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lewis m. grist, proprietor.j an fnbepenbcnt Jamil} gfetosppcr: Jor f|e promotion af fjte political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of tjje Soutj). |terms?$3.00 a year, in advance. VOL. 18. YOBKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, NOYEMBEB 38, 1873. J^O-48. fekctcd fttcttg. NEVER GIVE UP. Never give up! it is wiser and better Always to nope than once to despair ; Throw off the load of doubt's cankering fetter, And break the dark spell of tyrannical care. Never pive up ! or the burden may sink you, Providence has kindly mingled the cup, And in all trials and troubles bethink you, The watch of life should be?Never give up. Never pive up! there are chances and changes, Helping the hopeful a hundred to one, And amia the chaos, high wisdom arranges Ever success?if you'll only hope on. Never give up! for the wisest is boldest Knowing that Providence mingles the cup, A oil movimci fKn lvftuf ou f)lQ A11U VI au IUOA1UJO V*?0 WOV W7 vuv vtxtvw. Xs the true watchword of?Never give up. Never give up I though the grape shot may rattle, And the full thunder cloud over you burst, Stand like a rock, and the storm or the battle . Ldttle can harm you, though doing their worst, fc Never give up! if adversity presses, ~ Providence has wisely mingled the cup, And the best counsel in all your distresses Is the stout watchword of?Never give up. Jto Original fftorg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. THE MISSING WIFE. fefe BY J. WITHERSPOON ERVIN. HI CHAPTER III. A couple of days passed by, and a terrible rumor flew throw the quiet neighborhood, Wf startling the tranquil population from their dreamy life of repose, ordinarily so seldom broken by incidents calculated to arouse them from their torpor. It was the third day after the events mentioned in the last chapter, that a cavalcade of ten or fifteen horsemen dismounted before the ' door of Galloway's residence, brought thither by a rumor that the wife of the unfortunate man had mysteriously disappeared and had no where been heard of. Foremost among them was Captain Player, who, with a face unusually grave and serious, entered the house, accompanied by two others of the older neighbors, and presented himself before the bereaved husband who met them with a face that exhibited terrible emotion. Few words were spoken?only enough to ascertain that some fearful mystery hung over the fate of the mistress of the mansion. Its master, in answer to a few brief questions, informed them that nothing had been heard of her since the morning of her sudden and mysterious disappearance. He added that, with the aid of one or two faithful domestics, he had sought for trace of the missing woman in the woods and fields around, without finding anything to throw any light upon the mystery. As he sat with sympathizing neighbors gathered around him, all eager to render all the aid in their power to find some clue to his missing wife, he was deeply agitated, as was but natural, and answered all their enquiries with a broken and unsteady voice, as though the mere effort of speaking cost him pain. Tkc intnuniam irroo rl iat rocainfr fn himsplf flllfl LUV 4UVW1 T IV VI llfaKI V4WV4VWWiI*g WV even to those who had come to offer him their sympathy and aid. After hearing his brief story, Captain PJayer, on behalf of his friends and neighbors, informed him that, hearing of his affliction, they had come to offer him their services in prosecuting the search for his wife ; and ventured to console him by expressing a hope, which he himself scarcely dared to cherish, that their search might result in an issue more favorable to their wishes than present appearances might warrant them in entertaining. Galloway informed them that he had made a careful search of every spot within a half mile of the dwelling. To the rear of the house was a plat of fifteen or twenty acres of enclosed wood land, embracing the spring-house and the head of a small stream, where at first he supposed the body of his wife might be found if any fatal accident had befallen her; and this tract, he informed them, had undergone so thorough a search, that it was useless to waste time in prosecuting any further investigation there. The party separated into groups, each having a definite district assigned it, and, in case of the discovery of any trace of the missing woman, a signal was agreed upon by which the whole party were to be called together to follow up the clue. Such an event?so sudden, so unaccountable, and so mysterious, as the disappearance of a retiring and modest woman, of the most respectable connections, and that, too, in one of the most orderly and quiet communities of the country, was well calculated to excite | wonder and painful astonishment. As hour after hour passed by, the news flew from house i to house, and the number of those engaged in prosecuting the search was increased by fresh accessions from the surrounding country. When dusk fell, after an unavailing search, more than fifty horsemen were assembled to compare notes and to deliberate on their plans for the following day. They separated with dejected spirits, and each one carried home, in his sad and desponding face, news of the j ill-success of the day's search. On the morrow, more than one hundred men met at the head of the lane in front of the house, to consult together and renew the search. The character of the missing woman was so fair and spotless, that no one dared to hint?in fact, no one even ventured to entertain an unspoken suspicion that her disappearance was connected with any criminal misconduct on her part. One fear, deepening into conviction, had seized upon the hearts of all. Men uttered it aloud, and a dark shadow l _ 1 .. xl ..AX rested on ineir Drows as mey gave uuerauee to the fearful thought, that she had been made away with by violence, and that naught better was now to be hoped for than to discover the lifeless body, and find some clue that might bring home the guilt of his crime to the pitiless murderer. It became a consuming passion with those sad, stern-faced men, to bring the body to light, and to track out the murderer, whatever arts he might employ to cover up the proofs of his guilt and to lead suspicion astray. The missing woman was so good, so gentle, and so universally esteemed, that it was difficult to divine any other motive for her murder than the frantic desire of hiding the atrocious crime of violation, by a deed of ble^l, on one so gentle that even a fiend might have shuddered at its perpetration. How they pitied the suffering husband when this terrible thought of a'double crime?both too horrible to contemplate?crept into their minds and grew up to a formidable conviction! They could now understand why it was that his voice faltered and he shuddered in the presence of friends, and why his eye had in it an expression of secret terror, weighing like a night-mare upon his shuddering soul! His friends and neighbors were touched with the ! tenderest sympathy and commisseration for i the unfortunate man, and more than one cheek I I i was wet with tears, as they sat on their horses j J at the great gate before the house, giving ut-1 ; terance to their painful fears, and just about J j to separate into detachments for the purpose j I pose of thoroughly scouring the surrounding j j country. At this moment they were surprised at the | sight of the agitated husband, who came riding up from the house to join them and assist in prosecuting the search. A murmur of i pity and sympathy burst from the crowd. Captain Player rode up to him, and, wringing his hand, spoke iu a voice choked by emotion. "Your neighbors will be glad to listen to any suggestion you may make, Mr. Galloway ; k..f +u,-o a nlooo fnr vnu fin hftpk I UUt 1/1110 IO UaiUiJ VUV ^/IMVV 4V? j vv.. WW ?- ? to your fireside, and await us there, Torn. | We will do all that friends and neighbors can do; and if we can find a trace of her, we will send a courier to let you know." Galloway, with p, face gray and pinched by suffering, looked helplessly around, like one oppressed by a deadly night-mare. He seemed striving to speak, but without the power to fiud utterance in words. There was something almost of awe in his suffering, that made even Pity silent. "Go back to your home, Tom !" entreated Captain Player, as he brushed away a tear. "You will never see her alive, again! It may be a terrible sight for any of us to look on, but, most of all, for you that loved her. We have given up all hope, now, Tom?it is best to tell you the plain truth?all hope, but that of finding her murdered body !" "Murdered ?" The word broke in a wild cry from the lips of the agonized man, as though he had been struggling to utter it, and as if the conception of so fearful a thought j I had paralyzed hira. "Kill me, my friends? kill me! and let me die with her ! She was so good and patient, and I?have pity upon me, and let me die with herl" "God have mercy upon him ?" muttered Captain Player. "This is so terrible a blow to hira! It has made hira almost mad." He beckoned to a couple of young men, and silently intimated to them to take charge of the unfortunate man, and lead him home; but Galloway becoming calmer, and insisting upon accompanying his neighbors in the search, the party divided into small 6quads, and separated, going in different directions, to give the country a thorough search, far and wide. Had the criminal, the one guilty of the heinous crime, the clue to the discovery of which they were now seeking, seen them plunging into every thicket and recess, and groping into every out of the way place, every copse, every dell, every fence corner, and prying with eager eyes into every brush heap, and scrutinizing every drifted bank of leaves to find some clue to the crime and its perpetrator, bis heart must have sunk within him, and he must have felt that there was no cave dark and deep enough, and no nook far enough retired, to hide the evidences of crime, when Heaven had called up the earnest inquisitors of blood and put them upon his track. Hour after hour rolled on; the sun had mounted high in the heavens, and was declining in his western course, while the various squads still scoured the woods in every direction, yet still in vain. One party, at the head of which was Captain Player, were groping their way along through an oak thicket, when suddenly they emerged into a small clearing near half a mile from the dwelling-house. On the edge of the clearing stood a solitary negro cabin, built of logs in which was heard the sound of excited voices. Captain Player, from a mere feeling of curiosity, turned his horse's head, and riding up to the door of the hut, looked curiously in. Before the wide chimney, crouched an old negress, gesticulating violently, and talking wildly and incoherently; while on a stool at her side sat a stouter woman, herself beyond the middle age, with her hand on the shoulder of the crouching woman, vainly endeavoring to pacify and calm her. The older woman, whose face was withered with age was raving like a maniac. Her wild and excited eyes, disordered garb, incoherent language and extravagant gesticulations, told a story of insanity. "Hush ! sis Phoebe, hush ! you dunno what you talk about," said the woman on the stool, shaking her crouching companion by the shoulder?hush and go to sleep !?aud let me rest too." "Blood on the dairy floor?blood on the milk pans?blood ou the axe, blood on George's clothes, blood every where. Didn't I see my poor babe, I carry in dese arms, crawl to his feet and with her bloody arms around his knees, beg?beg?beg ever so hard. Don't you do it, George ! don't don't! Catch the axe, Sarai?Sarai! Oh! Lord ! Oh ! Lord, it comes down ou my poor darling's alabaster brow! Oh ! Lord, have mercy !" and with a shrill, wild scream, the poor creature sprang to her feet, panting with horror and affright; i and sought to escape as from some terrible ! vision when she was seized and detained by the strong arms of her nurse ; and, after a wild struggle, fell whimpering and moaning j to the floor, where she lay covering aud shivering in terror, muttering words of fearful import. "Good heavens !" cried Captain Player as he hastily dismounted aud made his way into the hut, "What does all this meau ?" "Ah, massa!" answered the nurse with a shake of her head, "old sister Phoebe gone I clean wild?crazy wid distress after Miss Matilda." "But what does all her talk about blood mean?" asked Captain Player. "Has she been talking iu this way, before ?" i?r? I " I es, massa, ever siuee itxiss iuuiuuu jcil, I she been raving distracted ; but she dunno what she been talking about. She talk all sorts of wild and foolish talk what got no sense and meaning in it?just like other crazy people." "And always about blood ?" asked Captain Player, while a feelingof awe came over him. "Not ebery time, massa ; but when she get to talking about dat, she scream and struggle, and fall down on de floor like you see her now ; and then, she lie and shiver like one in a chill, and you can't git nothing more out of her, for ever so long. But la ! bless you, she don't know what she say. She was nurse to j Miss Matilda when she was a baby, and it run . her distracted because Miss Matiloa gone, and nobody can tell where." "I am afraid," said Captain Player, with a troubled face, "she could tell something ugly enough if she was in her right mind. I remember her face well enough now. I will try to find out what she knows about the horrible things she hints at." Captain Player drew a stool up to the corner of the hut where the old woman had fallen, and where she now lay moaning and shivering, and sought to arouse her by hand and voice; but beyond a moan, and, now and then, an undistinguishable word, uttered in a low voice, too low and broken to be understood, all his efforts were in vain. After about a quarter of an hour spent in futile attempts to arouse her and obtain some answer to his interrogatories, he arose, dejectedly, and abandoned the attempt. "How long has her mind been disordered in this manner?" asked Captain Player of the nurse. "Was she ever affected in this way before Mrs. Galloway's disappearance?" "No, massa; we found her in the woods the very day Miss Matilda been gone, carrying on wild, just like you see her now ; and Mossa bring her over here, and put me to mind her. She is an old woman, but she never been so before." "And she talks about blood, and George, and the dairy-house?eh ?" "She wiud up wid dat always; but she don't know what she talk about, mossa." "God grant it 1" ejaculated Captain Player, with a very sad face; and, after giving the woman some little present of tobacco, he left the hut, remounted his horse and jogged on slowly in silence, by a footpath through the copse, and soon fell in with the squad of men who had been scouring the woods under his guidance. After a brief consultation, he led the way along a bridle path, until the party came to a pair of bars which opened into a wooded enclosure. Entering this enclosure, the party, consisting of some six or eight besides himself, halted upon a ridge of land, from which, through the trees, they could catch glimpses of the roof and gables of the mansion house, two or three hundred yards before them. To their left, in a deep hollow, far below the level on which they stood, lay the dairy-house, with an ever running fountain on the hill-side above it, the water from which, after being conducted in troughs through the dairy-house, could be seen issuing from the spouts below, and flowing on to join a babbling brook that wound through the Unllyvn* Ka1ai? P.onfoin PlflVPf IlUilU YV, a JCW 1UUO UOIU TT VH^WUIU A V | guided bis horse into a narrow path that wound down the steep declivity, and closely followed by the party, dismounted at the spring. While the others, weary and thirsty, were enjoying a draught from the crystal spring, tht hale old farmer, upon whose mind the incoherent words of the frenzied old woman exercised a deeper influence than he himself was conscious of, walked around to the door of the dairy-house, which was on the opposite or lower side. He had, at first, no thought of making an examination of the place. Knowing the intellect of the old wo-1 man to be disordered, and aware that the wild- j est dreams suggested by passing events flash through the ruined mind and give form and shape to its extravagant conceits, he thrust aside the fears and suspicions that her wild exclamations were calculated to engender. With a very vague sense of his own purpose, he strolled around to the door of the dairy-! house, and gently pushed it. He really had no expectation of making any discovery tending to throw any light upon the object of his search. His object was rather to convince himself of the folly of attaching any importance to the wild ravings of a maniac. The door resisted the pressure of his hand, for it I was securely locked. He now really became desirous of seeing the interior, in order to satisfy himself that there were no dark stains within, telling of violence and bloodshed. "Pshaw!" said he to himself, half-disposed to turn away, "This is itself madness, to let the words of a crazy old negro influence me!" and he turned offand made a step or two and then returned, and again tried the lock to see if it was quite secure. This time he glanced down at the door-sill and started with an exclamation of surprise, for it was actually sprinkled with blood ; and one or two large splotches lay there staining the sill with its dark crimson. The earth in front of the door had been lately removed, and the cavity filled in with fresh sand and gravel, which had not yet settled down or been trodden under foot. "Here, men!" called he, as he stepped around the corner and beckoned to the party that were quenching their thirst at the spring, "here, at last, is something that may give us a clue." The party gathered at the door, and eager eyes and earnest faces were busy in examining those dark crimson stains that seemed to grow yet deeper and darker beneath their startled gaze, "We had better send for the dairy key, suggested one of the party. "Break the door down," said Captain Player, pointing to a heavy billet of wood that lay near. "Break it down! Don't stand on ceremony when there is proof like that. The old lunatic was, perhaps, right after all! Break it down, and let us see if the poor creature was not done to death here." Thus urged, two younger men of the party gathered up a billet of wood and employing it as a battering ram, at the second blow the bolt flew from its staple and the door swung back on its hinges. To the right and the left, on either side, extending the whole length of the house, were shallow troughs through which the water from the spring flowed, and found a vent through spouts that conducted it from the building on its lower side. The entire space between the two troughs was filled up with dry sand and gravel, and beaten hard by the feet of those passing to and fro, attending to the pans of milk that were generally set in the troughs on either side. There were no pans or other vessels here now. For some iU?_ u..:i,i: Uiiu&u ui taiiiici, biic uuiiuiii^ was cviuciii,ijr iiu longer used as a dairy-house. The party crowded in, with faces full of earnestness as the door swung back. "We have found the spot at last!" cried ! Captain Player, with a shudder in his voice, as he stepped in and stared around. "Look at the floor! Here is a pool of blood?and there?and there I Here is a lock of hair dabbed in blood, and see where the poor creature fell and died, yonder against the further ! wall sprinkled with her blood, and a pool of it upon the sand where she fell! Merciful heavens!?what fieud in human form could have done this?" and with blanched lips, the stout, brave old man stood staring around in horror, while his companions looked the horror they felt. "She is murdered then !" whispered another, "and it was done here, where we stand!" "I cannot remain here?come out friends into the open air, and let us consult together! I cannot talk calmly?I cannot even think coherently, with her blood meeting my eye on ; every side!" j | The party stole out from the dairy-house, i that reeked with blood, silently aud with J blanched faces. No one spoke to his fellow | but in an ominous undertone?such was the i feeling of horror that chilled and fettered ; ! them. i The party clustered together around him,! i and Captain Player told them of the wild ra-! j vings of the maniac, whose incoherent words j I in the light of the recent discovery, now showed j I a distinctand terrible meaning. What if the j ! details of the dark tragedy, at which her ra- j I vings vaguely hinted, were also true? Cap-J j tain Player spoke out frankly and plainly,' i keeping nothing back of the ravings uttered , | by the old negro while she cowered and shrank j from the bloody vision that ever rose before j her excited imagination. He left it for those ! around him to interpret her words for tbemI selves, and to construct out of the broken maj terials the terrible tragedy with all of its harrowing concomitants. True, she was now a wild maniac, raving incoherently about a 1 tragedy, the atrocity of which was enough to unsettle the reason; but that all her madness raved of might be but the reproduction of the terrible impression made upon her mind by scenes that she had witnessed, from the recollection of which she shrank in terror and awe. The question discussed by the group standing at the door of the dairy-house, with the blood of the unfortunate woman staining the the floor at their feet, and sprinkled upon the threshold before them, was, whether they should act upon the hints thus obtained, or dismiss them as the delirious ravings of a ! wild creature, unworthy of attention. The question was soon decided. The party mounted their horses and set out towards the house to arrest the negro, George, and examI ine into his connection with the affair. Captain Player remembered the ghastly face of the negro, on the day following Mrs. Galloway's disappearance, and, in recalling it to mind, he could but acknowledge to himself that it wore the aspect of one whose conscience was burdened with some crime too fearful to think on, that made the eye stony and impressed the face with horror. A search for the suspected criminal revealed the fact, that he, too, had suddenly disappeared, on the day succeeding that of the murder. He had not been seen by any one on the plantation since the morning of Captain Player's visit to the place. Suspicion deepened into a conviction of his guilt, and riders were dispatched in various directions to spread the news of the discovery ^ust made, and urge the awakened country to make a thorough search for the criminal guilty of so remorseless and diabolical a crime. It was now necessary, too, since the evidence of murder was so palpable, to vary the manner of conducting their explorations. The hands that had done so foul a crime, would not be content to leave the body of their victim exposed, where an accident might bring their deed to light, and lead the avenger upon their track, while the traces of their winding and doublings were still fresh. Soraesecret grave, in some secluded and out of the way spot, was to be diligently searched for and examined for some sign that might point to the perpetrator of the crime. Leaving a couple of persons to guard the dairy-house from intrusion, Captain Player set off to communicate with the various detachments engaged in the search, and make known the new aspect of affairs, and suggest such plans as the further discovery might seem to require. He had not gone far before he was startled by the notes of a horn, giving signals, that the party making it had alighted | upon a discovery of some importance, in unj raveling the mysterious affair, j The party with him, put spurs to their horses and galloped on, to learn the purport I of the signal. Hurrying across a wide field, they entered into the woods, near a mile away, in front of the house, and, still guided by the sound of the horn, entered a thick and tangled swamp, from the recesses of which, the signal continued to be sounded, at intervals. For in the swamp, on an island, thickj ly overgrown with vines and bushes, was gathered a group of some twenty horsemen, sitting in silence around a noisome and shapeless mass, shreds and tatters of clothing, and human flesh, half devoured from protruding bones, This fearful and almost undistinguishable heap, from which they shrank with loathing and horror, was the remains of a human being, scattered and half-devoured by birds and beasts. There lay the grinning skull with the brow upturned. Some of the party had the hardihood to dismount and make a more critical examination of the mutilated remains. All were puzzled and astonished at the result of the scrutiny. A double murder had come to light. That loathsome heap consisted of the remains of a human being?a negro; and the skull pierced through aud through by a rifle bullet, told hnw hp knd i<nmp t.n his death. Recognition [ wa9 wholly impossible. All wondered who this luckless creature could be, and what motive had led to his murder in this secluded spot. The coat was still buttoned around the fleshless ribs. Captain Player made his way up to the inner circle. One glance was sufficient to resolve more than one doubt in his mind. There were the military buttons that had caught his attention a few days previously. "This is Galloway's George, gentlemen," cried the old farmer, after a minute's scrutiny. I know the body by the buttons on the jacket. We will see if Galloway can explain the manner of his death?and some other facts; for as God in Heaven hears me, I protest before man and God, I believe Galloway guilty of this double murder, and for one, I ; a a l: 4- ? ucuiauu liiaaiicab auu mat. A cry of horror and incredulity greeted this stern declaration ; but Captain Player reiterated his charge so emphatically and firmly that his mere earnestness of manner silenced j those who were unconvinced, j An hour later, in answer to repeated sigj nals, the various parties who had been enj gaged in scouring the woods, began to come . in and gather at the family mansion. Gal1 loway himself returned with one of the last | parties that came in, in answer to the signal. ! More than one hundred of his neighbors were | assembled in the piazza and front-yard, awaiting his coming. As he entered the front-yard and glanced around, he felt a consciousness that some discoveries throwing light upon the dark trage dy had been made. There was an instinct he ! ' possessed, in common with animals of a sirai-! [ lar nature, which told him that. This dis- j covery affected him far otherwise than one j would have conjectured who does not under-1 stand that mysterious volume,the human heart, j During the two last days, which had been ! days of terrible trial to him while he was the object of the tender sympathy and compas- J sion of all his acquaintances, he was unnerved j and almost paralyzed with terror. While the 1 inquisitors of blood were scouring fields and j forest for some clue to the crime that had j shocked and outraged the peaceful communi-; tv. he felt like a wolf that beholds the hounds - circling around his lair and snuffing the tainted breeze. There was agony and terror in every beat of his heart; but now, when he looked around, and with the quick instinct of guilt, saw accusation in the silent eyes that stared on him from every side, he trod the ground with a firmer tread, and met the stare of suspicion with a more assured and defiant air. His was the wolfish nature still, but that of the wolf turned to bay and animated by but one feeling, that of entering into the conflict for life with resolution and calmness born of desperation. When enquiries were made of him in reference to the negro George, he cooly denied all knowledge of his disappearance. "I have been busy with you, gentlemen, for the last two days, and I have paid no attention to the movements of any of the people on my place. I, therefore, know nothing about George." "We found him murdered in the swamp, Mr. Galloway; and to be frank with you, I have indicted you for his murder," rejoined Captain Player." "Me ?" exclaimed the unfortunate man, contemptuously?"why should I murder him or any one?" "If I am wroner. God forgive me for it and bring you safely through," returned Captain Player, gently. "I do not understand why I am suspected" retorted Galloway with some asperity, but still quailing before the steady gaze of the old farmer. "I should like to know upon what you ground your suspicions. Haven't I lived above suspicion ?" "To be very plain with you, Mr. Galloway," rejoined Captain Player, "every act and word of yours in connection with this affair is full of suspicion. You induced us to pass over the woods near the house and led us to direct our search elsewhere. Chance?no! it was the hand of Providence?led us to open your dairy-house and look in there." "Well?what then?" gasped the ruffian while his face blanched. "Blood, blood, blood! Mr. Galloway. Here a lock of bright long hair?your wife's? dabbled in blood ; there a shred of a woman's garment, torn from her in her struggle for life. "Whose knees was it she clasped?into whose face was it she looked when she appealorl frtr mopou fnr lifo and hpircrfid that she I tvt lUi UJV..V; , "OO might not be slaughtered like a dumb ox in the hands of a butcher?" A hundred faces were turned towards the hardened ruffian who turned almost white with terror. "Prove it?prove it! I defy you. Nobody?" and he paused; and then stared around him, breathing hard through his set teeth. He had checked himself in time. His excitement had almost betrayed him into a dangerous confession. "This conversation between us is a waste of time and of words, Mr. Galloway," said Captain Player, in a tone of gentle expostulation. "Let the matter rest. If you are proven to be innocent, no one will rejoice at it more than myself; if you are guilty, God have mercy upon your soul. We have only one work left us to do. We have fouud one body of which we had no thought; and it only remains that we should find that for which, until now, we have searched in vain." "I suppose your desire to do me an additional injury will give spurs to your energy in the search," sneered Galloway, whose callous nature exhibited itself, as much in his tone and manner, as his words. "Yes, Tom Galloway," spoke an individual in the crowd, who had hitherto remained silent, "we shall examine every foot of country for a mile around, day after day, until we lay her poor body where its gaping wounds may ! appeal to Heaven against your awful deed I" ! "I hope you may soon find it," was the taunting and callous reply, that escaped the hardened wretch, whose guilt now appeared patent to all. "Find it? Be assured we shall!" rejoined the solemn voice of the other. "Earth cannot cover up so horrible a deed ! You might Dile mountains upon it, but murder will come to light at last!" Captain Player started as if a sudden idea had occurred to him ; and beckoning to a couple of young men, he held a hurried and whispered conference with them, after which they seized their hats and left the piazza, accompa-1 nied by several others whom they summoned j in haste. It was now near sunset, and many of those j present had some miles to go to reach home. | Captain Player went apart with a magistrate, | and in legal form, made his deposition, when a warrant was made out and placed is the hands of a constable who promptly arrested Galloway, whose every motion had been so closely watched, that his escape would have been impossible had he meditated any such design. The arrest had just been made when one of the young men who had left the house after the conference with Captain Player, returned and whispered in his ear in an excited manner, "I thought so!" returned Captain Player with animation; "in fact, I felt sure of it; and parson Eeddick's words about piling up mountains to hide such a deed, set me to think/"i ? i.1 nnnfintm^ , ing. VjrCUUULieu auu uciguuuio, vv/uv>uw\.u | Captain Captain Player aloud, in a solemn ^ manner?"the grave of the murdered Mrs. I Galloway has beeu found. The body will! soon bedisintered.and an inquest will be held j before we separate." There was an eager look on the faces of the throng of men at these words; a movement of feet that broke the silence as they started, and with something of haste, poured forth from the house and thronged to the spot, now the centre of eager interest. Soon they were all gathered around a group of workmen, who, with spades and shovels, were throwing out the earth from a newly filled grave, which [ was found covered up deep under a heap of j coals that had been burned upon the spot to conceal the freshly dug clay. The chance remark of the stranger so sol-' emnly and impressively uttered, had strangely enough awakened a train of thought in the mind of that one individual, who, but a few days previously, beheld the guilty wretch and the terrified negro industriously heaping up pine knots over the spot, with faces so wo-begone and full of conscious guilt, that they might even then have suggested to a more shrewd and suspicious observer, the terrible crime they were so busy in attempting to conceal. While some of the party were throwing out the earth, others were listening to a narrative from the lips of Captain Player of the conduct of Galloway on that very spot, but four days previously. The facts were thoroughly conclusive as to the guilt of the arrested man. His own hands had sought to cover up from human eyes thegravearound which they were now gathered, and into which they were gazin0 with an all absorbing interest, awaiting its terrible revelation. His accomplice?perhaps a most unwilling one?had been found murdered in the recesses of the swamp, and by whose hands no one now entertained a reasonable doubt. The constables led the pale but callous criminal up to the foot of the grave, and there he stood, with a stolid, composed face, condemned by every heart and scorned by every eye. A considerable quantity of earth had been thrown out; and now the spades were handled more cautiously and carefully, as if those who pfied them shrank, with a natural feeling of tenderness, from rudely touching the senseless clay of the dead. At last the folds of a coarse piece of bagging came in view, and spades and shovels were thrown aside, and those rough framed but tender-hearted men employed their hands in throwing out the earth, and gently lifted from the grave the body wrapped in its coarse winding sheet. They laid it at the feet of him who should have been the chief mourner there, but who stood and looked down upon the coarse and bloody winding cloth with a tearless and pitiless eye. Tender hands gently opened the folds and exposed the mutilated body tosightt but his eye still kept its cold and remorseless look. The face was beautiful even in death, and the deep strokes, that had cloven the skull and disfigured the body with many and fearful wounds, had spared the beautiful face, whose gentleness, it seemed, might have touched the heart, even of a monster. He, who had planned this horrible deed, looked upon the soft cheeks and the pale lips?once dear to him?with a face as unmoved as a rock. A murmur of pity and a cry of execration broke from the throng, and startled even him, for a moment, from his stolid composure. A few months later, and he heard yet louder cries of execration and curses, stern and deep, that startled him yet more. It was when he was mounting the steps to the gallows, whilea haunting shadow, robed in white, seemed to stand before him, and a roar like that of an angry sea, rising from a thousand pitiless breasts, rang in his ears 1 And yet his own hand had not dealt one of those many blows that let out the life of that unhappy woman, whose sad fate it was, to stand at the altar by his side, and to become the victim of his rage or coldness. There was a more terrible tragedy involved in the perpetration of the deed, than the testimony directly disclosed. There stood out, from the facts ' ' ns! 7 Ji I A M n A olfltTA OIBCIOSCU Ul tllC Ulttl, mo Otwwucnc ui a maie kneeling at his feet and entreating to be spared from consummating a horrid murder, from which bloody work he had fled in horror when his deed was but half done. Forced to return and complete the diabolical deed of blood, with a hand unsteady from the extremity of his horror, his blood, too, was remorselessly shed, that there might be no one left to tell the story of a most abominable crime. Some, who know not how "deceitful above all things and desperately wicked" is the human heart, may fancy that the writer has drawn these details from the realm of fiction ; but this simple narrative is an unadorned and too truthful a reproduction of the records of the criminal court; and there are many, yet living, who, when they read this story, will shudder as they recall to mind the incidents of the trial and execution of a portly and respectable looking man, of tbe better class, who sought with all his wealth?but in vain? to buy a respite from the gallows, to which a most diabolical crime had justly doomed him. THE END. fPswHapflttS fading. SALLIE'S BEDTIME. A father, not very far from here, says a writer under the cognomen of "B. Dadd" in the Norristown, Pennsylvania, Herald, read in the paper the other morning that the "Utica girls who want their beaux to go home the same night they call, pull a string at the proper hour, which reverses a picture, on the back of which appears the words "Ten o'clock is my bedtime." This father, who has a daughter given to late hours when a certain youth sits up and helps her to keep them, thought he would try this Utica Dlan. so he wrote in large charac ters, on the back of a huge portrait of Washington, this inscription: "10 o'clock is sallie's bedtime." Then he arranged the picture so that when he attached a striDg to the frame, he could reverse it from his bed chamber. But when Sallie entered the room an hour later, her aesthetic eye was outraged by observing the portrait of Washington hanging slightly out of plumb, so to speak, and in adjusting it, her father's little game was revealed in all its subtle ingenuity. Sallie was not a Utica girl, however, so she just went to work and neatly effaced the figure "0," leaving the 1 standing solitary and upright?wihch, you will observe, made a few hours difference in her bedtime. That night, as usual, Sallie received a visit from her young man?whose front name was Henry?and her paternal parent attached his string to G. W.'s portait and retired to his downy couch. About 10 o'clock, while Henry and Sallie were deeply absorbed in some knotty problem, with their heads so contiguous that you could not insert a piece of tissue paper between them, the Father of his Country suddenly turned his face to the wall, as if he was ashamed to gaze upon such doings. Henry, with a sudden start, glanced at the picture, and saw the handwriting on the wall, as it were, which read, "1 o'clock is Sallie's bedtime." Then Henry looked at Sallie with an interrogation in his eye, which was partially dispelled by the fair maid murmuring, "It's all right." Henry said of course it was all right?that he had long known 1 o'clock was her bed-time, and he thought it was plenty late enough, too, for a young girl to be out of bed, but what business, he said, had George "Washington's portrait to be flopping about j that way ? Then bailie explained?and tne ' twain resumed work on the problem, Henry ! putting his arms around Sallie to prevent her ; falling off the chair. j Meanwhile the old man was listening for | the front door to open, and his would-be soni in-law's footsteps pattering over the pavement with the toes of his boots pointing from the house. These sounds not falling on his ears, and thinking maybe the old thing didn't work ! right, he gave the string another pull, and j George Washington again faced the audience. | Then he listened, but he heard no footstepsnothing but a peculiar sound, something resembling the popping of champagne corks. Then he grew angry and gave the string another jerk, causing George Washington to turn about with violent suddenness, just as if he was out of humor, too. And still all is quiet below?except that popping sound. Then the string was pulled again?and again?and again?indicating that the old fellow was just ready to explode with rage. And for fully fifteen minutes did he have the portrait of the man who could not tell a lie, turning excited flip-flaps and things on the wall, like a bewitched gymnast, until he fell asleeD exhausted?Sallie s father fell asleep, not the portrait Henry kissed Sallie goodnight at 1 o'clock A. M., remarking as he did so, that it would seem like a long, weary year ere he would see her again?because, you know, he did not expect to see her again until the evening of that day. The next morning her father examined the portrait, and when he fully understood the situation, he was pained. He shed a silent tear, detached the string, sponged out the inscription, and walked away with the weight of forty-five years on his shoulders?that being his age. He says a girl who would go back on her father that way would just as lief as not disgrace her parents by marrying a Congressman. ? ?. . V HOW THE EDITOR EUCHRED HDL Fitz-Augustus Jones was a sweet tempered youth of sixteen; he was also a candidate for literary honors. Many were the poetical efftisions that emanated from his pen, and many were the curses hurled at his head by the editor of the Clarion, who seemed to be the most, abused of the many victims that Fitz took delight in torturing. Although his poems were never published, he did not give up in despair, as a great many would have done, bot continued to write on, for he was a persevering youth, and his cheek was sublime. At last, the editor, finding that Fitz could not be bluffed off, concluded to publish one of his poems, knowing what the result would be. In due course of time, the "Lines to Mary Jane," as they were called, appeared in a conspicuous part of the paper, and in less than an hour afterward a man with a cowhide concealed under his coat and a copy of the Clarion in his hand, was seen rushing along the turnpike, in the direction of Mr. Jones' residence. Arrived 1 at the bouse, he burst open cne aoor, auu stalked iuto the room where Fitz was seated ; aud before that astonished young man could utter an exclamation of surprise, the man bad {'erked him into the middle of the room, where le held him with one hand while he pointed to the "poem" with the other. "Scoundrel 1" he thundered, "what do you mean by writing such trash about my wife? Answer me 1" and he brandished the cowhide aloft. The sight of that whip seemed to awaken poor Fitz to a sense of tne situation, and he managed to stammer out: " Wh-what is that you say ? Me write trash about your wife? Why, what the devil d'ye mean ?" "Didn't you write those lines ? You are accredited with the authorship, and the editor says you wrote them." And the man flourished the paper beneath his (Jones') nose. "Yes, I wrote 'em !" exclaimed Fitz, somewhat indiscreetly, for he had expected that this production would meet with the same fate that the others had, and was agreeably surprised when he found it had not. "You did, eh ?" roared the man, now thoroughly exasperated. "Take that, you scoundrel !" And he proceeded to rain blow after blow upon the back of poor Fitz, until that worthy went down on his knees, begged for mercy, and then, only then, did the enraged man pocket his whip. "Young man," said he, glaring at the prostrate youth, "I think you have bad quite enough. Take my advice and leave off writing poetry in future, unless you can avoid personality. Let this be a warning to you. And the man strode out of the room. When Fitz had sufficiently recovered from the effects of that awful thrashing, he picked himself up, together forth the copy of the Clarion the man had dropped. Running his eye over the offensive "Lines," he found nothing wrong until he came to the last verse, the first line of which had been altered by the editor, and read as follows: "For you I live, dear Mrs. Rose: For you I sigh in vain; Dare I hope my love's returned, My darling Mary Jane?" It should have read: "For you I live, my sweetest rose," Ac. The editor said it was a mistake of the compositor's ; but Jones knew better, and said "it was a darn mean trick." That dose of cowhide cured hira, for he never wrote another "poem." Bald-Headed People.?Frederick Kemp writes from the silver mines of Montana, giving the following hint in reference to a cure for bald-headedness. "A friend of mine who had the misfortune to be bald-headed, knowing that there is a wonderful invigorating power in the sun's rays, last spring threw away his hat, and worked in the gulch all spring, summer and fall, bareheaded. For a few days the rays of the hot sun on his head were almost unbearable; after that time he experienced no uneasiness whatever. The result was that in the fall he had a good head of hair. And in this experiment he was not alone?several of his acauaintances who were bald-headed having followed the same plan, they were all fortunate enough to experience the same result." The title of "Doctor" was invented in the twelfth century. Irenius, a learned professor of law at the University of Bologna, induced the Emperor Lotbaire II., whose Chancellor he was, to create the title, and he himself was the first recipient of it. He was made Doctor of Laws by that University. Subsequently the title was borrowed bv the faculty of theology, and first conferred by the University of Paris on Peter Lombard. William Gordenio was the first person upon whom the title of Doctor of Medicine was bestowed; he received it from the College of Asti, in 1329, ________ tSF "How dismal you look!" said a bucket to his companion, as they were going to the mail ? A Vi f V*r* aIKok ^T wqq vnflonf. TTtH? AM. U * A V|/itVU bUV VbUVA | A |iuu ?vuw> ing on the uselessness of our being filled; for, let us go away ever so full, we always come back empty." "Dear me 1 How strange to look at it in that way," said the other bucket. "Now I enjoy the thought that, however empty we come, we always go away full. Only look at it in that light, and you'll be as cheerful as I am." Crows and blackbirds are the bravest creatures that fly; they never show the white feather.