Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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' * - ? ' ;. ' ' - ,. * . ' - ' -. ' ' .. -*f . - * ...... . ' ' v ^ u'-,.." -w .. ' ... .jl .'-i: - 1- 1 ' n " 1 ' '' ' lewis m. obist, proprietor. J ^it f nbtpejibeitt Jfautilj fDfospaptr: Jfor- t|e ^rantotioit <rf tjje |ulilital, Social, Agricultural aab Commercial interests of tjre Scruff. |term8-43 so^a ye^ikadvajci. VOLUME XI . YORKVILLE, SOUTH CAROLINA, THURSDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 23,1865:'- . ~ NUMBER 32-. jtMiI ~?fteir?. TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. BY OERAtD XASSKY. High hopes, that bunt like stars sublime. Go down the stars of freedom; And true hearts perish in the time, We bitterllest need 'em : But never sit we down and say, "There's nothing else but sorrow We walk the wilderness to-day? The promised land to-morrow. * Our birds of song are silent now ; There are no flowers blooming ; Bnt life bums in the froren bough, And freedom's spring is coming J And freedom's tide comes up alway, Though we may stand in sorrow. And our ?>od bark?aground to-day? Shall float again to-morrow ! Through all the long, drear nights of years, The people's cry ascended, And earth is wet with blood and tears Ercaaurmeek suffering's ended; The few shall not forever sway, The many toll in sorrow; The bars or heil are strong to-day. But Christ shall rise to-morrow ' Though hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes x With smiling future glisten ; XiO! how the day bursts up the skies? Lean out your souls and listen ? The world rolls freedom's radiant way, ?. And ripens with our sorrow; Keep heart! who bears the cross to*day Shall wear the crown to-morrow ? (Yh vnnth ' flump earnest : still asolre With energies immortal; To many a heaven of desire Our yearnings opes s portal; And though age wearies by the way, And hearts break in the furrow, Well sow the golden grain to-day? The harvest comes to-morrow ! Build up heroic lives, all Be like the sheaten sabre. Ready to flash out at God's command? Oh! chivalry of labor! - Triumph and toll are twined?aud aye Joy suns the cloud of sorrow, And 'tis the martyrdom to day B rings victorv to-morrow ! ^ I j| JTtor A MYSTERIOUS SKETCH, Nearly opposite the church of St. Sebald in Nuremberg, stands an aooieut ion, narrow and lofty, with an indented gable, small Jtusty casements, and the roof surmounted by a plaster image of the Virgin. Many years ago, when beginning the world as a young artist, I took up my abode in this quaint hostelry. I bad come to Nuremberg in order to study the works of the old mas tors; hut, my funds running short, I was' obliged to take portraits?and such portraits ! Stont old ladies, eaoh with her cat on her lap; rosy burgomasters, wigged and cooked-batted, all plentifully and partially illuminated with ochre and vermillion. At length this fesource began to fail; and mine host, who at first bad been all civility, j began to importune me in a somewhat inso- j lent manner-for the amount of my biH.? One evening as I was passing op stairs to my attic, Master Eapp oalled after me: "Hallo ! youngster, when are yon going to pay me ? Your bill now amonnts to one hundred and sixty fiorins, ten kreutzers.? Pray, when am I likely to see the color of your money ?" I muttered some sort of indistinct reply, and hastening to my room, looked the door, and threw myself, dressed as I was, on my bed. .Revolving my miserable position in my mind, all the gequine feeling for art, all the high aspirations after exoellenoe whiob bad hitherto buoyed me up, seemed to forsake me, and a sordid, hungry craving for money took their place. At length my eyes grew heavy, and my thoughts confused and I slept profoundly for some hours.? About two o'clook I awoke in a strange sort j of excitement. Having lighted my candle I-seized a piece of paper and a crayon, and drew a rapid sketch, in the Dutch style, feeling all the time as if the composition nnf. mine, hnt as if each stroke was suggested by some one, who merely used my haud and pencil as unconscious and un resisting instruments. The sketch thus traced represented a gloomy court, surrounded by lofty but crumbling walls, which were furnished with large books at the height pf seven or eight feet frbm the grouud. On i the left was a trellis of laths, through which J ooe saw aD ox cut iu quarters, suspended by strong pulleys from the roof of a shed, streams of blood flowed across the pavement and met in a trench filled with refuse and rubbish. At one end of the court was a cart bouse, through the open door of which were seen a pile of wood, -and some bundles of straw. Pieces of ragged rope, an old hencoop, and a broken rabbit-hutch littered the foreground. On the right, one corner of the sketch remaining blank, I hesitated what to put there; something seemed to move, to Kouar Hnnnii it Snridpnlv ft fnrjfc turned up, and detached from the ground appeared to my mind's eye. Following the inspiration, I sketched on rapidly, and beneath my orayon grew a leg joined to the foot, then a floating garment, at length the entire figure of an old woman, pale, emaciated, with dishevelled bair, thrown down against the low parapet of a well, and struggling against a hand which clutched her throat. I wasdravT.'og the scene of a murder; the crayon fell from my hand. I shuddered as I looked at the woman's face, contracted by terror, while both her hands convulsively grasped the arm of ber murderer. But his face, I saw it not, it was hidden from me as if by some veiling shadow?I could not 'fioish the sketoh. . "I am fatigued," I said, passing my hand ovrr my damp forehead ; "to-morrow I will finish the design ; there remains but that one figure to put in." Hastily undressing, 1 went to bed, and before five minutes elapsed I was sunk in a profflflod slumber. When I awoke it was .broad dsylight. I hastened to dress, and wan preparing to resume my task, when I beard two knocks at the door "Come in !" The door opened, and a tall old man, dressed in black, stood at tbe threshold. i'Herr Heinrich Kapff, the painter?" aald be. "At your service, sir."' He bowed his head, and said, introducing himself; 'Baron Frederick von Sprechdahl.1 That the rich amateur Von Spreohdshl who was also judge of the Criminal Tribu nal, should condescend to visit my poor attic. was indeed an unlooked -for event. I cast j an embarrassed glance at the mean, scanty farniture, the low ceiling and the worm- j eaten flooring; but my visitor seemed to pay no attention to these details. Seating himself near my small table ; "Her Kapff," i he said, "I come " At this moment his eye fi^ll on the uofin- j ished sketoh, and he gazed at it fixedly for several moments. "Are you the author of this drawing ?" he asked, looking on me with the same attention which he bad bestowed on my work. "I am, sir." "What is its price?" . "I do not sell my sketches; it is merely a design for a painting." "Ah I said he, talyng up the paper delicately with the tips of his long sallow fingers ; and with the aid of his eye-glass he studied the sketch closely. A ray of sunshine entered obliquely through the Bmall dormer window. Von Spreckdahl's long nose became more hooked and his thick eyelashes contracted, lending a sinister expression to his lean wrinkled face The silence was so profound that I heard distinctly the plaintive buzzing of a fly caught in a spider's web. <(And the dimensions of the painting, Herr Kapff?" said he at last, without, looking up. "Four feet by three." "Its price." "Fifty ducats." My visitor laid the sketch on the table, and drew from his pocket a long, well filled purse of green silk. "Fifty ducats," be repeated ; "there they are." And throwing down the pieces, the baron saluted me, and was gone before 1 bad sufficiently recovered from my amazement to utter a word of thanks. I heard his walking stick strike on each stair as he descended, and I ran down quickly after him But when I reached the door of the inn, he was already gone. I looked up and down the street, but he was not to be seen. "Well, this is odd enough," I muttered; and having remounted the five flight ot stairs. I sat down at the table brightened by the unwonted gleam of gold, and re solved to finish the sketch without delay ; a fgw more touches of the orayon were all that was required. But these, few touches, try as I woulJ," I could not give them I had lost the clue to the design, the mysterious personage would not come out of the limbe of my brain". It was no use to draw and efface, and draw again, and retouch ; the creature of my pencil wa9 as discordant with his surroundings as one of Raphael's figures would be in a village alehouse by Teniere I threw down my crayon in despair, and the perspiration stood in large drops on my forehead At that moment Rapp opened the door, and entered abrupt I ly ; be stood transfixed at the sight of the pile of ducats. I "Ha ! ha ! I have caught you masterpainter," he cried; "tell me again that you no money !" Enraged at the man's insolent look and inoppoitune entrance, I suddenly seized him by the shoulders, and pushed him violently outside the door. The landing place was very narrow; he missed his footing, and rolled down several stairs, shouting as be bumped along; "My money, you rascal ?my money I" Retreating into my room, I locked pnd double locked the door, while bursts of laughter from the other lodger's sainted Herr Rapp's downward progress This little adventure ropsed me, I -resumed my | crayon, and was in the aot of making another attempt on the impracticable corner of the sketch, when a clash of arms grounded on the pavement opposite caught my ear. I looked out of .the window, and saw several policemen fully armed,' stationed, and keeping guard outside." _ "That old villain, Rapp," I thought? j "can he hifve met any serious injury?" Confused voices, and heavy steps mountj ing the stairs; my door was violently shaj ken. "In the name of the law, open !" Trembling, though I scarce knew why, I 'obeyed. Two muscular hands instantly j grasped my collar, and a fat little man in | green uniform, who smelt 6trongly of beer, ; came close to me, and said "Henrich Kapff, ( I arrest you." "For what orime ?" I inquired, as I recognized the chief of police. "Come along," he cried roughly, and ' made a sigu to one of his men to handcuff me. Resistance of course was useless, i wasj ! effectually secured, and conveyed down stairs by some of the party; while the oth! ers ransacked my room in every corner, prodding the furniture, and turning ovef on ! the floor my poor wardrobe and other scan- \ ty possessions. My captors thrust me into j a covered carriage, and two of* them enter' cd after me, and took their places one at' eaoh side. . i "What have I done ?" 1 inquired again. ! "Hans," said one of them to the other, ' with a sour smile, "be asks what he has ] done ?" Soon a dark shadow enveloped us, as the carriage rolled under the gloomy arohway which leads to the Kaspel Haus, or city 1 1 prison. The jailer, with a gray woolen cap on his bead, and a short pipe between bis ' lips, received me from my conductors, and ! having silently introduced me into a cell, 1 locked and barred the door, and left me to my reflections, j The room was small, but tolerably clean, ! ancfrthe walls being newly whitewashed, preI eented no inscriptions or drawings, save a rude sketoh of a gibbet, probably executed by my predeoeseor. It was lighted by a small window, nine or ten feet from the 1 * .L- e U _ | ground ana me luruuuic uuusisicu yi ? r | bundle of straw and a bucket. ' j I seated myself on the straw, and remain( , ed, I know not how long, plunged in a . j gloomy reyarie. What if the fall down } 1 stairs had inflicted some mortal injury on ' my landlord ! The fellow was a miser and insolent; bat, after all he had done nothing to justify his receiving such rough treatment at my hands. What would be the upshot of it all ? While revolving this unoomfortable question, the door grated on its hinges, my jailor appeared, and desired me to follow him. Two turnkeys placed themselves one at eaob side of me. and we walked on. We traversed gloomy corridors, feebly lighted by interior windows. I saw behind a grating a noted robber and assassin, who was sentenced to be executed on' the following morning. He wore a straitwaistcoat, and was singing with a hoarse voice, "I am King of these Mountains?" As T passed, he shouted after me : "Ha! comrade, I'll keep a place for you to-morrow on my right!" The turnkeys looked at each other with a sinister smile, and my flesh crept with horror. I* was conducted into a gloomy sort of judgment ball, at the upper end of which were seated two judges, one of them being my late visitor, Yon Spreckdahl. A clerk employed in tickling his ear with the feather of his pen, sat before a table. Von Spreokdahl raising his voice, addressed me; "Heinrich Kapff, how did you become possessed of this drawing?" He showed me the noctural sketch; I examined it and'replied : "It was done by me " There was a silence, and the clerk wrote down my reply. I thought within myself, "What is the meaning of thiif? What connection can the sketch have with my pushing Rapp down stairs?" "It was done by you," repeated Von Spreckdahl,. "What is the subject of it ?" "It was a fancy sketch." "You have not copied the details from any painting or engraving ?" "No, sir; I invented them all.". "Prisoner," said the judge in a severe tone, "I advise you to reflect. Do not lie." I reddened with anger and'said emphatically : "I have spoken the frath." "Write, clerk," said Van Spreckdahl. "And this woman," continued he, "who is being assassinated at the* edge of a well, i : : > i ? 1 Ofi uave yuu iLuugiueu ucr uguie uiau ; "Certainly." "You Dever saw her?" "Never." With an indignant gesture, Van Spreckdahl rose from his chair, then resuming his seat, he appeared to oonsult in* a low toue with bis colleague. "What can it be all about? What have I done ?" murmured I to myself. Addressing my guards, You Spreokdahl said : "Conduct the prisoner to the carriage. We are going to the Metzger Strasse? Heinrich Kapff," he continued, "you are pursuing a deplorable path. Consider that if the justice of man is inflexible, the mercy of God may yet be obtained by a full confession of your crime." I could not reply: I felt as if under the r influence of 6ome frightful dream, and pre- 1 pared to follow my guard in silence. Two policemen and I entered the carriage, which rolled along through several streets. One of my guards took out his snuff-box, and offered a pinch to bis companion. Mechanically, I a'so extended my finger and thumb towards the box, but its owner drew it back wifli a gesture of aversion, and quickly replaced it in his pocket. I felt the hot tingling blood mount to my forehead, but before I could speak, the car riage stopped Cue of the policemen got out while the other: held me, fettered as I was, by the collar, unfil, seeing bis comrade ready to receive mc,?he thrust me rudely out. 411 these precautions to secure my person argued no good, but just then I was -given no time for reflection. My guards hurried iiic along a narrow, filthy alley, bounded by high walls, and through which trickled a stream of some thick dark liquid. Arrived at the end, they opened a door, and pushed me before them into a square court. Daring our progress, a strange horror had taken possession of mo, not arising from the uncertainty and mystery of iny position, but rather like the effect of nightmare. I \ seemed to be walking in a frightful dream, seeing and acting without my own volition, and under a haunting conviction of the unreality of all the objects around. But this horror became very tangible and real when I looked around the place where I now found myself. There was the very identi-1 cal court, which I had drawn the Dight be- | fore--the walls furnished with hooks, the j broken heu coops, the rabbit-hutch; not a i single detail, not even the most trifling,; was waoting! . Beside the wall stood the two judges, j Von Spreckdahl aud Richter. At their I feet lay the corpie of the old woman, her long grey hair disheveled, hei face livid, j her eyes starting from her head, and her 1 tongue protruding from between her clench-! ed teeth. It was a horrid spectacle. "Prisoner !" said Von Spreckdahl, in a i solemn voice, "have you anything to say ?" j I made no answer. "Do you acknowledge that you threw this | woman, Theresa Becker, into this Well, aftor ?-j i j ?i 1 navmg StranglUU UCl uuu luauu puantaniuu of her money V' ' j | "No," 1 cried?"do ! I do not koow this woman. I never saw her until now. May tiod help me 1" "It is enough," said he in a dry tone ;! and then, without adding another word, he and his colleague, took their departure. J My guards conducted me baok to the! Raspel Flaus, and left mo alone in my cell. I fell iDto a profound stupor, aod when but! : half aroused from it, my conscience awoke ' I to a sort of morbid aotivity, anil I began to: ! ask myself if I had not' really assassinated ! the old woman ! Ah ! the horrors of that Dight in prison ! Seated on my bundle of j straw, I watched a moonbeam struggling ! through the narrow window, and lighting j ' up the sinister outline of the gibbet on the' opposite wall. I heard tho watchman orying through the silence of the night: "Sleep, inhabitants of Nuremberg: the Lord watches overyon ! One o'clock?two o'clock?three o'clock !" People say that it is better to suffer death as an innocent man than as a guilty one; and as regards the' soul it oertainlyis; but the poor injured body, suffering unjustly, rebels, and its transports of recoiling horror at its undeserved, inevitable fate are terrible. Day dawned and slotoly lighted up my gloomy prisoD. The window looked on the street. It was a market day, and I heard the rolling of the carts, laden with fruits and vegetables. I could distinguish the cackling of live poultry, and the animated discourse 8f the botter-women. As the morning advanced, the din became greater,and the'buzz and movement of life around j me seemed to restore conrage to my heart. I felt an irresistible desire to see what was going on aroond me, and to look onoe more AinAh nf m TT ffll Ir\m mnn UU MIO 1UULO VI LU 7 itIIUTT UJCU. My predecessors in the oell, animated, no doubt, by a like desire, bad scooped boles in tbe wall, to facilitate tbeir mounting to the window.. I Mimbed up, and holding the bars, managed to seat myself on the narrow ledge. Once there, I gazed entranced on the crowd, the life, the movement : tears flowed down my cheeks; I felt an intense longing for life as life; simply to breathe, and move, and feel the sun ? "Ah !" I exclaimed, "to live?only to live ! Let them sentence me to bard labor; let them attach a. weight to my leg. What does it matter, provided only that I live !" Tbe quaint old market on which I looked offered a gay and animated spectacle. The peasant women in their Bavarian costumes, were seated behind their baskets of eggs, fruit and vegetables, and their cages filled with poultry; butchers with naked arms were chopping meat on their blocks ; peasants with their large brimmed felt hats set far back on their beads, 'leaned on tbeir stout holly sticks, and smoked their pipes. The changing, animated scene captivated my attention, and, in spite of me, distracted my thoughts from my sad situation. As 1 continued to gaze on the crowd, a butcher passed by,*his back bent under the weight of an enormous quarter of beef which he had bore on his shoulders. His arms were bare, his elbows raised, his head bent down in front. His hair falling down in a measure concealed his face, and yet at the first giance t snuaaerea. "it is ne r i exclaimed inwardly. All my blood flew back to my heart. I leaped from the window down into my prison, sbiveriog, my teeth chattering, while the rebellions blood flowed back again, and mounted hotly to my cheeks and forehead. "It is he ! lie is there?there?and I ? I must die to expiate his crime ! 0 my God, help me ! What am I to do?" A sudden idea, an inspiration, as I believe, from Leaven, darted through my mind. I put my hand into my coat pocket, and found my case of crayons. Hushing to the clean "whitewashed wall, I sketched the scene of the murder with marvellous force and rapidity. No more uncertainty, no more wavering attempts. I knew the man who erasped the luokless woman's throat: I saw him, as if he were sitting to me for his portrait. At ten o'clock the jailer entered my cell. "What is this ?" he said, looking with surprise at my sketch. "Go, ask my judges to oome hither," I cried, still pursuing my work with feverish ardor. "They await you in the Hall of Judgment," he replied he. . "Tell them to oome ; I have a disclosure to make," said I, as I put the finishing1 touch to the murderer's figure. It looked as if it lived and breathed ; foreshadowed on the wall, the features stood out with wonderful force and reality. The jailer wentoutand in a few minutes the two judges appeared. With my hand extended, and trembling in every limb, I said to them : "Behold the assassin !" Von Spreckdahl carefully and quietly examined the sketch. "His name?" he inquired. "I know it not," I replied; "but at this moment he is in the market, cutting up meat at the third stall on the left, as you enter from the Traubauten Strasse." "What do you advise ?" said my judge to his colleague. "That we should instantly send for the man," replied he in a grave toneStepping out into the corridor, he gave his orders to the polioemen stationed there. During their ibsenoe the two judges remained standing contemplating the sketnb. Suffering frorq strong reaction, I sank on the ground and buried my head between my knees. Soon steps sounded from afar along the valted passages. Those who have not waited for the hour of deliverance, and counted the minutes, to them as long as centuries? those who have not felt the poignant emotions of suspense, terror, hope and doubt? they cannot Conceive the sharp agony of that moment. 1 could have distinguished the footsteps of tbe murderer, marching between his guard from a thousand others. I They approached ; the judges themselves appeared moved. I raised my head, and my heart felt though as it were grasped by an iron band. My eyes were fixed on the closed door; it opened?the man entered. His oheeks were red and swollen; his large jaws wore contracted, causing his muscles to stand out even up to bis ears; .and his small, restless, tawny-colored eyes sparkled beneath a pair of thick reddish eyebrows. Yon Spreckdahl silently showed him the sketch. Then this powerful, sanguine- [ complexiooed man turned pale?pale as i death. Uttering a roar whioh startled us all, he opened bis immense arms, and bounding backwards, succeeded in overthrowing two of his guards. There was a terrifio struggle in the corridor; we oouldhear the panting respiration of the butoher, deep' imprecations, broken words, and the stamping and shuffling of many feet. At length, the assassin was led in, his head sank on his breast, his eyes bloodshot, his limbs firmly fettered. Again he looked fixedly at the drawing on the wall, seemed to reflect, and mattered, as if to himself: "Who, then, conld have seen me?at midnight ?" I was saved. Many years have gone by since that terrible adventure. Thank Heaven,' I have no longer occasion to dread the importunities of creditors, or to draw the portraits of burgomasters. I have gained for myself a recognized place in the great world of art. But the recollection of that strange nootu- ; ral sketch has never become leas vivid; sometimes I lay aside my brush aiid pallet, and muse on for hours together. flow was it that a crime committed by a man whom I did not know, in a place wbioh I had never seen, was reproduced by my pencil, even in its minutest details ? Was it by chanoe? No. And yet, after all, what is chance but the effect of some cause which escapes us ? Perhaps Schiller was right when he said, "This immortal soul does not share the exhaustion of matter during the sleep of the body; she unfolds her radiant wings, and flies forth, God knows whither! What she then does, none can tell, but inspiration now. and then'betrays the secret of her noctural wanderings."? Who knows ? Nature is more daring in her realities than Imagination in her fanoies. flfistrlliutwm.s Jkfeks. Correspondence of the Philadelphia Public Ledger. Prom Washington. Washington, November 7.?ThePres! J ' il. __J__ a. 1 .1 t_ O a. laeni s oraer, iransamtea mrougn secretary Reward, to Governors Perry and Shatkey, requesting them'to continue the exercise of their functions until further advised, was probably oalled out by the doubtful position of tbose States upon the conditions which the President has set down as necessary to their reconstruction. In certain influential quarters I hear that all of the States have been advised not to repudiate their debts, or pass the Constitutional Amendment: but to send on their Senators and Representatives and let them take the chanoes. If allowed to take their seats well and good ; but if not, the parties alluded to*as advising the South assure it that nothing will be lost. On the contrary, they-assert that "\he non-representation of tb? States in Congress would be a small loss compared to the consequences that would flow from a consent to al! that the President requires as the price of the restoration.? How far the btates will follow this advice remains to be seen ; bat the fear, from the long delay iD the action of the Legislatures now iD session, that they may exhibit the cloven foot, is no doubt the reason why the President has refused to allow the newly elected Governors to occupy their positions, aod why he prefers to retain his present hold upon them. The rule will probably be made not to apply to South Carolina and Mississippi alone, but to all the States that do not come fally up to the Executive standard. The death of Palmerston has given rise to a belief that we are destined to have more trouble than was anticipated in the adjustment of our claims upon England.? Indeed, there is a well-grounded fear that we shall be compelled to draw these claims as mild as possible, if we would avoid iconsequences which, to say the least would*be most unpleasant. Influential Britishers here already declare that the arguments of Russell have left us. "no ground to stand upon." Among the earliest matters to be brought to the attention of^otigress will be the enforcement of the Monroe doctrine as applicable to Maximilian and his "Empire," which by the way, the Mexican Times, I see, declares an "accomplished fact." Congress will have something to say upon this, however, and I can assure you, that its action will be as firm as a fliut in favor of the maintenance of republican institutions upon this continent. The Washington correspondent of the.N. York Neics says: The Tribunt gnaws at a file, when he sneers at Governor Perry for what he says in his message about the admission to Congress of the representatives of South Carolina; and, at the President, beoause he has pardoned Gen. Humphreys; and at Gen. Joseph E. Johnston because .be has accepted the Presidency of the National Express Company The'determination of the President to see to it that no State in the Union is deprived of its just representation in Congress is fixed and unalterable ; and it will be seen in December, that be. has the power to enforce that determination, and will use it if necessary. TKe President has no sympathy with that narrow bigotry which would keep the officers of the late Confederate Army out of the avenues of honorable employment. He does not expect that the people of the South will forget those whom-they have long honored and trusted. And whenever such men as Governor Perry, Governor Sharkey, Mr. Alcorn, General Lee, General Johnston, General Ewell,and even General Longstreet, are placed by the aotion of the Southern people, in responsible and honorable positions, President Johnson will honor and respeot that aotion. ? xr l n r i _ _ _ Washington, novenmer y.?jl near id several Republican quarters that*in reference to the admission of Southern Con*, gressmen, there are plenty of members elect of the dominant party who intend that there shall be no summary action against them. There must be examination and consideration of the subject. If need be, there will be, it Is said, an organization of Republican members in aid of the President's policy, which may bring men into the field for the offices of the Senate, and candidates are already mentioned. Hon. J. P. Benjamin. \ One of the most remarkablt men that figured in the Confederate Government was undoubtedly, J, P. Benjamin. As Secretary of. State, Seoretary of War, and Attorney General, be appeared in the late eventful struggle of the Southern States. His versatile genius, if it did not render him competent to fill every and all positions that ocoasion might require, essayed the ez periment, and with his uBual boldness and energy he would plunge at once in mcdias res. A Federal Senator for many years in the United States Congress, he was the swift-footed, terrible Achilles of .the Democratic party brought out in the great senatorial contest to meroilessly slaughter any over-daring, presumptuous enemy, or to chase the onnosin? hosts back to the barri rr" o oaded ground of fortified silence. It was be whom the Southern leaders set upon Douglass?unwillingly, it is said?and it was his great master effort upon Douglas' "Squatter" Sovereignty doctrine that politically killed that gifted and hitherto popular leader of the Democracy. His speech was a master-pi^ce of reason and tact?it was unanswerable. In the Supreme Court his forensic eloquence enchained bcnoh, bar, and spectators alike. Not since the days of Hamilton and Pinckney bad that Court witnessed such a lawyer. It seemed that be knew everything, and that in every department of science he was equally at home. Those who knew him have told us that he was frequently to be seen -writing some great legal argument and talking at the same time to three or four persons on other matters. Yet no mistake would be made in his manuscript, every word would fit in, be beautiful and appropriate. His ceaseless activity was the standing wonder of those who knew him well. Nothing ever fagged him ; nothing upset his equanimity, nor disturbed his imperturbility. A great lawyer and an accomplished courtier, he was said to have more influence with the ex-President of the Confederacy than any one else?certainly than any of the Cabinet. And yet Mr. Davis was a man who dreaded being influenced,'and had a horror of any one he suspected of approaching him with that intent. But Mr. Benjamin knew Mr. Davis well, and the latter woold listen to nothing against his old friend and confrere in the United States Senate. As to the effect of that influence on the fortunes of the country and the fate of, the Confederate States, whether it was for good or for evil, it is not for us here to say. , It is sufficient to remark, that it is a subject upon which a wule difference of opinion exists. "JV/7 <le mortuis niu ho. num." Mr. Benjamin is, in all human i probability civilly dead to this country.? His eloquence will never again here, we fear, entrance the Senate or the bar, nor rouse tbe people, and Richmond will not again hear the fascinating colloquial powers of the mo^ charming conversationalist we ever met. This giant among men is in exile, and beneath tBe broad palladium of the British Constitution has returned to the practice of the law. With his eloquence and mastery of profession, we doubt not but that the ex-Secretarv, truly called by Mr. Reverdy Johnson "the first jurist" at the bar of the United States Supreme Court, will soou take rank with the foremost of the great English lawyers, and that the guineas will roll into his pockets as they did, in a past generation, into those of Sir William Follett and Sir James Scarlett. ?rRichmond Times. ?? f ? SKETcn of Wirz's Life.?The following brief sketch of the career of Henry Wirz, may be interesting to the public. It was received from his own lips by a gentleI man who visited him to-day, and, in point j of accuracy, is perfect: "I was born in Zurich, Switzerland; came to the "United States in 1849, at which time I was unable to speak English. I tried to obtain a position as assistant to some physician, but failed. Landed in New York city; afterward went to Connecticut, from whioh State I went to Lawrence, Massachusetts, where I was engaged in a shawl factory. . After remaining there for several years, went to Kentucky, where I married. I afterward went to Philadelphia, and thence to a plantation in Louisiana, where I was employed as a physician. I remained there until, the breaking out of the war, when I enlisted in an independent company as a private; was afterward made clerk of the Richmond prisons. I was soon after made Captain and Assistant Adjutant General on General Winder's staff; was wounded at Fair Oaks, (the wound from whioh he now suffers ;) was then made Provost Marshal of Manchester, Virginia; was then sent on an inspecting tour of the prisons iu the I South. "In 1863 I went to Europe for the bene-i lit of my health, where 1 remained three or four months; on my return I was put in charge of Andorsonville, Georgia, until the Confederacy bursted up. I admit that prisoners were brutally treated, but deny that I am the guilty party ; T have neve/ shot a man in my life." How the Western Indians Fight.? A correspondent of a Cincinnati paper; describing a recent attack on a Government train on the Western plains, has the following as to the Indian method of fighting. They rarely, if ever, attack except on horse-back; and each man keeps his horse on the run, riding generally id a circle, so as to avoid shots, discharging in the meantime showers of bullets and arrows, and shouting to stampede the animals. When a weapon is pointed at one of them, he shelter himself almost entirely by hanging over one side of his horse, and from this position ' continues firing. Dashing suddenly Upon a train in this manner, they can often dis charge a great number of shots before the J teamsters, taken bj surprise, and encumber cd by the care of their teams can make any organized or effective resistance, and if unsuccessful in their attempts to shoot the drivers or stampede the animals, they are often able to make good their retreat without serious loss. The principal defence against an attack of a formidable nature is to form a corral, which furnishes a considerable protection, and cases have occurred where corrals have been beseiged for several days, by large bodies of Indians too numerous to be encountered on the open plain. Although arrows are still muoh used, many of the Indians are well armed with rifles and revolvers, though some of them at least do not understand the use of the breech-loading guns, and they have been known to leave captured weapons of that description, after breaking so as to render them aseless. The, Insurrection in Jamaica.?The Panama Star and Herald, of Ootober 31st, gives the following particulars of the insurrection among the blacks of Jamaica, gleaned from Jamaica papers: "George W. Gordon, of Kingston, a principal mover of the insurrection, and Paul Bogle, bad been cangbt and were being tried by court-martial, with Revs. J. H. Cole and James Roach, together with most of the leading men in (he move. The ma- . roons of the island are fwnd true, loyal .men, and have done all in their power to save lives and quell the insurrection. The outrages committed find no parallel, and the evidence found upon some of the prisoners shows the intention of the insurrectionists to spare no while people, but to slaughter all indiscriminately; The rebels are dealt with in the most sumifcary way. The capture of the leaders has dispirited them, and many are surrendering. The Watchmanoffice was closed, and those connected with it arrested on the charge of publishing seditious articles. Her British Majesty's storesbip, Urgent, was dispatched to Barbadoes for troops, but there are .no apprehensions felt of much further trouble." ltill # A Bad Sign.?It would appear tha--, the negroes in town are .greatly in want of work. A load of wood was'thrown in front of our office the other day, and in the coarse of a ' few hours we had ten applications from ablebodied freedmen to cut it up. These negroes have left good homes in the country where they had plenty to eat, and are lying about town in idleness, only occasionally getting a little job" of work. The farmers need laborers?many have had to discontinue farming for the want of labor?while hundreds and thousands of able-bodied negro men are lounging abo&t the towns and .cities. The legislature must take some aotion which will compel negroes who do not properly beloDg to town and have no homes in it, to leavo aad go to tbo oountry toT tcnrL- Olirirlfiftp flrmni-rfif No Compliments in Prayer.?We have beard some prayers which were designed to effect tl. 2 bearer rather than to reach heaven. The following characteristic anecdote of John Randolph is a keen rebake to the practice : In a spell of repentance and sickness, he was visited by a-minister who, at his request prayed Tor and with him. The minister began in this wise: "Lord, our friend is sick. Thou knowest how generous he was to the poor, and what eminent service he has rendered to his country, and how he is ' among the honored and great men of the earth." "Stop, stop," said the impatient Randolph, "no more of such stuff, else the Lord will damn us both.". Found?The Author of Junius Letters.?rMr. ET. Coleby writes to fhe Londor Telegraph: It may not be uninteresting to many of our readers to know that, whilst arraogiDg pome papers for Mrs. Ryves, preparatory to her case coming on in No- ' vember next, in the Probate Court, I accidentally found, among other manuscripts) the following: Jjondon, Jan. 3, 1772.?Lord Chatham i hereby agrees to indemnify Doctor James Wilmot fcfor all the risks and dangers that Sg the said Doctor J. Wiljuot may be snbject era to in the continaation of the "Letters of js? Junius." Authorizing the paymenf of ' X170 to J. W., on account of printing and SlS publishing the work. Signed., CHATHAM. ^ Making Treason Odious.?On this |S subject the Louisville Democrat well says : SB Muoh is said of "making treason odious". Ma by the execution of Davis and others.? History shows that the execution of a rebel who has made a manly Stand up fight, does Pag not make his cause odioas, but rather, through the natnral grace and piety of man- aB kind, lends it a sympathy and admiration not its own. The world will censure, and wBB look upon the act as founded in timidity. [Sm It will be said our institutions were so weafc jesS there was one man we dared not let live.? * Wm We can, therefore, see no good that can BBS possibly spring from his execution, and raB much evil. Christian Forgiveness.?Ancient ecclesiastical history relates a beautiful incident, which affords a fine comment on St. gwj Paul's injunction, "Let not the sun go down upon thy wrath." Two Bishops baying ?|S violently quarrelled, one of them sent to the 1m other the following message : "Brother, the sun is going down." Upon receiving this jeW message the offended Bishop forgot his an- |m9 ger, ran to tho house of his Episcopal brother, fell upon his neck and kissed him. SSI General Lee's History of the War. |lm ?That ably edited and conservative paper, ||w the Cincinnati Enquirer, says of the forthcoming work : .sflBi It is safe to say that the book will be a truthful and interesting one, writtpn by the XRa man who, more than any other, is familiar. bSSB with the subject upon which he descants. It will, also, undoubtedly, possess great literary skill and merit, for the General is as fine a S cholar as he is able as a soldier.