University of South Carolina Libraries
y - ; - -- . ...,,.. ^ ^ j| \ p? ' " ,: "' V::; t *" VOL. XLIV. # . WINNSBORO, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 25, 1888. . NO. 26. . -1 ,, ?, ??imnni| mm B M| , M|B|| |n| firi-rir|nTT-Bn ?,,,.? > ,,B .ji,i,^ ? ... cagnancHi ! > juimiirjaii mimt ig?EBB?UMI BP??OWOBBBWB?BB?liLfj? - : " ''-j The Wife's Choice. Bp In a far-off famcu* land, in days long- gone, j pr Before the wise, good R.ihb! S:m'-on A childless couple sorrowfully cam?: And, neither on the fltber c tsiinsr-blanie, , B jarged that the rubbi grant them a decree ; L Divorcing: them forthwith, perpetually; & Since seven unfruitful years aa<i corns and P> fled. And found a childless home, a barren bed. lH*- The keen-eyed rabbi read in each na!e face sag The '-wish to s;= ve the other from disgracc; P Then bared his head, and sail in accents f ii-li'U. 4-Sad is the bouse wherein no voice of child j Makes glad the two-fold heart with pri to and ! _ joy; Yet that malicious tonirues mny not annoy j With whispered evil motive, secret sin, J Before you separate, singie lives begin, Invite your frieuds, from greatest to the | ieast. And be your supper as a marriage fenst, fTo show you pare as friends, and part in sor- | row; Then w .il I gran: your wish upon the mor- j rc*\" Well pleased, they take his counsel, and pre- j pare ? f A parting feast, and call their friends tc share, ^ Then spake the husband to his childlcss wife: "We part not now in anger, bate or strife; And, as a pledge that it,is is reai.'y so. Take -what vou like besc with vou'when VOU i goShe smiled, and promised him a choice to ! - make. And ever treasure it for old-times* sake. The guests -were gone, save only six at most By the good cheer vanquished, when at last > the host Himself succumbed. The wily wifo then hade That he be :o her father's house conveyed. The morning came, and from his .'npor i'ree, He woke, and gazed around i;im wondering:}-. Then said his wife, who gtooped aud toucned his breast, "Of ali your household have I chosen the best; Till death divorces never shall we parr." a And, rising up, he pressed her to Lis ueart. * ?Hunter MacCalloch. II i mtr.i, ,j rsa Dorcas Caledon, ^ THE ram 6? CALSDOH HEIGHTS.!' V * ?????? BY FLORENCE ?. DIAMOND. CHAPTHE V. . I -was already up and dressed when ITag ? gie appeared next morning. W "Why, miss, ye'r an early riser,'- was her f cheerful comment. "Young ones don't; generally get up without being called a dozen times or so,'' she went on; "but your different'kind, I see." I scarcely knew "how to reply to this compliment from my friend, so I wisely kept silence. "You will come to breakfast now, if you please," she said, opening the door and stepping out into the hall. I followed her through the hall and past the room I knew to be the breakfast room of the family. TITO " T 1 ou are iLiuiaujj a. said, pausing. Maggie hesitated one instant before she answered me. "Mrs. Clayton said you were to eat with us,'' she said, hastily, and, opening a side door, led me into the servants" hall, where, already seated, were the other domestics of the family. They greeted me in a friendlv manner, and Maggie gave mo a seat, by her side. G race was said by the housekeeper, a venerable woman, whose hair I afterward grown, white in the scrvice^of the Caiedons. The meal passed pleasantly, and, to tell the truth, I enjoyed it much more than I _ had the cold silent breakfast I had taken fe. V*?vl- Cnrrrc; . f AMP^t, as I was Stasanng to go up-stairs to the school-room, Maggie j^r" formed me that X had been dcciued attend a day s^ool a short ciste^^away. 'Mrs. Clayi^ thought^. t>c?-Psae said. This the^vas to b^nty lot among them? ? a t)lace 7?10Eg the servants and not even to be tau^1 byt!ie same teacher. My heart r rebe}1^ this fresh insula Child though I -jpi, I felt my blood tingle and my cheeks -1 Tint T -romom. ".vuu ^auc <uu uuggi. j. . _ i ^.red I had ever been dependent upon the .harity of others, and should not complain if things were n<.; quite to my mind. So I dressed myself with tolerable composure, / after all i had beer, supplied -with suffii - cient clothing since my arrival here, but, though these clothes were not much soiled, / I saw at once they were cast-off garments of some one, probably Inma Barrett. Sly pride took lire at this. I would iiot. touch them. I donned the checked gingham I had worn at the home, preferring this to the cast-off C silks or cashmeres of this scornful little. lady. I was not as handsome as she, nor had I as fine raiment, but my pride, I am sorry to say, quite equaled her own. I then gathered up the books with which I had been supplied, and repaired to the kitchen, where ilaggie kindly volunteered to accompany me to school and get _ me settled, as she expressed it. On our W way out I noticed a carriage drawn up ben fore the front entrance, and standing on the balcony was Irma JBarrett, dressed for i going out. S::e was attired in some light blue material that suited her fair skin and golden hair to perfection. Eer little hands were daintily gloved and she wore kid boots, light and small enough for a fairy, Sae was evidently waiting for some one; bat she did not deign to notice me, even by a loyk, as I passed "in company with Maggie. I sighed. How beautiful she was; '-she had every thing; I had nothing at all," I said bitterly, as I trudged on by ilaggie's side. The school building was a low, white, structure standing among the trees and situated on the read leading to the city. There wero a good many children gathered around the steps as we came up; but I had been used to children ali^my life and their presence did not disturb me. We entered the school-room; a pleasant-faced lady arose from her desk to greet us, and I thought her voice the sweetest I had ever heard. In a few words Maggie informed her who I was and of my intention of attending school, all of which the lady listened to with respectful attention. And then, with a kind V smile, bade me welcome to her school, hoping I would find it pleasant, after which she j looked over my books and designated the j * -'? ' 1-VAN.V. A A +T->rvr> cr<T*j"i ( ' lessons JL SUUUiU JLVwi.:u. xxjuh buv-uj M.w^^4V I having departed, she rang the bell, at which the scholars came trooping in aira taking their seats a hush fell upon the school as, w. - with rapt attention, the scholars listened to their teachor who, in the same sweet voice, * read a chapter from the Bible, after which she repeated a simple prayer. The scholars then proceed-.d to their desks, but with no bustle or noise, as is common in country schools. It was indeed a pleasant school. The teacher was so kind, her instruction so V simple and yet instructive and interesting, W I could not help contrasting it with the dry, I dull acd irksome teaching of the day before, k? Our teacher's name was Amy Lester; she J Jived in a tiny cottage just "back of the ' school-house with her mother, who was an invalid and unable to do work of any kind. Amy supported them both by her teaching and her drawing, for she was quite an artist; and a happier, more contented couple than Amy and her mother, would have been MP hard to find. r 2Iy first day at school passed pleasantly p enough, and I returned home in quite a (cheerful frame of mind. But alas! my cheerfulness was of short duration. As I entered the yard, I found the children enjoying themselves under the shade of a . great horse-chestnut that grew near the l gate. They were engaged in jumping a rope, and as this wis a sport in which 2 ? greatly delighted, I stopped a moment to j "VYiii-CU UliCiU. ""Why, helloa?" cried Irving:, when he saw me, and then assuming an air of great friendliness, he wanted me to join in the game. I hesitated, remembering his jeering remarks of yesterday; but I did so wan t to be friendly in this house, where it seemed fc destined I was to dwell, thai, I was willing P to venture any thing almost? gain-it. Accordingly, I approached and spoke to Bertie, who greeted me kindly in return. "Here, now, if you want to jump," cried Irving. He gave one end of the rope to his sister and they commenced slowly swinging f$a$ th? same t&ao urging mo to jump. 5 advanced, and by a quick movement gained ; the ccnter, but at -.bat instant,-with a wickcd | .laugh. Irvir.g threw the rope and tripped j me, throwing me to tbo ground with such ! force that I lay far an instant completely i stunned, bat not foi long. "With a scream I of roge I v.*as upoi my foct, and. scarce knowing what I did,I flew at Irving like a wild-cat. He was a well-grown boy oj twelve; I wits rathei an undersized girl o: ten; but he was taken completely by surprise, and before he ould defend himself I had marked him for recognition by several rather ugly scratches, and brought away as a trophy "a handful of Lair. But his anger j was kindled, and he struck me fiercely, at the same time calling upon Irma to hclj I him. la foot, the ?ghi was raging fiercely, j when I felt myseif suddenly caught in 2 J *? *- - - "* /?- 1 i grip 01 iron, ana tunica to una u miiu, * stranger to me, had caught both Irving and myself by a shoulder of each and now held us apart, a smile of amusement on his face ai our situation. "Well I well!" he said, at length. "TFhatever is the meaning of this? Fighting, ehi And with a girl, Irving'. I am surprised" "She pitched at me first,'' cried Irving, his voice trembling with auger. "She'd ^ r\"tA }T\ vL.'S.V t v afy^sem- ; ?" 4 JV V iz-f ' i!>f. ,m " f, -v .. ctfy * OJU - V, r^~ | - \\ m Jf!& MM I TTAT> SIAKKED HIM FOR KECOGMTIOX. have torn ray eyes out if I had not defended myself." uYes, indeed," chimed in Irma, anxious to defend her brother. "You must not blame him, Mr. Roland; this little beggar would have hurt him if she could." During this interesting colloquy I had stood quite still, too an^ry, hurt and bewildered to speak. But at Irma's crucl words my temper blazed again. A torrent of words were cn my tongue, but, happening to glance one side, I saw a face peering through the shrubbery. I knew it in an instant, it was my friend on the cars. I knew the laughing eyes and the brown, curling hair. There was a broad smile on his face I fwnlfl j>1sr>. TTiq armenranee decided rae. I did not pause to reply or defend myself before the gentleman, but, catching my books from the ground, fled toward the house, never pausing till I reached my own room, where I sank down, panting and exhausted. x I had never remembered being angry ^ for and this new feeling of rage and 'fairly overpowered me. "When ?f grieved before I had always wept a-tear dimmed my eyes nov>- <*hose nerv flashes would have scorched fcl;c up. But at length I calmer, i removed av bonnet^nd bc-^d my face and hands f^ts'cl^ I l?ecame conscious oi a ia my lcit arm, I pushed up (^^S?eevc and found a livid blue mark across m;.* arm which, was also severely bruised, either by my fall or from a blow in the affray I had just taken part in. I looked at my braised arm with a terrible feeling ox rage and grief, not so much at the injury, that would soon heal, but tnere are scars on our memory that never heaL This was one. I had never been struck before, and though it must be remembered I struck first, yet in my own eyes, certainly, and in others perhaps, I was quite justified in doing so. Therefore my feeling of outrage was the same as though I had beea. ignominiously beaten without a cause. Irving Barrett, no doubt, regarded the whole affair as a joke, yet he hardly guessed that that one cruel act would be weighed in the balance against him when that same scale was balanced for life or death. "Well, Miss, yer uncommon sober tonight." I started. It was Maggie's cheery voice at my elbow that aroused me Irora my gloomy thoughts. I did not answer, but followed her out and into the supper-room without a word. After supper I inquired who the gentlemen were X had seen in the garden. " The black whiskered one," said Maggie, "is Mr. Roland, an old friend of the family; he is here every summer. The other young man, it seems, is a friend of his; I never saw him before to-day; Lis name is Oliver Dudley, and a handsome, proper-spoken young fellow he is, too," she added. T -rc-PTif. hrvV tn mv room and moned in si lence until dark, when, seeing the family were all assembled in the grand drawingroom, I crept out, a ad talcing the first path I came to, wandered aimlessly on, scarcely knowing or caring whither it led, till I found myself on the shore of a lovely lake, on whose clear surface the moonlight was resting, silvering each wave that rose till it looked like molten silver. Drawn up to the shore was a beautiful boat with softly cushioned seats, and a pair of oars handsomely carved rested in the oarlocks. I stood watching tins moonlight scene with such keen delight thai I did not notice the approach of a party coming near until they were close upon me. I had barely time to conceal myself behind one of the rastic seats that lined the shore as they all came up laughing, chatting and seeming in high spirits. There were in the party Mr. and Sirs. Clayton, Irma and Irving, and also the two gentlemen I had seen in the afternoon. I trembled lest they should discover me, for I>Irs. Clayton came so near that her siiken skirts brushed my hands as I crouched beneath the scat; but, fortunately for me, they passed and entered one of the boats without noticing ine. I could hear the dip of the oars as they rowed out on the lake. How I would have liked to accompany them. I had never been in a boat in my life, and I fancied it must be a great pleasure to tloat, as they were doing, over the silver waves. But I could not go, sol remained where I was, listening to the sound of their merry voices, and hating them all the more heartily, I think. I even wished that the boat would upset, and, not drown, them, I was not quite so bad as that, but give them a wetting. T>_ J. ~ o-fr loof ?>UU LUCY CUUULt; LU cfcu tlerncn assisted the ladies out and the party returned toward the house, all but ilr. Dudley, he lingered behind and lit a cigar. I could sec the blue rings of smoke curling up through the clear air. The rest of the party*went on, evidently not missing him. He waited until they were out of hearing and I was devoutly wishing he would go on when he walked leisurely up to the scat, behind which I was hiding, and stopped. I could sec his face plainly in the moonlight, and there was a smile uj?cn it. Could ho be laughing at me? Had heseeu me? I asked myself; and he answered as if instantly divining my thought5: "Yes I know you are there. Come out! What are you hiding for?" I crawled out and stood before him, a very tumbled, confused looking object, no doubt, from my hiding among the reeds and rushes that grew on the bank "So you bid, did you'" ho inquired, locking at me still with that kind, quizzical look, half laughing1, halt serious, on his face. ""Were you afraid, little one?" putting cut his hand and drawing me gently to his side stroking my tumbled hair with his white, sha-oely hand. u5\o, sir," I answered, sullenly, "but they did not want me and I hid to keep out of their sight." '^"Yes, yes," he said, thoughtfully, and - ; J - then wit bout any seeming questions ho drew from me the whole story of my adoption by Mrs. Clayton, my treatment since my arrival there, and my difficulty with Irving Barrett that afternoon. The young man seemed puzzled. " You are sure you are no relation to Sirs. Clayton," he said, after a few moment' thought. "None that I Imow of, s*r," I replied, "certainly, if I was she would not treat me so." -Mr. Dudley smiled. "Perhaps not," he said. "But" he added, starting suddenly, "I am going away to-morrow, Dorcas (I had already told him my name), and shall not be back for years. I am golrg abroad to finish I my education. I may be gone three, four or J c> l-ii iivu yours, jl u:u surzy j. uiii st soon for your sake. I would see if I could not unravel this mystery, for mystery it surely is. But, as I said before. I am going and have not time now. But now listen to me, Dorrie: Be a good girl; never mind the snoera and gibes of the family, but attend to your books.. You have a kind teacher, you say, that is good. Make as many friends as you can and as few enemies. Don't run away, as I dare say you are thinking of, but stay here. Let me find you here when I return. Will you do as I wish, little one?" "I v.*ill never do.any thing you would not like, Mr. Dudley," I answered, simply, and for years I kept that promise. ''That is right," ho answered, gladly. "Now we will go to the house." Ee arose and took my hand and I trudged along by his side, feeling, I knew not why, strangely safe and glad. When we rcached the house he paused. "Good-night, Dorrie," he said. "Remember what I have told you. You v.-cre hiding to-night, little cue. Don't do it again, DorTir> r.nfin mirl fmrV and irenerous in y.our actions, 'tis the best way, dour. nomember what I have toivl j-ou and your promise to ne. I shall hold you to that promise, Dorcas," and he smiled. i:I am your Inend," he continued, " and as a pledge I will give you this," and he pressed Into my hand something that glittered brightly. "Keep this," he said; "don't part with it unless you can do no other way. Now good-bye." Ee raised me in his arms and kissed me; then, letting me go, disappeared within doors. I looked at the token ho had given me. It was a bright-golden dollar that was shining on my palm. I saw and I felt rich indeed, fori had never owned but a single piece of money before, and that was a large copper cent which little Paul at the home had given me, and which now, wrapped iu paper, ro- j posed in a box in my room where I kept my I lew scanty Keepsakes, jl huu with them when I reached my r^eai? and then crept into hed, feeling quik> cheerful and happy. Some one cared me?some one was my friend. This comforted me more than I can tell ^d j.-foll asleep to dream of Mr. Dudlev Aad^^^agniSccnt present. _ The next rathe?'1 s.aw the two ^entJ'*^cn-^uie away, and X knew my onai??-*d was Soing far from me, and could ^?*ly keep back the tears; but I reso! "*** *? ^7' 23 Dudley had told me, ^ake the best of things, and I succeeded* .dry well, though my life was a hard one, shut out as I was from all companionship with children of my own age. Except my v schoolmates at school I knew no one, and , these I was strictl^iorbidden to visit or invite inside the gate of "The Heights." My only company, therefore, was the servants of the household, and though they were always kind to xae, I often felt I was ' in thA' -ivrir. and. considered a nuisance. I At such, times I would wander away by : myself and sit for hours on the mossy bank : of the lake, or under the shade of a tree ' in some part of the grounds where no one < could see me, and there read and re-read < the few bocks I had picked up. Once a year the family went away for a month or so, and then, unseen, I would steal through the grand rooms, feasting my eyes < on the beauties of the costly furniture, pictr ( ures, carpets and statuary which the house ( contained. I often wondered cif the little heiress of Caledon (the dead one I meant) ; had ever traversed these rooms, or her childish laughter or chatter ever echoed 1 through the house, or had she died ignorant 5 of all this grandeur that should have been ' hers. I inquired of Maggie about her, for ! somehow I felt a strong interest andsym- < pathyforthe little girl who had died when < she had so much to live for. But Maggie , knew nothing about her. Sue had died ion% . before she came there, she said; anc^he <_id . not even, know her name, though she be- , lieved it was Dolly, or some thing like it. "The housekeeper could tell ye," she said; j but I disliked to ask questions of this gravo personage, and so remained in ignorance of what might- have been a great benefit ; tome. ; I seldom went to church, and I missed the ; sermon we had always been used to hear j each Sabbath and our quiet Sabbath-school very much. The family went to church in their grand carriage, and a liveried coachman drove their handsome horses for them, i The. servants were permitted to attend once : in the day at any church they chose; but < few availed themselves of this privilege, ; preferringto gather in the kitchen andgos- ; sip. Maggie o ccasionally went to church, but : the church sheattendedwasaRomanishone : and I did, not understand a word of what was said; so I begged to remain at home, a request she was only too glad to grant. * I of ten wondered at my strange life, for 1 iVcJ . V !} c l0*f/5& r, 4 rift 4 m.'. . 'Ji'' ~ <^t~* l^syr^u "^^K. J^j -W<*.il " what ahe YOtr hiding for?" it was a strange life. Here I was living, eating, sleeping, under the same roof with a family who evidently paid for all I en- j joyed, and yet I was as distant from them, as far removed, though I had dwelt at the farthest comer of the globe. I seldom saw the children; I never spoke to Sir. or Sirs. Clayton; they never addressed rne in any manner. What explanation they made to their friends for mv appearance I know not. I was simply passed over as though they never even dreamed of my existence. But when I had been at the Heights nearly two years, I was one day nearly upseo by XTorr<r;? >niTs;ti'n<T i-ntn mv room-in a great hurry, and erring: "C&, miss, the mistress seat me to fetch ye down to the parlor at once. That old witch, Miss Armund, is just come, and nobody looking for her. Put on your best frock and come down this minute. "Wondering \vhat could have happened to work such wondrous change, I did as Haggle commanded, and soon found myself in the parlor, welcomed by Miss Armund, who looked many years older than when I had last seen her. She welcomed mo kindly, however; made me sit by her, and asked me a multitude of questions about my health, my studies, etc., all of which I answered as well as I could. I was astonished at the fVionrTinocc chivrt-r* mft V>v ClaVtOU and Irma, who treated me in every way as a member of the family. I began to think my troubles were ended; but, alas for human expectations! Miss Armund stayed two cays, during which time I was shown every attention. At the eid of that tiae iliss AimuA& J r i her leave, evidently well satisfied with the condition of affairs. She had not been gone an hour when I was ignominiously shoved back to my old place and there to remain nntii her next visit. But I now saw that it was some secret v.*hich concerned ilrs. Clayton's welfare that this woman held, and that accounted for my installment there. V.'hat this secret v/as I determined sooner or later to liid out. j TO BB CONTINUED] ONE MOMENT TOO LATE. Tlio History of a Confederate Military Execution. (From the Philadelphia Times.) The scene of my tale opens in a little cabin in the Alleghany Mountains, in \Wcf Virrn'm'n f.trAr.f-r.tiw t-pjmvj van A woman wag anxiously bending over a sick child tossing and muttering in the unrest of fever. Every now and then the word "father" escaped the child's lips. "The child grieves powerfully after her father," said one of the neighbors who had come to help the mother nurse the ill child. "That she does,"' repiiod the poor mother, with a weary sigh. "Ke always set a world of store by her. It almost broke her little heart when he went to the war, and since she has been sick she has begged for him the pitifclest you ever heard." "Can't he ccme to see her?" asked the neighbor. "Ko," replied the woman; "his colonel suid he ecuidii't be spared now. had a furlough laat summer. If he had knovTn about this and waited, to mo she might get well if she <*.ould just see her father, and it wouldn't fall so hard on me, either, if he wa* here." Several days went by, and kittle Sajj&i, the sickx child grew woi-^- --t lengBi the mother wrote an urgent letter to her; husband, out of the apany of her heart, imploring to cojsc home at all costs' if he wished to his little daughter alive again. Of"2 more he asked for a furlough, and again he was refused. An engagement was pending. The enemy's force wa^- greatly superior to ours, and not a raan could be spared. John. Bali was a brave man; he had proved that in many an engagement. 2s otiling couid have tempted him to: swerve from his duty as a soldier, except. his frantic desire to sec liis child once more. Under this pressure he left the camp .-gainst orders, and filed to his rude cabin among the Alleghanies just in time to see little Sallie's face light up once more with a gleam of joyful recognition, .ind to receive li^r parting kiss. To do this he had incurred the brand of deserter, and had taken his life in his own.; hands. EF.TUP.NIXG TO THE IIA>"KS. * Scarcely were the child's remains interred than ho, without waiting to comfort his sorrow stricken wife, started back tocamp, intendiDg to throw himof his commander for ex<i?EB0?^^cany oftense committed ; under so overwhelming a pressure ;-v or,. if the^orsirtecme to the worst, to meet L?is fate -like a man. Bat a new complication had arisen. During the few days Le hkd been absent the men on the other side had changed their position like the o.^V?CCQ U^arrl {*rw1 +.iiA ^DAmv'a. troops had come between him and his command. He traveled through a cold, drenching rain, sleeping at night in a forest to iessen the risk of falling into :he enemy's hands. . Ee began to feel a strange stupor creeping over him and was just able to irag himself to the house of a friendly countryman, who took him in and kept iiim for the next few weeks, during which time he lay ill of pneumonia. Just as he was beginning to convalesce, md before he had had time to voluntarily give himself up, he was arrested as a deserter. His wife followed him to camp and pleaded for him, telling the cause of his desertion with all the eloquence that strong emotion c^uld dictate and takinrr all the blame on herself. In rain; he was tried and condemed by 5very rule of war as a deserter. The 2ornmaiidiiig officer, however, made this 3oncession to the agonized wife- lie would defer the execution lor three days, so as to give her time to go to Richmond and implore the clemency of: President Davis, which was now the sole hope for the prisoner's life. GOING TO PLEAD FOP. HEI: HUSBAND. Like Jeam Deans going to plead before the Queen for her sister's life, the simple mountain woman went to the_ Confederate capital and pleaded her ! Tiorr'to U lidL'.'iiiU. D tttUOC KJCI^IU j She had it in her poorer to prove that he had shown himself a brave soldier, that he had not left the camp from cowardice or from defection to the cause, but from his overwhelming love for his dyirig ahild and his intense desire to see her once more before she passed away. Davis finally granted the man's pardon, and drew up a paper to that effect, which; he gave to a messenger, directing, him! to take the nest train and carry the dispatch to the prisoner's commanding officer. He moreover gave the woman a duplicate paper to make her husband's release the more certain. Joyfully she started off with the pre-. cious document that was to carry life and: liberty to her beloved husband. The; cars seemed all too slow for her burning impatience. The train was always heaviiv loaded in those days; there was so much traveling to and iro, so much shitting of the troops from one point to another. Prom hard and constant use . daring the war the railroads got into very bad order, so that accidents and detentions were quite frequent occurrences, especially toward the close of the war. On this fateful txip one of these frequent accidents occurred during the night. It was not a very, disastrous accident, but still it occasioned the detention of the train until day before the necessary repairs could be made. XEA2IXG CiilP. It seemed as if "the stars in their courses fought against" the condemned prisoner. His wife wrung her hands with ". antic impatience during the detention. but there was no help for it. She had to endure it, though each moment seemed to her an hour. At length she was speeding on lie? way again, and ! in a few hours more she reached' her j destination* She and Davis' messenger started together in a wagon for the camp, urging the driver on to almost frantic, haste. As they neared the camp the sound of a voliey of guns made the poor wife shiver and turn pale. They reached the camp. She could not ask a question, but the messeDger requeued mat they should be conducted to the commander's tent. Silently she handed him the President's paper. He took it, read it with white face and lips and silently turned away from her. It was too late: the terrible truth W2S bome to her without a word being spoken. "With a heartrending shriek she fell insensible on the .ground. Tenderly the ' >rave but stern men around her lifted her up and ministered to her. and tears stood in many a veteran's eyes over the sorrow-stricken woman. The commanding officer had deferred the execution three days, and even late into the afternoon of the third day. Then thirteen men from another regiment than John Ball's were chosen, and twelvj of them were given muskets, though only one of these muskets had shot n it. The thirteenth man was held ha resrve in case of the " first shot not doingits work effectually, and to render the sene more harrowing this actually provel to be the case, so the thirteenth man yas called on to give the death wonri to the ill-fated John Ball. This man <eclared afterwards to a friend that this ras the most terrible moment of his life, aid that he would rather have un on ;o fulfill suchu task. I Lave given a ficttbus name to tie prisoner, but in ail oshr respects I Ixave adhered to facts. THE WIFE'S FATE. Then the wife reco^red from her swoa her brain was so deranged by the teritie blow that she seemed mercifully unabl} to realize or clearly recall the trajecy- that had b e fallen her. Alternate fits a. wild excitement arid gloomy apath; succeeded each other.- She slipper out of camp and instinctively found tier way back to her humble cabin, snc^aSer pining there a few weeks she was out morning found lying deadvon the g^fee of little "Sallie. GOVEIiSOK MAKMADIKE'S DUEL. KUltosrayeWow^^'cer^Whllo the Enemy Were Advancing o , H,eir Troops. (From the St. Louis Republican.) General P. M. Frost has been acquainted with the deceased ever since the opening of the Rebellion, and gave a Republican reporter an account ot the duel between the deceased governor and Brigadier Genefal Walker, of Tennessee, last night. At the time the duel was fought, General Frost was in command of a division under General Price before Litie Rock, and, as General Price was in Memphis at that time, General Frost was practically in command of all the Confederate forces at Little Rock. General Frost relates the story or the duel in this manner: "Both of the men were excellent gentlemen and there was no necessity for a duel. Everybody knows that Governor Marihaduke belongs to an excellent family. Both bore the title of brigadier general, and Marsh "Walker was connected with the best families of Tennessee. He was related to the Knox and F-oIk families of that State, and his own family was of high standing. There was some jealousy existing between the two men on account of rank. Walker was Marmaduke's superior in rank, but in some manner or other jealousy arose be tween them and General Marmaduke made some reference to General Walker in conversation.' It was not long until Marmaduke's remarks were carried to Walker's eara by busy-bodies. Walker demanded that Marmidoke make a retraction, which the litter refused to do. Walker then sent challenge to .-General Marmaauke to figSt a duel, an(fhc<sould not do ct'aerwise.than accept, the-iab allege. l?he duel was fought rfMIwfeefe' making advances on Price's command, and our pickets were actually engaged with the enemy at the time. Pistols were the weapons resorted to, and only one shot was fired by each. General Marmaduke's bullet p-arced "Walker through the kidneys, and he died after lingering for several dajs in great agony. General Marmaduke escaped unhurt. The unhappy occurrence was a source of much regret to him even up to the present time. J2e never spoke of the duel, but I know that he has always lamented that it ever took place. I have never read any of the cor?Aoy\/\r\/lATHAA rvot?CA^ Knf trn/lT) JL TT Jilull JJtiOOtU Kt\sU ?T ?uv two generals on the subject, but I have always thought, and the army generally believed, that the duel was the result * of bad management on the part of the seconds, of both men. They passed through my camp as they went out to fight the duel, and had I known what they were going to do I would have placed both of them under arrest, and thus the duel might have been averted. It was no time for an occurrence of that kind, anyhow. The enemy was advancing on our works, and we needed all of our men for fighting purposes. "I think he was at one time engaged to be married, shortly after the war closed, to a young lady of Memphis, but I am not positive as to that. He was very attentive to the lady and they had a quarrel, and if an engagement ever existed it was broken off as a result of the quarrel. Afterwards the lady married some gentleman in the South- The Governor was a worshipper of little children and always seemed happy in their presence." "Go South, Younjf 3Xan." Ooe of the stirring business men of New York is James S. Lewis, who is connected with a rock driil. company, and has occasion in the course of the year to visit many parts of the country. His opportunities for comparing the relative growth of the different sections are excailent. Within two or three years he has become impressed with the "New South" as a growing field of industry to an extent amounting in the eyes of some of his friends to Southern fever. Mr. Levris remarks: "There is no fever in my views of the South. It is the simple result of observation. If Horace "Greely was alive to-day he would say, 'Go South, young man.' The secret 01 ooutnern growtn is easily understood after a few visits. The war left the young men of that region impoverished almost to the verge of starvation. They became inured to privation. They learned what their fathers with big plantations and droves of slaves had never dreaming of learning. They learned to labor and save their earnings. They have become money-makers and moneysavers. They know the value of wealth by the bitter experience of lack of it. They will earn and save a dollar where we at the North will spend five. The war left us up here in a stimulated, prosperity. It left them on bare bones. They had to do or die. They decided to do and not to die."?New York Tribune. Talmage on Newspaper Men. The Rev. Mr. Talmage wonde rs that newspaper men believe anything. They see more of the sham and meanness of the world than the members of any other profession. They are bored by cranks, mock moralists and pefjtilent humbugs every day in the week, ?nd they see the follies and shams of the world through disguises chat are as open as. the day to their practiced and disgusted eye. All this is true, but Mr. Talmage -should remATr>V>Ar f.Vtaf. nptrsriaTiPT -men are fairlv ? ~ . buobling over with ciiarity and good nature. They see the good as "well as the evil in the world.?Cincinnati Commercial Gazette. 'C an 10 TrouMe to Swallow Dr. Pierce's "Pellets''(theoriginal "little liver pills") and no pavn or griping. .Cure sick or bilious headache, sour stomach, on/! flooncp tVir> CTCtorr <vnrT rvotcpls 2."> Cts. a vial. ? " ^ T-r i Ii would be a terri.ble tbing if tlie Hudson should eTer be s tolen by river tbi fives. 1 ! ] : THE LAW AFL) THE LYNCHERS. A DISPASSIONATE DISCUSSION OF A DIFFICULT SUBJECT. Tha Opinion of a Conservative Carolina .Journal?The Case Considered in Different Aspects. (Editorial in tlie Xeowec Courier) The opinions of the press, in different parts of the State, on this startling occurrence, differ widely. It is generally con coded that the act is the tat oral result of a precedent established by the whites in like cases of offence. As a consequence some condemn the act and all acts of lynching in the abstract. Others, winking at such summary vengeance, when prompted by a pure and high purpose to protect virtuous women from violence worse than death, favor a thorough investigation in this case as to whether thio act was the outcome of an outraged 3entiment or the offspring of prejudice and imitation. U triers taKe the bold ground that u deceased was guilty of the crime with which he was accused r he deserved the fate he met, and the perpetrators deserve commendation rather than censure. We find others, who neither ic terms approving nor condemning the lynching, find in the ofeeurrence a pregnant text for discoursing on tho inefficiency of the administration of the criminal law by our courts and juries. No law abiding citizen will deny but lynch law is wroug in itself and dangerous to society. While this is true, there are crimes so revolting to man's moral nature, so destructive to society, so awful iu their consequences to individuals and by sympathy to communities, that neither human nor divine law ever has or ever can si-ay the hand of vengeance in their punishment. Of these crimes fiendish and brutal violence to respectable women is the highest, and wo hardly think, iu such cases, any earthly power could stay the avenging hand of an outraged community. The uoitomuj Vi liUC W1 YlViWUU auu ^UUJSU* ment of tlie guilty party cannot do this, ana the divine command, thou sha}t not kill, has proved equally powerless. Eespect for woman, pride in her elevation and protection is a striking characteristic of Anglo Saxon civilization and the crowning giorv of Christian progress. Summary punishment of a brute, blaek or white, who assaults a pure woman, we cannot condemn, and yet we cannot deny it is a dangerous precedent, not only tending to a bus? for the commission of the nameless crime charged against deceased, but a3 growing and extending to less horrible crimes, until no limit being fixed, the written law becomes a u^d letter, and for it the txcitgd and partially informed opinion ol a | nlo&is substituted. In some cases the Jhigfcest good of society, its preservation and the protection of the mothers and daughters of our State, will constitute an acceptable excuse in the public mind for baching. While we hold this, we think every case of lynching should be thoroughly investigated and on the trial - of parties charged with it, we fee], sure our juries would convict or acquit; oa ;beir Ixons&t judgment from the lasts, whether the Ivnchinc was oromoted bv the singie motive of vindicating virtue and protecting society, or by a spirit of race revenue and imitation. Even in the most excusable form the enforcement of lynch law is playing with fire, and if ever justified as to the actors the justification should be based on the honest conviction that it iv the best, the safest and the highest preventive .of an irreparable wrong and iv virtual necessity to the preservation of society. In the abstract, lynch law meets our and public condemnation, but circumstances may exist, sc.eh as the character of the assailant and assailed, the nature and extent of .the injury, which may excuse if not justify it. How do they stand in the Central lynching!.' Waldrop is reported as being a halfwitted person, by some as a person mentally irresponsible. Thus should in his case nave srsyea suaim;i.:y jjuuiSLiuie-Li*. It is further stated by some that his guilt was a matter of doubt, and that he denied it to the Jast. Ihis should have I led to inquiry in ariy case before the death penalty was enforced. And here lies the great danger in lynch law, that upon excitement, gro wiog out of an aggravated crime, passion usurps reason and men act without proper inquiry as to the crime and the guilt of the party charged. Again, in such cases the standing of the assailed should be considered. Has | the negro race established by their life | and conduct that high moral* character, I that reputation for virtue which makes such a wrong to their race irreparable, I the life of the victim a living death? We maintain they have not. They marry and intermarry with little regard to past chastity ftnd neither their education nor habits lead them to value the reputation of their women, as do the whites. We do not deny but every citizen, male and female, white and black, are entitled to and should receive equal and impartial protection under the iaw, but we deny, or strongly doubt whether a criminal as- i 1 A. AOrt AV ollAnl/1 Siici.it; UX1 <X UJuZUJX wl/ixlouji vc^ju. vi j under the character of the race, arouse ; that just feeling oi indignation, that firm and noble resolve, coupled with genuine excitement, which a like assault on a white woman by a black or white man necessarily does from habit and education, and which alone, il any excuse be allowed, stands as an excuse for past acts of lynch law by white nisn. Both races have their recourse for protection to the law and both here, we tb ink, would get justice. Here both should seek ifc, but with the whites there is an innate as well as habitual purpose to vindicate purity and preserve society at all hazards. They cannot await the slow process of the courts. Is the negro instigated by the same motive? Has he by habit the same inborn principles and purposes? Each reacler must answer for himself. Again, tho demoralization of the negro irom SHUU.UJU. s^lULtilUijjnbivuL auu cicrauuLi to citizenship and from political power from 1868 had made him arrogant, even beyond citizenship, and led him to frequent acts of criminal assault on reputable white women which threatened, in its increasing tendency, to subvert our social fabric unless promptly checked. This state of things led to lynch law for that one crime, and in a few instances only for aggravated crimes has it been pursued by the whites in other cases, i On the other hand cases of criminal assault on negro women by whites have been of rare occurrence, in fact-, the case of this half-witted man at Central is the only one we can call to mind. In this { respect this c.?se of lynching differs from ' others by whites, in its excusatory character. The Security of white women, traveling or dwelling unprotected, was in constant jeopardy and demanded prompt if not extra-jridicial acts of protection. The security of the negro woman has never in the same way been in jeopardy. i Again, this case assumes importance in view of the characteristics of the two races as to citizenship and property. The white race,' as a rule, is intelligent, moral ami habituated by training $na interest to obey law. Even in exceptional cases of violations of law, by taking the law into their own hands for the protection of virtue from fiendish and brutal outrage, the whites have moved quietly as an organized citizenship, bent rather on the prevention of similar crimes than on revenge. Owning the property of the country, their interest in its preservation, having families, their respect for them and their safety, operated to check any spirit of general lawlessness, tending to anarchy. Handling fire, they moved cautiously, checking its svtimv flion fVio n hi oof. in view. V-^VU. il\J KSOi-Li.iiu kuv ?vw. ? . - ? - On the other hand, the black race, as a rule, is ignorant, immoral and often dishonest. They are besides an impulsive people, who, under excitement, are not subject to the control and direction of reason. Owning little property, no motive of pecuniary interest operates to check excesses, but rather to stimulate them. There are some striking exceptions to the rule and we hope these may increase. ^fTrom these facts, lj-ncb law, alwaysdangerous-and never defensible in morals or strict law, is in the hands of the negro race a widely different thing from h ch law in the hands of the whites Tue latter have al ways used it as a corrective and preventive of the highest and most revolting crimes, and even then in a decent or orderly way. The latter, once adopting it with impunity, from their nature and. training are likely to use it for revenge or a spirit of feckless lawlessness. While each race is entitled to equal and impartial protection under the law, still all cases of lynching, as violations of law, should be viewed in connection with the persons concerned and surrounding circumstances. As the Central victim of outrage died from her injuries, the perpetrator would have been found guilty of murder and execute;!, if rn'-ntbllv and morally responsible. If Watdrop was the guilty party, assuming him doll capax, he suHoced only the fate the law would have allotted him, though in a cruel way. It is not the guilt or innocence of Waldrop or the lynchers that so much concerns society, ay this new advance of lynch law, both in the actors and the surrounding circumstances. There is far more in it than the simple fact that A. was lvnchcd for a nameless crime on B. It is an exception to past acts. Lynching by whites for this crime has notbeen confined to negro perpetrators, but has been inflicted on whites and biacts promiscuously. With the whites it has been and is based on the vindication of virtue from brutal violence. It is a principle of preservation. On the other hand we do not call to mind a case where blacks have lynched a black for such a crime on their own race, though our court calendars contain numbers of charges for such crimes. This departure by the blacks from past precedent, an.I that, too, on a white man of known doubtful sanity, suggests other motives than those heretofore actuating white men. What was the real motive, and what was the prompting incentive in this view, becomes material and demands -full investigation, apart from the act in itself, as all other like acts,' being a very ingfc violation of iaw. The investigation and trial of the parties charged may result ir the partial, if not entire suppression oi Itmrth law. to which end sill citizens anxiously look. ASLEEP FOll S< VE>' YEARS. A Farmer's Curious Affliction Which Followed an Attack of Fever. A Utica (Mum.) telegram says: Herman Haines lias sispt almost continually for seven years. He has been treated in a dozen different ways, but no one has been able to break his protracted slumtier. Powerful electric batteries have been applied to his body, the only effect being a contraction . of the mnscle*. Haines is now forty-nine years old, and ten years ago was a prosperous farmer in St. Clair county, 111. At tliat time li was hale and hearty, his weight being 180 pounds. In 1877 he was stricken with fever and a^ue, and in the spring of 18S0 movec to St. Charles, Winona couuty, wheacc he was brought to Utica. A few mouthafter his arrival in this State he ftl asleep, and he has lived in this Strang* I condition lor more iuuu &cvcu ^.coio* In the summer of 1SS4 he awoke on< morning, arose from his bed, put on hi; clothes, and went about his work. Wher told that he had slumbered four yfar* he grew indignant and would not belie v< that he had slept more than a n'ght un til led before a mirror and shown kii long black hair and beard and sunkei cheeks and eyes. For a moith hi.< health and habits seemed perfect. H( went to bed at the usual hour, slepi through the night, and arose with th< lark.' In August, 1834, his wife became verj ill, and Haines was obliged to depriv* himself of needed rest. One night, whiit taking her a cup of tea, he suddenly fel asleep, dropped the cup, sank to, th< lioor, and had to be taken to his bed from which he has never since ric^n He lies on his back, breathes natun?iiy and suffers little pain; bat is wasting away. His weight is now less tnai ninety pounds, and he is no longer &bl< to move himself in bed. About 11 o'clock every evening h< awakes for five or six minutes, during which time he is hurriedly given a sof boiled egg, a little soup, and a swallov or two of coffee, his only daily nourish ment. He is extremely nervous during his brief waking interval?, but his con v^rsation indicates that his mind is no beclouded. Xo medicine has passed hi lips for two years.. His children ar< bright and healthy. Progress iu the State. The Baltimore Manufacturers' Record o this week contains the following suitemen of new enterprises in this State for the pas week: Beech Island.?The Franklin Kaoli; Company are erecting works ana expec to be shipping clay by March. They wi] enlarge their works in the summer. Thos J. Daues is president. Beech Island.?A stave and barrel fac tory has Ixjen erected. Black Mingo.?F. Ithgm & S >n contem plate soon building a narrow gauge trar railroad. Char.^ston.?Oliver & Carter have com menced work on their contract to rebuil the county jail. Greenville.?Barton & Gilleland wi] start the manufacture of harness, saddlery etc. Pemaria.?Geo. B. Aull and Theodor 2s. Kibler purpose starling a saw mill. Summeryille.?A company has bee chartered to build the hotel reported laj week. The capital stock will be abou .$20,000 or ?23,000. An old man named 'Tadgray, livin about six miles from Latonia, Texas, o Saturday started home, facing the blizzard His horse went up to his gate and stoppec The man had literally frozen to death i the saddle and sat stiff and upright. A charity bawl? Gimme five cents t I buy some bread with." TOO MUCH 3XARRIED. An Atlanta Fireman Charged xvith Having Fonr Wives, One of Them from Pickens and Another from Anderson County. (From the Atiaata Journal.) Benjamin Barton, a supernumerary of the fire department, waa arrested and . locked up at police headquarters this morning on a charge of bigamy. This morning a lady called "at police headquarters and had a private talk with the chief. She introduced herself as * Mrs. Benjamin Burton, of Homer, CW\ and stated that she married Mr. Bu ton - - about two years ago and separated from , >._ him after learning that he had wires elsewhere. Before marriage she was a Miss Lizzie Kiz'sli y. The"lady had a little girl with her of whom Mr. Burton was said to be the father. It was at the instigation of this lady visitor that the chief arrested Burton. This afternoon Mrs. Burton, of Homer, will swear out a warrant charging the prisoner with bigamy. Last August Burton married Miss Delia Wilson, daughter of Mr. Biley Wilson, in Atlanta, and if whac Mrs . v Burton, of Homer, alleges" ia true, this will make the fourth wife that he has v.. r living. He will be charged with marrying the i-11 : I luuuwiiig xauica. Miss Lizzie Kirkley, of Homer, Ga. Miss Lula Robertson, of Easley Station, S. C. Miss Lula Hall, of Anderson county, S. C. Miss Delia Wilson, of Atlanta. Burton came to Atlanta threo years ago, and worked under Sanitary Officer King for two years, and since last August has served as a supernumerary in the fire department. The prisoner was seen by a Journal reporter and asked what he had to say about the charge of too much wife, and he replied:"Why, I have only one wife and never had but one, and that is the one that I married last an gust, jxuss vviison. i have never liv?d in South Carolina, nor in Homer, Ga., and never married anybody in either place." "How old are yon?" "Twenty-two." "You must have|married very rapidly." "Ye*, it seems so from the charge against me. Bat I am not the man wanted by the alleged Mrs. Burton, from Homer. "She has simply made a mistake." "Where does your family live?" "I don't know. I was bom at P jwder Springs, and my people went from there to Elbert county, and I have not heard ^ from them in several years." "And the four wives are not yours?" "Only one of them is. Can't you send word to my wife where I am?" "Which wife?" <?t viatt/v+j-u.^ mn fhat, t via/? rmlvmiA." * *"r " v BVAX* J v " w ~ " ~~ ti ~ Inquiries were made of some of tlie members of the fire department as to Burton's antecedents, but no one seemed to know anything about him. At 2.30 o'clock Mrs. Barton, formerly of Homer, Go., and working in Lynch's tailor shop, called at police headquarters "and confronted Burton in the presence . of the chief of police, ti e Journal repor- ' . ter and others. A stupid stare "was all i he could give the woman. L "I don't know you. Who are you?" [ he stammered out. 4'Oh, it is a great pity you don't," reI plied the little lady, and she proceeded s at once to give him a piece of her -^nyjc. Burton, according to the woman's. statement married first in South Carolina; then married her; returned to South Carolina, married again, and then came ?. to Atlanta and married again. Mrs. Burton No. 2 did not know of Mrs. Barton No. 4 until yesterday after. noon. . Facts About Rainfall. | The subject of the rainfall is an inter' esting one this winter. The American Meteorological Journal informs us that "the precipitation in the temperate zone is extremely variable /r< m season to sea1 sod," which inspires hope that otherr winters may differ a little from this one. ' T'r>?a /3?e/?neeinn nf f,V>A wpftfchpr ionroal is. ^ however, chiefly devoted to the rainfall I on the Western plains, which is recogniz? ed as a most important element in' esti mating the agricultural future of our | country by such competent autboriiies ^ , as General Morrow, Mr. Charles Francis Adams, Professor S. R. Thompson and > ex-Senator Dorsey. In investigating the ! climatology of the United State?, allow^ ance has to be made for the difficulty of ^ j pkcing rain gauges in exposed localities , so as to obtain accurate results. Snow ' drifts and inequalities of exposure play . an important part in upsetting ^ the * measurements by gauges; and muda 5 care is necessary to prevent inexactness ' in a result in which accuracy is essential. ^ Mr. Mark W. Harrington, in the } Meteorologirt,al Journal, recommends the maps of Lorin Blodgett as the best r standard for comparison as a basis of _ , earlier observation, and those of Dr. * # ' Charles Dennison, of Denver, for the | later dates. With these as standards, j Mr. Harrington concludes that there is a slowjbut gradual gain in the rainfall in tlie West, wmcn argues weu ior me increased fertility of oar great developing ^ agricultural regions. 1 n m j Fortunes of Circns Men. (F/om the Xew Tor'* Evening World.) ' E. B. Colvin.is worth $40,000. 5 John B. Dorris is worth ?20,000. r John Robinson, of Cincinnati, is - worth about $250,000. 5 Eaton Stone lives in Xew Jersey, " where he owns a small farm. * ' * .1 - 1 3 J ames JiODinson, tne circus-naer, uss s saved about ?100,000 and owns a nice farm. Dr. Thayer, the noted circus proprietor, is said to be in the same condition as Dan Eice. [ James E. Cooke, the horse-rider and _ t athlete, is driving a street car somewhere ^ in the South. a Adam Forepaugh has from $200,000 :t to $*250,000. He owns a number of il dwelling-houses in Philadelphia. P. T. Barnum is worth from $?,000,000 to So,000,000. W. W. Cole and James A. Bailey each i- have a fox curie of $2,000,000. 11 James E. Cooper is worth $500,000. v_ As soon as he makes a few extra thou^ sands he erects a row of little cheap cottages in Philadelphia. H James Hutchinson has amassed the sum of $1,500,000. Ten years ago he did not possess $150. All his money was e made in the circus business. Dan Rice, the man who used to get nt $1,000 a week, the biggest salary ever paid to anv circus man in the world, is 1 now said to b9 worth a few thousand dollars less than nothing. n The dumb animals are v in our keeping, I. and we owe it to them that all their wants f are promptly supplied. If we cannot do n this, we should promptly relinquish our charce of them. ;r I "Women are not allowed to sing in Mex> * can churches. I '