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VOL. 19. YOBKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, AUGUST 7, 1873. NO. 32.
Selected ^tovg.
SCORCHING A SCOTCHMAN.
A century ago, Scotchmen were the "merchant
princes" of Richmond, Virginia. That
race is of hospitable fame, and right royally
was the national reputation maintained by
the Richmond representatives of that ancient
day. But, a generation ago, the glory of the
great Scotch merchants had departed, with a
few exceptions. It may here be remarked
that the kindly Scottish heart not only
"warms to the tartan," but to the sound of the
home tongue as well. Scotchmen never lose
their clannish love for a "brither Scot," whatever
else may be lost to them, no matter
where he may be met.
Among the genial-hearted Scotchmen in
Richmond, sav thirtv years ago. was John
Barr, a wealthy and much esteemed citizen,
who was largely interested in coal property,
and carried on an extensive business in that
time. He was a widower, with two charming
and accomplished daughters, who presided at
his hospitable mansion.
It will not do to omit mention of "Our
House"?a "public," as Meg Dodds would
term it, famous for its fine liquors and general
good cheer?located on 13th street, and under
the charge of Charlie Thompson. Now, in
those days, at least, a hot whisky punch was
considered the natural beverage, in moderation,
for a full-blooded Scotchman. For that
matter, this is not altogether obsolete, even
now. And as Scotchman Barr owned the
building where Charlie Thompson dispensed
his liquofs and savory solids, it was but natural
that "Our House" should be the main
fountain at which the constitutional Scotch
thirst should be slaked, when the stomach
struck the right hour, say about eleven o'clock
a. m., for the first devotions. And so, in a
very calm, orderly, uniform way, the days
and nights of John Barr moved on, without
even a ripple of unusual things, until one
eventful day, which came bigger with events
to the unsuspecting coal merchant than often
came down upon that moral and peaceable
city. It began without a cloud, but there was
much hidden thunder in that sky.
One day, as good John Barr was sipping
his punch, in the handsome room where "Our
House" beverages were dispensed and partaken,
bis quick ear caught the pleasant sound
of a Scotch tongue, calling for the national
concoction at the bar. The party, upon whom
the eyes of Mr. Barr were iustantly turned,
was a large, imposing, well-dressed gentleman
of about sixty years. He was evidently a
stranger, no common person, and a Scotchman?the
last the best of all. He took his
drink like a gentleman, paid for it like a gentleman,
bowed like a gentleman, and retired
like a gentleman. Who was this gentleman ?
The next day, at about the same hour, this
now distinguished stranger again appeared at
"Our House," took his toddy, paid, bowed, and
went his way. Promptly on the third day
came the mysterious but most interesting gentleman;
but he was in less haste than before,
and rested himself upon a chair, or whatever
was theseatat hand. That John Barr should
be eager to open a chat with this uukuown
brother Scot; that he succeeded in this; and
that they should take "a little something"
jointly and severally?was just inevitable.
To say that the stranger proved to be a very
pleasant man, would be unjust to the subject.
He was simply fascinating. Evidently of
much cultivation, he had also travelled extensively
in many parts of the world, and had
that air of refinement and dignity, which indicated
habitual association with educated society.
And so, the ice once broken, there followed
daily chats between the two Scotchmen,
that soon partook of intimacy; and it naturally
and easily ripened into this in a shorttime.
This charming human addition to the
social life of honest and unsophisticated John
Barr was named Campbell?of the pure blood
of that famous stock, which is the pride of every
true Scotchman. His business was that
of a tobacco dealer; for the purchase of which
valuable vegetable he was now in Richmond,
in the interest of the large New York house,
of which he was the principal. He expected
to spend an indefinite time in Richmond,
which fact gave much satisfaction to Mr. Barr.
And so, without effort or study (apparently,)
the two soon became close friends. In a short
time, Campbell was a frequent and familiar
lounger in the office of Barr; and, finally, a
visitor at his house?where many an hour of
genial comfort was passed by the twain.
The close friendship which we thus see established
was cemented even more strongly,
by an event which occurred, say some three
months after their first acquaintance. Now,
although John Barr was one of the most quiet
and amiable of men, yet he had nerves and
was sensitive. As Campbell was taking his
ease in Barr's office one day, conversation ensued
which will explain a certain importaut
matter.
"What's the trouble, John? You are
fidgety, man. Anything gone wrong ?"
"Wrong! why, I was to have received
drafts this morning, with which I was to pay
notes, and now I've got to go out to borrow
money ; and I hate to borrow."
"Pshaw! What's the use of fretting about
that?"
"Fretting!" exclaimed John, now finding
vent for his irate steam. "Fretting! If you
hated to borrow money as I do, you would
know, sir, what's the use of fretting." And
the coal merchaut hopped to and fro, briskly.
"Poh! nonsense, man. How much will
you have to borrow ?"
"Five thousand dollars, I suppose."
"Is that all ?"
"All! And the excited gentleman paused
in surprise, at such a question."
"Yes; because I can let you have five thousand
dollars?or fifteen thousand, for that
matter?if you want It."
Now, our estimable friend of the black diamond,
neither considered nor cared whether
his dear friend Campbell had five dollars, or
five thousand. In that kindly heart, no such
selfish thoughts had intruded. The companionship
had given him new and grateful pleasure,
and he was satisfied with that. If, then,
Campbell came very near to his bosom as a
friend, how would he seem, when he not only
had five thousand but fifteen thousand dollars
to loan to his friend in need ? The reader will
readily see how Campbell advanced in Barr's
regard, when he gave his check for five thou
i j.ii? __ ,L. ir: .?:*u
sanu aonurs on mo duiik oi v ugiuia, nuu
the assurance that he was in no haste to have
the sum returned, as he was not buying very
heavily just then. The money was repaid
the next day ; but the generous aid was faithfully
and gratefully remembered.
And, in this intimate way, matters pro^
gressed. Campbell attended all the great
sales at the tobacco warehouses, bid on very
large lots; was often seen hurrying from oue
warehouse to another, with bundles of leaf
samples under his arm, and came to be considered
a very heavy dealer. In after months,
however, although all recollected his bidding
cautiously, nobody remembered of his buying
a single pound.
By and by, Campbell's transactions required
large sums of mopey. Sometimes his drafts
failed to come in time; but the ample deposits
of Barr were all at his service, and occasionally
used. From time to time, as Barr
wanted mouey, or Campbell needed it, their
checks were promptly given. Campbell al^
ways had money to loan when Barr chanced
to require it, and he was exact in repaying
what he borrowed. All the while the convivial
sunniness of life, which Barr so loved, and
which Campbell so greatly increased, went on,.
until the latter became a part of the former's |
every day comfort. This state of things had
coutinued about a year. One morning, how*;
ever, Campbell failed in his regular visit to
Burr's counting-room. There was nothing |
surprising in this, only it broke out a great'
piece of Burr's daily necessities. Campbell
had become a part of his very existence.
And so Barr fretted and fidgeted, and final- j
ly went home in much solitude and discomfort, j
All the next day there was no Campbell. As ,
j the shades of evening fell, Barr despatched a j
( note by a servant, addressed to Campbell at
( his boarding house, tendering any assistance j
: in his power, in case he was confined by sick-!
ness. Of course, Campbell must be sick, i
What else could possibly keep him but that?
But judge of his emotions, if you can, when
word was brought that Campbell had settled
! his bill for board, taken his luggage and left
for parts unknown, two days before. And !
CampbelJ, at tnat moment, nau iwemy-iwu .
thousand dollars of Barr's money in his posi
sessesion. If there ever was "a pretty kettle
of fish," did not John Barr have it, when that |
horrid news froze his blood, metaphorically i
; speaking?
It would be useless to dwell upon the condi- j
j tion of poor Barr's lacerated soul. In fact,1
he didn't pause long over it himself. Twen-1
ty-two thousand dollars was a sufficient sum !
! to put all seutiraentalism to flight. Inquiries j
l-were at once set on foot, but neither police
man, nor railroad officials, nor any one, had j
seen the fugitive moving toward distant parts. !
j In the quandary, it was doubtful whether the |
i pursuit should move to the South, or to the j
j North. Finally, Barr started northward,;
! after his treacherous and fugitive friend or en-1
j emy. At Washington, not the least clue or !
; trace of Campbell could be fouud. At Balti- '
! more, it was equally obscure ; but taking the j
j suggestion that pursuit southward would now j
i be useless, Barr concluded to push on. Phil-1
j adelphia could give no aid, and he started for j
i New York, about hopeless of success, and
j with a heart of lead.
| Arrived at New York, the afflicted gentle- >
man proceeded at once to the office of the fa-;
j mous "Old Hayes," then at the head of the !
police of that city. Inquiries were made of j
all officers who might know of such a man's ;
arrival as Barr was hunting, but not a word i
of hope could they give. Old Hayes finally |
advised that enquiry should be made of a cer- J
tain firm of professional detectives. He said j
I that sort of business was just in their line, and
| they would be much more likely to know anyj
thing that could be learned of the case than
j the regular police force would. It was night,
j Poor John Barr had been racked with aux-:
] iety, and without rest or sleep, for two days |
j and nights. Not one ray of hope had come 1
j to cheer him. That he should seek the firm i
| of detectives, rather from desperation than a '
j belief that any good might come of it, may .,
i well be believed.
Reaching the office he sought, a short,
j square built, grave man, about 40 years of !
age, was found there; and the moment he
heard Barr's enquiry, he answered? j
"All right, sir. Campbell arrived here two j,
days ago. He has been absent a long while ; j
and, as it was full time for him to finish any j
j job on hand, we have been on the lookout for 1
j him for several weeks. The moment he ar-!1
| rived, we put a man on him. He staid at a M
j boarding house one day, and yesterday lie i1
j moved to another. He is there now." j '
A flood of great joy made Barr speechless. 1
Recovering, he proposed to march at once J(
j upon the enemy and capture him.
"Softly, Mr. Barr," said the detective. 1
j "Campbell is sharp, and no fool, to be caught!
j so easy as that. If we go now, we lose him,1 j
I sure. You just keep cool, and let us work j
this out. We know our man."
At this John Barr rebelled. He couldn't ,
j see why an arrest should not be made instant-1 ,
i er. He didn't want Campbell now, so much j'
as he did once ; but he wanted the twenty-two j,
thousand dollars, there and then. Finally, ] ,
after explanation, the sensible advisor, said? ,
"Mr. Barr, you are nervous and worn out. ,
You want sleep. Take my advice. Go to a
! hotel; eat a good supper ; take a stiff glass .
J of hot grog; get a good night's sleep ; and ,
J come down here about nine o'clock to-morrow j j
i morning, and then we will do something. ' ^
! That's the best thing you can do. Campbell !<
; must be let alone, to-night, at least." j j
And Barr, per force, followed this wise ad-1 j
I vice?omitting no part of it, as he himself de- i
! clared. After a sound sleep, he arose a new ; ,
man; full of confidence that his twenty-two',
thousand dollars were within his reach at last. ]
Promptly at nine o'clock, Barr was at the 1
office of his detective friend, not in the least
rebellious, but ready to be submissive to good j
counsel. He sat uneasily, and he winced? j <
how could he help it?when Mr. Barry?calm j <
and cool detective Barry?in reply to a strong |
i hint that it was time to go lor Campbell, said, i
i "Don't you fret now, Mr. Burr. You've had j
! enough of that. n
At the end of an hour, Barry took his hat, j
and quietly remarked, "I guess it's about time j <
to start." His companion wa? iustantly upon ; ]
his feet. "Let me see"?musing. "About! |
the first place to go to. Campbell is a swell-: <
I head rascal, and affects Wall street. Let's; |
i go to Wall street, first, and see what we can j j
find there. If he isn't about Wall street, we , <
must try the hotels." And the two sallied j <
forth. '
They entered Wall street, and bad not ad- j (
vanced twenty steps from Broadway, when . j
they came plump upon the fugitive, face to ! ]
face. The moment Campbell discovered Barr,' ]
he hastened to seize that worthy person's right j
| hand in both his own, and with the heartiest I
shake of a rejoicing man, poured out his as- ,
surance of unbounded delight at meeting his '
dear friend once more. J
"The fact is," said the smiling Campbell, ]
"I have been in the greatest worry about my 1 j
leaving Richmond so suddenly, and without; ,
a word to you. I got letters from my house, .
that compelled me to leave instantly; and I ]
was just on my way to a friend's office, to J j
j write an apology and explanation of the whole ,
! matter. But I am delighted to see you here. , ]
| I can tell you the whole story, now."
Poor, guilty, John Barr. IIow he wished
he had not come to New York. What a fool
i he was to leave Richmond. 'And how mean j i
and ungrateful, to have distrusted such a
friend. It was all plain enough. Why did he
not think that sudden business might have
called this noble mau away, unexpectedly ?
<tt i* 11 f i i _i i jr.
ne was iuii or snanic ana aDuscmem. 110
blushed and stammered, under his overwhelm- i
i ing seuse of wrong aud guilt, and was in a
| mighty pucker, when the calm voice of Barry '
I startled him with a fresh alarm. <
! "Come, gentlemen, let us step in somwhere,
aud take something."
j What should Barr do, in this strait? The | <
detective would certainly expose his shameful
j distrust of the estimable Campbell, aud the
wicked purpose which had treacherously
brought him to New York. In his despera- <
f tion he tried one or two winks ; but the imj
perturbable Barry was unintelligeutas a stone.
! A manmuvre to get near enough to whisper
' that all was right, and not to breath a word
about that twenty-two thousand, was defeated.
Somehow, Barry did not seem to appreciate
! the sweet re-union nor Campbell's gushing;
but moved on to the proposed taking of some|
thing, as though he was absorbed in that,
j And the nervous, trembling, humbled Barr
! had no help, but to follow. The three were
I presently sealed in a quiet room, alone, whith,
er the landlord took them in a very knowing
j way. Two of these customers he had seen, i
i and knew, before. I
"Well, gentlemen, what will you have?"
Barr ordered whisky punch?Scotch ; but
he had no hankering for it; just then. Bran- j
dy and water came for the other two. Now
the cigars; and, sip?puff?chat. It was i
wonderful to see the satisfied twinkle in the i
eye of t he detective, and the smiling and courteous
case of Campbell, contrasted with the:
fidgety anxiety of Burr. What should he
do? Every moment he expected the terrible '
explosion to come. How could he explain |
his shameful distrust, so as to be forgiven by
this dearly cherished and now so greatly and 1
cruelly wronged friend ? And out it came, at'
last, sure enough. When the supply of li-!
quids number two, and cigars, were brought.
'? nn/1 oln onrl nn fr warn nnintlv in nrn- i
IUj OlJVl VHV Qi|/ (IliVl j^vin ii ui v ?|u?vv*j *m w
gress, Barry opened fire.
"Well, Campbell, you understand what we
want of you. You have twenty-two thousand
dollars of Mr. Burr's money, and lie wants it."
As this thunderbolt came, Barr felt much
like shooting from the room ; but the answer
of Campbell produced another revulsion and
a convulsion, in his tumultuous breast. The
moment the detective made his speech, in a ^
cold, measured, hard tone, Campbell's whole
manner and mode of speech were changed.
"Look here, Barry. I have spent a whole
year on this job, and it was a cursed poor one
at best. It is hard ; but I suppose I must do
something. I will give Mr. Barr ten thousand
dollars, and not a cent more. That won't
leave enough to pay my expenses, hardly."
John Barr's eyes glared. His Scotch blood
was beginning to boil, and his fingers to play.
He felt a sudden appetite for his beloved
Campbell's throat. But he had been warned
to keep silent and let things take their course ;
and Barry's voice recalled him, in season.
"Mr. Barr wants twenty-two thousand dollars,"
was all the reply made by Barry.
"He won't get it, then. Just consider the
time it has taken, and the expense." This
was put with the serious air of a sound business
argument. "I can't afford to give even
ten thousand."
"It is hard, I know. But you can't expect
to win always, you know. Twenty-two thou- j
sand is the figure, and not a dollar less. i
"If you will say fifteen thousand, I suppose i
I will go that. But it is hard on me."
"Twenty-two thousand, and now."
"Then you may whistle for it." This was !
said with a dogged air and tone.
"Look here, Campbell, you are no fool.;
You know you are caught, and if you won't i
help yourself out, nobody else will. The case
is exactly this. You can fork over the cash.
If you won't, you have property that will
bring it; but this will take time. Now, Mr.
Barr don't want to trouble you. He only
wants his money; and that he is sure of. The
choice for you is, to pay the cash, and make
it up on another job ; or go to the State prison
for years, and have the money taken out of |
you in another way."
"Blamed hard !" muttered Campbell.
"You must decide. Either pay the money j
down and go, or I arrest you on the spot. j
You understand my style, and what I mean. !
Now decide."
Campbell swore, in a mighty rage, over his j
hard luck. The loss of so much time, and so j
much expense, seemed to weigh him down. |
But he paid John Barr twenty-two thousand ;
dollars ; Barr paid the detective five hundred
ef it; and he returned to Richmond, a richer
and a wiser, if not a happier man than he
bad been for the twelve months before.
funding. j
A DUEL TO THE DEATH.
VCCOl'NT OF A TERRIBLE DUEL AT MEDICINE
LODGE, INDIAN TERRITORY.
A correspondent of the New York World j
writes the following account of a fearful duel ;
which took place at Medicine Lodge, Indian
Territory, on the 4th ultimo. The parties i
were Hugh Anderson, a noted Texas despera- :
do, and a Kansas man- named McCluskey, j
whose brother had been previously killed by j
die Texan. The correspondent says:
By the terms agreed upon between Kichards j
?id Harding, the seconds, the antagonists :
were to fight with revolvers and Bowie knives? j
to be placed back to back at an interval of;
twenty paces?to wheel and fire at a given |
signal and after the first interchange of shots !
to conduct the fight as each one should deem ;
it best to his advantage.
McCluskey, as he emerged from the house ,
where he made his brief stay, looked a picture
:>f manly strength and vigor. A tight-fitting ;
buckskin shirt and leggings, tastefully embroidered,
set off his robust form to great ad-1
vantage, and it was apparent to all that, in |
the event of a close encounter, he would prove \
i terrible antagonist to his rival. His revol- \
ver, of Colt's make, he carried in his right!
band, while his Bowie, encased in a sheath of
untanned deerskin, rested on his left hip, with-!
in easy reach. Accompanied by Itichards,
who had simply thrown offhis coat and placed
in extra revolver in his belt, he proceeded
juickly to the place of meeting, replying brief-!
ly to the rough salutations addressed him by
the crowd, but repelling courteously the advance
of a few of the more curious, who wished
to learn from his own lips the history of the i
present trouble. The spot selected for the en-j
;ounter was in the .open prairie a few yards
listant from the larger of the two storehouses. |
The grass had been closely cropped by the !
cattle, leaving the turf firm, yet elastic, And
ust the thing for rough-and-tumble business, j
His antagonist not yet having made his ap-'
pearance, McCluskey seated himself on the j
jrassand conversed earnestly with his second.
While engaged in taking notes of what was |
passing in the crowd a cry of "Here comes j
Anderson with the old man" caused every j
me to turn in the direction of Harding's
house. Anderson, nerved, prohably, by the !
knowledge of his great skill with the pistol,!
walked along with a jaunty, careless kind of
air that gained him many friends among the j
lookers-on and made him a still greater favor- j
ite in the betting. He wore his usual dress,'
save that a broad belt, in which was stuck a
knife, confined his coat at the waist, and he
had changed his light sombrero for a military
fatigue cap. He passed by close to where I i
was standing and our eyes again met. Save
that the look on his face hardened a little and
he contracted his brow to a visible scowl,
there was not Jung to indicate the presence ot
any unusual mental excitement, not even 1
when, to take the position assigned him, he
had to pass within an arm's length of Mc- j
Uluskey.
Hut little time was wasted in preliminaries.
The twenty paces were quickly stepped off
and the principals-placed in their respective
positions. The sun had long since set, and
the dark pall of evening was rapidly settling '
on the spot, so that neither could be annoyed 1
by the rays of the sun, nor could either side J
complain of holding an inferior position. The
crowd drew back to what was deemed a safe
distance, and the seconds, after a moment's
consultation apart, advanced to give the signal.
The interest at this moment in the pro-!
ccedings was of an intense nature and served
to keep the lookers-on in a state of breathless
expectancy. Like statutes the figures of the
two men who were to fight a I' oulrance loomed
up against the western sky, each with the
muzzle of his weapon pointed to the earth, the
intention clearly being to make a "rising"
shot; this is to fire catching the aim while the
weapon is being raised. In this way the'
practiced haud rarely wastes his ammunition
in the air by shooting over his adversary's j
head, as so often happens when the falling [
shot is adopted.
The giving of the signal had fallen by lot
! to Harding. Stating to the principals, who
by this time began to show signs of impatience,
that this would be the report of a pistol, he
drew his own weapon and discharged it, first
asking the question and receiving the usual \
answer that both were ready.
THE DUEL.
McCluskey was the first to fire, wheeling as ,
he did so, though the smoke had scarcely
curled up from his pistol before the report of;
Anderson's weapon followed. A momentary
pause ensued, each of the antagonists closely i
scanning the other to note the effe t of the
shot. Across Anderson's cheek a deep furrow,
from which the blood slowly began to ,
trickle down, told the work of his antagonist,'
while McCluskey remained standing in his |
original posture, to all appearances unharmed.
But this was not the fact. Those near-:
est to him fancied they saw a sudden spasm,
us of pain, pass through his frame, and his
face certainly blanched to a death-like pallor, i
but just where the ball had taken effect they
could not tell. At the second fire McCluskey |
again anticipated his opponent, and, taking a j
more deliberate aim, succeeded in breaking
his left arm. Anderson uttered a sharp cry i
and sunk ou one knee, but, quickly recover- 1
ing himself, returned the fire, and this time j
with horrible effect. The ball, passing through ;
McCluskey's mouth, carried away with itscv- J
eral of the clenched teeth and a portion of;
the tongue, finally lodging in the base of the I
.skull. McCluskey staggered forward wildly j
a few steps and made desperate efforts to
steady himself. The blood poured in torrents
from the wound and stained his hunting shirt
and dripped from the muzzle of his pistol;
but with heroic courage he continued to advance,
spitting out mouthfulls of blood and j
teeth at every step. During the interval thus j
trained Anderson, who in his crippled state j
had every reason to shun a hand to hand en-)
counter had not been idle, but fired another j
well-aimed shot, which broke McCluskey's I
left shoulder. As if this was not enough, he
sent still another ball after bim, which, striking
him in the pit of the stomach, caused hira
to fall forward heavily on his face. McCluskey
was now mortally wounded and moment-1
arily growing weaker from loss of blood. 1
Tearing open his shirt in his agony, a crimson j
spot in his left side indicated the place where j
Anderson's first shot had taken effect. He !
still, however, retained his grasp of his pistol, i
and, by an effort superhuman in its coolness !
and deliberation, fired at his antagonist his
third shot. The latter had been closely watching
for this, and endeavored to save himself
by suddenly dropping to the ground. Too I
late, however, McCluskey's finger was already ,
on the trigger aud his eye along the sights, |
and when his adversary's body reached the !
earth it was heavier by a Colt's pistol ball, j
A scream of pain followed and the spectators '
saw the figure of a man clutching wildly with
his hands at the grass and writhing and twisting
in horrible contortions. The bullet had
struck hira full in the abdomen and, like his
antagonist, Anderson was now a fast dying
man. At this juncture it seemed as if the
crowd would interfere, but Harding sternly 1
bade them keep back aud leave the men to
settle the matter in their own way. As none '
cared to dispute with the gigantic hunter, the
mandate was obeyed, though a universal expression
of horror ran through the spectators,
a number of whom were the engineers and
attaches of our own party. Still, horrible as
was the scene, no one thought of leaving the
spot. An irresistible fascination to see it out 1
bound one and all alike to the blood-stained j
locality. But the finale was at hand?the
curtain almost ready to drop.
McCluskey, summoning, by a supreme effort,
his remaining strength, drew his knife
and began to crawl feebly in the direction of
his antagonist. The latter, who had raised ,
himself to a sitting posture, saw the move- j;
ment and prepared to meet it. Both had ,
dropped their revolvers, leaving to the cold j.
steel the completion of the work. (
By this time it had grown quite dark, and |
to distiuguish the movements of the combat- j;
ants required the closest attention. Anderson j,
was clearly unable to move any portion of his j,
body save his right arm. With this he raised | ]
his knife aloft, and as McCluskey crawled up j,
to within reach, dealt him a terrible blow in | (
the neck, cutting muscles and tendons and |
veins, and half severing the head from the ;
body. But the effort was too much for him, j |
and, leaving the weapon sticking in the!
wound, he pitched heavily forward on his face. |,
Every one supposed that this blow would ,
have instantly killed McCluskey, but, strange i
to say, it did not, for so great was his vitality j
that before falling he twice plunged his own (
knife into the body of Anderson. The tale i ,
is soon told. McCluskey lived a minute i ,
longer than his antagonist. The dead bodies, j (
firmly locked in each other's embrace, were ;,
taken to the house of Harding and laid out, ,
side by side, on the gaming table. A crim-1 j
sou trail marked the path of those who car-1
ried them in doors, and pools of blood indi- j
cated the scene of the late conflict. !,
There was no gaming that night. The hunt- j s
ers and Indians appeared to find excitement' j
enough in talking over the events of the day ;,
without having to resort to their usual pastime. \ ]
About 11 o'clock the moon rose and the bo- ,
dies were taken out for burial. There were j
110 funeral ceremonies, but Job Harding re- (
marked as the muffled forms were lowered in-1 ,
to the grave : "There go two as brave men as i,
ever lived." They were buried deep to keep 1 (
the wolves and coyotes from digging them up, ! ,
and the earth was heaned un in a little mound l
to mark where they slept. And then, with i (
the night wind whispering a soft requiem over i j
the dead men's graves, and the moon shining :,
sadly from her distant sphere in the upper J
ether, the crowd slowly dispersed and each one i j
sought his couch. j,
THE SECRET OF YANKEE PROSPERITY, jj
Under this head the veteran editor of the 1 (
Mobile Register, Hon. John Forsyth, gives : 1
some of his impressions of New England, and ;
the causes of its prosperity. There is food for
thought in his remarks, but we opine that he ]
has not fully revealed the "secret." A cold cli- \ j
mate and a rugged soil have developed in the t
people habits of self-reliance, industry, thrift ?
and economy, to which the inhabitants of our 1
more genial region are straugers. Their man- 1
ufactories and their machine worked farms, J
are the natural out-growth of these habits, j
aud of the close, calculating inquisitive dis- i 1
positions which generally accompanies them. ' j
If we are to imitate them in their methods of g
working, we must be willing to acquire, to t
some extent, also those qualities of mind, and ' (
those models of thought which make them sue-! I
cessful. Here is what Mr. Forsyth says : j 1
A Southern man, after having made a lly- t
ing trip through the New England States,' r
comes back filled with astonishment at what I
he has seen, and perfectly discouraged with j i
his own section of country. There he saw lit-; v
tie villages sticking iu the midst of barren (
and uninhabitable mountains, with no sur- j I
roundings to support them, evincing a spirit t
of life and prosperity unknown to even our t
large towns?the recognized trade centres of | S
our best agricultural regions. And in the ; a
country he saw little farms producing like s
first class English gardens, though on soil ?
originally too poor to have grown bear grass,: t
and in situations that a Southern man never : t
would have thought capable of being convert-1 c
ed into a goat pasture. The people, all as a t
general thing, seemed contented and prosper-! \
ous; and if he had inquired into their circum- t
stances he would have found, strange as it c
may appear, everybody in these little villages r
well off and making money, and the little \ d
farms, with their stone piles here and there,! 'J
annual calls for fertilizers to the extent of ^ p
one hundred and fifty dollars per acre, actu- j p
ally clearing their owners from one to three j o
hundred dollars on every acre inclosed. No!
wonder that he is discouraged when he looks
from this picture upon our favorably located
towns and notes their inactivity, their pover- a
ty and general dilapidation, and upon our: g
broad and fertile acres, and reflects that they 1 p
are really, in very many instances, not paying g
the expense of culture. ! t
One would naturally concluded that there ! g
must be some secret connected with all this; r
and so there is. At the village station the j
close observer would notice piles of cotton p
bales, a circumstance calculated to create no t
particul r interest in the South, put there, i o
thousands of miles away from where cotton ! c
should be grown, it would take the form of 1,
mystery. Stepping out upon the platform in y
quest of a solution, his ears would be greeted e
by a sound as of a waterfall, having a partic- o
lar humming accompaniment?spindles. The a
case would be made plain?the strange little j
village would be recognized as a raanufactur-j j|
iug point, and then lie would know that we in j ]
a far off section were digging its prosperity t
from our soil?feeding it into a vigorous life
upon the very sod for which our towns were a
starving, and asking it nothing in return, ac- E
tufilly shipping our cotton at our own expense, J
and then in order that it rtiight grow fat on \]
its business, buying its fabrics at its own profi- t
table figures, and paying transportation on t
them to our homes. What a kind-hearted 1
people we Southerners must be! f
Then for secret of success among the farm- ]
ers. Passing through the country with his c
eyes open, the close observer would at the r
proper season soon have his attention arrested a
by an improved mower sweeping over the 'J
meadow, under the exclusive management of f
a youth of, say sixteen, and accomplishing jmore
in a day than could, in that time, be t
wormed out of a dozen freedmen with their 1
scythes. A little later and he would see the r
younger brother of the youth turning the hay
and then in due time would come a still smaller
boy with rake, followed by a trio of little c
fellows having all sorts of fun as they, with a ']
hay fork, stored away the crop in the hay loft. r
In everything done on the farm in New e
England this same plan is resorted to. If the
soil must be prepared, instead of setting a t
dozen freedmen at it with their mules and t
ploughs to sweat through a week, as we would
do, out comes a machine managed by a boy d
or two, and in an incredibly short space of
time the job is done and well done. A lot of d
seed is to bo sown that would give our hands t
a Jong and tedious task ; but there a stripling
with a seed sower puts it down right and in d
"n*"' A n/1 fKo nrnn ia ronrlv
VCIjr .IIIUIIUIUH, ..uv,.. w.v. v..~r .
to be hoed, instead of charging it with a black d
army to play for pay, a boy harnesses his nag fc
to a horse hoe, takes his seat as in a sulky,
and rides about over the field hoeing several d
rows at a Yankee prosperity. She has simply
changed places with us?she owns her labor, d
If it were otherwise, or in different words, did fc
she have to work on our plan, and depend on
our kind of labor, and did we not in the d
goodness of our hearts, give her the profits on
our products, a few years would find her en- 0
tirely depopulated, a happy hunting ground v
upon'which the redmari might pitch his wigwam,
never to be disturbed by any encroach- 0
ment of civilization.
There is no reason why we in the South b
3hould not own our labor in the same * way,
and set our spindles going, thus giving prosperity
to our own towns and villages. We d
can never be a success till we do it. Let us s
think the matter over.?Rural Carolinian for h
July. 3
Cause of Gray Hair.?Moreau, the dis- a
tinguished French physician, writes : "I once I a
knew an aged man for whom snow-white hair g<
and a countenance deeply marked by the fur- ^
rows of care, inspired the respect which we j.
ewe to age and misfortune. 'My hair,' said c
lie, 'was as thou seest it now long before the
latter season of my life. More energetic in n
their effects than assiduous toil and lingering n
years, grief and despair at the loss of a wife r
most tenderly loved whitened my locks in a g
single night. I was not thirty years of age. v
Judge then, the force of my sufferings. I still fl
bear thera in frightful remembrance.'" 0
One more illustration shall suffice on this u
point. The sexton of St. Joseph's Cathedral, jj
Vienna, being a man of extraordinary nerve j,
and boldness, was accustomed to stand on the j,
pinnacle of the tower whenever the Emperor tj
made a grand entry to the city, and wave a j
Hag as the pageant passed by. When, how- 0
iver, Leopold, who had just been chosen Em- v
peror at Frankfort, was about to enter the city,
the loyal sexton, still anxious to be true to the a
ild custom, but finding that years had told jj
igainst his nerve, declared that any one who J e
tr/itilsl Kia nlonn onnnfloalnllv qIiamI/] iul n I
I,UU1U ?*??> mo ouvvwg.1...; ?..v,u.v. ..... &
sis daughter. j(
Gabriel Petersheim, who was disliked by jj
.he sexton, but beloved of the daughter, at ^
Mice accepted the offer, to the disguist of the ](
sexton, who then arranged with two villains j(
;o close the trap-door of the upper stairway
vhile Gabriel was above, thinking that as the
Emperor was to enter toward evening, no one ^
leed be the wiser, and the lad must certainly
'all before the morning. The two accomplices
did their foul work, and their intended i S
victim, finding his way down again barred, | b
,vas then confronted with the alternative of! ol
clinging to the slender spire, through a cold c<
.viutry night, with his feet restiug on a surface n<
lardly ten inches in circumference, or of pre-j g
cipitating himself to the pavement at once, ol
ind thus ending the matter. Gabriel was a tc
fouth of firm will and hardy constitution ; he it
clung to the cold column until morning. But j is
;he story goes that his curling locks were i di
vhite as snow; his wonted rosy cheeks were ai
fellow and wrinkled; and his eyes, before so ei
aright, were now sunken and dim. One night it
)f horror had placed him forty years nearer al
lis grave.? Cassell's Household Guide. ol
J
Friendship Among Thieves?In the m
ogue's gallery in the New Orleans police de- j y<
mrtment there is the pictnre of "Mollie Wa-; fc
erman and her dog." Mollie was no thief, j ic
jhe wa3 never known to steal anything in her ; tl
ife and yet she was classed among thieves, j al
cecause her dog had the habit of stealing, j m
Slollie would go into a store, examine goods, : tl
ewelry, laces, etc., and the dog was always at | tl
ier side. She had a way of telling the dog ; st
ust what she wanted out of a store, and when | hi
the went out the dog hung around. When C
he shopman's back was turned the dog never
ailed to lay his teeth on the very article that I
Mollie wanted. He punctually brought it to Y
lis mistress at her rooms. Sometimes the dog M
ook little things that he thought Mollie sc
night want, without any hint from her. lb
Mollie and her dog had a perfect understand- sc
ng, worked together for several years, and j
vere very dear friends, as events proved. | in
3ne day the dog was caught stealing. 12(
Mollie flew to his rescue. She exonerated ; cc
he dog and actually accused herself of being j St
he theif. The police took her at her word, j tli
she said she was willing to do all the suffering ' 1]
md pay the penalty, but begged her jailors to j fo
pare the dog. The jailors had the photo-; se
;raph of Mollie Waterman and her dog j Ci
aken and hung up among the rogues. They fi^
hen told her the dog had to die without judge la
r jury. She prayed the inexorable police to
ake her life but spare the dog's. They hi
vould not listen to her appeal, and, killing cc
he dog before her eyes, they flung his bleeding ni
sarcass into her cell and locked her up. The It
lext morning Mollie Waterman was found tr
lead in the cell with the dog in her arms.
?here was an instance of devotion. That
licture is worthy of a better place than a
idice office rogue's gallery. Mr. Bergh i
light to look after it.?Missouri Republican.
PRESERVING SHINGLES ON ROOFS.
Some people paint roof shingles after they j;
re laid, which makes them really decay
ooner than they otherwise would. Others
mint the courses as they are laid, which is a
;reat preservative, if each shingle is painted '1
he length of three courses. But the simplest,
urest, and least expensive plan is that,1
ecommended by an old farmer who says ; |
"There is one thing more, that nearly all ;
teople know, if they would only attend to it;;
hat is to sprinkle slacked lime on the roof's
f Mi pi r hnildiii(T?j in rainv davs. Put it on 1
... J ^ ,
onsiderably thick, so as to make the roof
ook white, aud you uever will be troubled
nth moss, aud if the shingles are covered
ver so thick with moss, by putting the lime 1
n twice, it will take it off and leave it white
nd clean and will look almost as well as if it
lad been painted. It ought to be done once |
a a year. In ray opinion, the shingles will
ast almost twice as long as they will to let1
he roof grow over to moss. !
I tried it 011 the back of my house ten years i1
go, when the shingles were all covered with '
ooss, and they appeared to be nearly rotten^|
gave the roof a heavy coat of lime, and I
lave followed it nearly every year since, and
he roof is better now than it was then, and
o all appearance, if I follow the plan, it will
ast ten or fifteen years longer. The shingles
lave been on the roof over thirty years. '
There is no more risk about sparks catching
in the roof. Those who do not have lime
tear by, can use good ashes, and these will !
.nswer a very good pnrpose to the same end." j
The action of the lime is to cleanse the sur- j
ace of all inpediments to the free and rapid !
lassage of the rain water off. This enables
he shingles to dry very soon, and consequenty
prevents rotting. Moss-covered roofs will ;
ot very rapidly.
Interest Rule.?For fiudiug the interest
in any principal for any number of days.
The answer in each case being in cents, sepa ate
the two right hand figures of answer to '
xpress in dollars and cents.
Four Per Cent.?Multiply the principal by
he number of days to run; separate right
land figure from product, and divide by 9.
Five Per Cent.?Multiply by number ofj
lays, and divide by 72.
Six Per Cent.?Multiply by number of
lays; separate right hand figure, and divide
... D
iy u.
Eight Per Cent.?Multiply by number of
lays, and divide by 45.
Nine Per Cent.?Multiply by number of
lays; separate right hand figure, and divide ,
iy 4.
Ten Per Cent.?Multiply by number of (
lays, and divide by 36. <
Twelve Per Cent.?Multiply by number of (
ays; separate right hand figure and divide
iy 3.
Fifteen Per Cent.?Multiply by number of
ays, and divide by 24. J
Eighteen Per Cent.?Multiply by number ,
f days; separate right hand figure, and di- j
ide by 2. (
Twenty Per Cent.?Multiply by number ,
f days, and divide by 18.
Twenty-four Per Cent.?Multiply by number
of days, and divide by 15.
"The Old Woman."?It was thus, a few i
ays ago, we heard a stripling of sixteen deignate
the mother who bore him. By coarse i
usbauds we have heard wives so called occa- i
ionally, though in the latter case the phrase l
i more often used endearingly. At all times, 1
s commonly spoken, it jars upon the ears
nd shocks the senses. An "old woman" 1
hould be an object of reverence above and i
eyond almost all other phases of humanity. I
ler very age should be her surest passport to <
ourteous consideration. * ]
The aged mother of a grown up family 1
eeds no other certificate of worth. She is a i
louument of excellence, approved and war- <
? * - -i LIL. i? j? i.i ml.- \
auieu. one nits luugiit iuiwnunj iuc guuu i
ght," and come off' conqueror. Upon her ]
enerable face she bears the marks of the con- i
ict in all its furrowed lines. The most griev- i
us of the ills of life have been hers; trials
ntold, and unknown only to her God aud
erself, she has borne incessantly; and now, i
i her old age, her duty done, patiently await- <
ig her appointed time, she stands more beau- <
iful than ever in youth, more honorable and I
eserving than he who has slain his thousands, i
r stood triumphant upon the proudest field of 1
ictory. ]
Young man, speak kindly to your mother, i
nd ever courteously, tenderly of her. But a <
ttle time and you shall see her no more for- s
ver. Her eyes are dim, her form is bent, i
nd her shadow falls graveward. Others may I
>ve you when she has passed away?kind i
earted sisters, perhaps, or she whom, of all i
le world you chose as a partner?she may i
>ve you warmly, passionately; children may <
)ve you fondly, but never again, never, while i
me is yours, shall the love of woman be to (
ou as that of your old, trembling mother .
as been.
Under the Sea and Over the Sea.? i
even years ago the Atlantic telegraphic ca- (
le was opened for business. Then it was one i
f the wonders of the world. Now it is a t
)ramon-place every-day affair, which excites t
0 particular interest, except when the public c
rowl a little louder than usual at the price s
f cable dispatches. The people are accus- c
>med to it; their familiarity with it causes t
to be regarded with an indifference which j
akiu to contempt. Yet what would be a
one, in what state of mind would merchants v
od politicians be, if we had to wait seven or r
ght days for news which now reaches Amer- s
:a at an hour considerably earlier than that 1:
t which it leaves Europe. Even the rotation \
1 the earth helps to keep Jonathan ahead of s
ohn! Voyages by balloon are to be the
ext sensation, and a little more than ten
ears hence the sailing of the pioneer balloon I
>r England may be celebrated as heartily, c
i New York, as the seventh anuiversary of I
ie opening of the ocean cable was celebrated r
; Heart's Content a few days ago. Why 11
9 mi*/* ftf oaFa trino htr Imllonn fn : f
L/L . JlIJC ISIULUIBG yjl OU1V/ 11 I^g km j uunvv/u t>\s I is
Old World is not half as extravagant, in j r
le minds of the men to-day, as the promise of ; c
eamships and the magnetic telegraph would J a
ave been to the men of a hundred years ago. c
'harleston News. 1'
iST The area of the six Middle States?New ?
ork, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, a
[arylaud and West Virginia?is 137,464 h
juare miles; showing that the area of Cali- h
rniais 51,517 square miles larger than this
ction.
The entire area of the twelve States form- ii
g the New England and Middle States, is h
)5,812 square miles, showing that California e
intains an area almost as great as the twelve li
;ates. It is 78,1555 square miles larger than o
ie whole of Great Britain, the latter being v>
LO,846 square miles. It would make twenty- u
ur States the size of the State of Massachu- tl
tts, leaving 2,781 square miles; the area of d
ulifornia would make one hundred and forty- d
.re States as large as the State of Rhode Is- r<
nd.
"What is the size of your farm ?" said a
ird-fistcd New England farmer, who had be- g
irae rich on two hundred acres, to a Califor- a
an who had gone home on a visit. "About il
j,000 acres," was the reply. He told the c
uth, but he lost his reputation for veracity, s]
for no man Jiving in Ktiode isiana nas yei
been able to conceive of a single farm of such
an immense area.
Make-up of the Body.?Supposing your
age to be fifteen or thereabouts, I can figure
you to a dot. You have 160 bones and 500
muscles; your blood weighs 25 pounds; your
heart is five inches in diameter; it beats
70 times a minute, 4,200 times per hour, 400,300
per day, and 32,732,200 per year. At
each beat a little over two ounces of blood is
thrown out of it; and each day it receives and
discharges about seven tons of that wonderful
fluid. Your lungs will contain a gallon of
air, and you inhale 24,000 gallons per day.
The aggregate surface of the air cells of your
lungs, supposing them to be spread out, exceeds
20,000 square inches. The weight of
your brain is three pounds; when you are a
.?Jlt Ainlif nnooQ mnr<> Ynili'
lUiUl It Will VVCJgW ^1^11 U vuuvg u?w? ?
nerves exceed 10,000,000 in number. Your
skiu is composed of three layers, and varies
from one-fourth to one eighth of an inch in
thickness. The area of your skin is about
1,700 square inches, and you are subjected to
an atmospheric pressure of fifteen pounds to
the square inch- Each square inch of your
skin contains 3,500 sweating tubes of perspiratory
pores, each of which may be likened
to a little drain-tile one-fourth of an inch,
making an aggregate length of the entire surface
of your body of 201,166 feet, a tile ditch
for draining the body almost forty miles long.
Punctuality.?Of the various kinds of
business in which thousands of men are engaged,
there are many "who believe that the
trials, perplexities and vicissitudes of their
business are peculiarly trying and really more
serious than in any other pursuit. The road
aloug which every active business man travels
is a rough and rugged path, beset with "waita-bit"
thorns, and full of pitfalls, which can
only be avoided by watchful care and circumspection.
Each has his own burdens to bear,
and each generally thinks he has more than
his share.
Much of the annoyance and disappointment
incident to most kinds of commercial business
might be avoided if people would only keep
their promises, and promptly meet their engagements.
The man who owes a bill, says:
"Call the first of the month, and you shall
certainly have the money. I have some collections
due then, and shall surely not disappoint
you." So it goes. A relies on the promise
ofB, and B depends on C, and so on
through a dozen cases.
Eclipse at the Time of the Crucifixion.?It
is a curious coincidence that the moon
was eclipsed on the generally received date of
our Saviour's crucifixion, A. D. 33, April 3.
The phenomenon, however, could have had
no influence on the miraculous darkness which
overshadowed Jerusalem, "from the-sixth to
the ninth hour," when "the sun was darkened."
Mr. Hind has found that the moon
"had merged from the earth's dark shadow a
quarter of an hour before she rose at Jerusalem
(6.36 p. m.) but the penumbra continued ?
upon her disc for an hour afterward." The
penumbra visible during a lunar eclipse is exceedingly
faint, being only the shadow of the
earth's dark shadow, and it can scarcely be
recognized by the naked eye. It certainly
could have added nothing to the awful solemnity
of the scene which had just taken place.
Leisure Hour.
? +
Poor Girls.?The poorest girls in the
world are those who have never been brought
up to work. Rich parents have petted them,
they have been taught to despise labor, and to
depend upon others for a living, and are perfectly
helpless. If misfortune comes upon
their friends, as it often does, their case is
hopeless. The most forlorn and miserable
women on earth belong to this class. It belongs
to parents to protect their daughters
from this deplorable condition. They do
them great wrong if they neglect it. Every
daughter should be taught to earn her own
living. The rich as well as the poor require
this training. The wheel of fortune rolls
swiftly round?the rich are very likely to become
poor and the poor rich. Skill to labor
is no disadvantage to the rich, and is indispensable
to the poor. Well-to-do parents
nust educate their daughters to work ; no reform
is more imperative than this.
Life in the Moon.?As the moon's surface
is so nearly perpendicular to her orbit, she
cannot properly be said to have any change
if seasons. During nearly fifteen of our days,
the sun pours down its rays, unmitigated by
my atmosphere to temper them. To this
long torrid day succeeds a night of equal
length and polar cold. How strange the lunar
appearance would be to us! The disc
cf the sky seems sharp and distinct. The
sky is black and overspread with stars, eveu
it raid-day. There is no twilight, for the sun
bursts instantly into day, and after a fortnight's
glare, as suddenly gives place to night;
jo air to conduct sound, no clouds, no winds,
jo rainbows, no blue sky, no gorgeous tinting
if the heavens at sunrise and sunset, no delcate
shading, no soft blending of colors, but
inly sharp outlines of sun and shade.?Steel's^
Astronomy.
Rest and Air.?Dr. Hall says, the best
nedicine in the world, more efficient in the
jure of diseases than all the potencies of the
nateria ruedica, are warmth, rest, cleanliness,
md pure air. Some persons make it virtue
0 brave disease, "to keep up" as long as they
:an move a foot, or crook a finger, and it
ometimes succeeds; but in others, the powers
>f life are thereby so completely exhausted
hat the system cannot recuperate, and ty>hoid
fever sets in and carries the patient to
1 premature grave. Whenever walking or
vorking is an effort, a warm bed and a cool
oora are the very first indispensables to a
ure and speedy.recovery, Instinct leads all
leasts and birds to quietude and rest the
rery moment disease or wounds assail the
ystem.
Oriental Magnificence.?The Shah of
5ersia, now on a visit to England was previmsly
received in Russia with the greatest
lomp. When he first met the officers sent to
eceive him, he was most magnificently atired.
He wore a tunic of black cloth coverid
in front with rubies, emeralds and dianonds
of extraordinary size. His breast was
lecorated with the Russian eagle in diamonds,
,nd epaulettes covered with the same resplenlent
jewels. On his presentation to the Czar,
le wore a uniform covered from head to foot
nth precious stones, in value not less thau
>5,000,000. At the military review, the reins
nd shabraque of his steed, with the other
iead dress and trappings of the animal, were
ifnttnlltf /lAttAwn/l mif U /lln rwAn/10
.uuiftiijr WYU5U Trim UI?U.UUU?,
as?>" A man in Wilmington has had a lizard
a his stomach for twelve years, and much to
is relief it came up a few days ago and crawld
out of his mouth. The man says the
zard was very much surprised at his account
f the events which have occurred since he
rent down. It had heard nothing of the war,
or of the death of Napoleon, nor of any of
lose things. It was annoyed at the man's
yspeptic condition, and came up to see the
octor about it. This man's story should be
2ceived with caution.
?+
The spirit of true religion breathes ,
entleness and affability; it is social, kind,
nd cheerful, far removed from that gloomy,
liberal superstition and bigotry which
loud the brow, sour the temper, deject the
pirit, and impress morosity on the manners.
' A