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- - - 4;~-~~VZ A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c, Vol. XIX. NEWBERLRY, S. C., THURSDAY, -AUGUST 23, 1883.,o 4 4 ERALD IS PUBLISHED :4Y THURSDAY MORNING, kt Newberry, S. C. BY THOg. F. GREREKIR, Editor and Proprietor. 1 *e ss, S.00 per .fnnsums, Invariably In Advance. .jTbe paper is stopped at the expiration of ime for which it Is paid. E? The M mark denotes expiration of subscription. " I In Plac of Bending for the Doctor USE SIMMONS'S Hepa,tic Compound, Or Liver and Kidney Cure. IT WILL SAVE YOUR DOCTOR ZILL. IT IS THE MOST EFFECTIVE and valuable Medicine ever offered to the American people. As fast as its merits become known its use becomes universal in every community. No family will be-without it after having once tested its great value. Thousands of Dollars are wasted on Physicians' fees by the dyspeptic, the rheumatic, the bilious and the nervous, when a dollar ex pended on that unapproachable vege table Tonic avid Alterative ), SII0i3'S RITIC CO OD, OR LIVER AND KIDNEY CURE. would in every case effect a radical cure. If you are bilious, tongue coated, head hot, dull, or aching, bad breath, stomach heavy or sour, if bowels in active and passages hard and occasion al looseness, if your sleep is broken (tossing about in bed), if you get up unrefreshed, if your skin is sallow, eyes yellow, if heavy, dull pains in back and limbs, if you are drowsy, in disposed to talk or act, if any one or mbre of these symptoms, take a dose of Simmons's 1/EP ATIC COMPO/ND, and you will get immediate relief. DOWIE & MOISE, WHOLESALE DRUCCISTS CHARLESTON, S. C. a-OR SALE EVERYWSERE. aW And in Newberry by Dr. S. F. FANT. soy. ., 44-y. Eul& Menc ba ha ee the snumn et bh 4 I00a happnem to thuands who were 3U0 assasataaet 3manSkhDbeum. EBAR THEE WITNESSBSI - lam that Swift's Seres uay Ee. I - Se rueem e Sup't Gas Weaks, Re,Ga. .S. S. euree the wost aet Smans 014 an rvsit out throughi the pores of the HAD SCROPULA bOR 17 TEARS. - Ibsv srd tram8ecrofula about 17 yn. The . "*.bgn*U.."-adtoti||,s |||| e m haom .e ad .dra. s-ir ~edtodme an goodryr At l an th G ULELL. I okS8. .uu h epavlowtascian ofa yioent act o pm 000 OUde!a75. Ab.tInau dav. et 8.8. omSvle mewury TIFIUATISM.1F A=eartnYtbesdsemys ears3~ sa esed It-re 4 Y aou hih R.B. U ngbel, Ia G dtraec.,wrie:"IaeusdfrtheEtast2o-tee d 1,0 i DImt am5l t in us se, anmsn amened o tre a.t.."hoeou nd it ohe Au knof hmi h 14mm oIvemn, & A EmD n Iu nar, bytebu hn 1Ii A thhDr. W.Oel,of I$er thYat casfwhich nnt*cint ~a abid ou hich . JonC.auo eI wolanlae fGeneat twogoen fou "eicine i rny befohtre~~3 th-aro eY n gar num e fls, A13EYabout which Dr. . W. Strnels. ang,G c~wim haeused art lanosE yru =themeiinen you ard bausp anod taThedB e u EDY 'hci I ees U3~~Yofwb (Werman'slrh,tan Egitind banufmandhaen for Sldiernon aytdie near MarMis, G~a.she, houwd n orfan PWeay, Dneichagesor an n 2 tTh! A SPECIALTY Is made by SWAYFIELD In Gentlemens' Suits, Which are CUT AND MADE BY FIRST CLASS HANDS, Fits gaaranteed. A fine stock of Gents , Firnishing Goods, Alwj ys on hand. Write or when in city call on SWAFFIELI, Feb12 tf COLUMBIA. 0gS!TE 0 mmiaTEn aUSerSms B itters, bLfbal ewsa pw r,n derin b ftnetibm regular ad ye, keeps the Sad liver complaint nervousness, and rheomatic ailmeats, it fs ia le, ad it affords a sure defence against malarial fevers, besides removing all traces of such disease f3rom the For sale by all Druggsts and June 11, 24-ly. WATCHEs AND JEIELRY At the New Store on Hotel Lot. I have now on hand a large and elegant assortment of, WATCHES; CLOCKS, JEWELRY, Silver and Plated Ware, VIOLIN AND GUITAR sTRINGS, SPECTACLES AND SPECTACLE CASES, WEDDING AND BIRTHDAY PRESENTS. IN *EDLESS VAalETY. All orders by mail promptly attended to. Watchmaking and Repairing Done Cheaply and with Dispatch. Call and examine my stock and prices. EDUARD SCHDLTZ. Nov. 21, 47-tf. GLENN SPRINGS, SPARTANBURG CO,, S. C, The Proprietors of this Celebrated Watering Place respectfully announce that it will be opened this Season on the 1st of May under the same man agement as last year. TERMS OF BOARD. Per day.. .. .. .. . . . ... 00 Per week.. .. .. .. .. ..12 00 Per month. .. .. .. .. ..30 00 Children under ten years of age and colored servants, half price. Liberal reductions for large faimilies. Messrs. A. Tanner & Son, will run a daily Stage Lin'- f: om Spartanburg and Gleanxs, making the best rail roadl connection. gW Special attenmtionm given to ship pigo SIPSON & SI1PSON, May 3, tf. Proprietors. Prpre b heSlua eicn Copny e wbry S.C. rc 50e per bttle Fo sal byao Dugss Api 2, 146m DR. E E.JA KS N BMGIT 0C RIT CO.MBA S.C Beoe t tr todos ett Whele Hose Orespopl attended to Apr 11 6 teIuttb i DONALD'S WIFE. -0 When Donald McKeon married his ward, Jessie Sumner, many of his friends said he had made a mis take. She was a merry, laughing girl of eighteen, fresh from school; and he, her father's old friend, a quiet, self-contained man of thirty-five, and it can scarcely be wondered at that many wise heads were shak en over the ill-assorted match. Jessie had always stood a little in awe of the quiet, stern man, who had been a frequent visitor at her father's house during his lifetime. But she was quite unprovided for and Donald Mc Keon was wealthy; and when he asked her to be his wife in a matter-of-fact way, very much as he might have asked her to be his house-keeper, it seemed the easiest way to solve the trouble some problem of her life; and be sides this, she knew her father to have been under obligations to him, and more than suspected that the three years she had spent at a fash ionable school since her father's death had been at his expense. And so they were married, and he took her to the old home that his family had owned and occupied for generations. It was quite a stately house, sur surrounded by handsome, old-fash ioned grounds. But a little time ago it had been quite on the su burbs, but the city had reached out ever-encroaching arms until now it was surrounded by stately rows of brown stone and glaring new bricks. But in spite of its great, hand somely-furnished rooms, its stores of plate and fine linen, and the bright, old-fashioned garden at the back, it seemed a dreary prison to the laughter-loving girl-wife. Mr. McKeon had done what he could to brighten the old rooms, and had built a large conservatory, knowing that Jessie was fond of flowers, and she might have been quite happy had he known more of the ways and needs of women. But he had always been devoted to business, caring littie for the society of women, and knowing lit tle of them, except the grim, old spinster aunt who had presided over his house since his mother's death, until he brought his young wife home. It never occurred to him that it was a dreary sort of life for a girl like Jessie, alone in the gloomy old house all day, with only the ser vants and the ghosts of bygone generations for company. And when she grew pale and listless, and lost her old elasticity of spirits, a fear that had haunted him sincc his wedding day took possession of him and poisoned his life-a fear ,that she had married him for home and position and al ready regretted her choice. Gladly would he have given her back her liberty had that been pos sible. But being a sensitive, un demonstative man, he let her see nothing of this, but rather shrank from her because of the wrong he felt he had done her, and came and went and made no sign. And then people began to dis cover that Mrs. KcKeon was a very charming woman, and her husband' a wealthy and influential man, and invitations . began to pour in upon her. And Jessie plunged into this new life of fashionable dissipation with a zest that was the natural reaction from the gloom and lone liness of the past year. At first her husband accompanied her wherever she went, for he had somewhat old-fashioned notions as to what was right and fitting for women to do. But it was a life nie utterly de tested. It interfered with his busi ness, and he looked below the sur face and saw the hollow falsehood it was after all, and it grated on his fine ideas of truth and sincerity. Perhaps he was somewhat dicta torial in his manner of telling her this; perhaps she imagined so. But when he urged the pqint she re belled against his assumption of au thority. It was their first quarrel and their last, but it was a very bitter one. She spoke cruel, stinging words, that rankled and hurt him the more that he had learned to love her so dearly, as only reserved, self-con tained men such as he can love, and then only when they hoard all the treasures of their nature to lavish it in the middle life on the one woman who is their fate. After that he opposed her in nothing, but it was though a great wall of ice had risen between them. He devoted himself to business, and she became the acknowledged leader of the most exclusive circle in the city. She was madly extravagant. She made the old house a marvel of aesthetic beauty, and entertained like a princess. Mrs. McKeon's toilets, jewels and dinners became the models for her set. Men worshiped her beauty; but for all their flatteries she had the same :mile of cold contempt, and no mar was bold enough to venture beyoud the merest commonplace. And so the years passed, and each one drifted them farther apart, until they seldom met, except at their cwn grand entertainments. Each year she become more the slave of fashion, and he of his office. But through it all he loved her with an undying love, and his one thought was to gratify her every whim. And when the dark days came when slips that were sent out freighted with costly wares went down and were heard of no more when houses that seemed stable as granite failed, and his wealth seemed welting away like a snow wreath, hiE only thought was for her; and thought each;day his hair grew whiter, and his form grew stooped with bending over the long columns of figures in which the balance was always on the wrong side he whis pered, "For her sake," and strug gled on and denied her nothing. And evea on the day when he came' home, knowing that all his efforts had availed him nothing and he was a poor man, his only regret was for her. that he would never more be ablc to give her the things for which she had bartered so much. He went into the grand,,old li brary, which was almost the only room in the house that remained un changed, and tried to collect his thoughts. How would he tell her? was the question that reiterated it self through his brain, and for the first time in his life Donald Mc Keon was a coward. The thought came to him of how she had chafed at her bonds when they were gilded would bear the closer relations a straitened income would entail. And he resolved that this at least he would spare her. After all his obligations were met there would be someth4ng left, not more than she had often lavished on one dinner, perhaps, but still enough to keep her from absolute want. Jessie should have this, and he would go away and work for her and dream of her, but never again trouble her with his presence. He sat down and wrote a letter, telling her this simply, directly, and with the great love he bore her breathing through every word. The servant had told him she would not be in for some time, and he took the not~e himself up to her room. It was a dainty place, brig~ht as unbounded wealth and an exquisite taste could make it. He left the note on her toilet table, lingering for a moment to touch caressingly the costly articles that were scattered about,.- all breathing of her presence. When he returned to the library the early dusk was falling. A ser vant came, bringing lights, but he dismissed him impatiently, and a few moments later heard the sound of wheels and the sweet voice of his wife in the hall giving some di rections. At length the silence becafne un bearable, and he seated himself at the piano. In his old bachelor dasmusic had been his passion, but in these latter years of feverish struggle he had found no time for it. But when his fingers touched the keys all the despair, the pain and longing in his heart found voice in the rich chords that filled the room. He played on, and gradually the burden was lifted. Musie gave him the comfort she ever gives to those who truly love her. It was no longer a wail of despair, but a psan of thanksgiving for victory gained. So absorbed was he that he did not hear a soft footstep enter the room. A hand was laid on his shoulder, and a tremulous voice said: "Donald." His hand came down with a sud den discord on the keys. It was the first time Jessie had ever called him by that name. le turned and saw her standing there in her dressing-gown of soft cashmere. The firelight was send ing long rays down the stately gloom of the library, and she look ed very beautiful against the rosy background. "You read my letter, Jessie?" "Yes; and I am sorry for your sake, Donald; you have worked so hard for your wealth." "Do not think of me, Jessie. It is not for myself I care. I am not afraid of poverty. But, oh, my child, if I could save you from its sting ! If it were at the sacrifice of my own life, as heaven is my witness, I would nor spare it !" She came close to him and laid her hands in his. "Donalcd there is a better thing you can give me than wealth can buy. Give me back the love I so madly threw away. Let me work with you and help you, and I will bless the day that made us poor !" "Jessie," he said, "gre you sure of this? Do not try to deceive me. Do not say it if is not true. I could go away now and learn to bear it, but to open my heart to this new hope and then find I was mistaken would kill me!" "Donald, do you think I am' made ofrstone-that I could know all your kindness and patience all these years, and not learn to love you? Oh, so often I have longed to kneel at your feet and ask your forgiveness, but I believed I had forfeited your love by my folly." "And you will not regret the loss of wealth and luxury?" he said, in credulously, "and can be happy with only my love?" "You forget papa and I were poor before I married you, Donald, and I was happier in those old days than I have ever been since I learned to hate the things that cost me so much, and envy the poorest woman happy in her husband's love." He turned, the sweet, tear-wet face to the firelight, and bent down and looked into her eyes. And then he took her close in his arms. "My darling-oh, my darling !" he said, softly. And in their hearts there was a gladness that all the treasures of the wor! 'nuld not buy. THE PATRIOTIC WIDOW OF THE CONGAREE. BY BENsoN J. LOssING, LL. D. I was at Fort Motte Station, near the Congaree River, in South Caro lina, on a bright frosty morning in January, 1849. "Will you direct me to the Fort1 Motte plantation," I said to a lad. Pointing up a gentle' slope, he said: "On the top o' the hill is Mr. Loves house, which they call Fort Motte. It is only a short walk from here up that dirt road." At the summit I found a very aged man, with thin white hair rest ing upon a log by the wayside. "Is that Fort Motte?" I inquired, pointing toward a fine house for the region, standing on the high rolling plain which sloped to the swamps on every side.. "So they call it," he said; but it ain't the fort we tuck from the British more'n sixty year ago, burnt 'em out, you may say." "Were yotr one of its captors?" I asked. "I reckon I was," replied the old man. "D'ye see that scar?" point ing to his fore-arm bared of his sleeve. "A red-coat's bullet made it in a scrimmage afore the siege. I was Harry's leftenant. Harry, you know, was Marion's right-hand man when hunting Tories. He stuttered when hurried. Comin' suddenly on' a Tory camp, one night, he wanted to tell us to fire quick. He said, "Fi-fi-B-S Shoot, darn ye !" and we blazed away in the dark." "Why was this called Fort Motte?" I inquired. "Bless your soul !" said the old soldier with animation. "Don't you know Becky Motte lived here? Mighty plucky woman was Becky Motte. A purty woman too; as purty as. a pictur, though she was well-nigh forty year old, and had a darter married to Gineral Pinok ney. She was a Charleston lady, and this was her best country house, -a healthy place. The British druv Becky and her little darters out of h"r house, dug a big ditch all around it, piled-up a high bank of dirt around the edge of the ditch, and :so made a fort of it; a purty strong fort agin muskets and rifles. It was a nice house, but not so line as Mr. Love's which Becky built right away after the war. I helped draw timber to build it. "The British drove Mrs. Motte and her family out of her house, did they? Where did they go?" I asked. "To ' her overseer's on yonder hill," he replied. "Becky was a rich widder; lost her husband early in the war, and lived here in the sumiyer. At that farm-house she showed raal grit that made us all feel as if we could willingly die for her; yes, die for her." "How did she show grit?" I asked, as I seated myself on the log by the side of the veteran. "Well, you see," said the old patriot, as his voice waxed stronger by the stimulus of vivid recollee tions, "they had her house, and five hundred red-coats were in and around it. Leftenant-Colonel Lee -Legion Harry, you know-adash ing young trooper only twenty-five year old, had joined us with his light-horsemen, and we all pushed forward, horse and foot, for this place to drive off the Britishers. That very mornin' some troopers from Charleston come to the fort with dispatches for Lord Rawdon at Camden. They were about to leave, when we appeared at Becky's farm-house. They were skeered and didn't go. Lee had a little six-pounder, which he placed in battery on the knoll yonder. The red-coats had no artillery; and so we had 'em we reckoned." "Who were Lee's troopers?" I asked. "Mostly young .Virginians, I reckon, ready to go wherever his country needed brave men. He was a handsome young man, with large black eyes and brown hair. The gay uniform of his men made the homespun clothes of Marion's brigade look meaner than ever. But we had the grit as well as they." "How did you take the fort with only that little field piece?" I in quired. "Lee dismounted his troopers, led 'em into a narrow hollow up to a shop way from the fort, and with the help of some negroes, began to dig toward it, and throw up breast works, while we took post at the field-piece to defend it insse the red-coats should come out and at tack us. They were ordered to surrender. They said they wouldn't. Just then we heard that Rawdon was retreating from Camden, and had sent troops to join the garrison at Fort Motte. That very night their camp fires were seen on a hill not far away. The sight made us live ly, I tell ye. Something must be done quickly. To batter down their works with our baby cannon, or reach them by digging trenches, would take too much time. But Lee was up to anything. "We must burn 'em out," he said. "The shingles on the house were dry as tinder, for the sunshine was hot on that day at the middle of May. 'I can send fire to 'em with arrows,' said Lee, 'and they'll blaze in a minute,' But he didn't like to do it. Becky Motte was his friend, her son-in-law was his friend; but heg thought of his country first, and his frie~nds afterwards. When he mentioned it to Beelky, the plucky woman clapped her haagds, and said, Good ! good ! Do it if - you car Burn the house if they won't sm render!' Wasn't that raal grit raal patriotism? "Lee sent -another order for th red-coats to surrender. They knc help was nigh, and they wouldn' do it. 'Have you a man who ca shoot straight with a bow and a row?' he asked Marion. 'Yes,' th Gineral said: 'Nathan Savage i as good a shot as any Indian." "A bow an arrows were quickl; made and taken to Lee's head quarters at the farm-house, witl Nathan. He tried thebow said, 'It ain't strong enough. darter,' said Becky to her y who married Colonel Alston, 'ri and git the Indian bow and arrowa Turpentime torches were fastenec to two or three of the arrows, an Nathan sent them like blaziai stars straight to the roof. Th shingles smoked, and we hurrahed They blazed, and we shouted. Th red-coats ran up, and began t knock off the burning shingles Shots from the six-pounder rake the loft, and sent Britishers scamp ering pell-mell below. Purty soo; a white flag was seen waving, an at noon we had 'em; the red coat were all our prisoners. Warn't w happy fellers ! I didn't mind th bullet hole in my arm a bit, jis then. Becky Motte, plucky Beck; Motte, was as happy as any of us though her fine house was in ruins She invited the British officers, a well as ours, to her farm-house t lunch; and, perfect lady as she wa everywhere, she was as purlite t her country's enemies as to it friends. "While we were at the- table, continued the old soldier, "wor came to our gineral that some c hip. men were 'amusin' themselve by hanging Tories. Marion hurrie out, and, with his drawn sword, -ra to the spot in time to save the lil of one of 'em. It was Tom Caa ningham, who died at Kingstre last year. The gineral threatene to kill any man who should attemp to, harm another prisoner. A jus man, a brave man, a Christian mu was General Marion." When the venerable soldier ha finished his narrative, I strolled t the mansion of Mr. Love, where spelt several hours very pleasant13 Hesaid the narrator was a worth pensioner, and a man of truth; an the traditions of the country an official reports were In- generi agreement with his story of the ca] ture of Fort Motte by Lee and Ma ion. I wrote the old soldier'is naxs on a scrap of paper, soon lost It, an have been unable to recall it.-J S. Times. A WHISKEY TRAGEDY. TEE TERTR2 EMUILT Or TE-sPERM A YOUNG CIVIL ENGNE. From the City ofKwalco Two Rpublies. A terribly sad and tragic ever occurred at Acambaro, in the Stat of Michoacan, the present to minus of the Mexican Nationi Railway. A number of men wer seated at the supper table in th Hotel Diligence, a place frequente by railroad men whose busines called them there, when Mr. F.1~ Syberg, a man about 28 years < age, employed as civil engineer b the Mexian National road, entere the room, greatly under the it fluence of liquor. He walked u to one of the men at the table a in afew moments there was a Yi< lent dispute between the two ove some trival matter. It ended i Syberg's exclaiming: "nIl shoc you!'" Seated at another table close u hand wd a young man named I B. Mc Cabe, who was in the emplo: ment of the road as a line repairez He had strapped to his belt a pii tol in its holster. Syberg, at tl time of making his threat to shoo was unarmed, but noticing 3I Cabe, who was a friend of his, e at hand with a pistol in sight, b rushed over to him and attempte to snatch it from its holster in o der to shoot the other man. Cabe, who was perfectly sobe jumped to his feet, clapped h hands to his weapon and exclainci "Leave that alone, sir. I don allow any man-I don't care If I is my best friend-to take my pi tal from its hobster aad Samm fa eoabove. or .espect,a s.s sm aamerin ,_ adveehemadmms . At_., c,l51*V. ber of imuetioes w81l be k i OSE S peeaewt asude with se dirs, wit ttberal dedefts O?a JOB FPRIAT M DONE WrH NZAJM s AM,Dm5 TERMS CASH. This action on M wis- t p . both surprised and - syberg, who- thereupon lst thought of the originalquareL D turning on M ads, .amint R to him a terrible togos-lm t McCabe is reported to have stoAl 1 the same for some time, and a - to have got up and sarted I m ' room at the depbt. Spb I. ed him toward the ho(isi,: nd Cable said: "Go away, and bother me amy more I to hurt you, bense I know- =f% i regret this when you I In spite ofaU eatreatson Syberg persiited.in -bis.ainse; had-folowed MoOb to th. of the latter's room In manner, when McCabe him and gave him a terrible on the nose with his fist, a knocked him to the floor. Y arose bleeding 'and rashed o: - the room. In fewminuteahb9i turned with his pistolin hb McCabe saw him coming, boe and jumping intbisroom the door an d beho, keep8yberg out. a Syberg gave the door acoupfc4e shoves, and finding that he eM; not make it yield he d*ew h ;'y aimed his pistol at the door, e a deliberately fired live shots th it. He then ran to the entranmse the depot, and stopped to see had been the seeat of his ' In a second . oghbe ope b door of his room and out, bleeding profsely ' wounds in hie Wr abo e-e a' the five shots having taken Shihnd habedaco ver. "Boys," he gasped, "I'm I'~lbe a dead man inside minutes, buttIm going to kiE mnan who shot mne." bend the .itnation them out inde the ope.awmi c aught sigtof him'a.W the door- and apparentl with superhuman strengtk ed on arun afterhtis eig ant. He ran about -lve inen feet swiftly, and was withintj yards of the fleeting man, he pulled up short, took aim and fired. The ball s$ia Syberg in the back of the -hia and came ont of his mouth, Jresk ing his jawbone. Themaoment was struck Syberg stag lea ward and fell bleeding ~ ground. McCbe rushed Ia grabbed him by thehir him faee up, and then, wi had already set, he psd~ mussle of his pito agminst r marble forehd and blew tkhi top of 8yberg's head oL pointing the pistol to the his fallen, and, by this timsd t sailant, he fired the rm~lghu e charges of his pistol into thio4 -The last shot had been frd*p I Osabe stood for one moment upskta e the horrible scene-its terrible. reality apeared to fill his,nind for i the moment-he started back-. his useless weapon jfell from high hand-his senses ree1ed-.he sa. gard fw tes,the death m~ gaterd oerhis eyes, he reeled and then just as the horrified I spectators came rushing to .scene, he fell, and to the who knelt by hismsde,h hi4 in his dying breath:' "I'm sorrys Jim, for this-I didn't want todo& -it-I didn't want to kill him-4 r I"-the gasps grew greater-4Q whispered words wore hard tK' ~~catch-"I couldn't hepit, Tnei 'twas he shot me andl had idd it; telegraph to the folks at hom .t Jim-its hard to die this was, ~i, , and I'm very sorry it and the w o -the glassy eyes took on the - fixed stare of death-thea e had followed his poor ines sailant on his journey ro Smysterious river into the dark m penetrable beyvond. Mr.S8yberg, when sober,~a a deemed one of e the s - d feBlows of the .road-kind, eS, r. obliging in every way and Un$ I y competent, he was esteemed. He was S who isas ivlemgine, - I. Mr. Mo0pbe was at Sresident of Pens$ana to comngto M mMis - * town near Boneaain & was a sober, inn.u n Iaa n -sas