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lewis m.. gj-rist, proprietor. | At Inbepcnbenf Jfantilp ftetosjjaper: Jk tjje ^rtjmcrfttjn of t|e |)olitical, Social, Agricultural aub Commercial Interests of % j&ontjj. TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IS ADVANCE. VOL. 21. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MARCH 18, 1875. NO. 11. 1 ? ? ~ _ ?r T_ JWcftctl ffactrg. WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE! "Woodman! spare that tree; Touch not a single bough ; In youth it sheltered me. And I'll protect it now. 'Twasmv forefather's hand That place it near his cot: There, woodman, let it stand ; ^ Thy axe shall harm it not. That old, familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea? And wouldstthou hack it down ? Woodman I forbear thy stroke; Cut not its earth-bound ties; Oh ! spare that aged ragged oak, ^ Now towering to the skies. When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade ; In all their gushing joy, Hero. too. mv sisters olavcd. PMy mother kissed me here; Sly father pressed my hand: Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand. My heart-strings round thee cling Close as thy bark, old friend ; Here shall the wild bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree! the storms still brave, And, woodman, leave the spot; While I've a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm it not. G. P. Morris. Stt #rigittal f torn. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. zanita, The Circus Girl. BY MRS. HENRY DEAS. CHAPTER XXII. FOUND AT LAST. >. The dawn crept in, chill and gray, and Estelle, still haunted by the terror of the night before, hovered, like an unquiet spectre, about the scene of the late disaster, trying to find some clue to the fate of her unrighteous possession, but in vain. Heaps of broken plastering, charred frag- i ments of wood-work, and shattered glass, lay ; about in every direction, and the cold morn- j * *1 I - a. i ing air Diew m mrougn a greiu gap iu uic roof, part of which had fallen completely in. It was a dreary spectacle enough, and the guilty girl who stood shivering there, with v pallid face and deep, dark circles around her heavy eyes, her long hair hanging disordered about her shoulders, looked not unfit to be its presiding genius at that moment. "Lord sake, Miss Estelle!" cried Delia's shrill voice, making her start and tremble with sudden apprehension, as though it were some avenging spirit's summons, "what on earth is you doin' here? I thought you was safe in bed. Missus sent me to see after you, and to tell you you'd better not get up if you was very tired. She's better this morning, and don't need you." "I couldn't stay in bed any longer," said j Estelle, forcing a smile; "1 had bad arearas, and they woke me up. Doesn't the place look forlorn ?" "Don't talk!" ejaculated Delia, lifting her hands and eyes in a melodramatic manner.* ^ "What'11 master say when he comes home ? And so many of your nice, pretty things destroyed, too. Aint it a shame ?" "I wonder how the fire began ?" said Estelle. "Ah ! it's a mystery, ma'am?that's what it is. Unless you had left a candle burning, and forgot it, when you weut down stairs?" "No, I am sure I left no light here then." "Or a spark of fire, may-be, from the chimbly. However, the evil's done, and it don't do no good to make surmises about it, I suppose. Look here, Miss Estelle, here's some pieces of your desk?your heautiful desk that you was so careful about, all broken to little bits!" With a slight cry, Estelle sprang forward. Her heart beat violently as she picked up the . well-known mahogany fragmeuts, aud searched eotrerlv with strained eves and hurrying, -J , - J ? trembling bauds, amid the debris on that por^ tion of the floor for some traces of the contents of the desk, which had probably been broken in falling from the shelf on which she had kept it, just within a closet in her room. But no papers were to be seen. Only a little carnelian ring, a trifling memento of her childish days, which had for years past been tossing carelessly about among the more valuable articles, unnoticed and uncared for, was discovered, quite uuinjured, beneath a lump of yellow mortar, and augrily tossed aside by the disappointed seeker. "All lost?all burnt!" sheexclaimed as she rose from her stooping posture. "Don't you think so, Delia ?" "What, madam ?" "My letters and papers?those that were in the desk. They must be all destroyed." "Oh! well, may be some of them might be safe," said Delia, in a consolatory tone. "Mr. Maxwell was here while the fire was going on, and I believe he picked up a lot of things that were lying rouud. If he's got 'em, you kuow they are safe." ** "Papersand such things?" asked Estelle, turning faint with freshly awakened fear. "I think so, ma'am; I ain't sure. But Lord, Miss Estelle, I wouldn't stay in this awful cold place any longer now, if I was you ; go back to your warm bed again and take a good sleep. 'Tain't no use bothering and fretting any more about it. What's done can't be undone, and you can't mend the mischief by looking at it. You look real bad?just as """ white as a sheet." "I'll go directly. You had better not stay away any longer from mother, Delia ; she may be wanting you." "I'm going back to her this minnit. I'll " T ? I I T ireeze, 11 i siop nere mucn longer, x eApcui. I've got neuralgy in my face, too, this morning." Left aloue, Estelle again prosecuted her search, but with 110 more success tbm before. And she at last came to tV vhumsion that the will, among other papers, must have been - destroyed It was not likely that it could have escaped. "Well!" she said, standing upright, with glittering eyes and flushing cheeks, "if that is the case, Fate has done for me what I would * not do for myself, and set the matter at rest forever. So be it! It is out of my hand? now. I will have-to bear the responsibility ol it no more." With a feeling more akin to relief thansht had yet experienced, she turned away and I slowly retraced her steps to the chamber whicl had been temporarily arranged for her to oc / eupy. To reach this, she had to pass rounc through a little porch at the side of the house ' on account of the usual way being obstructed and as she did so, she was startled by an un ' expected apparition, in the shape of a young girl, near her own age, but so pale, tattered . and forlorn looking as to excite compassion, standing within a few yards of the steps. I She had no wrapping over her worn calico 1 dress, and her hands were blue with cold. But from beneath her shabby hat, a lovely mass of fair hair fell over her shoulders, and the face, upturned with wistful blue eyes to Estelle, was as beautiful as an augel's in its innocence and purity of expression. Estelle was involuntarily struck by it, as she stopped and accosted her. "What is it you want?" she asked, supposing that she wassome wandering beggar come ??? * ! ?* knur tn o o lr a 1 m Q 1 at cuio cai ijr iiuui tu uuiv utmvi "I am very hungry and tired," was the an! swer, in a pitiful, childish voice. "I have ! come a long way, and can hardly walk. Please i let me rest here a little, and give me a piece of bread ?" "You are very young to be going about in ; this way alone," rejoined Estelle. "Where have you come from this morning?" j "I slept in a baru last night; but I was so ; cold I was glad to get up and walk as soon as i it was light enough to see." "She doesu't look or talk like a common i beggar," thought Estelle, observant of her refined maunerand correct speech ; and opening the door, she bid the young stranger follow her into the house. The servants were up, and calling one of them, she briefly stated the case, and desired that the girl should be taken into the breakfast room, where the fire ! was already burning, and that a good meal ! should be given her. Tn her treat discomfiture, however, no W 0 sooner had the poor little wanderer experienced the warmth of the room, than, overpowered by the sudden transition from the extreme cold to which she had beeu exposed, and probably also by weakness and fatigue, she swooned away, and remained for some time in an unconscious state, notwithstanding all the efforts made to restore her. Fortunately, Dr. Sydney had ridden over very early to inquire after Mrs. Blandford's welfare, and came upon the scene of action just in time to give efficient aid. He declared that the child was quite too feeble to travel auy farther, and that whoever she might be, it would be simply an act of Christian charity to allow her to remain for a short time at "The Cedars" in order to recuperate her strength. "I suppose Flora can attend to her," said Estelle, who did not faqcy playing the part of nurse to a new patient. "Flora can attend to her perfectly well; you need give yourself no trouble in the matter," said the doctor, rather curtly ; for Estelle was uo favorite of his. Flora was a steady middle-aged domestic, of few words but a kind heart, who undertook without comment, the duty assigned to her, and fulfilled it faithfully, having been drawn toward the forlorn little stranger from the moment that she was placed in her charge. The child's strength returned but slowly, ; and it was some days before she could leave the bed to which, by the doctor's orders, she had been consigned. Thus it happeued that she was just able to walk about again, and had for the first time been brought to Mrs. Blandford, who had expressed a wish to see j her, and to hear her history from herself, on . the morning of the day on which the master j of the house returned, bringing with him another unexpected guest. This was no less i a personage than Mr. Daniel Parkinson, who had found himself, on Mr. Blandford's arrival in New York, so much better as to be able (though not without considerable difficulty) to accompany him home, they having sue; ceeded in tracing Zanita to Charleston, and intending to proceed there as soon as Mr. ! Blandford had assured himself of his wife's : well-being, for which purpose he had stopped on the way. 1 Husband and wife were closeted together, j and the young stranger, roaming slowly along ! one of the lower passages toward an open door, suddenly caught sight of a burly, though somewhat broken-looking figure, sitting in a dejected attitude iu the piazza outside. She stopped?hesitated?gave a prolonged, eager gaze?then a glad, tremulous, uncertain voice, and cried out? "Uncle Dan?uncle Dan ! Is it you ?" The individual thus accosted turned?uttered an exclatuatiou of joyful recognition, and limped a step forward to meet the child, , who bounded into his arms, j "Nita?my little Nita! my darling one, j my pretty, my own lost child ! Thank God I I've got you again I" And then followed mutual questioning and ; explanation, until the full recital of the adventures of each had been given. But uncle Dan, holding her with wistful looks and loving caresses in his arms, could not bring hira! self yet to tell her the grand secret he had to j reveal?could not bear to tell her that it was his duty to give her up forever! Mr. Blandford presently came down, and drew back in astonishment at the sight of the j pair. Then uncle Dan put Nita away from his knee, and still holding her hand in his, rose up and spoke with a steady voice? "Mr.Blandford, sir! thank God your wrongs i are redressed at last. Your search is ended and your child is found !" "How ?" stammered Mr. Blandford, not fully comprehending, yet with the light dimly breaking upon his mind, as he looked from the agitated old man before him, to the beautiful child at his side, whose innocent eyes turned enquiringly upon them both, as if to seek, in their faces, a solution of the problem so suddenly presented to her. "Do you mean j that this?" "This child, sir, whom the mercy of Heaven has brought under your roof, is the one who, for fourteen years, has been in my care. Xita, go to your father?he will tell you everything." And placing her trembling hand in . Mr. Blarnlford's?who, dropping it, clasped his long-lost darling to his breast. With one irrepressible sob, the old man hastily turned away, and left them to themselves. 1 i ;; CHAPTER XXIII. ( TIIE CURTAIN FALLS. F Two more scenes, briefly depicted, and mj little drama is at an end. ; The first is in the library, and has but twe I actors?Mr. Blandford and Estelle. The i , former sits, with shame, grief and reproach ii - his attitude and face, beside the table, an oper 1 | paper in his hand. It is the Hidden Will, dis , covered among other papers which were col ; leeted during the dre, and kept, in a promis -1 cuous mass, for his inspction on his return ' With the outer wrapping, in which it had been J carefully enveloped, partially burnt off, Mr. Maxwell, an acute man of business, had perceived, at once, the important nature of the paper, and, without saying a word on the subject, quietly retained it in his own possession until he could, himself, place it in his friend's ! hands. I Estelle stands before him, white to the lips, but with a defiant gleam iu her eyes, and a ; hard, compressed look about the set mouth, J that betokens no softened feeling or remorse. I The decree has gone forth that she shall leave ! "The Cedars," at least for a time, until she ! has manifested penitence for her sin, and proved herself worthy to be again received j under the roof of the guardians whose kindness and loving care she has so basely repaid. J But she will never return, for there is a fixed purpose in her heart to revisit no more the ; scene of her disgrace ; and after listening, in absolute 6ileuce, to the parting words of coun| sel, of forgiveness, which her adopted father 1 even now, cannot withhold, she passes, with j erect head and unfaltering step, out of the room, and out of these pages, forever. The second scene is some months later, in the twilight of a soft summer evening, beneath the ancient trees in the broad shrubbery at The Cedars. Here stroll a youthful pair, Edmund and Carrie. Her hand rests lightly upon his arm, a lovely color glows in her cheek, and her lips are parted by a smile as she listens to the words he is murmuring in her willing ear. It needs no peuetrating eye to discover that they are lovers?not in name | only but in very truth ; and though her father j says two more years must pass before he can ; give his darling up, they are content to wait, | in the knowledge that the love they bear each other can never grow less, but will rather ' strengthen aud ripen with each succeeding I month as the golden years pass on. Restored to her own home, surrounded by I all the happiness that love can shed upon her I p.?fV. on(] ,,of nnt from tior flld j friend?for uncle Dun, tired of his roving life, j is established in a cottage near by?Carrie j thinks she has nothiug upon earth to wish for; ; and so she is saying to Edmund, as they walk iu the sunset through the flowery paths. "And to-day, of all days, I am so happy, because of my letter from Susy?dear Susy, who used to be such a good friend. How delightful to think that she and Leon are going to be married at last! She was always fond of Leon, though I was silly enough not to know it. How nice it is for everybody else to | get what they want, as well as myself! But ! I never dreamed, Edmund, when you flung me that white camelia, and I felt so glad as I put it in my hair, that Nita, the Circus Girl, would one day be your promised wife!" [the end.] IpswlliWMUjS GOV. CHAMBERLAIN "INTERVIEWED." The Columbia correspondent of the Charleston News and Courier has "interviewed" Gov ernor Chamberlain in regard to the charges j against Treasurer Cardozo, the result of which is thus given in the News and Courier of Thursday last: THE INTERVIEW. Reporter. There is a great public interest felt, Governor, to know your views of the case ! of Mr. Cardozo, and I have called to inquire j if you are willing to make them known through the Neiv& and Courier. Governor. Yes, sir; I see no good reason why 1 should uot answer your inquiries fully. The matter is one that interests me beyond anything else which has occurred during my administration, and I have not failed to read every word that has appeared in the various documents connected with it. Of course every fair-minded man holds himself open to the , consideration of any new facts or evidence ; which may be added to the case, or any new ; arguments based on the facts already devel| oped. Premising this, I do not hesitate to say that I have entire confidence in Mr. Carj dozo. Men, many men, friends of mine, have come to me and said, "Don't mix yourself up in this fight. It is no affair of yours, and you ought to keep clear of it." Now, what sort of advice is this ? What do such men take me for? Do they think I am going to sit by and 1 see injustice done to a State officer without i opening my mouth ? It would be damnable j cowardice. If I knew to-day there was not ! another man in the world who would speak j for Mr. Cardozo, I would all the more stand I by him. I haven't come into this office exI pecting a bed of roses. I am not half so anxious i to make friends or avoid enemies as I am to j do right, and until evidence, facts, compel me i to lose faith in Mr. Cardozo, he shall have my j confidence and my personal and moral supi port in every form. Well, sir, I have exam ined all the evidence yet adduced, and I find j nothing to shake my faith in Mr. Cardozo's honesty. Reporter. Let me ask you at this point, ! ^ ? - 1 1 1 -A. I* i uoveruor, wnai na9 oeen nereioiore yum eaj tiraate of Mr. Oardozo ? Governor. I have known Mr. Cardozo intimately since last summer. He was an early ! supporter of mine for my present position. I 1 think I have known his aims and plans, and I 9ay without qalificatiou that I have never heard one word or seen one act of Mr. Cardozo's which did not confirm my confidence in I his personal integrity and political honor and i zeal for the honest administration of the State i Government. On every occasion, and under all circumstances, he has been against fraud i and jobbery, and in favor of good measures and good men. The public do not know the j pressure which has been brought to bear upon me in this office to make me yield my views of public duty. If I had known it myself be forehand, I would never have dared to take the office. But iu the midst of it all, when I ' could count all the Republicans who seemed ' to sympathize with me on the fingers of one hand, there was one man who never faltered, ; who never failed to come unasked and stand at my side, and that man was Francis L, Cardozo. I tell you, sir, I should despise my,. self if I did not stand by such a man till the last gun was fired, unless I was driven to be lieve him a hypocrite and scoundrel. Now, sir, I saw this storm gathering long ago. I knew that any man who did his dutj as treasurer, who lent himself to no jobbery ' , and had no private ends to serve, would makt I himself the most unpopular man in South Carolina. Cardozo knew it too. I confess ] did not expeet to see the element which views I the public service as a mere chance to mak< i money, able to make such headway as thej are now apparently making against Mr. Car i dozo. I did hope for better things, but I alsi ', expected to find a howl and outcry agaius any man who did his duty by the treasury. ] ) do not wish to be understood as implying tha ; all who are opposed to Mr. Cardozo are con , j sciously striking down a faithful public offi ( cer; but every man here in Uolunit*& knowi that the real force which urges on this attacl *. upon Mr. Cardozois not a desire to guard thi " treasury. I speak now what every man con I fesses to rae when I ask him the question. . | Reporter. But, Governor, what do you sa; I of the attitude of the Conservatives toward i Mr. Cardozo ? ' Governor. Well, air, I think they intend to j do justice to Mr. Cardozo in the end ; and so j I think of very maty Republicans. I do not ! wonder at their voting for raising a committee to prepare an address. That is probably now i the only way to bring the whole case to a ; point where justice can be done. I am bound I : to say that the Conservatives have acted with great political generosity and patriotism toward me and my administration. I believe ; they will do what they think just by Mr. CarI dozo, and their votes in this matter, so far, inI dicate no more, in my judgment, than to have j the case fully tried. I cannot helieve their : vote on appointing the committee represents j their probable vote on the address of remov, al, unless new facts are developed. Reporter. Will you be kind enough to I give me your views of the case, as presented ' up to this time, against Mr. Cardozo. Governor. Yes, sir; that is what I desire to i do. The charges against Mr. Cardozo erabrace two general points: First, the funding | of certain bonds at one time hypothecated in | New York, and the coupons attached to such | bonds; and, second, the diversion of the inter; est fund. ! Now, with regard to the bonds and coupons j alleged to have been wrongfully funded, the act to reduce the volume of the public debt, makes no exception of any of these bonds or coupons. A11 are exchangeable under that act. If these bonds and coupons were outstanding at the time of the passage of that act, then they were, by the terms of the act, exchangeable. In funding them, Mr. Curdozo simply followed the terms of the act. If, however, any of these bonds or coupons were | unlawfully outstanding, and knowledge of this were brought home to Mr. Cardozo, he might well have refused to fund them, as he did do in the case of some coupons. I do not think that Mr. Cardozo would have been guilty of any offense, if he had funded any and all coupons which were made fundable by the terms of the act. A strict and literal compliance with the law would have been all that could have been strictly required of him. If he was in collusion with any parties presenting bonds or coupons illegally or fraudulently j outstanding, then he is guilty. But I do not see any such evidence, nor any evidence pointing that way. The attempt to hold Mr. Cardozo responsible for funding the bonds and coupons reported by the Dunn committee, last summer, as hypothecated without lawful authority, is unjust to the last degree. All the information now in the possession of the public respecting these bonds was presented to the treasurer and attorney-general last summer, and the attorney-general states, in his last annual report, that he did not consider it important enough to cause him to advise that those bonds should ^ *' ?. L_ I not oe tunaea. un me contrary, uc coaly defends the fundiDg of all those bonds. Why, then, is it now attempted to punish Mr. Cardozo for doing what the law directed, and what the attorney-general advised ? This particular matter was likewise laid before me last summer, and I advised that there was no reason why those bonds should not be funded. And I say the same thing now. Bring home to Mr. Cardozo any knowledge of any fraud, connect him in any way with any intention to do wrong to the State, convict him of a wilful neglect of duty or an unwarrantable refusal to act upon any evidence of illegality in bonds or coupons presented to him, and you have a case against him. But I see nothing, nothing whatever, which gives color to any charge of fraud or evil intention on his part. As to the diversion of the interest funds, I see still less ground for the removal of Mr. Cardozo. Look at the general features of this charge. The State hasn't lost a cionar. That the law is susceptible of the construction given to it by Mr. Cardozo is apparent, both from an examination of the act and from Mr. Melton's letter to Mr. Cardozo. That Mr. Cardozo acted also from good motives is likewise evident. Where, then, is the ground for any charge involving moral turpitude, or rendering him worthy of removal ? I personally know Mr. Cardozo's statements as to the reasons of his reducing the balance in the bank early in January to be the reasons which he then disclosed to me. His motive then met my approval, and I still approve it, though he acted at his own risk. That is, if he had failed to replace the funds he would have been liable on his bond and to the penalty prescribed in the act. If the Geueral Assembly, however, desire a strict and literal construction of that law, it can be secured without visiting any punishment upon an officer who erred, if he erred at all, because he sought to favor the General Assembly and to save the State funds from loss. The position of the News and Courier on this question is a perfectly fair and just one. If Mr. Cardozo has falsified the records, or knowingly done any fraudulent act, or any wilful act resulting in injury to the State, then let him be duly punished. If not, let good i men baffle those who have entered iDto a con-1 spiracy to knock down one of the strongest | pillars of the present reform administration. J At any rate, whether I stand alone or with many, that will be my course to the end. Consequences can take care of themselves. Reporter. Governor, if it is a fair question, how far is the Union-Herald your organ? Governor. Well, sir, whether a fair question or not, I will answer it. The Union-Herald is owned in part by me, but is not my organ. I want no organ of any kind. I don't want an organ to tell me every day that I am j the master-mind of the world, or to sneeze because I take snuff. Such support as that dis- ! gusts any true man. The Union-Herald is in | charge of Mr. J. G. Thompson, an original, ! uncompromising, fearless and able Republi- i | can. He edits that paper as independently J as the editors of the News and Courier do ' j your paper. Ask him and he will tell you I j never dictated a word or line for that paper. | But I want a free, untrammelled newspaper | here, to support me wnen i am rignt, ann to ! oppose nie whenever its editor, thinks I am wrong. That is just what the Union-Herald 1! is doing. At this point the interview terminated, as I I had nothing more to ask, and the Governor | i seemed to have nothing more that he cared to ' I say. ,! Cold Winters in Europe.?In 401 the I | Black Sea was entirely frozen over. In 763 . j not only the Black Sea but the straits of Dar i danelles were frozen over; the snow in some !! places rose fifty feet high. In 822 the great j rivers of Europe, the Danube, the Elbe, &c., were frozen so hard as to bear heavy wagons ; I for a month. In 860 the Adriatic was frozen. ': In 991 everything was frozen, the crops total, i ly failed and famine and pestilence closed the i i year. In 1067 most of the travelers in Ger\ many were frozen to death on the roads. In [ 1134 the Po was frozen from Cremona to the i ! sea ; the wine casks were hurst and the trees j split by the action of the frost, with immense r. noise. In 1236 the Danube was frozen to the - j bottom, and remained long in that state. In )! 1316 the crops wholly failed in Germany ; t wheat, which some years before sold in Eng[ laud at 6s. the quarter, rose to ?2. Iu 1308 t' the crops failed in Scotland, and such a fam j ine ensued that the poor were reduced to feed -1 on grass, and many perished miserably in the 3 ; fields. The successive winters of 1432?3?4 c i were uncommonly severe. In 1638 the wine 3: distributed to the soldiers was cut with hatch ets. In 1683 it was excessively cold. Most of the hollies were killed. Coaches drove y along the Thames, the ice of which was eleven inches thick. j[n 1709 occurred the cold winter ; the frost penetrated the earth three yards into the ground. In 1716 booths were erected on the Thames. In 1744 and 1745 the strongest ale in England, exposed to the air, was covered, in less than fifteen minutes, with ice an eighth of an inch thick. In 1809 and again in 1812 the winters were remarkably cold. In 1814 there was a fair on the frozen Thames. From tin: Atlanta Constitution. THE CONFEDERATE TREASURY. Whnt Bflcame of it when Lee Surrendered. Brooks County, Ga., Feb. 15,1875. Col. E. Y. Clark, Atlanta, Ga.: Dear Colonel?I see from a Sacramento (Cal.) paper an account of a story concerning the purported robbery of the Confederate treasury, and I give as near a correct account of all the facts connected with the gold and silver, so much talked about, as my memory will permit. ] belonged to Gen. Vaughn's brigade. * * * When the President, his Cabinet and general officers, then in consultation near the Savannah river, agreed to divide out the money on hand to the noble little array that was willing to follow Davis? their great leader?to the last ditch beyond the Mississippi, and even fortify on the west bank of the Rio Grande river, off the Mexican line, the amount of Confederate money, after sending several thousands to Augusta to be expended for the use and benefit of our sick and wounded soldiers, amounted to a little over ?100,000. All the officers and troops present received $28.25 each, in gold and silver. The Virginia bank funds were turned over, and were, all the time, in charge of their own bank officers. They were carried to Washington, Wilkes county, some fifteen or twenty miles, by their officers, and there deposited for safe-keeping?I would guess somefV.ir.0. r.nar 4AAA AHA T'roniHpnt: Davis and LfU lUg V/161 V^vvjwwwt *. ? uW.v.w.. v his Cabinet then struck out for parts unknown. General Vaughn, being our senior commander, received orders from the proper officer to make thc^ best terms of surrender with General Upton, then in commaud of the United States forces, with headquarters at Augusta, and on the 17th day of May, 1865, the whole command surrendered. After things around Washington, Ga., got quiet, the Virginia bank officers procured a permit from the Federal commander to take back to Virginia the bank funds with asmall guard and four or five wagons. The first night they encamped at the house of the widow where the Confederate gold had been divided, near which a number of Vaughn's soldiers lingered, afraid to return to their homes. News soon spread in the neighborhood of the arrival and camping of the train. Fourteen of the Tennessee boys end one Alabama boy from Johnston's army were soon mounted, dressed, some of them, with blue Yankee coats. Vaughn's command were generally clothed with Yankee uniforms. The little company moved up in military style, an excaptain in comnrnd. They demanded, in the name of the United States Government, the surrender of the funds, clairtiing (and perhaps believing) them to be Confederate funds still, the officer giving his name as Col. Brownlow, of Gen. Gillera'sorStoneraan's command. The parties in charge of the golu surrendered without firing a shot. All the men were placed under guard, marched off some distance, and placed in charge of a small force. The balance took possession of the treasury and broke open keg after keg and box after box. When they found one containing silver coin they passed it by; but when one contained the yellow eagles they appropriated them until all were satisfied. Then the guard was relieved and the others filled their sacks. Tkon tViow 1 oft tiip hanlr nffinprfl lookin? and feeling very blue, and believing they had been handled by some others, not Col. Brownlow's command, with orders from Gen. Gillem, although Gen. Gillem's command had, a short time before, robbed a citizen on the South Carolina sideof some $60,000 in gold, belonging to some minor heirs in or near Abbeville, S. C., and a large amount at Greenville, S. C., belongiug to a South Carolina bank. A lieutenant and his squad, at the time, were met by some of Vaughn's men, and were charged and put to rout, some of them captured, and on them were found fourteen watches and other valuable property taken from citizens. The Confederate squad, under "Col. Brownlow," left with their gold tied up in corn sacks and blankets?some of the boys took off their pants and drawers and tied it up in the legs?some of them took whole boxes unbroken. They, as soou as out of sight, disbanded and each one went his own way, and to dispose of his own treasure, hiding it in fence corners, in the swamp and old fields. When done, each one repaired to his home, or to where they were boarding, except three, who were more judicious. These three had added to their number one other, and their gold was J. J J ? 4-rx aawmvt oil Ann aiviueu, uliu, uut uenijj auic iu mn; an, uuv box was thrown in the run of a branch under a bridge. The box had not been opened, the party believing it contained only 81,000 in silver, but the men who got it out told the writer it contained over 811,000 in gold. It was divided among three outsiders, who were relations injjart to the three men who placed it there, and described the place by maps and instructions. Afterward, some two days or more, the writer went with some of the same party and others with the same map, and hunted over the same ground. The whole face of the country had been scratched and due up, but still ' w - we found a few silver quarters in the brush, and an empty box near a pond. The pond was scoured and scraped, and in it an old wheat sack was found with 8500 or 8600 in silver. It was considered free property and divided out. But let us go back to the next morning after the robbery. The bankers offered a reward, I believe, of 810,000. All Georgia around, in reach, was up and hunting. I "BrownlowV men, all sleeping or listening, ! to the hubbub and excitement going on, old muskets, revolvers, &c., were brought in. No , clue could be given as to the ones who had i carried off the spoils until the Alabama boy i decided that it was not provident to go to the , old field gully and get his spoils, took a gold piece or two, I believe two $20 and a few silver quarters, shouldered his knapsack and ; struck a bee-liue for home, intending to return ofrar oil tlio Avoitement would die out. j OUUUj UllV/l MAi vuw .. w j and claim his gold. On he tramped, thinking of home, sweet home, and dear ones in Ala' bama, that how soon he would make all corai fortable with his friends. As mile after mile i was left behind, the little town of Danburg, in Wilkes county, was reached. Some nice cake or candy was too great an inducement to one of Gen. Johnston's starving boys; his 81.75 drawn in Virginia, I guess was long ago left behind for the same kind of eatables that now i induced him to pull out a fresh silver quarter and invest it, and on his way he went rejoicing, more happy than his confederates of Johnston's command. But his 25 cents led to the final discovery of those who had the gold, I The Georgia boys, always good soldiers and i scouters, saw something in the new quarter i left in Danburg with the cake sutler. The Alabama boy was followed more rapidly thar ' they (I mean, Colonel, than your regimenl i followed Sheridan's command near Winches i ter, Va., where Vaughn's brigade and others i pursued them from near New Town to the j Potomac river.) The column was overtaker i and information gained so that all the par ties were made known, and all found in the J neighborhood, except the squad I have alj luded to, and two others who had hid theirs, , and gone home to East Tennessee, carrying j only 8500 each (so I learned.) The Alabama j i boy, from threats and promises of no punish| ment, was released after telling all he knew i ; and showing where his 817,000 were hid. He i then went on his way home to Alabama, not j | so happy as before. We have never heard of; i him since. So the arresting and investigating j commenced, gold was brought in and a com! promise was made with the bankers, from j 815,000 to 820,000 paid over by each one, ! and a release signed by the bankers. So the I Tennessee boys went their way rejoicing, for they, no doubt, had saved a little for a wet day. The thirteen lucky ones then dispersed i in different directions. Dr. Bethune Trout-Fishing.?On one occasion, when the Doctor was resident in Philadelphia, he went for a few days of rest to a trout-stream he had heard of in the interior of the State, to indulge in his favorite "v" tw* """ " w? o# pastime. Arriving, an entire stranger, at a house kept by a man who had been accustomed to entertain those who came there to fish, he was coldly received. The man told him frankly that he had attended a protracted meeting during the winter, that he hoped the Lord had forgiven his sins, and that he had joined the Methodist church, and meant to give up going with the kind of men who came up there to fish. The Doctor's humor overcame his scruples so far as to gain admittance for the night, and the next morning, succeeded still farther, prevailing on the man to go outwithhim and show him the best places of the stream. They spent most of the day together, and on returning to the house in the afternoon, the man slapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Doc. I like you." "Why do you like me, my friend ?" "Well, Doc., I'll tell you. We've been out almost all day, we haven't caught much, you fell in and got wet, and I haven't heard you swear once." After supper, as the Doctor was smoking his pipe in front of the house, his host came out and with some heisitancy said, "Doctor, since I jined the church I've had prayers every night; we are going to have them now, and maybe you wouldn't object to come in." "Certainly not, my friend," and he went in to * ? - - I 1 listen to tfte reading 01 a passage in a uruaeu way, and to join heartily in the good old Methodist hymn. During the singing the man i watched him closely, and at the end said anx| iously, "Maybe you wouldn't mind leading us j in prayer ?" The Doctor knelt and offered one of those 1 full and hearty, yet simple supplications, j which are so well remembered by all who knew hira. He was hardly seated in front of the house again, before the man reappeared, saying: "Doctor, I kinder suspicion you." "What do you suspect me of? Nothing bad, I hope!" "No, nothing bad; maybe I'm wrong, but I kind o' think you're a minister." "What makes you think I'm a minister ?" j "Well, I'll tell you; I haven't heard you swear since you came; then the way you jined us in that hymn ; then the way you prayed, made me think you were a minister." The Doctor laughed heartily as he acknowledged he was indeed a minister. Why She Left Him.?John Aborns advertises in the San Jos6 Patriot that his wife, Mary E. Aborns, has left his bed and board without just cause, and gives notice that he will not pay any bills contracted by her. Mrs. Aborns replies in the Mercury in a novel way. I WKo aoira olio Kna litjprl with .Fnhn Aborns for i ten years?the prime of her life; has borne him six children, with all the pains, anxieties, | cares and troubles incident thereto; has ; brought them up, made all their clothing and , her own, besides making clothing and doing | sewing for others for money, which went into what "is called in law 'common property,' to take off the sharp edge of injustice has cooked about 10,000 meals, set the table as many times and cleared it off and washed the dishes; has spent between 10,000 and 15,000 hours, summer and winter, over a hot cooking stove; has cleaned up and swept his house over 10,000 times; has milked, on an average, three cows, twice a day, or about 7,000 milkings, besides taking care of the milk and making butter from it; has attended to the poultry, and has often assisted in loading hay, sewing sacks, and even cleaned out the stables. She adds: "Now. I have drawn the picture very mildly. I have made allowance "for my sicknesses, when I have had help, something after the manner that a farmer would hire a horse if his own was sick and unable to work. I had nothing when I went there, and nothing at the end of those ten years of servitude. I had lived, it is true, and was very moderately furnished with clothing. That is all for my labor. What man is there in the world that would do the work I have done for the same compensation ? I make this statement not out of any feeling of revenge for Mr. Aborns, for he has done only what hundreds of others i have done. In many respects he is a good i man?industrious, and, like hundreds, yes, like thousands of others, honest with everybody except his own family. I choose to live with him no longer; my reasons are my own." And then she propounds the question : "What right has he to impair my credit by publishing me ?" It is a conundrum. The True Economy.?The question is not how cheaply we can manage to keep soul and body together, but how can we bring both body and soul to the highest condition of vitality and power? To live is something more than to exist. How can we live most and best? How can we feed intellect and affeci tion, conscience, sympathy, imagination, rev: erence, as well as the physical system ? All i pi nching and restricting of diet is injurious in I the long run. The bean-man, the bean-bread| man, the one-raeal-a-day-raan, the man who | goes mousing about the world intent on cheapi ness, never makes the scales of power kick j the beam. He wastes more thau he saves. | He checks an income, instead of stopping an ! outgo. The men who make the most ado over j the petty prudencies of life and perpetually | intrude their parsimonious practice on public i notice, never amount to anything, or do anyj thing of account. Man wants all he can use, J assimilate, organize, reproduce. The things j that strengthen and beautify his essential manj hood, that enrich his sentiments and rehne his sensibilities, that ennoble his intellect, and j enlarge the scope of his being, and the hori1 zon of his possibilities, belong to him by right, as the crown and purple belong to royalty. | Eve^y man ought to aspire and labor to i live generously, and have a comfortable and i tasteful home, and surround himself and fam! with flvervthim? that tends to increase i1 happiness and create an atmosphere of intelli' gence and refinement. Beauty, elegance, art, ;! society, music, are our birthright. It is not j waste to spend what one has for things that | foster a noble pride, heighten self-respect, , I beautify the body and cultivate the mind. It \ is true economy that spends something for i books and pictures, for occasional glimpses of . nature and the entertainment of the stage. I ! The charities and humanities are not luxuries ! that the poorest man on earth should deny 51 himself of them. The loving, trustful, adorni ! ing sympathy that forgets his own wants and t meager resources and breaks the costliest thing it has on the head of the one beloved, is i not a recklessness to be censured, but a devoi tion to be commended for its divine nobility, i Saving may be ant-like and beaver-like, but - sacrifice is God-like. How Postage Stamps are iyialus.??u printing, steel plates are used, on which two hundred stamps are engraved. Two men are kept hard at work covering them with the colored inks and passing them to a man and girl, who are equally busy at printing them with large rolling hand presses. Three of these little squads areemployed all the time, although ten presses can be put into use in case of necessity. After the small sheets of paper upon which the two hundred stamps are engraved have dried enough, they are sent into another room and gummed. The gum used for this purpose is a peculiar composition, made of the powder of dried potatoes and other vegetables mixed with water, which is better than any other material, for instance, gum arabic, which cracks the paper badly. This paper is also of a peculiar texture, somewhat similar to that used for bank notes. After having been again dried, this time on litronira tcViinh arA fanned bv steam power for about an hour, the.v are put in between sheets of pasteboard and pressed in hydraulic presses, capable of applying a weight of two thousands tons. The next thing is to cut the sheets in half; each sheet of courfe, when cut, contains a hundred stamps. This is done by a girl with a large pair of shears, cutting by hand being preferred to that of machinery, which method would destroy too many stamps. They are then passed to two other squads, who, in as many operations, perforate the sheets between the stamps. Next they are pressed once more, and then packed and labeled, and stowed away in another room, preparatory to being put in mail bags for dispatching to fulfil orders. If a single stamp is torn, or in any way mutilated, the whole sheet of one hundred is burned. About five hundred thousand are burned every week from this cause. For the past twenty years not a single sheet has been lost, such care has been taken in counting them. During the progress of manufacturing, the sheets are counted eleven times. A Singular Experience.?We find the following in the Dover (N. H.) Enquirer: Some eight years ago a lad of thirteen, a son of Charles E. Meyers, a well-known citizen of Portsmouth, while fishing from one of the wharves of that city caught a fish hook in the fore finger of the right hand, near the roots of the nail, drawing it into the bend of the hook. His father saw at once that the only thing to be done was to open the finger on a line with the hook and take it out, but preferred to call in their family physician to do it. After looking at it for a moment the doctor, by a sudden twist, wrenched the hook from the finger, minus tne nam ana pomi. iuo parents were justly indignant at such rough treatment, and insisted that the hook was not all removed, while the boy came near fainting from extreme anguish. The doctor, however, insisted that no inconvenience would result, and dressed the finger in some simple and safe manner and in due time the wound healed. But the finger and arm troubled him for a long time. After a year or two the lad's health had so far failed as to become a subject of serious alarm to his friends, he being subject to frequent and alarming fainting fits, and other spasmodic affections or symptoms. This state of affairs continued for years, with more intensity until a year or two ago, when the boy's health became nearly or quite restored. In the spring of 1874 the young man, while dressing himself one morning, tore a pimple from his left shoulder, and, on examining it, he drew from the flesh the point of the hook which seven years before was imbeded in a finger on the opposite side of his body. -Andy Wouldn't Pardon Him.?While he was President, a pardon case was brought to him by an East Tennessee lawyer, his neighbor and friend. The case was one of unusual hardship, involving the remission of a wrongful fine. The lawyer had got it through the Department of justice, and carried it direct to the President, in order to secure his client against imposition and extortion, as the dooument should be returned through its circumlocutious official channels. Johnson had the pen in his hand and was about to sign. "Bob," says he, "nobody is going to make anything out of this, is there ?" "Not a cent, except my fee of two hundred dollars." Johnson immediately tore up the n#rHnn and threw it into his waste basket, sayiDg, "if your man is able to pay for a lawyer, he is aole to pay his fine to the government." Don't Scold.?For the sake of your children, don't do it. It is a great misfortune to have children reared in the presence and under the influence of a scold. The effect of the everlasting complaining and fault-finding of such persons is to make the young who hear it unamiable, malicious, callous-hearted, and they often learn to take pleasure in doing the very things for which they receive such tongue lashings. As they are always getting the blame of wrong doing, whether they deserve it or not, they think they mighfrjift; well do wrong as right. They lose all ambition to strive for the favorable opinion of the faultfinder, since they see they always strive in vain. Thus a scold is not only a nuisance, but a destroyer of the morals of children. -J J?J.J nnlv It tnese uniovea, ureaueu pcupi O CASWilU VUIJ see themselves as others see them, they would flee to the mountains in very shame. There are two kinds of girls. One is the kind that appears best abroad?the girls that are good for parties, rides, visits, balls, etc., whose chief delight is in all such things. The other is the kind that appears best at home?the girls that are useful and cheerful in the dining room, the sick room, and all the precincts of home. They differ widely in character. One is frequently a torment at home; the other a blessing. One is a moth, consuming all about her; the other a sunbeam, inspiring life and gladness all along the pathway. Now it does not necessarily follow that there shall be two classes of girls. The right modification would modify them both a little, and unite their characters in one. Wisdom of Silence.?A courtier of Alexander the Great paid a visit to the studio of Apellas, the celebrated painter, and was received with a consideration due to his rank. This excited his vanity; and, unfortunately, he talked about the art of painting, exposing his ignorance in his questions and criticisms. Apellas interrupted him, in a low voice, "Do . you see those boys that are grinding my colors ? While you were silent, they admired you, dazzled with the splendor of the purple and gold with which vour habit glitters; but ever since you began "to talk about what you don't understand, tbey have done nothing but laugh at you." J6T Three Saginaw girls of the Methodist persuasion having met together, concluded to pray for the welfare of their lovers, but the first one had not got very far along in her petition when it was discovered that they were all engaged to the same man. The religious exercises were at once terminated and an indignation meeting organized, the result of which was that the gay deceiver was obliged to leave. _ 1ST Be not ashamed to confess that you have been in the wrong. It is but owning what you need not be ashamed of, that yotrliow have more sense than you had before to see your error, more humility to acknowledge it, and more grace to correct it. ; aS2*