Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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LEWIS m. grist, Proprietor, i A" $nkpenfient Jamilg D-ttosjaptr: jfor tjje $romotion of tbe |olitical, Social, Agricultural airii Commercial Interests of % JSontjt. j TERMS?:$3.00 A TEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 24. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MAY 23, 1878. NO. 21. jacketed f<?rtnr. A CONSTANT READER. The overworked scribe of the Afudville Gazette, Sat wondering? moneyless wight? If his office would ever be cleared of its debt, With the times so deplorably tight, When the tread of old leather* was heard on the stair, And a stranger stepped into the room, Who asked, with the "don't let me bother you" air, Which the boro is so apt to assume? "How are ye?" The editor rose with a smile And pleasantly yielded his chair, Placed the visitor's sadly unbeautiful tile (Which exhibited symptoms of wear), On the top of the desk, alongside of his own (A shocking old plug, by the way), And then asked, in a rather obsequious tone, "Can wo do anything for you to-day ?" "No?I jest called to see ye"?the visitor said, "I'm a friend to the newspaper men"? Here he ran a red handkerchief over his head, And accepted the editor's fan? "I've read all the pieces you've writ for your sheet, | And they're straight to the pint, T confess; That 'ar slap you gin Keyser was sartinly neat, You're an ornyment, sir, to the press!" "I am glad you are pleased," said the writer, "indeed; But you praise me too highly, by far? Just select an exchange that you're anxious to read, And while reading it, try this cigar, By the way, I've a molon laid up for a treat? T' 1 I * oof lorl in iop a ve u?eii Kccfjiu^ iv u??v\i ... .w , It's a beauty, sir, tit fur an angel to eat? Now, perhaps, you will relish a slice?" Then the stranger rolled up half a dozen or more Of the choicest exchanges of allHelped himself to the Iruit, threw the rinds on the floor. Or flung them at flies on the wall. He assured his new friend that bis "pieces were wrote In a manner uncommonly able"? As he wiped his red hands on tho editor's coat That hung at the side of the table. "By the way, I've neglected to ask you your name," Said the scribe, as the stranger arose; "That's a fact," ho replied, "I'm Abimalech Bame, You have heard of that name, I suppose? I'm a-Iivin' out here on the Fiddletown Creek, Where I own a good house and a lot; The Gazette gets around to me wunst every week? I'm the constantest leader you've got!" "Abimalech Bame," mused the editor, "B-a-m-e(Here his guest begged a chew of his twist)? I am sorry to say, you: mellifluous name Does n't happen to honor my list!" " 'Spose not," was the answer?"no reason it should, For ye see, I jiue lots with Bill PrimHe's a* reg'lar subscriber, and pays ye in wood, And I borrv your paper o' him!" JU Original Jdorj). Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. MARY EUSTACE 5 OR, TRUST BETRAYED. CHAPTER XX. Colonel Dacre only needed an interval of perfect rest to bring him up again. He had been overtaxed, both mentally and physically, and in his still enfeebled state had been unanie 10 SUSIHIII lUC uununicu jmcosuic. But now, that mind atid body had found equal relief, and that he had the happiness of see ing Mary once more near hiin, his recovery was rapid, and in a few days' time he declared himself quite equal to the journey home. "Mary," he said to his ward, as they sat together one evening in Mrs. Stanley's cheerful parlor, where the firelight shed a pleasant glow around, aud illuminated two very happy faces that were gazing into it, side by side, "Mary do you know that I have been thinking a great deal to day." "Have you ?" Mary's blue eyes looked up questioningly. "What about, if I may ask?" "About you, chiefly,my dear. I have been BjIM thinking that I should find it very dull at Mo;slands now without you?so dull, that J WgSm think the solitude would be almost unenduraSHT ble. And yet?as matters stand between us?I cannot very well take you back with me ; can I ?" "You know best, I suppose," said Mary, in a very low tone, as she bent her head. Her heart beat fast at this introduction of a sub ject which, oddly enough, the Colonel had not before broached since his return. "One has to consider people's opinion, you see," he went on, holding fast the little hand he had drawn into his. "To you and to me it seems the most natural thing in the word to be there together, as we were for such a long time. But then we must recollect that you are not my daughter, any more." Mary laughed softly. It seemed so odd, now, to think that she had ever regarded herself in the liedit of his adopted daughter. ~ O * O. "One thing, though, I want to be quite sure of," pursued the Colonel, stooping to look into her face. "I want to know wheth er you do not regret this altered relation between us. That promise that you made me | before I left home, has it never weighed un-1 pleasantly on your mind?" She gave hint a reproachful glance, which he answered with a smile. "Tell me," he said, holding her chin gently in his hand, that she might not tnrn away her head. "I have thought about it so often, and the fear has haunted me that I might! have taken an ungenerous advantage of the [ relative position in which circumstances had , placed us ; that I might have surprised you into consenting to a proposal which you would afterwards, perhaps, regret having acceded to. Was my fear quite unfounded?" "Have I eiven you any reason to believe the contrary ?" she asked. "No, you have not. But we have been much separated, you know?in fact, entirely separated since this compact was formed. Now I wanted to be quite assured that you | had not, in the least degree, changed your j mind?that uo conflict, no mistaken idea | about duty, had found a place in your heart." "Do you say this," asked Mary, "from anything that you have heard about me? I L know," she added, crimsoning, and speaking with an effort, "that?that?certain tales rhave been told you by an acquaintance of j mine. But if she said anything to make you | suppose, for an instant, that I was changed? ! that I had acted in any way unworthily?" "Not a word, my dear?not a word," said j the Colonel, earnestly. "And if she Inn. one ; so, I should not have believed her. No, she I laid the blame only where it was due. And ; I have had painful evidence, since, of how ! fully it was deserved. But had a certain person, Mary, been the only one in question? had no promise ever been made to me? ! would the case have been different ? I know j you will answer me frankly." "The case would have been the same, so far i as my inclinations were concerned, had there been no one else in the world besides that other person and myself," said Mary, decided-1 iy"Then I am satisfied," said the Colonel, i There was a brief silence. He seemed to be still revolving something in his mind. "And now to the settlement of that other question, Mary," he resumed, presently. "The one we were beginning to discuss a little while ago. Tell me, aw I to go back home alone ?" "Indeed, I am sure you ought to know best, Colonel Dacre." "I hate the thought of it," said the Colonel, ; plaintively. "Indeed, I don't see how I can j ! do it. In the 6rst place, I really need some ' j one to take care of me; I am still so far from I : strong. I shall just mope myself to death ! ; there, too, with only the servants for compa- j ny.'" "You used to stand the solitude well j enough, once upon a time," said Mary, de-1 mu rely. "Yes, before I had found, by experience, how pleasant it was to have a dear little j friend constantly with me. Mary, I don't think I can do without my little friend's society now, even for a time. There is no help I for it; you will have to go, too." t "You, yourself, said that I could not," said Mary. "I said?as matters between us now stand. Cannot they be differently arranged? Come, Mary, I will be plain with you. I want to take you with me, and I can only take you in one way?as my little wife. Will you go ?" Mary was neither startled, nor shocked, nor angered by this proposition. No thought of conventional delays, of ceremonies, or trousseaux, entered her mind. She simply felt that he needed her, that she cared for him and him alone in the world, and that it was most fitting that she should yield, without any affected reluctance, to his wish. "Yes, I will go," she replied, almost in a whisper. And then a sudden impulse seized her. She clasped his hand in both of hers, and pressing it with energy to her lips, she exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears, "I am glad to go. I am glad to do anything to prove to you that I am not cold and heartless, as you must have thought me once." "My dear!" said the Colonel, surprised, j but inexpressibly touched, "wheu did I ever think you heartless or cold ?" "Oh ! I know I seemed so. I always used to be like a stick or a stone, in old times. I only wonder you ever liked me at all. "If I liked you then, as you express it, I wonder what name is most suitable for the sentiment with which I regard you now ?" Mary, who was just beginning to feel very shy, as a result of her unwonted betrayal of her feelings, was spared a reply by the entrance of xMrs. Stanley, to whom the Colonel presently confided their plans. "It is to be the quietest affair in the world, my dear madam, and if you will kiudly permit it to take place in your parlor, with no one present but the officiating clergyman aud ourselves?" "Oh 1 Colonel Dacre, I am sure I shall be only too glad ! but to think ot not even a i breakfast. I hate to let dear Mary go off without some little festivity, be it ever so simple." "My dear Mrs. Stanley, these are not festive times," said the Colonel, and neither Mary nor I care for anything of the sort, i >She will, I suppose, wear her traveling bonnet andshuwl, and her trunks will be strapped and waiting in the hall, and as soon as it's over we'll drive off to the railroad with- ' out further ado." < Both ladies laughed at this natter of fact settlement of the programme. And as there < was really 110 time or opportunity for any i more elaborate arrangement to be made, it was decided that the course thus briefly mapped out would be the wisest and most suitable to pursue. 1 One thing, however, Mrs. Stanley was posi- 1 tive in asserting; namely, that no bride ever could, would or should be married (unless it I: were a runaway match) in the clothing she ; was in the habit of wearing on all ordinary occasions. If there was no chance of Mary's getting anew dress made, why at all events 1 she could get a new bonnet and cloak, which with a certain dove colored silk that was now seldom brought into use, would make up a very appropriate costume. Mary who had sufficient natural vanity to wish to look pretty on her wedding day, of all days, yielded, without difficulty to the suggestion. And early on the following morning she accompanied Mrs. Stanley to the region of shops, : where the requisite articles were purchased, for a sum which would sound fabulously extravagant to our ears at the present day. These preparations being duly completed, and everything packed in readiness to start, the marriage ceremony was performed at the appointed time ; no guests being present but ; three of Mrs. Stanley's pet patients, one of I whom?an elderly Captain with bandaged ! head and one arm in a sling?gave the bride away. Another of the three, a very youthful private with an extremely handsome, girlish face, looked on with a melancholy air, having secrt-tly fallen very much in love with | Mary during his convalescence under the same roof. Poor little Paul Devereux ! The object of his adoration was quite unsconcious of the flame she had kindled in his breast. But he cherished it with all the ardor of a boy's first passion, and died months afterwards, on the fatal field of Gettysburg, murmuring her name with his latest breath. Colonel Dacre and his bride took a cordial leave of their kind hostess, who shed abuu- j dant tears over the parting. She had become j warmly attached to Mary during their so- j journ together, and it was a great disappoint-1 ment to lose her, after her secret expectation i of retaining her permanently as her companion. Fortunately, however, she was too constantly busy to he lonely. Her hands were : so full of her patients and of her labors in ! their behalf, that she had no leisure to be-1 moan herself over any disappointment, how-1 ever great. The Dacres reached Mossgrove in safety,; and were joyfully welcomed by their sable de pendants, who.-e pleasure at their arrival was j greatly enhanced by the di.-covery that Mary, to whom they were all warmly attached, was now really their young mistress. Atid though the days were near at hand when the tie be- I tweeu owners and slaves was to be rudely j severed, the threat of such a contingency, which even then overshadowed them, did not j prevent her now from feeling a sentiment of joy that these humble friends should accord j her so true a welcome to the chief place in i their master's home. CHAPTER XXT. Of course it is almost unnecessary to state i that Colonel Dacre and Mary lived a harmo nious and happy life; the difference in their ages proving no harrier to this fact, but in their case rather strengthening the bond between them. It caused Mary to look up with entire confidence, and that feeling of dependence which it is so pleasant to a man to awaken in the breast of a woman he loves, to the one upon whom she had so long beeu accustomed to rely. She put implicit faith in his judgment, and was ready to yield, in the slightest particular, to his will. On the other hand, the Colonel regarded her almost with the sort of protecting tenderness that he would have accorded to a child. He treated her with unbounded indulgence and consideration, and would have considered no sacrifice too difficult to make for the sake of adding to her happiness. One evening, as they were sitting in the library, after tea, the recollection of what Maurice Cleveland had said to her about the Colonel's first love, suddenly flashed over her mind. "Bv the way, Brentwood," she said (not withstanding the disparity of years between them, she had fallen quite naturally into the habit of calling him by his Christian name), "by the way, Brentwood, you have never given me the history of that charming picture over the cabinet. I know that it is a portrait, and that it has a history; but that is all that I do know about it." "And who told you that it had a history ?" asked the Colonel, smiling. "Somebody whom you don't particularly like me to mention." "Ah ! I understand. That somebody no doubt had a special motive in giving you this piece of information. Well, it has a history, my dear, of a certain sort, inasmuch as it is the likeness of one for whom I had a tender feeling once upon a time, in the days of my youth?before you, little one, had even opened your blue eyes upon this sinful world. Shall I tell you about her ?" "Of course you shall," said Mary. "It does seem odd to think of your having been in love with anybody before I was born !" "Doesn't it ? But you forget what an old fellow I am. Nellie Harding and I were playmates from our babyhood, and sweethearts as far back as I can remember. She was a wilful, merry-hearted little thing, and I was always a slave to her wishes and commands. We grew up in close intimacy, and our friendship never slackened with advancing years. I think in my heart I had always cherished the idea of making her ray wife; but still as time went on, and childhood merged into youth, and youth was passing by, I said nothing to her of love, but waited still, and let matters take their course. By and by came somebody else upon the scene? her cousin, Blanche Harding, whose father aud mother had lately died, leaving her to the care of Nellie's parents. She was older thrtn Nellie, and?and different looking : dif ferent disposition too. That's her picture up there, as, of course, you kuow." The Colonel paused a moment here, and Mary gazed reflectively up at Blanche's portrait, which returned the gaze with coldlysmiling pale-blue eyes. "Matters come Hhout oddly enough sometimes," pursued Colonel Dacre. "I am sure, when poor Blanche first arrived, no thought of her ever supersediug Nellie in my regard entered my brain?in fact such a thing would have seemed impossible. Not that I had any cause to do otherwise than like her, for to me 3he always appeared in an amiable light. But Nellie and I, you know, were such old friends. Well, I don't know how it was, that after Blanche came, Nellie got cooler and more distant in her manner to me. I used to fan cy that, perhaps, her cousin teased her about me, and that made her more guarded. At any rate, she seemed to avoid ever being left alone in my company; and whenever I asked her to walk, or to ride, or to go boating, Blanche was always of the party too. And so it happened, after a while, that she and I grew almost as intimate as Nellie aud I had been ; particularly when Nellie fell sick, as she did one autumu, and was laid aside for some weeks, during which Blanche and I were thrown more together than ever. Then when Nellie got well, she seemed more reserved even than before, and I left off trying to win her back to her old ways. I fancied she did not like me, and was too proud, or too stupid, or something, to ask her for any explanation. That very winter?the winter after Nellie's sickness, I mean?Blanche and I got engaged ; and we were married early in the spring." Here the Colonel paused again, and cleared his throat. "Go on," said Mary. "Well, we were married?aud that's about the end of my story, I believe," said the Colonel. "Nonsense. That isn't the end," said Mary, decidedly. "What became of Nellie y" "Oh ! she married too, pretty soon after. knr.U^n/1 wuo on T?n/?lJoKmQn a vnnrur li CI 1IU3UU1IU uao au iJUgiicuuiata t? fellow, whom she met quite accidentally at some watering-place; a very nice fellow too, I believe. She went to England with him, and then he got some Colonial office and was sent out to India, and there she died." "And how did you come to have her likeness ?" asked Mary. "That was copied from a small picture she had given Blanche. I had the two portraits, mv wife's and hers, painted at the same time. That was just a whim of mine, you know," explained the Colonel, "Yes, sir, no doubt?a very nice little whim, to have the portrait of a pretty girl you were in love with hung up in your library," said Mary. "Opposite my wife's, please to remember." "That's all very well," said Mary. "Really, I don't know whether to be jealous or not." "Jealous of a picture, my dear?" "Oh ! 110, not of a picture." "Jealous of somebody who died when you were?let me see?about one year old, or less." "It Mould be rather foolish, I suppose." "I rather think it would," said the Colonel, who had got his arm around Mary now, and had drawn her very close to his side. "Besides, remember that after all it was only a sort of visionary romance. I wag fond of her, certainly, at oik- time, but I do not know whether she ever gave me auything but friendship in return?I never even asked her. And then recollect my married life afterwards." "When was it that you traveled about so much ?" asked Mary. "Then?after I married, I mean. My first trip abroad was made eighteen months afterwards." "Did she?Blanche?go with you ?" "No," said the Colonel, gravely. "She preferred staying at home." Mary felt that this was a topic which even she had best leave untouched, and asked no more. But it came to her mind, with a feeling of comfort, that of the Colonel's first wife, or rather of her memory, she certainly had no cause to be jealous. The Colonel did not recover his strength sufficiently to resume his command in the j field ; but being unwilling to remain idle i while he could in anyway serve his country, he got himself* assigned to an office of trust nearer home, where he discharged his duties with earnestness and fidelity as long as his services were rec uired. The following year witnessed the close of the war, and its disastrous accompaniments, entailing distress and ruin upon so large a majority of our people. The Colonel's own property, with the exception of his house and lands, was swallowed up in the general wreck, and so was a considerable portion of his wife's. A part of her fortune, however, he had, while in the capacity of her guardian, invested in foreign securities, and with this they were enabled to live in comfort, and maintain their establishment, though, in order to help others, they dispensed with many of the luxuries which they had formerly enjoyed. A number of the old family servants remained on their place, among them the faithful old Jeffrey, whose attachment to his master was too strong to permit any adverse influence to part them. C'cesar Augustus, too, remained, and continues to the present day to exercise his functions as head-gardener ; and the lawn at Mosslands is as smoothly mown, and the flowers bloom as gaily about the doors, as when Mary first admired their trim beauty. In fact, on visiting the place, you would not suppose that the ravages of war had ever affected its owners; but many a private act of self denial, many a charily unpublished to the world, limits the gratification of their own tastes and desires, though bringing with it a truer pleasure, a more substantial satisfacI tion, than mere self-indulgence ever could afford. Maurice Cleveland returned to his profession after the war, and continues to lead a desultory bachelor life, partaking of all the amusement going, and aiming, apparently, at nothing in particular but his own entertainment. The Colonel has long since pardoned him for his ill conduct; but Maurice is shy of both Mary and himself, and there is but little intercourse between them. Adelia is wedded to a !New Yorker, the brother of the Mr. Scott with whose family she stayed as governess for some time prior to the close of the war. She has wealth at her command, and is, consequently, happy. Her mother still lives at home, but she supplies her with various comforts, and consoles herself thus?if she needs such consolation?for the neglect of which she has been guilty toward her parent for so many years past. She has ceased to correspond with Mary. Their paths in life are widely apart, their aims and tastes totally uncongenial, and she has no longer any object in flattering her once bosom friend. The Colonel does not regret this cessation of intercourse, as she is not a person whom he admires. He says he supposes that she considers him in her debt, for the information she gave him concerning Maurice's behavior at Mosslands; but as her motive in telling him the tale was probably rather a feeling of persoual anger towards the offender than anything else, he does not consider the obligation on his part very great. The Dacres' life flows on tranquilly. Probably no striking events will again occur to disturb its peaceful routine. Mary is a busy matron, occupied with household affairs. Her four children, too, keep her fully employed, for she educates them herself, and is very particular about their bringing-up. The Colonel looks younger than formerly, in spite of some additional gray hairs, and a more contented husband and father probably does not exist. Perhaps one of these days, reader, you may visit them at Mosslands, or meet them elsewhere, and then you will not wonder that I have thought them of suffi cient importance to make them the subjects of a story. Though, probably, what I have told you about them, would have interested you more, had it been written by a more accomplished hand. THE END. f$ti5C?U?Be<iH5 fteafling. CAPTAIN MARTIN SCOTT. The Most Expert Marksman of his Day. One of the most widely known men of any time?his name being embalmed in the heart of an imperishable anecdote?is Captain Martin Scott. And yet but little is known of his life. He is the hero of the "coon story." The tradition runs that this story first appeared in a country paper of New York State in about 1846. It was in substance as follows: Captain Scott and a party of friends were out hunting. They were scattered through the woods, each hunting separately. One of the party at length caine upon a raccoon that was sitting in the highest branches of a very tall tree. He fired at him and missed, One by one the rest of the party came up and fired, each one missing the too remote coon. At length Captain j Scott arrived, and was in the act of pulling trigger, when the coon looked around the limb and said: "Who are you?" "I'm Scott." What Scott ?" "Captain Scott." "Are you Captain Martin Scott?" "The same." "Well, then," said the coon, unlimberiug himself, "you needn't shoot; I'll come down." Martin Scott was, from his earliest days, a ?..,i Wkllo renuil KiUll) 1I1IU JJISLUI turn nui; CIIUU IT iiiiv plowing in the field one day he received a letter, which enclosed him his commission as ensign in the United States Army. He had never applied for this position, apd to the day of his death never anew how it came to he tendered to him. He accepted it, however, and was soon famous throughout the whole army as the best shot of his day. Upon the authority of Col. B. R. Marcy, U. S. A., to whose admirable information I am greatly indebted, 1 will give a sample of his shootiug. A playing-card, with a spot about the size of a dime, was tacked upon a tree seventy-five yards distant. Captain Scott then took a muzzle loading squirrel rifle and proposed to see how quickly he could load and fire three times. He began, and in one minute and twenty seconds hud loaded and fired three times. Of course this was very quick work, allowing hardly any time for aiming. The firing was almost instantaneous. When Colonel Marcy went to examiue the target he found one hole exactly in the centre of the hull's eye. He remarked, however, that the other two shots had missed the target entirely. Captain Scott smiled, called for i an axe, split the log and found the three balls ! imbedded in the single hole. These shots j were all off-hand. Colonel Marcy says that he has seen officers who vouched for the truth of the following, having seen Captain Scott do it. He would take two potatoes, and ; throwing them into the air successively would put a pistol-ball through both of them as they crossed in the air, one going up and one coming down. A DUEL WITH A DEAD SHOT. The first duel in which Captain Scott was i engaged was under the following circumstances. He was stationed on the frontier, at a military post of Council Bluff. The officers j were, the most of thera, fond of a social glass j and addicted to card playing, and they con- j sidered a man who abstained entirely irom r.ke indulgences as wanting in the proper spirit. Captain Scott never drank a glass of liquor and never played a game of cards, and while he was very liberal in his intercourse with his brother officers, was exceedingly parsimonious in his own personal expenses. The officers around him took umbrage at this, and gradually withdrew from all intercourse with him, until he was absolutely put into Coventry by all save three of his associates in arms. He submitted for a long time to the insults and persecutions, and then held a council of war with his three friends, to determine as to what was best to be done. They informed liira that only two alternatives remained for him? one was to throw up his commission and the other was to challenge the first man that should insult him. He readily chose the latter course, and his determination became known throughout the post. His skill as a marksman and his undoubted nerve protected him for a good while, no one caring to needlessly risk an encounter with him. At length, however, an officer from a neighboring post, who was a celebrated shot and had brought down his man in some half-dozen duels, was sent for. He came over, and on his arrival took the first opportunity to insult Captain Scott. The insult was given at mess-table, and a challenge immediately followed. In j telling of the duel afterward, Captain Scott said he went to the ground considerably agitated. Being utterly opposed to dueling he had determined to throw away his fire. Just about that time he accidentally overheard hi3 antagonist say that he had a very disagreeable job on hand that morning, viz.: the "shootinrr nf a r 1 ? rl Vnnlr^o " Thia rnicipr) f^nnfrfliri Scott's indignation, and he determined from that moment to punish his opponent. When the word was given the men fired together. Captain Scott received a slight flesh wound and sent a ball whizzing through his opponent's lungs. It is mentioned as a curious fact that this shot saved the man's life. He had the consumption before the duel, and recovered afterward?it being said that the wound he received stopped the course of the disease. I hesitate, however, to recommend thisas an inevitable cure for the consumption. It is a remedy, however, that is apt to either cure or kill. ALMOST LAUGHED INTO A DUEL. Captain Scott came very near having another duel on the most ridiculous grouuds. He was a great sportsman, and a perfect stickler for all the technicalities of sporting lore. He would get into a passion at hearing any one call a line of geese "a flock" of geese, or a bevy of quails "a brood" of quails. On one occasion he organized a grand hunt. The game was jackass rabbits. A great many visiting officers were present, and Scott had taken great pride in having the hunt conducted on the strictest principles. He had rehearsed the home officers, and had instructed them that when a rabbit ran from cover they should all give the view-hallo, "Tally-ho!" Among the officers was a Captain B n, who was an inevitable practical joker. The hounds were loosened and taken into the woods and soon opened musically?every man at his post on tiptoe of anxiety to catch the first glimpse of the expected game. Sudflpnlv riflfir thp stand nf Cnniain B n. out bounded an enormous mule with twenty dogs in full cry, at her heels. In this critical moment, Captain B n roared, at the top of , his voice, "Sally, whoa ! Sally, whoa ! Sally, ] whoa!" The ridiculous cry was taken up, and the whole field burst into uncontrollable , laughter. Captain Scott was violently en raged, and it took all that the friends of the parties could do to prevent his calling the , practical joker out. Captain Scott was atterward killed while leading his command forward in a most desperate battle of the ( Mexican war.?Philadelphia Times. BREAD OR BLOOD. 1 THE COMMUNE IN RICHMOND DURING THE WAR. ] Major John W. Daniel gives the following ( graphic account of the appearance and oper- i ations of communists in Richmond during the war, and how they were suppressed: i When Harper's Ferry was captured at the j beginning of the war, all the available ma- t chinery for the mauufacture of arms was ta- | ken to Richmond. Hundreds of workmen j and their wives and daughters had been em- . ployed in the arsenals and machine shops, j anil they followed the machinery to the capi- ( tal in search of employment. They got it. | For a time they were regularly paid in good money, and everything moved smoothly. But i us the currency depreciated they began to suffer. The money received by the workmen . would not support their families. As the war ' progressed, Confederate notes became almost valueless. Grant had his haud on the throat nf thn Pl.-m forlornr>u ol Pofor?ilmrnr Th P Wfl OTPS of the workmen would not purchase food for 1 their families. They protested, but in vain. < They were too patriotic to organize a revolu- ' tion. Their women, however, formed a secret society based on communistic principles. ' They seem to have held that their husbands ' were working for the Confederacy aud that i the Confederacy was the only safety of the grocers and shopkeepers. Without clothing i and provisions their husbands and sous must i stop work. This would cut off necessary mu- ] nitions and supplies, the government would s fall, and all would be involved in one common ruin. To avoid this, a general division < of food and clothing must be made. The i wives and daughters of laborers and mechan- s ics throughout the capital generally joined in J the movement. 1 While standing in Main street one morning the Major witnessed an extraordinary i scene. Hundreds of women suddenly ap- < peared. The broad avenue was filled with ^ them. -They came filing iu from the cross t streets by platoons, and began to sack the i stores, Hollow eyed and gaunt with hunger, nobody dared resist them. A crowd of men t hung upon the outskirts, offering no interfer- ( ence and expressing no sympathy for the shopkeepers. The women took the stores iq t line, one after the other. They proceeded i systematically. The goods were piled upon \ i v i J ? I r 1 _ I I wagons qrawn ny norses driven uy ienuue i sympathizers. Not a word was spoken. The work was done with terrib e earnestness, i When the mob entered the grocery a certain t percentage of them piled the goods upon the 1 outstretched arms of the others, and they were borue to the Btreets and dumped into 1 the wagons. The women had it all their own i way. Neither soldiers nor police were in 1 sight. Meanwhile the crowd increased. Oth- I er women heard what was going on. and i flocked to Main street for a share of theplun- s der. Not a man joined them, and for a long 1 time no one made an effort to stop them. At ( last Congressman Baldwin, of Virginia, i jumped upon a dry goods box and made an I impassioned appeal for law and order. He might as well have talked to the wind. No one paid the least attention to him. The women went on with their sacking, and the bystanders drowned Baldwin's voice with their whoop3 and cheers. "While I was gazing at the scene," said the Major, "I saw a captain of an Alabama regiment, with whom I had a slight acquaintance. We were both in uniform. We agreed that something ought to be done to restore order and stop the robbery. At his suggestion we stationed ourselves at the door of a store already overrun. In a few seconds a virago tried to pass us. I can see her now. Her cheeks and lips were red, but she had a pinched, starved look, and an eye like a hawk. She carried in her arms a half dozen bars of yellow soap, a piece of dress silk, a long box of stockings, and some raisins and herrings. I said: "Madam, I beg your pardon; but you are forgetting yourself. These goods are not yours. You have not paid for them, and you will not be permitted to leave this store with them." "She looked at me," said the Major, "in a mild way, as though endeavoring to comprehend what I said, and then went to the counter and threw down the goods. As she came she deliberately took me by the arm and slung me from her with such force that I went spinning around like a top, and struck the front of the building so hard that it took the breath out of me. Then she quietly gathered up her load from the counter and walked out. The Alabama captain looked at me and laughed, but kept his hands in his pockets and said nothing. I told him I thought we were out of place, and he nodded. We concluded after that to remain simple spectators. Meanwhile the women were approaching the Jews' quarter. The Hebrews were credited with great wealth. It was said that they had made barrels of money out of the Confederacy, and the female communists went at them without a qualm of conscience. Moses and Isaac, however, had heard what was going on above and tried to protect themselves. 1 iney put up tneir snutters, oarricaaea tneir doors, ran up stairs and watched the proceedings from the second story windows. But the women were not dismayed; while some of them ran for axes, others found a long piece ' of scantling and used it as a battering ram. 1 The first door flew open amid the cheers of the i outsiders, followed by a wail of sorrow from the Jews. "Oh! mine Kott! mine Kott! 1 ish ruined ! I ish ruined !" was the cry. But they made no further defense. Indeed, it would have been dangerous for them to attempt it, for if one of the female robbers had been hurt, the crowd of husbands and brothers would surely have avenged it. "And so," said the Major, "the spoliation continued. At last a rumor ran through the street, 'the Governor is coming.' It proved true. Down the hill came Governor Letcher, accompanied by his staff and a few friends. He ascended a cart and made a speech, which had as much effect as such speeches usually have. The mob of women kept steadily at work, and the Governor pumped himself dry without the least effect. The crowd on the outskirts opened respectfully for him to pass out, and the Jews mourned more pitifully than ever. The women pitched in with renewed vigor, and shawls, sugar, poplins, bottles of pickles, ribbons, washing soda, muslins and bags of hominy were pitched in the wagons at the door. Then a second rumor spread over the crowd. The President was coming. This also proved true. President Davis 11 n .1 . i r? 11 ii n rone aown rrom me capuoi, ionowea ny captain Gay, with a hundred of the guards. He mounted a wagon, and everybody was silent. I had seen him several times, but had never heard him speak. So I forced my way within ten feet of him, and stood spellbound. It was the most eloquent speech I ever heard, i Tall and slender, he swayed with emotion like 1 the willow in the wind. His words were carefully chosen. He spoke of his experience in ; the Mexican war, and, while expressing his deepest sympathies with the sorrows and sufferings of the children of the Confederacy, i sternly maintained the necessity for law and order." The Major heard that many of the women 1 stopped pillaging, and gathered at a distance I listening to the words that they could catch. 1 At the close of the speech the President took i out his watch and gazed at it long and ear- J uestly. < " 'Captain Gay,' said he, 'order your men s to load with ball and cartridges' " The order was obeyed, and the ringing of ramrods was heard. The crowd began to give i way. i " Captain Gay,' said the President, still 1 looking at his watch, 'if this 6treet is not cleared within live minutes, order your men i to fire down Main street until it is cleared.' " I "Mr. Davis rode away. Within three minutes there was not a soul in sight but the 1 guards. The mob funneled itself into the 1 ride streets. Those nearest the President pave the information to those in front, and rushed < against them with the force of a wave. "They 1 are going to fire!" The words were heard by the pilferers in the stores. They knew the character of Jefferson Davis, and they knew the reputation of old Captain Gay. Where Diivia would not flinch from giving an order, Gay would not flinch from obeying it. The women dispersed as suddenly as they came, and that was the end of the female commune. They never held another meeting." THE YITALITYTfTHE SHARK. During the spring of the year, 1862, when the war was in progress, a number of army officers left Boston in the new sailing ship 'Merchant" for a voyage on Ship Island. Among the passengers were Dr. Hooker, Lieutenants Prince and Emerson, and the writer ; and we all witnessed the scene I am ibout to describe. Early one morning, Dr. Hooker called from the deck to us btlow that a shark was following the ship. We took this to be a practical joke and did not move from our state rooms. But when we did go upon deck, about six a'clock, we looked over the stern to the ship ind there saw an enormous, shovel-nosed shark following us, but keeping his distance ibout two hundred feet. Every person on Doard was called to look at the huge fish. The old sea captain said it was no unusual ncident to have a shark follow a ship for an mtire voyage. They subsist largely on the vasle matter thrown overboard; and, as they ire very fast swimmers, can always keep up ,vith a vessel. < It was proposed by Captain Lewis, one of ,he captains on board, to make an effbrt to japture him. We threw into the ocean pieces of bread md other articles of food, and were greatly nterested to see him eat them. The ship vas searched -but there was not a harpoon to le found ; there was not even a shark hook, rhe prospect of capturing this great fish was lot very bright, until Captain Lewis proposed ,o make a noose and lower it down into the vater, and thus entangle him. But Sir Shark kept away from the rope. [ then proposed to put a piece of pork big as ny hand, on a common fish line, and by a ittle maneuvering of the the bait induce the ish to pass his head into the noose. But he vas very cautious and would uot near the ship when I lowered the piece of pork, until ;wo little pilot fish, that rode on his back, one m each side of the great fin, came forward and nspected the bait, theq returned and took ;heir places, They had barely time to finish this action when the shark swam under the stern of the ship, and, opening his ponderous jaws attempted to take the bait. But I held it just above his nose, noting he possessed no power to leap or jump up as many fish do. I also watched with curious interest the pilot fish, which, having performed their office, were now quietly clinging beside the fin of his back. While Captain Lewis was preparing a noose tuKioli ttoa fn Ko alinnor) flia aKorlr'a TTIUUU TIUO IV UV VVV& bUU OUM1U Q head, I asked about the pilot fish. "Every shark has one," said the captain, "and sometimes two; and when the shark is without one he is shy and will seldom approach very near a ship." These pilot fish seemed to be five or six inches long, and of a yellowish-brown color, having longitudinal aark stripes on their sides and resembling much the perch of New England ponds. It seemed strange that so powerful a fish should place so much dependence on such insignificant creatures. The captain again lowered his rope, but the current of water drew it aside and the attempt to entrap the fish was again a failure. Then, some one suggested holding the noose open by retaining the "bite" in hand, and when the shark put his head over the rope in order to get at the pork still dangling from the end of the little line, to let the noose drop and pull away at the end till the large rope tightened around his body. Tbis was tried, but the shark slipped out. He was, however, so hungry that he immediately returned, and the maneuver was repeated, and with success, the second time. The moment Captain Lewis got the noose around his body, eight or ten persons pushed away at the rope, and it was nardly a minute before it began to tighten around the shark's body, and, as it did so, it slipped down to his tail; and when he felt it getting unrrtmfrtrffthlc titrVif. hp naiH nn mnrp flttpntinn vv?v.?-wV -w ? VM,"VM to the bait, but turning slightly gave one flap with his mighty tail that nearly took the whole of us overboard. Captain Lewis, with the rapidity almost of thought, made a turn of the rope about a fastening, but so powerful was the fish that he seemed to retard the movement of the ship, if not to drag her backwards. A large number of men now got hold of the rope and succeeded in drawing him out of the water, and left him suspended under the stern. After the shark had time to expire?for he never stirred after being pulled out of the water?the sailors hitched a tackle to him and swung him around to the side of the ship, where he remained until nearly noon-time, when the sailors got permission to open him and take out the blubber, which is charged with oil that is extremely serviceable about a ship. This was found to contain several pailsful of oil. After dinner, one of the passengers, Dr. Hooker, signified his desire to have the jaws of the shark as a memento of the unusual scene. So the great creature was drawn on deck and iL. 1..1 _ /r me rope laaen on. Scarcely was this done, when, instead of being dead, he was found to be so thoroughly alive that he cleared the deck of men in two moments; for as he commenced his contortions and twisting about the deck, we all scampered to places of safety. His vitality struck us with wonder and alarm. He had hung on the outside of the ship, in the broiling sun, during more than half a day. He had been despoiled of a portion of his vitalizing apparatus ; yet now, after we had supposed him dead for hours, we found him able to keep the whole ship's crew at bay. The men soon commenced hostilities, but still for a long time he was able to maintain himself agaiDst great odds. He bent his body and with surprising strengtn threw himself from side to side; and, as he did so, he opened his huge jaws and barely missed from time to time, seizing our legs. He showed successive rows of sharp teeth, and by the aid of his cartilagenous tail, he turned forward and backward and obliquely along the deck, and really seemed empowered with a million lives. For two full hours did the battle contiuue. At last a thrust through the heart was the finishing touch. He gave one spring, twisting his body powerfully, and fastened his great jaws on a spare spar that was lashed at the side of the deck; and, afterwards, we found it hard to disengage his grip, and could mily do so by tearing out splinters from the 3par. We found he measured fifteen feet in length. The two doctors on board were ardent physiologists, and they did not desire to let such an opportunity slip to obtain an increase of knowledge. So they began their investigations by examining many parts of the shark, and they Snally removed nis heart. The fact about to be recorded is properly touched for, and yet it seems almost incredible. Although the shark was dead and emptied )f blood, yet his heart, when removed from bis body and resting on the deck, kept up its contractions for a period of from twenty minjtes to half an hour, just the same as when in place, and performing its office of pumping the blood to the various parts of the body. This wonderful power seems to be in harmony with the belief of some scientists, who jay the heart possesses a nervous centre and power over its own life, separate and distinct from the brain, for the protection of life in limes of accident.? Wide Awake. The Administration Cow.?Passing through the White House grounds yesterday, [ saw the cow that furnishes the administration with milk. For be it known that the id ministration keeps four horses, but only ene single solitary cow. President Grant bought his milk ready made, but Mr. Hayes, who is of a more economical turn of mind, has it made on the premises. The aforesaid cow is an animal of some consequence to the nation; for as a man's humor is affected by his bile, and his bile is affected by the milk he drinks, so, if this cow should sour Mr. iiayes stomach, he might, in some way, make us feel it. It is not a pretty specimen of a cow, being rather lantern jawed than othprwise, lop-sided, and with "crumpled horn," but in view of its intimate relations to the administration's bowels, it is an interesting cow, aevertheless. But she ought to be kept away from the garlic patches, or there may be ;rouble in the country.? Washington Letter. The report of the National Department )f Agriculture for 1877, now in course of publication, states that the yield of wheat in he United States for the year was 360,000,)00 bushels, or 50,000,000 more than was ever pefore produced. Deducting the amount nelessary for home consumption in food and ieed, upwards of 110,000,000 can be spared 'or export. The acreage of winter wheat for L878 is greater than that for 1877. The corn product was 1,300,000,000 bushels; with corresponding yields of corn and potatoes. ? A Pretty Compliment.?It was one of ,he prettiest compliments in the world that a ittle seven-year old Milwaukie boy paid his nother the other evening. The family were liscussing, at the supper table, the qualities vbich go to make up a good wife. Nobody hought the little fellow had been listening, or :ould understand the talk, till he leaned over Via talila anrl Viocnr) Via mntVor ans? onirl I WW MIVIV UtIU AIOOVU A* to UiUVUVi) uuu BMIU 'Mamma, when I get big enough, I am going ;o marry a lady just like you. Wouldn't you narry me, mamma ?"