a solid mass of fish ten feet deep. Everybody came and hauled fish away at will. Country people from thirty miles around came with wagons and loaded them down with fisb, and the town folks salted them down by hundreds of barrels. The demand for salt was - so great that merchants advanced the price three dollars per barrel. It is a well authenticated fact that one catfish was hauled away that weighed 1,500 pounds, and that William Gid dings, now or jyiarieita, \jiuu, uorncu uu a speckled brook trout weighing 112 pounds. But all the fish carried and hauled away were as a drop in the bucket'to the immense mass left behind to decay. It. is said the stench arising from the decayed fish was simply horrible. When the fish had decayed, the bones covered the ground like ricks of hay, and well may onr eminent geologists say it was a crime, when in 1866, they visited the place and dug down through four feet of solid fish bones. The Scioto f 'isb Uompany was enjoined in our Courts, and in 1833 the injunction was made perpetual, as such wholesale slaughter of fish was adjudged to be detrimental to the public welfare. SILENCE ILLUSTRATED. Ishael P. Inraan, who*died in Utica recently, had uttered scarcely a word for more than half a century. He was not dumb; he could talk well enough ; but he became convinced at an early stage of his life that more harm than good was wrought by speech, and remained true to his principles ever after. And then when his first child was born he rode seven miles in quest of a physician. He carried slate and pencil, returned with the medicine man, and received the announcement of his paternal responsibilities in silence. His wife, who survives him, says no woman erer had a kinder husband. The relations between the couple were always pleasant, and Mrs. Inraan has remarked to her neighbors: "If Ishael talked as much as I do, the Lord knows what might happen." Some of his written replies to the questions of acquaintances who were curious to know why he preferred silence to speech are worthy of mention. One retort was "A good listener is to be preferred to a poor talker." Another was : "I want to prove that a man can be happy and hold his tongue." Another: "I am trying to think of something good enough to say out loud." A clergyman once asked Inman whether he didn't tnink the Lord gave him his tongue to be used. The penciled reply was: "The Lord gave me a mind that tells me when to use my tongue." In 1842, while he was traveling with his wife in a stage between Syracuse and Rochester, the vehicle was halted in front of a country tavern. A child was sleeping on the \ porch. Inman looking out, saw a large black snake crawl to the side of the infant. Grasping his wife's arm, he shouted, "See!" and-, pointing to the snake, sprang from the stage, pursued the reptile some distance, and finally killed it He left a snug fortune, which his son inherits. His last written message was: "Silence is golden." His oft-penciled admonition to his son was: "Keep your mouth shut" Governor Hampton's Cat.?Governor Hampton has a remarkable Maltese hat? very large, very intelligent, very fond of his master. When the Governor was in his health, Tom w&s his constant companion in his daily walks about the yard, and would occasionally accompany him on longer rambles through the adjacent woods. It made but little difference to Tom that his master was mounted on such occasions. Nothing daunted, he would trudge along at his horse's heels for hours together, perfectly satisfied so long as he could "keep up," oi*even keep his owner in sight. The Governor's election to office was a severe blow to his queer follower, as it involved a daily separation which was eminently distasteful to him, but, like the sensible animal that he is, he finally reconciled his own affections to the claims of public expediency, and contented himself each morning with escorting his Excellency to the gate, at some distance from the house, when he would bid him a sad, if silent, good-by, and return to the house until evening. The Governor always.observed as regular hours as possible in the discharge of his duties at the State House, and generally returned to his home about the same time every evening. This regularity Tom seems to have remembered v for his own benefit, as he proceeded to avail himself of it to the extent of hurrying back' each afternoon, a little before the appointed time to the gate, where he ever and anxiously remained to welcome hie too-long absent ? * n_ j <L - n i? iriena on nis return, jjunng urn vjruvemui a illness Tom was a constant and evidently a sympathizing attendant. Mabried Life.?Julius Moser gives the following counsel from a wife and mother: "I try to make myself and all around me agreeable. It will not do to leave a man to himself till he comes to you, to take no pains to attract him, or appear before him with a long face. It is not so difficult as you think, dear child, to behave to a husband so that he shall remain forever in some measure a husband. I am an old woman, but you can still do what you like; a word' from you at the right time will not fail to.have its effect; what need have you to play the suffering virtue? The tear of a loving girl, said an old book, is like a dew-drop on a,rose; but that on the cheek of a wife is a drop of poison to a husband. Try to appear cheerful and contented and your husband will be so; and when you have made him happy, you will become so?not in appearance, but in reality. , The skill required is not so great Nothing flatters a man so much as the happiness of his wife; he .is always proud of himself as the source of it As soon as you are cheerful you will be lively and alert, and every moment will affora you an opportunity to let fall an agreeable word. Your education, which gives you an immense advantage, will greatly assist you; and your sensibility will become the noblest gift that nuture has bestowed on you, when it shqws itself in affectionate assiduity, and stamps on every action, a soft, kind and tender character, instead of wasting itself in secret repinings." This is most excellent advice, and worthy of being treasured up. The Happiest Period.?Ever since the world began this has been a disputed question ; and ever since the world began the majority of the people have generally mis judged. Thoroughly dissatisfied with any present time, the people cast about for a golden age. We cannot find it in the future, as the cloud of uncertainty hangs on the horiMn in that direction. We are compelled, therefore, to explore the past. The immediate past, with its facts and disappointments, i? too fresh in our memory to allow us to throw the required halo about it, and so we continue our journey . until we get to the point where memory grows dim and the imagination works actively, and we call that the hale halcyon period of life.' This distant futnre and distant past are both creations of the fancy. To say that childhood is the happiest period of life is to offer insult to Providence. The child is at best but a bundle of possibilities. He is a creature of unrestrained impulses, of undeveloped affections. His mina! is like a grate in a well-ordered house. The coal is there, the wood is there, and the whole. thing will break into a blaze when touched with a match. Now, after the match has touched it, what is a pleasanter and more - - - - ? * n' 41 profitable sight than halt-a-dozen lumps ox coal enveloped in a royal blaze, and filling the room so full of light and heat that one forgets the wintry sleet without? So childhood, with its sugar-plums and its toys, will be inferior to manhood with its burning enthusiasm and lofty ambition. A Kentucky Romance.?The wedding guests departed, the lights were put out, ana (he bride 8 father locked the front door, and at break of day the bridegroom left the house, meeting on the piazza a servant, to whom he muttered, "Tell your master I am gone forever." The father-in-law, upon receiving the message, hurried to his daughter's room, where, to his amazement, he found her still in her wedding robes, with hair dishevelled , and veil torn off, and in a state of great excitement. A severe fever followed, but never in her wildest delirium did she betray the cause of her agony. To a friend in Louisville, the other day, she told the cause.' On the wedding night she found out that a former suitor was in love with her, and that she thought more of him than she did of her husband. When her husband entered the chamber he asked her if his rival had ever made 1 ~ * ? k AM mltAMAIIMAn ok A kim A 1UVB IU iiUI | vvucicupuii cue tuiu U1IA1 nue uuitfii Then, with coldness, ard calmness, he said, "Addie, you love him; he shall marry you; we shall never meet again." They sat down on the sofa and talked until dawn, and when it was light he kissed her good-by,*nd with a "God bless you," passed out of the house. It was two years afterwards when he died on the frontier, and then the other man stepped forward and claimed the widow. The second wedding took place recently. House Windows.?The more light admitted to apartments the better for those who occupy tnem. Light is as necessarycto sound health as it is to vegetable life. Exclude it from plants, and the consequences are disastrous. They cannot be perfect without its vivifying influence. It is a fearful mistake to curtain and blind windows so closely for fear of injuring the furniture by exposure to the sun's rays; such rooms positively gather elements in darkness which engender disease. Let in the light often, and fresh air, too, or suffer the penalty of aches and pains and long doctors' bills which might have been avoided. * > * ; ' * Whereas.?A minister having preached against social abnormities to his congregation was a few days after waited upon by a committee presenting him a set of resolutions not very complimentary, to say the least. Looking over the string of abuses, each beginning with "whereas,'.' and the names of the committee signed at the end, he remarked, "Where asses like these draw up resolutions, whereases like these must be expected."