Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, September 27, 1877, Image 1
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vot. Q,Pi_ YORKVILLE, 8. O., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 37, 1877. NO. 39.
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^ "ALL IS WELL THAT ENDS WELL."
Pentonville was not always the flourishing,
populous town that it is at present. Fifty
years ago it was a quiet, country village, with
its rapid streams flowing untrammeled to the
sea. Since then large manufactories have
been started, and hordes of foreign operatives
have invaded its peaceful precincts. Elm
street, where old Squire Huntington lived, and
Judge Hubbard, and the Halloways, Ripleys,
Fosters, and other great families, is no longer
sacred to their aristocratic memories, but resounds
to the hum and din of machinery, and
to the noisy broils of the barbarians who have
taken possession and settled in these no longer
grand mansions. Now, lofty spires and chimiug
bells take the place of the old village
church, with its high-back uncushioned seats,
plain, uuprepossessing exterior, where the
villagers were woot to gather to listen to the
good words spoken by the venerable Parson
Bigelow, whose words were law in the community
where he lived.
^ Of these times, however, my story has little
to do, for all happened in the olden times be|A
fore Pentonville had aspired to so much conHB
sequence, but was content with its own plain
ways and simple-minded inhabitants, with
their stern, puritanical morals, which covered
so much kindness of heart.
On Monday Pentonville seemed all astir.
Matrons left their washtubs to gossip with
their neighbors, while maids and swains laughed
merrily with each other over the news as
they passed to and fro to their daily avocations.
Even the children played their part
in the all absorbing topic, and the grim old
farmer could not resist a chuckle now and
then, as he harnessed Dobbin for his weekly
pilgrimage to the landing. What was it that
so convulsed Pentonville, and so disturbed its
methodical ways ? Weil, it was a joke, a
practical joke, perpetrated by two mischievous
boys, who did not realize the enormity of their
offence, or its direful consequences. To tell
what it was, we must go back a little into the
history of the town.
Old Squire Hayes (as he was called,) although
he was not old or infirm, but a man
in the prime of life, was a crusty bachelor,
who owned one of the fiuest farms in the State.
His broad, cultivated acres extended as far as
the eye could reach, and during harvesting
A* -! ? 1 J ? an/] nno *
lime laoorers. wuuiu roiue uuiu mi auu
^ "" to gather his crops. Squire Hayes occupied
the best pew in church, lived iu the finest
house in town, his horses were of the best
blood and most carefully matched, and his
oxen the heaviest and stoutest. His orchards
yielded the choicest fruit (as many a small
boy could testify, to his infinite disgust,) for
this part of the Squire's property was hedged
in by high walls and picket fences, and guarded
by the fiercest of fierce watch dogs.
Squire Hayes was no favorite in town, for
seldom did a kind word or action emanate
from him. Alone the man lived, having but
little to do with his fellow creatures, and seem
ing to care but little for their welfare; yet
there were a few discerning spirits in town
who believed that Squire Hayes was misjudged,
that more good was done by him thau
told ; and that his cold, stern manner was
foreign to his nature. Many, who knew him
as a hoy, spoke of his bright and sunny ways
aud geuial disposition. There was a mystery
about the man which the elderly gossips used
to whisper to each other, as they nodded over
their knitting by the warm winter fires;
how, when a young man, he loved and courted
a beautiful girl in a distant parish, and
even went to bring hi3 bride home, for whom
the old homestead was being refitted, but suddenly
the young man returned alone, the carpenters
were sent away and the new part
aI/voa/) offow r* rot f ir M loq Ho nnnh t.hp
Uiviocu. tjuvil j/ivbwj w..?
Squire's only sister died, only too soon followed
by her broken hearted mother. Poor old
Mrs. Hayes, as the neighbors said, had been
an invalid for many years, ever since her
stalwart young husband was brought to her,
mortally wounded by the accidental discharge
of his gun, while on a bear hunt among the
* mountains. From that time Squire Hayes
P was a changed man, and as his acres broadf
ened and his wealth increased, his manner be- j
came sterner until he grew into the crusty
old hachelor that he was.
Several years before my story opens, there
came into the village church, one Sunday, a
T lady dressed in the deepest mourning and
leading a small boy and girl, who, unlike
their mother, stared around with their large
black eyes at the parishioners as they passed
into the church. At noon, when the villagers
stopped to gossip on the church steps, or openi
ed their well-filled lunch baskets in the old
church-yard, this lady passed out and retired
to her newly-made home, a small cottage not
far distant. Many were the conjectures raised
as to who she was, and where she came from,
which were soon answered, for, in their rustic
hospitality, before another Sunday had passed
rmost of them bad called, and had been received
kindly by a small, sad-faced lady, who
answered to their many ill-timed questions
that her name was Sewell. Her husband had
died two years since, and she and her children
had come to this place to spend their
days, as her income was limited and their
wants would be fewer than in the large city
whence they had retired. "Widder Sewall"
as she was called, soon became a general favorite
throughout the whole village. Her
gentleness of manner and her kindness of
heart, her benevolence and many acts of
1 mercy, her unassuming ways and her kiud
condescension won for her the golden opinions
of all.
Widow Sewall did not neglect her children,
and in them found her greatest happiness,
and well she might, for Tom, her son, iu spite
of his high spirits and his activity in misI
chievous pranks, his gaiety and thoughtlessness,
was a noble boy, true to his mother, and
generous to a fault. His chosen playmate
was Willie Archer, old Parson Bigelow's
grandson, who, like many minister's sons, was
so full of wild doings that the neighbors did
wisely shake their heads and prophecy of him
r all manner of evil to come.
One Saturday afternoon, these two worthies
^ were rummaging about the old church, which
wa9 opened by Baylis.the grey-headed sexton,
I for the purpose of cleaning it. The boys,
tiring of their usual amusements, started out
> v upon a tour of inspection and climbed into
the belfry. After ascending the second floor
of the church, they came upon an old chest,
which had hitherto escaped their vigilant eyes.
It was but the work of a moment to pull it
out from its dark hiding place, and before the
boys thought of what they were doing, the
rusty old lock had snapped asunder, and the
i lid fell back with a crash. "Dear me, is that
all 1" exclaimed Tom Sewall, as he viewed
the contents, which proved to be nothing but
bundles of paper, yellow from age, aud tied
neatly with yellow tape, and proving upon
examinatiou to relate solely to church matters.
"What a sell !" said the disappointed
Willie, for he imagined they were about to
disclose some great mystery long hidden from
human eyes, that they were to come in possession
of some state secret, to flud a skeleton
in armor, or a parcel of human bones with a
brief and concise history of the occupant
rwritteu out for their especial beneflt; but instead
of those things, only papers which before
now should have found their way to the
neighboring junk shop. It was too bad, so
these romantic youths reasoned, and they
would have left the chest in disgust, but unfortunately
Willie Archer espied a smaller
roll, which looked somewhat differently from
the rest. He quickly pulled it opnn, and reading
the upper sheets saw that it confined papers
relating to the bans of matrimony ~ead
in the church for the last thirty years.
"Come, Tom," said he, as he carelessly threw
down the papers, "this is dull fun, let us climb
up higher and leave these old rat traps to
their fate, and when old Baylis comes up here
if his aged bones allow him to crawl so high,
he will think the rats have been having a
midnight frolic." "All right," replied Tom,
jumping up ready to follow his leader, but
stopping to pick up a paper which had fallen
beyond the others, and glancing at it, he exclaimed,
"I say, Archer, here is something
just prime." "What's that old fellow ?" said
Willie, as he stretched his handsome young
head over his friend's shoulder, to look at the
discovery. "Well, I should say that is old
Squire Hayes sure, for there is no other Jabez
Hayes in all the country, but who is Phcebe
Lathrop, of Somerset parish."
"I don't know," respouded lom, "out sne
must have been some old sweet heart of the
Squire's whom he was to marry and didn't,
good luck for her."
"Yes," replied Willie, "it was only yesterday
I asked him to contribute toward next
training day, for our new company, and what
do you think he answered ?"
"That he would give his entire fortune,"
laughed Tom, sarcastically.
"Not much," replied Willie; "he drew himself
up, and looking me in the eye as if I
were a convict, and he the judge, said :
"Young man, I have no money to throw
away; if you want money, why don't you
earn it!' The old miser, how I would like to
pay him < ff."
The boys were silent for a moment, each
thinking over his individual wrongs, then
Willie Archer's face kindled, and he said : "I
have it, Tom; let us have this thing read out
in meeting. Grandfather's eyes are not so
bright as they were, and if we erase the
words?not to be used?he will never notice
the date on the back, and what a trick it will
be." It is needless to say that Tom assented,
and the two rogues parted an hour later,
their plans well laid, and both eagerly looking
forward for the next day's denouement.
Sunday came; a calm, peacetui quiei reaiea
upon the village, and in answer to the church
bells throngs of villagers pressed forward to
the church, little thinking of the mischief
about to be perpetrated in that sacred edifice.
Now Baylis, the grey-headed sexton, was in
the habit of slipping the various notices, confided
tohis care, just under the cushion in the
last pew until the proper time came for them
to be read, so it was but the work of a moment
for Willie Archer to slip the stolen paper
in its place with the others, while Baylis
was showing some strangers into a seat; then
this worthy young gentleman took his place
in the minister's pew with as ealm a face and
sedate manner as he could assume, not forgetting
to send a knowing look to Tom Sewall,
who bad just shown his mother and sister into
their seat.
Service began and proceeded in the usual
manner, uutil in his solemn way Baylis
walked up the aisle and handed the notices to
his superior. Parson Bigelow commenced to
read. First, there was a prayer and conference
meeting to be held on Tuesday evening
.1% (<?*)! k hunn nmnn In tilforl fn OffonH "
LU WI11UU an UICUIICU ntio III ?iwvu iv ,
then the usual Thursday evening meeting, a
young people's prayer meeting, a Dorcas society
to be held at Mrs. Deacon Swift's, a letter
from Everstone parish commending Mistress
Abigal Fitcbing as a member "in good
and regular standing" to the parish of Pentonville,
and lastly, to publish the bans of
matrimony between Samuel Spofford and
Dolly Ann Jessup, spinister, both of this
parish, also?here the parson stopped, adjusted
his spectacles, turned the paper and finally
read in a half-satisfied voice: "I this day
publish the bans of matrimony between Jahe&
Allyn Hayes of this parish and Phoebe Lathrop,
spinster, of Somerset, parish, this to be
repeated for three weeks,"
What could it mean ? Was the old Squire
about to be married, and they not know it,
thought the congregation ! But a glance at
the supposed bridegroom convinced ever one
that there was some mistake and that he was
uot the happy man. All at once a suppressed
laugh was heard, coming, as it seemed, from
the minister's pew, which proved contagious,
for one after auother joined until the whole
congregation seemed convulsed. As for the
C?? ?? .?/?.??11 n e*rk fr b/\ nnmnnna anrl
OlJUirt/| WlIU uouai IJ oat OU pwuj^>uua wuu
straight, hardly condescending to glance at
his poorer neighbors, he seemed to have shrunk
to half his usual size, his face was flushed, and
then became pale as death. He moved uneasily
in his seat, and at last dropped his
head, seemingly to avoid the mirthful glances
of the parishioners as they turned in their
seats to look at him. What to do be did not
know, to leave the church seemed cowardly,
yet to remain seemed more than he could
bear. Luckily for him, at that moment something
happened that turned the attention of
the villagers from him. A whisper resounded
: "Widder Sewall has fainted !" and looking
around, hp saw that she was lying like a
smitten reed in he arms of her friend who
sat nearest her. "Poor thing, how tenderhearted
she is!" thought the simple-minded
folks, never dreaming that Phoebe Lathrop
and Widow Sewall were the same, and that
she was the bride that se many years ago the
Squire had courted in vain. By the efforts
of her friends the lady soon revived, and she
herself left the church, followed by her half
frightened children. By this time Parson
i Bigelow had called the meeting to order, and
| the closing hymn was sung, and the parishioners
dismissed, ouly to gather in groups in
I the old church-vard to talk over the strange
occurreuce.
Directly after the opening of the afternoon
service (at which it is needless to say the absence
of Squire Hayes and Widow Sewall was
not unnoticed), Parson Bigelow addressed the
congregation in these words: "Sisters and
brethren, a cruel joke has been practiced upon
oue of our most worthy members. The
| ban3 of matrimony which I read this morn|
ing were given me over twenty years ago to
! be read the following Sunday; but before
that day, an unfortunate circumstance occurred,
and word was sent me late Saturday
| night for them not to be published. By some
j mistake they were not destroyed, as they
i should have been, but were deposited in an
I old chest with other papers relating to similar
matters. Who the perpetrators of this joke
| are (if they can call it so), I do not know,
| but they are knowu by the great God above
! us; from him they cannot escape detection.
They will be visited by His vengeance, and
when their souls are writhing in the pains and
torture of everlasting punishment, they will
think of the wicked offence which they have
; this day committed." The parson's voice,
! unimpaired by age, pronouuced the words in
a clear, deep tone, which sent a chill into the
! hearts of his listeners ; while a deep solemnity
reigned throughout the church. The service
proceeded, and when in conclusion the clear
voices of the village choir sang forth:
"Broad is the road that leads to death,
And thousands walk together there,"
i many left with moisteued eyes, their hearts
! swelling with pity for poor Squire Hayes.
The next morning Squires Hayes sat in his
j lonely home trying to fix his attention upon
1 his daily reading in "Baxter's Saint's Rest,"
j but in vain, for his miud, in spite of his will,
; would return to the occurrence of yesterday.
"I should like to find the young rogues that
did it," thought the worthy Squire, "wouldn't
I make them suffer, aud those miserable fools
who laughed. I'll leave the church, no more
of ray money shall be given to this parish;
yes, I will leave town and go where people
show more common sense, that I will." His
reflections were interrupted by the entrance
of Miss Mehitable (his aged housekeeper,
who had nursed him as a child) bringing in
his breakfast, which she spread upon the table
in a tempting fashion and then waited for
further orders. "What are you waiting for,
I want DOthing more," growled the Squire, as
he for the first time seemed to notice her presence.
She passed out wiping her eyes with
the corner of her apron, and muttering:
"poor master Jabez, him has an awful temper,
I wonder what can trouble him now."
The Squire sat for some time before he realized
that his breakfast was waiting; then
he found that he bad no appetite, bis eggs
were too hard, his bacon tough, his rye coffee
cold, and his flap jacks sour, so the Squire
imagined as he left the table, lamenting
meanwhile his ill-luck in being left alone in
his old age. These slight annoyances did not
improve his temper, for he threw himself in
his easy chair, pitched his "Saint's Rest"
across the room, gave a spiteful kick to poor
Tabby, which came to him for her usual caressing
(for this man's heart was not entirely
incrusted with the bitterness of an aimless
life and by the cold winds of adversity,) and
i crnrp himsplf nn tt> his unhannv thoughts.
"Why do other men have a home with wife
and children while it is denied to me,"
thought he; why should I live alone when
others have so much; miserable dogs, they
court me for my money, but not one would
thrust out his hand to give me a crust if I
were starving." By and by, gentler thoughts
superceded these harsher ones, tender memories
came flocking in upon him, his home was
again sanctified by the presence of his saintly
mother, his sister Hannah tripped in and out
making each room seem brighter by her merry
ways and loving nature; again he is the
happy young man who has the love of the
beautiful Phceba Latbrop in his keeping,
again he is planning to improve his old homestead
for his coming marriage, he draws plans
for her rooms and selects the colors which he
knows she likes best. The day comes at last
when he leaves it all to seek his bride iu her
distant home; how well he remembers that
beautiful morning, as he jumped upon his
horse and heard his mother's "God speed,"
mingled with Hannah's merry bandinage, as
he galloped down the road. How long the
miles seemed as he rapidly sped his way, and
how the distance seemed to lengthen before
he could reach his destination. One week
after, he returned home in the night alone,
there had been some lover's quarrel in which
he was resolute and she was proud; a small
matter, indeed, but grave were the consequences,
for the betrothed rings were return
* ? " * . ...i
ed, and ne lert ner 10 return on mure, xxv
remembers the long forgotten past; how
could he have given up so much happiness
for so trivial a cause; he pictured to himself
the happy home that might have been his;
he sees a quiet, gentle woman presiding over
his hearth and ministering to his comfort;
then his thoughts turn to a little, sad-faced
lady, who lived in a small cottage near the
church, and whom he had always treated
with the most dignified coolness; how did she
feel about yesterday's announcement; how
strange that after so many years their names
should have been connected together; that
they should have a common trouble; what a
brute he was not to think of her before, he
would call immediately and express his regrets,
and?here the Squire's meditations
were again interrupted by the entrance of
Miss Mehitable, announcing: "A lady to see
you, with a boy, Master Jabez."
"Show her up," replied the Squire, in not
nont omioklotnnoo A lttrt v 1 n hl?pk fintPTpd .
? VI J UUJIUUIV IIVIIVWl ?* JMVIJ (M V.MVM J
and as sbe lifted her veil, Squire Hayes saw,
to bis great astonishment, that Widow Sewall
stood before him. "Pardon me, sir," said she,
"for intruding, but I have come upon a sorrowful
raissiou. I have a sad confession to
make; it was my son, my thoughtless Tom,
who did the mischief of yesterday," and rais
ing her handkerchief she wiped her eyes before
proceeding, while the deacon stood speechless
with surprise. "And now, sir, he has
come to make his apology, which I beg of
you to receive, for he is truly repentant," and
she motioned to her son to come to her, who
did so with rather poor grace. "Squire Hayes"
i said he, "I apologize for my part in the matj
ter, and will promise not to offend you again."
! He held his head down so that neither the
j Squire nor his mother saw the twinkle in his
eye, for although the young rogue had confessed
to his mother, and was pained to see
her take the matter so deeply to heart, he
- - - - ? it I
! could not but feel that the Squire wouia oe
| severe upou him ; and then it was such a
l good joke.
Squire Hayes stood for some moments without
speaking, but his thoughts were not concerning
the offence, nor of the boy's motive.
I Years seemed to have rolled back, and he
stood once more with Phoebe Lathrop. The
J sad, careworn woman was transfigured into
i the merry, laughing girl whom he so dearly
i loved ; a great yearning came over him to
take her to himself; could it not be possible
i thnt oho IfweH him now as then, and lookiner
| up without further hesitation, the impetuous
| Squire stepped close to the weeping mother
I and 8aid : "Phoebe, on one condition I will
j pardon your boy, come to my house, be my
j wife, and I will forgive the offence."
Sis months after Widow Sewall left the village
never to return, while Mrs. Squire Hayes
! began her reigu over the home and heart of
; her old lover. It was not long before her in;
fluence over him yielded fine results, and in the
i kind, genial man whose hospitality was well
known throughout the country, few would
recognize the crusty bachelor of former days.
Many years this happy couple lived to eujoy
each other. Tom Sewall realized his highest
expectations iu going to college, and afterwards
becoming a successful lawyer in one of
tbe great cities, while his friend Willie Archer,
in spite of the village oracles, became a
worthy follower of his grand-parent, good
! Parson Bigelow. As the years rolled on,
j from time to time the old homestead was
; brightened by the presence of their children,
j who often had a hearty laugh over the pranks
j of their fathers, but no story was told so of- I
: teu, or pleased so well these young folks as !
the "practical joke" which resulted in so i
much happiness to the victims of it.
Window Glass.?There are seventy esi
tablishments in the United States devoted to
; the production of window-glass. Twentyseven
of these are in New Jersey; the others
are scattered through New England, New
York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Ohio and
elsewhere in the West. The capital invested
i in the industry is about 86,000,000 in New
! Jersey alone, while the annual production of
j that State is between 2,000,000 and 3,000,000
j boxes of the various qualities and sizes of
glass. The window-glass mauufacturing in- j
terest is now one of the principal industries j
I of this country, and is destined to check the j
j importation of glass to America; in fact,!
I many of the American manufacturers are now ;
exporting large quantities of glass and glass1
ware. It is believed that fully three-fourths
j of the factories are now stopped?some few
in Pittsburgh being in operation. Somewhere
I near 25,000 men and boys are now striking,!
and it is not improbahle that the number;
will be increased. The plate glass for the
, San Francisco Stock Exchange is 186 iuches
, bug and 120 iuches wide, and is said to be
i the largest glass ever imported.
IfttettUanrtna fading.!:
From the New York Tribune. I
THE LATE ADMIRAL SEMMES. J
Some Personal Reminiscences of a Famous ' .
Career.
A gentleman who daring the war served (
for a short time on board the Confederate '
steamer Alabama, and afterwards on the (
Georgia, which cruised in company with the (
Alabama, relates some interesting reminiscen- '
ccs of the late Admiral Semmes. The last 1
vessel of the United States navy which *
Semmes commanded was the Somers. This *
was the frigate upon which, previous to his 1
command of it, two young midshipmen, one 1
of them a son of the then secretary of the 1
? hw M/>1Tan7iA Rlidpll for
littVJj wcic uauguu mj ^?
mutiny. Semmes commanded her during the
Mexican war, and while at Vera Cruz she
was capsized in a squall. The loss of this
vessel was a source of much satisfaction to all
officers of the navy at that time. She was
very unpopular, on account of the superstitons
which existed in regard to her; the men
were constantly deserting, and officers were
unwilling to be assigned to duty on her. After
this. Admiral Semmes entered the practice
of the law in Cincinnatti, and was there at the
time the war broke out.
Going South, he tendered his services to the
Confederacy, and first commanded the Sumter,
which, after a short cruise, was blockaded
in Gibralta, abandoned and afterwards sold.
The service on the Alabama was a very exciting
one. She was always either chasing
other vessels or being chased herself, and the
life that was led by her officers and crew was
very attractive to those who liked adventure.
The Alabama had only two engagements
with United States vessels of war; the first
with the Hatteras, off Galveston, and the
second with the Kearsage, in which she was
worsted. The officer already referred to describes
the tactics employed by Semmes off
Galveston as very "sharp." About 4 o'clock
one afternoon, be steamed up in sight of the
blockading fleet, carrying the British flag.
He then turned about and began to sail away,
burning bituminous coal, and making an im
o ' t ^
mense cloud of smoke, his object being to create
the impression in the Federal fleet that he
was a blockade-runner, making the most time
possible to get beyond their reach. Admiral
Semmes expected that the Federal commander
would send after him his fastest vessel, and
that this would be one of the lightest in the
fleet. In this conjecture he was not mistaken,
for the Hatteras was dispatched to overtake
and arrest him. One of the larger vessels
would have been more than a match for the
Alabama. When she came alongside of the
Alabama the captain of the Hatteras hailed
her, but for a time received no answer; when
at length he ordered her to lie to and give an
account of herself, or he would fire into her,
Semmes hauled down the British flag, and
threw up the Confederate flag, which was already
at the peak, tied up in a bundle with
small ropes. Then shouting defiantly, "This
is the Confederate steamer Alabama," he ,
opened fire. The battle that ensued was a
very brief one, lasting only about twelve min- 8
utes. but at the end of this time the Hatteras 8
was sunk. The gentleman who describes the *
fight Bays that the officers and crew of the ?
Hatteras fought, most gallaptly, and did not
abandon her until her guns were level with v
the water. ^
The circumstances of the fight between the j
Kearsage and the Alabama are too well known y
to need repetition. The geDtleman already j
referred to was a witness of this fight, but did
not take part in it, being at the time on a
French tug. He says that Admiral Semmes |
made a great mistake in going out of Cherbourg
to meet the Kearsage at all. He said
the immediate cause of his going out was a
threat of Winslow to go into port with the x
United States flag flying over the inverted j
Confederate flag, and to sail around the Ala- g
barna as an insult. Semmes sent back word
that if he would not do that he would go out c
and fight him. The Alabama had been at j
sea two years, and her copper hung in "el- j
bows" all over her bottom, which was also
very dirty. When in good condition she c
could sail twelve or fifteen knots an hour, but <
at that time she could not have made over j
six knots at her best. Besides this, the pow- f
der that she used was some that had been
condemned by the British government, and ,
to make it still worse, a portion of the condensing
apparatus of the vessel used for pro- e
ducing fresh water, was in contact with her ,
magazine, so that much of her powder was .
wet. The result was that the heaviest shells
fired by the Alabama failed to perforate the
side of the Kearsage and some 01 mem were c
seen to drop in the water before reaching her ?
enemy, although the vessels were at the time ^
not over three hundred yards apart. j
The same gentleman expressed the opinion ;
that Admiral Semmes, in his book describing
the cruise of the Alabama, does himself great j
injustice when he ascribes bis failure to disable
the Kearsage to the fact that the latter r
hung cables upon her side. These cables
were only placed upoD her bows, and had the
Alahama been in good condition, he expresses
it as his opinion that she wotild have sunk ]
the Kearsarge in spite of all such protection.
One of the shells of the Alabama, which \
lodged in the stern-post of the Kearsage, but
did not explode is now in this city. If it had t
exploded, it would undoubtedly have destroy- t
WIUQIAIU'Q vpqqa]
tu ?? IUOiW?* w ? vwvvm
Semmes displayed the greatest coolness in
the handling of his vessel during the whole
of the fight with the Kearsage, and wheu
the Alabama was about to sink, he was the
last man to leave her. A sailor named Marrs,
who had shown very great bravery during the
combat, and who had picked up a shell from
the Kearsage that fell on the deok of the
Alabama and thrown it over board?it exploded
before it reached the water?brought
a life-preserver to Serames, and insisted that
he should put it on. Semmes refused to do
so, and told the sailor that his life was worth
a9 much to him as the Admiral's, and that he
must put it on himself. He had in his hand
some valuable papers, among them the bonds
of a number of ships that had been captured
and these he gave to Marrs, directing him to
save them at all hazards, Subsequently some
of the officers and sailors persuaded Semmes
to use a life-preserver. Marrs was picked up
by one of the boats of the Kearsage, but
jumped overboard. He was picked up a second
lime by another of the Kearsage's boats,
and a second time leaped into the water, and
was fiually rescued by a French boat, saving
the papers which had been committed to his
care.
Semmes was a very strict disciplinarian.
This was especially necessary in the Bervice
in which the Alabama was engaged. The |
line between that kind of service and piracy I
was so narrow, that but for the strictest dis- '
cipline the crew of the Confederate steamer i
would have been guilty of all sorts of excess- I
es. When an American vessel was captured, I
if it had 011 board an American cargo it was ]
burned. If the cargo belonged to foreigners 1
the captain would have to sign a bond for !
the value of the vessel. No officer or mem- 1
ber of the crew of the Alabama was allowed 1
to take any article from a prize. The gen- 1
tleman who describes this service says that
he was once very severely punished by the
captain of the Georgia for taking from the
cabin of a vessel, that was captured, a sew- ,
ing bird, worth only a few cents.
By a Jaw of the Confederate Congress, the
ifficers and crew of the Alabama were to rejeive
from the Confederate Government one- I
half the valne of all American vessels destroyed,
and the whole value of all that were
bonded, but their claims were, of course, never
paid. The reason why the prizes were destroyed
was that the Alabama was not allowed i
'jo take the vessels which she captured into
the ports of any foreign country to be con- i
iemned. The officers and crew of all captured
vessels were very kindly treated while I
)Q board the Alabama. Duriiig the day half
)f them were allowed to be on deck at all I
times, mingling with the crew, while the re- I
nainder were kept below. At night all of
them, of course, were confined. The officers 1
ind crews of captured vessels were also al- i
lowed to take with them all of their private <
property, but none of that belonging to the i
resael.
The gentleman already referred to says that 1
i very erroneous idea prevails in the North ]
hat the crew of the Alabama was composed
>f English and Southern men, On the other I
iand, during the most of the time they were
ilmost exclusively Yankee sailors from capered
vessels. In some instances the entire 1
;rews of whalers desired to enlist under Ad- I
niral Semraes. The Admiral was accustomed i
a tell them that the United States would
lang them all if they were caught, but the i
onlw cr0nArn.ilv was tbflt thev did not care. I
vrv b j ?v ? - __ '
;hey would take the chances of that. When
;he Georgia ran the blockade at New Orleans, i
in officer, who was on board of her, says she
lad only nine Southern men on board, and
;he remainder of the crew, of between fifty
ind sixty, was made up almost entirely of <
Yankee sailors. I
The same gentlemen tells an amusing an- I
?cdote of Semmes' experience in the port of
Babia, in Brazil. He sent an officer to in- 1
'orm the Governor of his intention of leaving, ]
)ut the Governor was unwilling to give his <
jonsent, and replied that, according to the
egulations of the port, vessels were not al- ]
owed to leave after 4 o'clock in the afternoon.
The captain of a little Portuguese manof- I
var, which was in the harbor, volunteered his
ilrvices to prevent the departure of the Ala- <
)ama. When Semmes was informed of this
le was greatly excited. "He does, does he?" ]
ie exclaimed, as he paced up and down the t
leek. "D?n him, I'll spoil his paint for i
lim." Shortly after, the Alabama weighed
ler anchor and got under way. Sailing very i
dose to the little Portuguese man-of-war, she ?
aluted her flag with twenty-one guns, and 1
vhen the smoke cleared away, the Portuguese t
vessel, which was painted white, was as black t
is a colier. There was no interference with 1
he sailing of the Alabama.
When in Mobile in 1874,1 formed the acjuaintance
of Admiral Semmes, who was at [
hat time practicing law in that city. Hia i
aw office was on a cross-street, not far from c
he customhouse. .Like the offices or most
Southern lawyers, it had little about it that ?
vaa attractive. The floor was bare, the books ?
vere not plentiful and the furniture was meagre.
The Admiral was rather insignificant in
>ersonal appearance, short of stature, quite t
irect, with a small grey eye, and beard that 1
vould have been gray, had it not been dyed, t
The latter consisted of a fierce moustache i
md imperial, which, with his overhanging s
tyebrows, gave to him a rather ferocious as>ecL
He was dressed in loose, light costume, e
ind his wide pantaloons did not bide the fact
hat he was bow-legged. In conversation he <
vas courteous and pleasing. I do not think r
he Admiral was very successful as a lawyer, f
jrentleraen who practiced at the bar with him ?
n Mobile told me that, while in private he was
rery genial in his intercourse with lawyers, t
n court, and in the transaction of business c
generally, he displayed too much of the im- f
>erious quarterdeck demeanor to make him 1
>opular. t
A RAFFLE FOR FREEDOM.
We translate from a German sketch of
American travel the subjoined account of an f
ncident alleged to have occurred on a Missis- t
ippi steamer a short time before the war. i
I ascended the Mississippi, says the writer,
m a steamer on board of which were Judge a
r. and General K., of Pennsylvania, with '
>oth of whom I was slightly acquainted. c
"A hard Set, these Natchez men," said the c
laptain, who met us on the cabin-stairs, t
'There*8 some of them down in the saloon play- t
ng a high game. How men can be such g
ools, I could never see !"
"Let's go down and look on awhile," suggested
the judge.
In the saloon we found four men seated at
i table, around which a crowd of spectators
vas gathered. The four were the "heavy
>layers."
The game was poker, and the money changid
hands rapidly. We had not been looking
>n long, when one of the players, a middle- 8
iged man, who I learned was a cotton-planter, g
>et bis last dollar against the hand of one of t
lis antagonists. The latter showed four kings, 1
vbile he had only four queens. He was c
'cleaned out," and rooe as though he were go- j
ng to leave the table. g
"Are you broke, colonel ?" asked one of the 4
nen. t
"Dead!" was the laconic reply. i
"Never mind ; I'll lend you." 1
"No; I can make a raise, I reckon. Here, t
Pomp!" i
"Here, massa I" responded an old negro, as s
le emerged from one corner of the saloon. 1
"Bring that girl and her youngster here, t
hat I bought in Natchez. Wait a few min- c
ites, gentlemen. I'll raise some money." \
The old negro went on his errand, and soon r
eturned with the girl and her youngster. (
rbe "girl" proved to be a stately mulatto wo- f
nan about thirty-five years old. "Her"yeung- ?
iter" was a fine, intelligent-looking boy eleven c
>r twelve years old, whose complexion showed c
lira to be much more nearly allied to the a
vhite race than to the black, ?
"Here, geutlemen," said the planter, as they
rate red, "yon see this girl and her boy?two
is fine niggers as yon can find anywhere. I j
J -:-l. i J?A roofflr. I 4
jaiu VIglll UUiJUiCU uuuaio IU1 miomi jwovv. I
lay, in Natchez. Who will give me six hun- G
Ired for them ?"
"Will you sell them separate ?" asked some (
)ne ?" j
"No, can't do it j I promised not to, The
jirl swears she'll take her life if she's separa- g
;ed from her boy, and her old master said
hat he was sure she'd keep her word. But i
lon't you all see that the girl is worth more
noney than I ask for both of them ? Come, ]
who'll give me six hundred for both ?"
The planter waited a moment for a reply, J
ind then said: i
"Well, I must have some money. Come, |
what say you to a raffle?thirty chances at |
o ntianno ? Out with VOUT
/TTCLI VJ UVlimo M VIIUUW www .. .?? J
laah, gentlemen. The first on the list has the
arst throw 1" j
This proposition created a decided stir {
imoug all present. The three players at the ]
:able led off by takiDg three chances each.
Their example was followed by the spectators,
md twenty chances were taken as rapidly as ]
the planter could write down the names and <
take the money. Then there was a slight 1
pause. The planter himself now took two <
chances, and he was followed by his three i
fellow-players, who each took one chance 1
more. Finally, three more chances were ta- i
ken by the spectators, when the planter cried i
out: I
"Two ohances still, gentlemen I Who will i
have them ?" ]
General K. whispered something in Judge '
J.'s ear, and then went to the table and laid <
two ten-dollar gold-pieces on it. I
"Name, sir, please ?" <
''Never mind the name. Put it down for
the woman."
"Eh?what! for the girl herself?"
"Yes, certainly; let's give her a chance."
"All right! One for Ninette. And now?"
"That's for the boy," said Judge J., quietly,
is he laid twenty dollars on the table.
"Good ! bravo ! bravo!" cried the planter
ind several of the bystanders. "One for
rommy, which makes the thirty. Now, genilemen,
let's see whom luck favors."
The dice were brought and the throwing
began. Each chance entitled the holder to
ibree throws.
Thirty-six was the highest thrown nntil the
bolder of the eleventh chance threw. He
icored forty-two. Then a less number was
;hrown, until number twenty-one scored forty
nine.
The excitement now became intense. For;y-nine
was hard to beat; the highest throw
possible being nine sixes?fifty-four.
Again and again the dice rattled in the
box, until it came to number twenty-nine.
"Come, Ninette?it's your tnrn now!"
As the poor woman came forward, her
bands crossed and pressed convulsively against
aer breast, it was truly painful to witness her
agitation.
"Won't the gentleman that took the chance
for me please throw ?" she asked, in a low,
tremulous tone.
"No; let your boy throw," said the general
; "perhaps he would have more luck than I."
"Come, Tom," said the planter.
Tom came forward and picked up the box.
The woman pressed her lips firmly together
and clasped her hands as if in prayer. The
joy trembled like an aspen-leaf, but shook
;he dice, and threw?three!
For a moment be stared at the dice as
;hough he could not believe his eyes, then he
put down the box and stepped back, pale and
lejected.
"Come, Tommy, throw again," urged the
planter.
"It's no use, master; I couldn't throw for,y-nine
now."
"True, true. But you have your own
ihance. Throw that."
"Certainly," said Judge J., "that one was
rour mother's. Now throw for yourself, on
he chance I gave you. Have a stout heart,
ny boy, and may Heaven smile on you 1"
Again the boy returned to the table and
;ook up the box. He pressed his lips together,
and did his best to control his trembing
limbs. Not a sound was to be heard in
he saloon but the rattling of the dice. For
t moment every man seemed to hold his
ireath.
He threw.
"Twn fives and a si*?sixteen !" said the
)lanter, putting down the numbe}, while a
nurmur of satisfaction ran through the
:rowd.
One of the bystanders gathered up the dice
ind put them in the box, and the boy threw
igain.
"Two sixes and a five?seventeen !"
The excitement now knew no bounds, and
he "bravos" resounded on every band. The
>oy, as he took up the box to throw for the
hird and last time, was as nearly colorless as
t was possible for him to be with his yellow
ikin.
Out rolled the dice, and up came three sixis,
which made fifty-one!
"Tommy, my boy, I congratulate youl"
iried the planter. "You are your own and
nother's master! Fill up the necessary pa)ers,
captain, and I will sign them. These
gentlemen will be the witnesses."
I will not attempt to describe the scene
hat followed. In the general satisfaction,
me of the roughest-looking men in the crowd
)roposed a subscription for the freed negroes,
rhe proposition was received with such favor
hat in less than five minntes fifty dollars
?ere collected.?Appleton'a Journal.
"Stick to Dad."?A farmer writes us the
ollowiug : "I am tired of farming and want
o come to town to make a living for myself.
iVhat do you think of it ?"
Well, we think you are a fool if you don't
itay at home. The city is over run with
'dead beats" and tramps, and if you have a
lead sure thing of making "bread and meat"
>n the farm, you'd better stay where you are,
md dig potatoes, than come here and go to
he workhouse and peck rock. Stick to dad.
stay on the farm. You are worth more to
rourself, to your neighbors, to your state and
o the country at large than all the one-horse,
nutton-headed professional gentlemen that
ire living from hand to mouth in the city or
State. You stick to the plow, the mower,
he reaper; freeze to that farm like a fly-bliser
to a negro's lip; raise rye, corn, hay, barey,
oats, potatoes; chop wood, maul rails,
>urn brush, curry your mules, feed oxen, raise
tock, and instead of hanging around the
treet corners, dependent upon lunch houses
o keep sand out of your craw, you'll be at
lomeon your farm, living a life of "indepenlent
happiness," while thousands of 'nice
roung men," too pretty and proud to work,
md too lazy to steal, will be lighting out
'over the hill to the poor house," merciless
leasts and lazy subjects of utter dependence
ipon public charity. Young man, if you
enow which side of the bread of life the buter
is on, you give up the foolish idea of comng
to Louisville to "make a living for yourelf."
Twenty-five acres of land and a chap
ike you to till it, is worth more to the country
han the bank in the city and the smartest
sapitalist we know of to run it You stay
vhere you are. Follow the plow, and engileer
the docile, willing mule that pulls it.
)ur word for it, any young, healthy, stout
arraer's boy who will give up his chances for
'a dead sure thing in life," and come to town
>n an uncertainty is not smart enough to take
iare of himself and should be arrested and
;ent to a lunatic asylum for a darned fool,
Stay where you are.?Courier-Journal.
? ? ?
"The Squeaker's a Lass."?Among the
gnorant people of England humorous misakes
often occur, even when correctness and
lolemnity would seem to be required.
A puddler went the other day to get his
ihild christened. "What name," asked the
larson, "shall I call the child?"
"Thoo oan caal the kid owt thoo likes,"
lays the father.
"Weel," says the parson, "I think Benjanin
is a very nice name."
"Varry weel," says the father, "caal him
Benjamin."
The puddler came out of the church with
lis wife and child, highly delighted with the
lame, when a thought struck him. Rushing
jack into the church, and overtaking the
jarsou walkiug down the aisle, he exclaimed :
"Hoy, mister, the young squeaker's a lass."
The parson was at a loss what to do under
he circumstances. However, he putin an a
it the end of the name, and they called It
Benjamina.
A Tame Rat.?A oonvictin the Richmond
Penitentiary has a rat which he tamed and
iomeaticated until he will come to him when
- - ?Avll/vtno if n moofnK oKnnf litre* a
JtJ WUiBlltX) aiiU JUUUTVO IbO UJOOKVI uuvuv ?>?v h
log. The little animal sleeps by the prisoner^
side at night, and will never be away
From him longer than he oan help. When the
nan goes to work in the morning, it matters
aot what portion of the prison lot it may be,
ihis little pet will certainly follow and remain
near him. The animal knows all the prisoners,
and does not exhibit the slightest fear
when any of theni approach him, bat will
jart away into his corner in his master's cell
M the sight of any one who is clothed di$f*
sntly from the inmates of the priso^
A Snake Story.?At Cox & Brown's mill,
some three miles from Beltoo, a small snake,
belonging to the tribe known to a great many
as the "king snake," has taken up his abode
regularly, and among the rats and mice he is
a "fell destroyer." He has become quite tame
and gentle, and often, when the keeper of the
mill takes a noonday nap, his snakeship will
crawl around and over him, and frequently
lie quietly upon his bosom. We have frequently
heard, rather traditionally, that this
species of serpent was harmless towards man,
but was a relentless enemy towards all other
serpents, and as substantiating this idea we
will relate a further incident concerning the
snake under discussion, which comes to us
? manmaa Ana vr vo.
turuugu bu auiueuw suuiva. vuo ??j ?
cently & medium sized water moccasin was
seen lying on the sand below the mill, and
ere long tne king snake was seen approaching
him cautiously. He crossed the small stream
which runs from the race below the wheel and
very slowly neared the moccasin, all the while
swaying his head from the right to the left.
This motion was more and more contracted
the nearer he approached, until when within
a few inches of his victim, he lay for some
time perfectly motionless. Then suddenly he
darted upon the moccasin,- caught him by the
back of the neck, and proceeded to coil himself
around him. When he had made several
coils he freed his mouth hold upon the moccasin's
neck and by making loops of his body
and inserting his head through them he tied
himself in two or three or four knots around
his victim's body, which most have been very
tight indeed, for when he had remained there
some ten minutes he loosened himself aud
crawled triumphantly back to the mill, leaving
the dead body of the moccasin upon the
sand.?Anderson Journal
Never Forget Anything.?A successful
business man told me there were two things
he learned when he was eighteen, which were
ever afterward of great use to him, namely,
"never to lose anything, and never to forget
anything." An old lawyer sent him with an
important paper, with instructions what to do
with it. ""Rut." innuired the vaunt? man.
"suppose I lose it; what shall f do then ?"
The answer was with the utmost emphasis,
"You must not lose it 1" "I don't mean to,"
said the young man, "but suppose I should
happen to ?" "But I say you mutt not happen
to; I shall make no provision for any such
occurrence; you must not lote it!" This
put a new train of thought into the young
man's mind, and he found that if he was determined
to do a thing he could do it He
made such a provision against every contingency
that he never lost anything. fie found
this equally true about forgetting. If a certain
matter of importance was to be remembered,
he pinned it down on his mind, fastened
it there, and made it stay. He used to say,
"When a man tells me that he forgot to do
something, I tell him he might as well have
said, 'I did not care enough about your business
to take the trouble to think of it again.'"
I once had an intelligent young man in my
employment, who deemed it a sufficient excuse
for neglecting any important ta*k to say
"I forgot it" I told him that would not answer.
If he was sufficiently interested, he
would be careful to remember. It was because
he did not care enough that he forgot. I
drilled him with this truth. He worked for
me three years, and during the last of the
three he was utterly changed in this respect
Me did not forget a thing. Mis forgetting, ne
found, was a lazy and careless habit of mind,
which he cured.?Country Gentleman.
?
Indian Shopping.?In the late autumn,
as soon as the rivers are locked in ice, and the
ground is covered with enow, the furs begin
to come in. As they are brought in by the
Indians they are traded for by the persons in
charge of the trading-store. If an Indian
were to bring in a hundred skins of different
sorts, or all alike, he would trade off* every
skin separately, and insist on payment for
each skin as he sold it; he likes the linked
sweetness of shopping long drawn out; hence
it often occupies several days to barter a batch
of furs. It is a curious and interesting sight
to watch an Indian selecting from the stores
articles that he may require as he disposes of
skin after skin. If he has only a small quantity
of skins, he walks into the shop with his
blanket about him, and not a skin visible.
After some preliminary skirmishing he produces
a skin from under his blanket, trades it,
taking in exchange what he absolutely needs;
then be stops. Just as one thinks the trading
is over be produces another peltry rrom oeneatb
his blanket, and buys something else.
Thus he goes on until, haviDg bought all the
necessaries he requires, he branohes off iDto
the purchase of luxuries?candy, fancy neckties,
etc. Under so slow a process an Indian
trader needs to possess more than average patience.
The skins, as fast as purchased, are
thrown behind the counter, and then carried
to the fur-room and piled in heaps that are
constantly turned and aired.?Hudson Bay
Correspondence.
? ? ?
Making Allowances.?We were struck,
the other day, by the reply of a musician to
a friend who had asked him to play on a piano
which was out of tune. Some one was
present who had not before heard the pianist.
"Do play for us," said the musician's friend;
"Mr. Blank will make allowances for the condition
of the piano. "Make allowances!"
replied the pianist; "I have heard that all
my life, and it never was and never will be
true. Nobody 'makes allowances.' If a pianist
plays on a bad piano, or a tenor sings
when he has a sore throat, or an orator gets
out of his death-bed to make a speech?the
audience is disappointed because he does not
do his best work, and it carries away an im{>ression
of the performance that is likely to
ast for a life-time. It's the same in housekeeping,
and dressing, and business, and everything
else. People expect the best under
all circumstances. There is do such thiug as
'Making allowances.' "?Scribner.
His Luck.?A youth of six years, on returning
from church, inquired of his father if
those who engaged in silent prayer on entering
the church, all made use of the same
words. His father was unable to inform him,
but asked what led to the inquiry. The boy
replied that he overheard the prayer of Mr.
X., who, on bowing his head, made use in an
audible voice of the following words: "I wish
to Heaven I had bought a barrel of floor before
this cussed war broke out. Always my
luck."
^ %
The Causes of Drunkenness.?"What,"
asks an exchange, "are the causes of drunken
ness?" Well, we can't answer for all of
them, but we believe whisky causes a great
deal of it; whisky, sir, resolutely stuck to,
will cause about as large a drunk as anything
we know of, although a judicious mixing up
of various drinks will accelerate matters, if a
man is in a hurry.
, ? ?
S&" "See here," said a gentleman who was
riding past a farm-house, to a boy at the door
steps, "what time is it?" "About twelve
o'olock, zur," answered the boy. "Why, I
thought it was more!" exclaimed the gentleman.
"No," drawled, the boy, "It never
gets more here, zur, 'cause it al'uz begins
back at one ag'in next after twelve."
19" An Indian* editor said in his paper
that he knew spring was folly come because
he had seen snakes. Whereupon a Michigan
editor copied the item, and said : "When an
Indiana editor sees snakes, it is not so much a
sign of spring as of fall
A