Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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TjEwis \i. grist, Proprietor, j ?,it Jiibcpbcitt Jfamilii Itctusppcr: jfor tjtc ^promcrfioit of f|c political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of tjje Jloutj). ; TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IX ADVANCE. VOL. 18. YOBKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 17 1878. lSrO.43. i ^elected focfrn. i my (;ha\mammv. ft She tolls mo she was handsome once, Her eyes like jewels bright, The snowy locks upon her brow J * As jetty as the night; ' And over her polished shoulders fell A shower of raven curls; Her lips were of a coral hue, Her teeth twin rows of pearls. The roses on her youthful cheeks, Like tlioso that blush in June, When sky, and earth, and sea, and air, To beauty all attune; Her form a sculptor's model rare, cflniMAno than l\or foon While even her slightest gesture was The very soul of grace. Her voice in tone as softly clear As song-bird's liquid note, When waves of richest melody On summer zephyrs lloat. I know 'tis true; for I have heard, At that time she was wed, * The country round knew none so fair, Or so my grandpa said. But now she's withered, bent and old; Her voice is cracked and shrill; Her trembling hands almost rofuse The mandate of her will; Her brow is seamed by furrows deep, Her eyes are dimmed and blear, And often on their silvery fringe There hangs a crystal tear. ^ For she has seen, like autumn leaves, The dead around her fall, And followed to the churchyard near Full many a sombre pall , And back again to earth she has Her dearest treasures given? But, looking up, she smiles and says, "I'll see them all in Heaven!'' And as I bend above her head And stroke her wintry hair, Or stoop to kiss her brow and cheeks So seamed with lines of care, I feel that in my very soul I worship at her shrine, And pay, to child of mortal birth, Homage almost divine! sAt.lie M. Brock. m Jdotn idlev. | BRAVE KATE. The year 1781 was a dark and gloomy one for the Americans, who were then struggling for independence. In South Carolina affairs were in a critical situation. Gen. Greene made ** an unsuccessful attack on the British post of Ninety-Six, and withdrew his men beyond the Tyger and Broad Rivers. Lord Rawdon followed him, but could not draw the patriot General into an engagement. At that period there stood in South Carolina a plain and unassuming house ; it was a onestory building, neatly whitewashed and surrounded by a fence. .The garden contained many choice flowers ; and the beautiful honey-suckles shaded the door and windows. It was the house of Mrs. Heath, who lived with * x J 1 x T_ !1 _ I /-I ner two aaugniers, wnue iiereun vjeurgu ?u? in Washington's array fighting for freedom. Kate, the eldest of the daughters, was a beautiful girl of sixteen summers; her auburn hair hung in graceful curls down her shoulders, and her face beamed with kindness, while her eyes shone like the stars that lit up the azure vaults of heaven. One evening as Kate was standing at the cottage door, she beheld two mounted officers approaching. They were richly dressed, and one of them she recognized as Lord Rawdon, the commander of the British forces in that part of the country. They rode up to her, i and Rawdon bent over his saddle and said, in a kind voice, "Well, Miss, can you let me t have the use of a room for a few minutes ?" "Yes, sir; our house is open to you." . "Come, Colonel, let us hasten to business," said Rawdon, dismounting, while the Colonel did the same, the latter leading the horses to the stable. Lord Rawdon advanced to where Kate was standing, and said, "Whose house is this, Miss?" "Mrs. Heath's, my lord." "Ha ! Her sou is in the rebel army, under Washington, is he not?" Kate trembled at the insult, and she looked at the Briton with a searching glance. "My brother is no rebel, Lord Rawdon; he is fighting for his country." "I am sorry for that. He is a brave boy, I and would no doubt, make a good British soldier," returned Rawdon. ; "Lord Rawdon, you insult me. I would j sooner see George die a felon's death than see j him in the King's army," was the prompt ananswer. "I see you're a rebel, too, Miss Heath. But here comes the Colonel," said Rawdon, as he saw that worthy coming from the stable. ! They entered the house, and went into a i small room to hold consultation. Kate thought' they might have something important to! say, so she resolved to play the part of eaves- i dropper. She told her mother of her intention, who approved of it, aud Kate placed ! herself in a position to overhear the Britons' j plans. It was a dangerous undertaking, and she i knew that if she was caught in the act of lis- j tening she would be treated as a spy, and per- j 1 .1 /? T 1 1 . 1 naps executed, ior JiOra ltawaon kiicw 110; mercy. She cautiously approached the door j and looked through the crevice. Rawdon ; and the Colonel were seated before a small i table, on which lay maps. They were exam-, ining them closely, while Rawdon was explain-. ing them to the Colonel. "Hereis Greene's camp," said he, "and here is ours. We must make a bold stroke, and if I it be successful, Greene will be destroyed." "I don't see why it should not succeed, do j you, my lord?" "No; if our troops fight as well as they! have heretofore, we shall succeed," said Haw-! don, his face assuming a triumphant expression. "I shall feel happy when the rebels are driv-; en away from Carolina, and their rule will be ; over," said Col. Roberts. "We must crush Greene, Colonel; I do not want to go back to England and let it be said that 1 was outgeneraled by a rebel. No, never!" exclaimed Rawdon, rising to his feet.' "Then we make that attack at dav-break, -1- i O" il. . " uo wc nut i uskcu uie coiouci. "We do. Have your regiment ready and make them fight like demons." "Let us go, now. But hold ! what is the countersign for the picket to-night, my lord ?" 1 "England !" answered Lord Iiawdou, low-: ering his voice. Kate listened to the Britons' plans with a wildly throbbing heart, and she resolved to ! save the patriot army. When she heard the countersign she left the door, and busied herself in her household duties; and soon the two officers emerged from the room. "We must go, Miss Iieath, but first let me thank you for your kindness," said Iiawdou. "Your thanks are received," replied Kate. * Their horses were saddled, and the officers wo$e soon on their way. Kate watched them until tney were out 01 signt, anu men prepareu for her perilous journey. She threw on a shawl, ami then went to the stable. Her ilcetfootecl horse neighed as she entered, and she patted him on the head and said, "Well, noble Selim, you must carry me safely tonight, for if you do not General Greene will be destroyed. The animal seemed to understand her, for he gave a loud whinny. Our heroine saddled Selim, led him from the stable, and was soon riding toward General Greene's camp, which was eight miles distant. She rode swiftly, for she wanted to reach her destination in time to let the patriot General form his men to meet the assault. The British pickets were four miles distant, and she would be compelled to pass through their lines; but as she was iu i possession of the countersign, she did not fear i the result. Soon Kate saw the picket's hayo; net gleam in the moonlight, and heard him I cry out: | "Who goes there ?" "A friend, with the countersign." "Advance, friend, and give the countersign." She approached the picket and whispered, "England." "All right! pass on. But stop !" cried the picket, as he caught a glimpse of her face. Kate stopped her horse and laid her hand on a pistol. The picket approached and said, "Is that you, Miss Heath ?" "It is, Guy," returned Kate, for she rccog nized the soldier to be Guy Jackson, who had often visited the gardener, at their house. "Where are you going to-night ?" he asked. "To see Mrs. Blake, she is very ill." "Just like you, Miss Kate?always visiting the sick; you area ministering angel," said the British soldier. "Thank you for the compliment, Guy. But I must he going. Goodnight!" And Kate was again on her journey, while j the picket returned to his post. She had to pass four miles vet ere she would be safe, so she urged on her steed. Before she had gone a hundred yards from Guy Jackson, a dozen mounted Britons rode furiously up to the picket, and their leader cried out, ,1 !%??* i\Act o eliArf timn?" 1 jL/IU illlj Wilt; Lino jn'ots a> ouui v unuv i i "Yes, sir," was the picket's reply. "Do you know who it was?" "I do ; it was Miss Heath." "Had she the countersign ?" "She had."^ "I fear she is safe. Forward, men ! If she escapes, General Green is saved ! A hundred golden guineas and a commission to the man j who catches her!" cried the leader of the i band, iy:d they dashed after the brave girl, leaving the picket in a state of bewilderment, j Kate soon heard the sound of her pursuers, and she pushed on faster. It was a race for life or death. The British horses were fresh, while hers was beginning to show signs of fatigue. "Forward, Selim ! You must take me to ! Gen. Greene's camp!" said Kate to her horse. But her enemies gained upon her, aud one of them seemed bent on catching her, for he j was some yards in advance of his comrades. ; Kate heard the ominous tramp of the horse, ] rvicfAl "Vnn nomn until liA i UUU U1CH 1IC1 HVU1V.1 ^uuiu Uiivii < was at her side, and then cried out, "Halt, J you vile rebel!" Those were bis last words, for Kate fired, and the ball crashed through his brain. The others did not stop to look at their dead comrade, but pressed on. They neared her again, and another trooper received his death-wound. The remainder halted, and a moment afterwards Kate heard the American pickets cry out, "Who goes there ?" "Kate Ileath," cried the heroine, as 6he dashed through the line. The soldier had raised his gun, but when he i heard her name it was lowered, and he an-1 oiroro/l "All rirrVif I" The American camp was reached; Kate threw herself from the saddle, and placed her faithful horse in charge of a soldier. "Where is Gen. Greene's tent ?" she asked. "To the right, there where you see that light," replied the man, pointing to the place. She entered the General's tent and found him engaged in writing. He raised his eyes, then rose to his feet, and said, "You come here at a late hour, Miss Heath." "I do, General. You are in danger." "How is that ?" exclaimed Greene. The brave girl told her story, and the General grasped her hand, while the tears trickled down his war-worn cheeks. "Thank heaven ! you have saved my army, Miss Heath ! I can never repay you !" "I want no payment. The thought that I have done my duty, and the thanks of Gen. Greene, are worth more than gold and dia-! raonds," was the heroic reply. "Take ray thanks, my brave girl, and may the Great Jehovah watch over and guide you through the changing scenes of life," responded Green. "And may He save my country, too," added Kate. "You need rest. Here, sleep in my tent to- j nicrht while T seek a resting nlace amoner mv i ?? 1 ? O 1 o * men," said the hind-hearted Greene. "I do not wish to rob you of your couch, General." "You will not. I shall be engaged iu forming my troops to meet the attack." And Gen. Green left the tent. Kate enjoyed a good rest that night, and in i the morning General Greene came to her, and ! joyfully exclaimed. "Good news! Lord j llawdon is in full retreat. We took a prisoner this morning, who says you frustrated j their plans and saved the army. Heaven bless you for thatgood act! But I must leave j von now for T nm orninrr to follow "Rnwdon. I J ?vr.., . w. ? """ | and teach him that we can fight. TV hen are you going home ?" "In a lew minutes, General." "Good-by, and may you have a safe journey," responded Green, shaking her by the hand. Her horse was led forth, and she was soon on the way to her home, which was reached in safety. Kate Heath lived to see the war close, and peace and plenty spread their wings over the land, and not long afterwards she was wedded j to Walter Gordon, who had been a Colonel in ! the American army, j ? ? ? BEAD AM) ALIVE. A WOODCHOrPEIi'S STORY. "Boys, I never swear now. Haven't used , an oath since I was dead!" I He was a tall, one-eyed man, wearing a broad-brimmed hat and red flannel shirt. He sat on the railing of the bridge, whittling and ! talking to three or four others standing by. j " 1 es, sir," said no, "i was ntau once. ju | was the strangest thing you ever saw in your ' life. You don't believe it, ha! Well, I don't! wonder. I don't suppose any other man ever went through such an awful siege, and I can't' expect anybody to look at it as I do. You i see it happened like this: It was winter, we! lumbered on Whitecomb Creek, six or eight! years ago. It was war times then, and wages ; were good. I was getting forty dollars a month, and worked like a beaver till this little affair . came off. We went to work about a mile from the shanty?Jim Robinson and me?and < Vio/1 cln^r.n/1 ir>tn tlm nirrn l!L-r? oil r><^PSSfd. ' ? ?> W.V !?..? ...... .... , The boys were hauling pretty lively, for it i was early January, and sleighing was good. Jim was at work on a big tree about twenty < rods from where 1 was. Pretty soon, after lie had veiled at me, his ; ' i i n il 'TI ? iree loppicu over anu icn. il was as uuuu-. some a piece of pine timber as ever you saw,! ami I watched it as it fell. Crash it went, in i the branches of an old grub oak, and hung . just there. I never saw a fellow madder than Jim was?we did some tall cursing among , them pines. Ho tried every possible way to loosen the pine, but couldn't get it off. Finally we made up our minds to go for the tree, < and in about ten minutes we bad it cut through i so it trembled like a leaf with every stroke of the axe, he cutting on one side and I on the ' other. When it was almost through, as I was J . the biggest and best chopper, says I to Jim,: and then ripped out a big oath, "Let me finish her, Jim. Get out of the i , way and I will have her through in a half a minute." i "I had been chopping a minute or two, j ; when Jim let loose a scream that would have j i made an Injun's blood run cold. I had just I time to look up and see that pine tumbling ' down, when I dropped my axe and ran. I i couldn't have got far when something seemed J to hit my eyes, and then everything was dark. | "I suppose I was dead." j "Maybe you don't believe, boys; but that's | all 1 can make out of it. All at once the ! light, the looks of the snow on the ground, i everything was shut out from my sight. 1 There was a kind of an uncertain feeling, just : as a fellow has when he's asleep. I knew I something awful had happened, but I could . not stir hand or foot. It seemed as though it was night, and that I was covered up by i something that pressed heavily on me. Still there wasn't any particular pain, and for a ! long time I couldn't think where I was. How long I staid there 1 can't tell. 1 suppose it | wasn't long, when I felt somebody pull my I arm and I heard Jim Robinson say: J "0, Lord! Poor fellow!" ! "I knew he was there, and I could feel him touch me; and yet I could not speak or open my eyes. He thought I was dead. Then I i wondered if all dead folks could hear and ' think as I did. I tried to move my hands? ' I tried to scream ; but I couldn't do anything. Jim left me and the next I remember of, I was ! pulled out from under the tree and hauled to the shanty on one side of the sleds. You may bet there was considerable excitement among i the boys when I was taken into camp. I j could feel that I was dead. My heart didn't j beat?I couldn't move; but I could hear, and had a kind of misty notion about everything that was going on about me. "Some of the boys, after feeling my forrud, j wauted to send for tne doctor. "It's no use, boys," said the boss, "the poor fellow's gone. His neck was broke. The most we can do for him is to take him home to j his folks." | "Well, they laid me out on one of the i sleighs, and fixing me up in as decent a way ' j as a corpse could be in a lumber camp, one of the teamsters started with me forOshkosh. "I first didn't realize just how bad the situation was. When it began to leak into my head that I was really dead, and was to be buried in the ground, and shut out forever from the light of the sun, it frightened me. "The long ride to Oshkosh passed like those things that happen in a dream. We got there and I was taken to my brother's house. He felt terrible bad when I was brought home. "I hadn't any idea that he thought so much i of me as he did. 1 "I could hear him cry and talk, and hadn't I the power to move a muscle. I was put in a nnffin. and it finallv came out that I was to : i be buried. "My old mother lived there, you know. Oh ! boys, I hope none of you will ever be made to feel the horrors that I felt when I knew I was boxed up in a coffin and would soon be buried. "Seven years have gone by since then, but I never think of it without a shudder. I felt them putting on the lid of the coffin, and then I knew I was fastened up. "From that time until the cover of the coffin was raised again I haven't any recollection i of what happened, only that i was continually in motion. Though I could not open my eyes, I sorter felt that it was dark and I was going somewhere. "All of a sudden mother spoke. "George," said she to my brother, "his forehead don't feel very cold. How strange it is." "Then George's hand was put on my forehead, and I could then feel him place his hand on my breast. "They seemed to think that I might not be dead. "Pretty soon a neighbor came in, and there was a good deal of talking that I couldn't understand. "Then I was rubbed all over with a coarse towel. Still I couldn't stir or open my eyes. { "Then my mother came to give one last look. I felt her near me just as she used to be when I was a boy, and her hands smoothed my hair in the old way, that seemed to take i ? i .1 ?1 T _ 1 1 ? ! mc oacK 10 tne nme wneu ? wusu u t>u uuu ?o I am now. "I tried with all the force I could, but IJ felt that some one was turning the screws of the coffin-lid, and after a while the cover was taken off. "I would rather die a thousand times over than go through the horrible suffering of that affair again. "There I was, dead and going to be buried, and so near alive that I knew what was going on. ! "Boys, you may talk, but there is nobody in this world that thinks as much of you as your mother. You can imagine my feeling? 110, you can't have the least notion of how IJ i felt, when she was taking on so over me. After a while I could feel that my mother had i stopped crying; then I thought she might have fainted. "I never was much in the praying line, but if ever any one made a strong try to call on God for assistance, I did then. "I could feel my mother's soft hand on my head. I made one strong effort to rouse myself, and finally I broke the spell and looked up. "My mother fainted ; but help soon came, and after taking some medicine and doctor's | stuff, I was able to think freely and breathe j again. "In a little while I was well again, with the exception of an ugly scar on the back of my i neck. I "The doctors said I had a narrow escape. My spinal cord, they said, had been struck : by the branch of the tree, and I was as good j as dead. j "It was more than a miracle that I was. brought to. They had a good deal to say ! about paralyzing my nervous system and i stopping my circulation, and all that; but, at! any rate, 1 got well. "Boys! I haven't sworn an oath since then. I don't feel like it." Pocket Dictionary.?Webster's Pocket, Dictionary, in its present shape, is a great improvement over all previous editions and 1 all similar works. In the first place it is neatly ! printed, and bound in morocco, with gilt edges. | Then it contains 200 pictorial illustrations,} which give a much clearer idea of the mean- j ing of many words than could possibly be con- j veyed by the usual definition. The little vol- | ume, while being no larger than an ordinary ' pocket-book, embraces in its vocabulary a ' careful selection of over 18,000 of the most i important words of the language, with defini- i tions sufficiently clear, though necessarily I brief, to meet the ordinary wants of any one | requiring its use. Prefixed to the work are j tables of money, weight and measure, abbre-. viations, words and phrases from foreign lan- j gunges, rules for spelling, explanations etc.; It is in fact a most valuable little book, and is j d ,.n l? I ?* a /I a1 In if /lAofn Tf i c nnntr I UUUUI> ?uitu luVv Viv;nat ib buoto. xu 10 ?vij ? beautifully and substantially bound,with tucks and gilt edges. The publishers, Ivison, Blake- [ man, Taylor <fe Co., 138 and 140 Grand street, | New York, will forward it by mail on receipt j of One Dollar, or it cau be bought almost J anywhere. Small Matters.?The nerve of the tooth, j not so large as the finest cambric needle, will i sometimes drive a strong man to distraction, j A mosquito can make an elephant absolutely ; mad. A coral rock, which causes a navy to founder, is the work of worms. The warrior j that withstood death in a thousand forms may ; be killed by an insect. The pettiest wretch-! 1 edness often results from deep trials. A | ' chauce look from those we love often produces j I exquisite pain or unalloyed pleasure. | IWiscettattcous landing. i I BLOODY BURTON--BUTCHER OF ISO MEN. ; During the war hundreds of scoundrels took i advantage of the situation to plunder the dej fenseless in the districts overrun and laid ; waste by armies. They robbed and murdered . without hesitation or regard to sentiment. ; Their hands were against every man, and eve ry man's hand was against them. One of the ' most ferocious and horrible creatures of this nlnvia tons knnwn to live in the Ozark Moun ! tains, near the Arkansas and Missouri State ' line, and in a very short time he was spoken ! of and feared in that region, both by citizens i and soldiery. The name of the ruffian, robber j aud red-handed murderer was Frank Burton, j aud he was originally a horse thief in Arkan| sas, but was so closely pursued into Texas by , a crowd bent on lynching him, that he coni eluded to seek pastures new, and found them ; in the Ozark Mountains. Forsyth, Missouri, I and Carrolton, Arkansas, are about forty miles apart, and at the side of the road between | them Burton selected his place of abode. He j built- a half hut at the mouth of a natural j cave in the side of the mountain, about four hundred feet above the road, and there lived ! alone. Few people saw him and lived to rei late it afterward. He always carried a long 1 rifle and heavy side-arms, and would shoot 1 down and rob any unfortunate enough to come within range of his gun. After his j deeds began to be known, a detachment of Federal soldiers was sgnt after him a half I dozen different times, but always returned one, two or half a dozen men short. Burton wore and old butter-nut suit, mucn the color or tne i trees and rocks on the mountain side, and was an adept at hiding himself and slipping from J bush to bush without being seen. On one occasion a company of twenty or thirty men hunted him for a week, and at last got him on a mountain, which they surrounded. They then started up the slope, but had proceeded only a few paces when a puff of smoke issued I from behind a rock two hundred yards away I and the foremost man fell with a bullet hole through his chest. Before the others had re, covered from their surprise another puff of , smoke was seen and another man fell. The I survivors made a rush for the rock, firing as ! they ran, but ere they reached it another shot I from the deadly rifle of the robber brought I down a third man. The party at last reached [ the rock only to find that the assassin had disappeared without leaving a trace. While ! looking for his track they again heard the crack of his rifle, and another of their numi ber dropped dead. This was continued until terror took possession of the party, and they' beat a hasty retreat, nearly one-half of those remaining being convinced that the object of their search was something more than mortal. The General in command of that district, at last offered a large reward for the head of the scoundrel, and the reward was increased when it was found that he continued to rob and kill unmolested. $5,000 was at last offered for him dead or alive, and a description of him I was printed and circulated among the troops. ! He was described as short and heavy set, with immense and muscular hands and arms. His hair and rough unkempt beard were black as the plumage of a crow, aud he was utterly filthy and disgusting in appearance, as he sometimes did not wash his face or hands in weeks. The neighbors living too near him he killed or drove away, and it is said, and probably with truth, that he murdered no lees than one hundred and eighty persons while in that region. One family, living within a couple | of miles of his cave, he spared for his own convenience. The family consisted of the father, a half-witted puny creature, the wife and one child, a boy ten or twelve years old. Burton, when in the neighborhood, occasionally visited the house and forced them to furnish him with provisions. He threatened | them with death if they ever admitted that j they knew him, or that he came to the house, I and as they knew that he would keep his word j they answered all inquiries by denying that they knew or had ever seen him. The hut in which the family lived was at the base of the ' mountain, and stood in the centre of a cleared I slope, about three hundred yards across, j Burton, when coming to the house, would stop I a! tt'nr* n?rl nOttoflllllt In. ill tut? cu^c ui tut; uicaiiug auu a** I epect the premises to satisfy himself that no i enemies were concealed there. Finding that i all was secure, he would then hail the family j and order the man and boy to leave, which I they never failed to do. With his rifle on his I arm he would then advance to the cabin and [ direct the woman to prepare his dinner or ; breakfast, as the case might be. The woman | feared and loathed him, but was afraid to re! fuse, knowing that he would shoot her down at the first word of remonstrance. Two Federal soldiers, in a camp seven miles from the spot, concluded to attempt his capture, and obtaining leave of absence, started for the house. Before leaving camp they dressed themselves in dirty, tattered linen clothing, although the month was November, I and the weather was bitterly cold. One of them was Zachariah Thomas, of Company A, First Iowa Cavalry, and the other was a member of the Tenth Illinois Cavalry, whose name is forgotten. On approaching the house, they concealed their pistols in the woods, and without arras of any kind entered the clearing and hailed the woman. It wa9 then about twilight, and both men were shivering with cold and fear, and Thomas afterwards said he would have given anything he possessed to have been out of the scrape. The woman answered the call, and they told her that they wanted to see Burton. She said he was not there, but they insisted that they must sec him, and would remain until he came. The woman, finding that they were obstinate, at last consented to let them remain over night, and promised to send her son for Burton in the morning. They passed a miserable and anxious nignt, and rose long before day-light. About 8 o'clock the boy returned and reported that he had found Burton and informed mm mat two men ?eie mutiny tu sue Jinn. Burton had answered that he would come over, and in a few minutes afterwards he appeared at the edge of the clearing. Thomas and his companion walked out to the gate and they surveyed each other for a moment or two in silence. Burton did not seem pleased at their appearance, and once or twice drew up his gun as if to fire. They shouted to him not to shoot, and, throwing up their arms, declared that they had no weapons. Burton took another survey of them, and finally slowly approached, informing them that he would fire on them on the least appearance of treachery, and that he only waived his usual custom of firing on anyone within pistol shot of him out of curiosity to hear what they had to say. I The trio at last entered the house, and Burton, after ordering the men in front of him, sat down to breakfast with his gun resting against the bed and in easy reach. Thomas, who was thin and very pale, acted as a spokesman, and informed him that they had, a few days before, escaped from a Federal prison at Springfield, and that they were on their way South. Thevhad heard of him. and knowinc i that he was well provided with such things, came to him for horses, clothing and arms, j They professed to be able and willing to pay when they reached home, and promised to j send him the money. Burton replied that he i had no more sympathy for a Southerner than for a Northern man, and that he had no \ friends. He murdered and robbed both sides,: and did not propose to assist any one. The j men urged that they were perishing with the j clothing they had on, and would either freeze j or starve to death if he did not assist them. I j Burton said he could furnish them with an I easier death, and thought he had better kill i them and put them out of their trouble. Look ing at Thomas' emaciated figure and white 1 face, he added, with horrible humor, that the ; skeleton could not live long, any way, and ! might as well be hustled out of the world at 1 once. The two men, whose teeth were chattering with fear and cold, but who dared not j approach the tire without permission, stood in | silence while he munched his breakfast and i uttered his ghastly jokes. He at last finished j his meal, and, picking up his rifle, placed it i across his knees as he seated himself in front j of the fire, and gave thera permission to ap! proach. They drew up chairs and seated themselves on each side of him, and again i urged him to give them horses and arms, say! ing that it could afford him no gratification to i kill two miserable devils like thera, and that they would be forever grateful to him for asj sistance. Burton told them to stop their talk, j and he would let thera know what he would I do with them after he had smoked a pipe, i Drawing his pipe from his pocket, he slowly i whittled some tobacco from a hard twist and i filled the bowl. Thomas, who was at his right j hand, reached out, and, raising the heavy iron i poker in his hand, poked an ember out of the j fire for him to light his pipe with. Burton I stooped down to put it in the bowl, when I Thomas, with the spring of a panther, gained j his feet and dealt the ruffian a fearful blow ! across the back of his head with the poker. ; His companion at the same instant grasped j the muzzle of the rifle and snatched it from I his lap, Burton pitched forward on the hearth, j but, although stunned, still endeavored to clutch at his rifle stock. Thomas had no intention of allowing his advantage to slip from him, and, while Burton was still on his hands i and knees, sprung on his back, and using I both hands, showered blow after blow upon his head, crushing his skull in at almost every stroke. When satisfied at last that the wretch was dead, Thomas dropped the poker, and the two men, completely unnerved with the terrible struggle, laughed hysterically. The woman, who had been a terrified spectator of thescene, and who had, after the first blow, wrung her hands and cried, "For God's sake, I don't let him get up, or we are all lost," fell to the floor in a dead faint. The soldiers clashed a part of the contents of the waterbucket over her, and soon restored her to consciousness. They then took Burton's rifle and side-arms and started for the camp, leaving the body on the hearth. They had proceeded but about a quarter of a mile when they heard ] the woman scream, and turning, saw her beckoning to them to return. Not knowing what she wanted, they ran back and. saw the most horrible sight they had ever witnessed. Burton, whom they had supposed dead, still had a spark of life in his ugly body, and after they left bad gained his hands and knees and endeavored to crawl away. His eyes were pounded from the sockets, and, as his head was beaten to a jelly, he of course knew nothing, although he had groped around until he had found the door, and on his hands and knees was crawling away over the dead grass. Thomas and his companion gazed on the blood-curdling spectacle a moment, and then | seizing the axe at the wood pile, hewed the head from the trunk, and, anxious to get away from the spot, dropped the weapons, and still bearing the gory head, ran toward their camp. They reached it in about two hours' time, and exhibiting the head, related the story to their colonel. Several of the soldiers recognized the head as that of Burton, and the two men had no difficulty in obtaining the reward. Their exploit made them heroes in the eyes of the people in that portion of the country, and it was principally owing to his reputation and the start in life obtained through the reward, that Thomas afterwards married the daughter of the colonel of his regiment. He is now living in the Southern part of this State, and, with a modest competence and a charming family, is as happy as he could desire to be. Even at this day, he is disinclined to speak of his adventure, and shudders involuntarily when the subject is alluded to. What became of his companion, our informant was unable to state. Thomas, accompanied by some soldiers from his company, and under the guidance of the boy who had summoned Burton for them, visited the robber's cave a day or two after the adventure, and there found a large pile of arms of all descriptions, a number of watches, quite a large sum of money, and over fifty suits of clothes the monster had stripped from the bodies of his victims. In the breast of almost every coat, was found a bullet-hole; and in the heaps of garments, the Southern gray and Northern blue were indiscriminately piled. What became of the plunder is not clear, but it probably fejl to Thomas and bis friend. Both men afterwards regretted that they left the rifle of the assassin in the cabin, as it was not to be found when they returned and looked for if. They solemly declared that the stock contained a row of notches, reaching from the breech to the muzzle, and that Burton told them that every notch represented a life he had taken, and that two more ] would be added for their own, unless he felt1 an unusual generosity and allowed them to live. With the exception of a brief mention j made of the affair at the time by an array | correspondent, this almost incredible story was i never published. That the details given I -1 x : 1: 1__ : aoove are irue 111 every purueuiur, me ouur ving members of the Fifth Iowa or the Tenth Illinois Cavalry will readily attest.?St. Louis Democrat. I -? PETER CARTWRIGHT. WONDERFUL LIFE OF THE GOOD OLD METHODIST CLERGYMAN. The Rev. Peter Cartwright died at his home near Pleasant Plains, Sangamon county, Illinois, last week, aged eighty-seven years. Peter was converted in 1801. The change was very sudden. He had been to a wedding about five miles from home, and danced until a late hour. Soon after his returning home, while he was pacing the floor, reflecting on the manner in which he had spent the | day and evening, all of a sudden blood rushI ed to his head, his heart palpitated, and I in a few minutes he turned blind. He imag| incd himself about to die, cried for mercy, and promised to serve the Lord if spared. I After recovering from the attack, he sold his ! race horse, burnt his pack of cards, and took to reading the Testament. One day, while in j anguish over his sinful past, it appeared to' him that he heard a voice from Heaven, sayI ing, "Peter, look at me !" His sins, however, I were not forgiven till some time after, when ! he received a heavenly intimation to that j effect. Peter was formally received into the M. E. i Church in June, 1801, and soon became well known as a preacher and exhorter. He was called the Kentucky Boy. A curious epidemic was then prevalent among the Metho! dists, called the jerks, and resembling the St. Vitus dance, while listening to a stirring sermon people would be seized with a convulsive jerking all over. Finely dressed ladies and gentlemen were seized in this way, and found it impossible to resist, says Cartwright. HOW CARTWRIGHT ESCAPED A WHIPPING. At one of ray appointments, in 1804, there were two very finely dressed fashionable young ladies, attended by two brothers with loaded horsewhips. The house was crowded, and fVio vrmnrr Inrlipq tnnlr spats near where T stnnd. ? I was unwell, and had a phial of peppermint in my pocket. Before I commenced preaching I took out my phial and swallowed a little of the peppermint. The congregation i was melted into tears, and both the young la! dies took the jerks. | A man warned me, as I dismissed the as! sembly, that the brothers swore they would i horsewhip me for giving their sisters the jerks. ! I went out to the young men and cxpostulai ted. One said he had seen me take out a j phial, in which I carriedsome truck that gave I his sisters the jerks. As quick as thought it j came into my mind how to get clear of my i whipping, and pulling the phial out, I cried : "1 es, I gave your sisters the jerks. I'll give them to ycu." I moved toward him. He backed. I advanced, and he wheeled and ran, warning me not to come near him, or he would kill me.1 It raised the laugh on him, and I escaped the whinoin?. * A HORROR OF WHISKY DRINKING PREACHERS. Peter Cartwright had a horror of whisky,1 and of whisky drinking preachers. He says 'r "While settled in Christian county, a person calling himself a Baptist preacher called to stay all night with rae. He was accompanied by his son. I disposed of their horses as best I could, and they partook of our fare. J After supper they both stepped into another room, and when they returned I smelled whisky, very strongly. Although those were not days of general temperance, I thought it a bad sign, but said nothing. He declined to join in evening prayer. In the morning, as soon as prayer was over, he again took out his bottle, and asked me to take a dram. I declined. On leaving, he said: 'Perhaps,brother, you charge ?' 'Yes,' said I,'all whiskyloving preachers, who will not pray with me, I charge.'" WHO IS GEN. JACKSON ? Cartwright, though not a Radical Abolitionist, had very swelling views of the equality of mankind. One day when he was preaching in Nashville, Gen. Jackson entered the church. Another preacher whispered a little loud, "Gen. Jackson has come in?Gen. Jackson has come in." Cartwright said audibly: "Who is Gen. Jackson? If he don't get his soul converted God will damn him as quick as he would a Guinea negro." The congregation, Gen. Jackson and all, smiled and laughed outright. The resident | preacher told Cartwright that Gen. Jackson i would chastise him. The General, on the contrary, expressed himself highly pleased with his independence. "A minister of Jesus Christ," said Jackson, "ought to love everybody, and fear no mortal man." A DISPUTE WITH A DOCTOR. Many other anecdotes could be told of this om/1 folanfn/I man anH there is one I CUUCUtllU auu laivuvvu *? ? _ ? too good to let pass. He once had a dispute I with a doctor relative to religion. The docI tor said he wanted honest and unequivocal answers to a few questions. "Did you ever hear religion ?" "No." "Did you ever smell religion ?" "No." "Did you ever taste religion ?" "No." "Did you ever feel religion ?" "Yes." "Now, then, said the doctor, with apparent triumph, "I have proved beyond a doubt, by four respectable witnesses, that religion is not seen, heard, smelled, or tasted, and but one; solitary witness, feeling, has testified that it is, an experimental fact. The weight of evidence is overwhelming, and you must give up." Cartwright asked, "Did you ever see a pain ?" "No." "Did you ever hear a pain ?" "No." "Did you ever smell a pain ?" "No." "Did you ever taste a pain ?" "No." "Did you ever feel a pain ?" "Certainly, I did, sir." Ttio rlnntnr and h{? familv were converted. BLAZING HIS WAY. Cartwright having been brought up in a log cabin, did not like climbing stairs, and when he took up his quarters in a hotel he preferred rooms on a lower floor. He once went to Chicago and booked himself at the Tremont House. The preacher was assigned to a room in the eighth or ninth Btory. Soon after being shown to his room, Cartwright rang the bell. A waiter was promptly in attendance. "I want an axe," said Cartwight. The astonished servant said he would procure one. Having obtained an axe, Cartwright asked the waiter to guide him down stairs. At the first turn in the stairs, Cartwright blazed his mark in the walnut baluster. The dumbfounded waiter asked what he meant. "I want to know my way back to my room again," said Cartwright. The preacher was assigned to a room at a more rural distance from mother I earth. Mr. Cartwright was first assigned to Pleas[ ant Plains in 1853. In his old age he retained | his faculties to an extraordinary degree, and his I example has had no small effect in keeping up the old-time spirit of Methodism. j ? -? THE CASE OF SAMUEL G. BROWN. The New York World contains a communication from Mrs. Westmoreland of Atlanta, Georgia, narrating her efforts to secure Execi utive clemency in behalf of Samuel G. Brown, 1 of York county, in this State, one of the ku| klux prisoners now confined in the Albany | penitentiary. At the instance of Rev. David Wills, President of the Oglethorpe University, who knew Mr. Brown and regarded him as an honest, upright, law-abiding man, Mrs. Westmoreland determined to address Mrs. Governor Hoffman in Mr. Brown's behalf. The correspondence and the result will be found in the extract we give: Atlanta, Ga., February 14, 1872. Dear Mrs. Hoffman :?Although a stranger, you will pardon the liberty I take in thus addressing you when my mission is made known, for I appeal to you in the name of humauity?yea, more. I come to beg you, as a Christian woman, and by those sympathetic and softer feelings which God" has implanted in your woman's nature, to befriend the friendless and to console the afflicted. There lies in the State prison at Albany an old man by the name of Samuel G. Brown, who is sixtyfive years of age, almost blind and broken in health. He is from York county, South Carolina, and is a victim of Judge Bond, of kuklux notoriety, who was sent to Carolina by Grant, for the purpose, it would seem, of pros- j ecuting the innocent and protecting the infamous. This old man was dragged from his I home, brought to Columbia, where Bond's i Court sits, and thrown into prison. He was then taken through the mockery of a trial, and notwithstanding he filed an affidavit proving that so far from acting with the so-called ku-klux he had gone at midnight, on a recent occasion, to prevent the murder of a negro, was sentenced to five years' hard labor in the State prison of New York, and required to pay a fine of 81000. As he had no money to J satisfy this atrocious demand the modern Jeffreys has ordered his plantation to be levied 1 upon and sold, and at its sale the poor man's ' family will be turned adrift upon the world j homeless, fatherless and in poverty. Knowing your husband to be the champion of con-; stitutional liberty, the embodiment of those | qualities which make a man truly great and j noble, and believing that you must imbibe his i eentiments, I hope I shall not appeal in vain, j Now, if the authorities will permit it, will yon not visit this old man in his loneliness and try to brighten his prisoner's cell by ministering to his wants. If you have any scruples aoouc his being a Southerner, let rae tell you that I fed and cared for many a Union soldier during the war, and that ray husband, who was a surgeon, gave the same attention to Union prisoners that he did to our own brave boys, believing that humanity demanded such a course, and with the hope that our conduct might find its duplicate in some kind North| em breast. Rev. Dr. Wills, a Presbyterian i divine, who has begged me to intercede in be- g half of this old man, has known him for years. Jfc" He says he is an honest, upright man, whose character is above reproach, and that he is innocent of all charges preferred against him. The Carolina people can do nothing for him, for the heel of the tyrant grinds them to the earth, and the same Government which hung a dead woman, and which overrides Congress and the Constitution, plunges old men into penitentiaries in a distant State, and exiles those who would dare intercede for them. Thus it is reserved for a Georgia woman to aid a sister State and to raise her voice against the atrocities which are daily enacted in her beloved, heart-bleeding, and prostrate South, j If the old man needs clothing or comforts, I 1 3 ?i ___ will at once make up a purse ana sena u on to supply his wants. Hoping I have asked i nothing at your hands which you will find it impossible to grant, and begging you to comI municate with me at your earliest convenience, believe me to be, respectfully yours, &c., Maria Jourdan Westmoreland. To this letter came the following reply: I Executive Residence, 1 Albany, N. Y., February 25,1872. j Dear Mrs. Westmoreland: I received your letter several days ago, and it has given me great pleasure to assist in any way and relieve the suffering of the innocent. The Governor and myself visited Mr. Brown this morning, and had a long and interesting conversation with him. He stated the facts of his imprisonment with great exactness, and I am confident with truth. He says he is not in want of anything; but I am certain if his friends should send him a box of clothing? , under-clothing or any comfort?it would be very acceptable. He is troubled with rheumatism, and Mr. Pillsbury, of the prison, said ! he would see that he had some flannels and | other articles, which I told him I would pay 1 for. Mr. Pillsbury says if his friends decide to send him a box he will deliver the contents to Mr. Brown. The Governor is much interested in the case, and has written to the President fnr a nardon. but we said nothing to Mr. Brown on tlhe subject, as it would be cruel to ?ive hope when our efforts may be in vain, f you send any comforts to the old man the box can be expressed to our care, and 1will see that Mr. Brown receives it, or to Mr. Pillsbury, the Superintendent of the Penitentiary. Hoping to receive nevs from the President that will gladden the hearts of wife and children, as well as those who have taken such an interest in the old man's troubles, I remain, yours sincerely, Mrs. John T. Hoffman. P. S.?As soon as an answer is received from Washington I will write you. A month later, in response to another letter as to how the appeal for pardon prospered, this letter came: Executive Residence,) Albany, N. Y., March 21,1872. J Dear Mrs. Westmoreland:?The Governor has beard nothing from Washington except-a letter saying the case was being examined and * ? . i :ui? T i would oe reported as soon as uussiuic, &uu *. will then write you again. You mentioned in your letter that a. purse would be sent for Mr. Brown. I hardly think it necessary, as Mr. Pillsbury has promised to get anything that will make him more comfortable. However, it would make him happy to think his friends remembered him, and you will do as you think best. Hoping to hear from Wash! ington soon, I remain, yours sincerely, Mrs. J. T. Hoffman. The Old Harpsichord.?Beethoven had a habit of playing his symphonies on an old harpsichord as a test. They wonld thus be mane to stand out in their true character, with nothing to hide their faults, or exaggerate their beauties. If then they commended themselves to his ear, they were good, and might safely be sent forth to the world. Thus wisely may we test our character, en? deavoring to ascertain how it manifests itself, not on great and rare occasions, or before the public eye, where there is a chance for display "n?>loiioo Knt in ririoato in t.hn lif.t.lft. ttuu ap|iiauo?| wuv iu |/?*?mw] ??? ....?w homely, every day duties, which attract do particular attention and reward ua with no praise. If, in the retired nook of your own breast, in the regulation of your thoughts and feelings ; if, in the bosom of your family, in the monotonous round of home life each day, you preserve a sweet, serene temper, and go forward cheerily, taking a real pleasure in duty as duty, and in all these mattters honestly j strive to serve and please the heavenly Master ; if, in a word, your piety sounds well on such an unpretending harp, and there, it is good, genuine, tested; it will one day win acclamation from a vaster and nobler throng than ever was thrilled by the genius of Beethoven.?American Messenger. SOP "My daughter keeps ray farm accounts, sir; and she is as systematic and particular as ever Bob was, who kept them before he left home. I tell you it does girls, and he might have added boys also, good to give them some responsibility, and set them to watching things about the farm and household. They learn, I find, economy by it, and soon discover that their respectable old father is not, necessarily, a crabbed old curmudgeon because he does not loosen his purse-strings whenever they see something they happen to fancy; for they^ discover the real reason why the purse should not be opened." So said a progressive farmer, a kind, appreciative, and proud father, and a big-hearted man on general principles, to us the other day. We think whathe said worth recording.? Western Agriculturist. Manufactures.?Gloversville, New York, makes the most gloves of any town in the United States; Bradley, Maine, makes the most spools; Deep River, Connecticut, the most piano keys; Chester, Connecticut, all wooden inkstands ; Lynn, Massachusetts, the most shoes; Rutland, Vermont, the most marble tombstones ; another small town in Vermont, the most school slates and slate pencils; Philadelphia, the most carpets; Johnstown, Pennsylvania, the most iron rails, and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, the most glass, steel, whisky, and other hard-vf&re; while New York prints the most agricultural, scientific and other papers. War J here was a curious instance 01 larapering with a witness and the results thereof in a recent murder case in Kentucky. A man named Roberts was accused of killing one Coates, and was committed for trial without bail on the testimony of a sister of the deceased. After indictment Roberts was released on bail, and immediately commenced to pay his addresses to the dangerous witness, and before the trial came on had married her. He was acquitted for want of evidence. - + Speaking of the climate of the Argentine Republic, Professor Gould says: "A bowl of water left uncovered in the morning is dry at night; ink vanished from the inkstand as if by magic; the bodies of dead animals dry up instead of decomposing, and neither exercise nor exposure to the sun s rays produces perspiration."