Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, November 28, 1872, Image 1
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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
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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.