Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, November 14, 1878, Image 1

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lewis m. grist, proprietor. J ^n |nitepeniient Jfamilg Jtetospaper: Jfor fjje promotion of t|e political, Social, ^griculfnral anb Commercial Interests of t|c j5onf|. TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 24. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1878. NO. 46. 1 " ? ? i -? .? _ . J I 1 J ?he Jforg lellet. DANDYFERGUSON. A MINER'8 8T0RY. I do not believe that Quasomodo was a j more pitiably deformed creature, or Quilp a more hideously unnatural-looking object, than was Dandy Ferguson, when I saw him for the j first time, that calm summer aftemooD, laughing and joking with a crowd of boon companions, in the cool shade of an awning at Quartz Mountain. His face was seamed and distorted by peculiarly glossy scars?the ineradicable evidence of close and long contact with that shriveling element, fire. His body was bent, and he walked with a sliding movement. He was a sickening spectacle at first sight, suggesting fearful suffering in the past, and my curiosity in regard to him was thoroughly aroused. "Who is that man ?" I asked, accosting a tall, blue-shirted miner who was standing in front of the post office. "Don't you know him ?" answered the man ; "nhy that is Dandy Ferguson. I thought everybody koowed Dandy Ferguson." "Why do they call him Dandy Ferguson ?" "Because?well, because he used to be a dandy?a regular out-and out sport. When Dandy Ferguson first came to this camp, be was a gilt-edged gentleman and no mistake. He wore a plug, an' flashed a spark in his biled shirt-front as big as a peanut. He put on more dog 'n a mine superintendent, an' most of the boys were down on him from the start. That was about three years ago,an' become up here from the Bay to get a whiff o' fresh air, an' make -nature an' the pines give him back what he'd lost spreein' 'round with them sharps an' young bloods o' Frisco. "No, be don't look like he was more'n half human, that's a fact; but I'd ruther have them scars o' his than wear the clothes of the richest man in Californy, that is, if I'd gone through what he has an' suffered what he did. Proud of 'em ! Mister, there ain't a man in this yere county?no, sir, uor in this yere State?as is prouder'n Dandy Ferguson of what other men might grieve over an' sigh about, an' no man's got a better right to be Eroud, either. When he first came to Quartz lountaiu, he used to parade the streets with his nose cocked up so ; he'd hydraulic himself with pat chouly an' smell-water till you couj J not get within a mile of him. He was a delicate-looking cuss, an' his hands were as soft 1 r"? i 1 L.i ii.i :r as a earners. loe ooys useu iu uei mat u Big Bridget Sullivan?our washer-woman? was to take it into her head to jump him, she would knock spots out o' him in derned short order. That was our opinion of him when he played his small cards in this yere camp?hut be showed down both bowers an* the ace before he quit the game, you bet yer life. D'ye see that quartz mill over thar on the side hill ? That's the Chapparral mine, you know, an' it's thar that Dandy Ferguson showed us what sand was. "Oae night, about a month after Ferguson got here, somebody out there yelled 'Fire!' an' the camp turned out. The h'istin' works was in a light blaze, and the flames shootin' high up in the dark. We all rushed to the spot like a pack o' wild animals?you know how a fire stirs men up an' excites 'em. Of course, nobody knowed what to do, an' for a minute we all stood round lookin' at the Are creepin' along the eaves, an'the burnin' shingles droppiu' down the shaft. Purty soon some one says,' What!' kinder sharp an' fierce like. Then there was a little movement in the crowd, an' a man as pale as death springs away from the mouth o' the shaft yellin' frantic,'Water! Water 1 For the love o' God turn on the water?the night shift's in the lower drift.' "There was an awful agony in that man's voice ; he had jist remembered that his brother was down there, an' that the fire under the biler of the engine was banked, that the cage was too heavy to work by hand, and the timbers in the shaft pitch pine, an' dry as a bone, with great sparks droppin' down like flakes in a snow storm. You've heerd how fast a man thinks in times of danger. Jim Slocum thought of his brother, the dry timbers, the nana an' water nil in A UprnnH BUg.UW, ?UV ?" ? ? but that was all. He didn't bev time to think of the fact that there wasn't a bar'l o' water within a mile o' the mine. 'Somebody rushed up to the tank?there was about a tubful there. The fire was playin' around the biler, and the engineer had turned the safety cocks to let that out. They all rushed every which way, yellin' fur ropes, ladders, anything?as ef ladders could reach down two hundred feet to where the men were. They were clean gone with excitement, an' didn't know what to do, an' the fire roarin' an' cracklin' like the devil's own blaze. "Some rushed one way an' some another, while some of them stood staring into the hot black smoke an' yaller fire, dazed, scared, helpless. Quicker'n it takes a man to tell it, a man jumped through the door of the histin' works an' caught hold of the chains. His coat and bat were gone, an' he looked like an angel?almost?as he swung over the shaft iu bis white frilled shirt an' his long, yaller hair. "It was Dandy Ferguson. "He didn't wait fur nobody, but jammed a big scantlin', that two men couldn't a lifted, down over the shaft. Then he yelled fur a rope, an' told some men near the door to fetch him the old win'lass that was lyin' outside, near the dummy. "You never see men work like they did as soon a9 ther was a head. The rope an' the win'lass was brought into the works on a i jump, an' fastened to the scantliu.' Down went the rope an' Ferguson shootin' after it. 'I'm here, boys, an' I'll stay till I roast.' Then he grabbed the crank an' spun the rope i round the bar'l faster'n it ever was rolled be- ' fore. He used one hand first, an' when she j tightened, he laid the other on. "Si Holden wanted to help him, but he ' wouldn't hev no interferance. 'Time enough,'! says Ferguson, 'when I drop.' It wasn't long before a half naked body came up, an' they got the rope off as quick as they could, draggin' Harry Miller out of the works more ! dead'n alive, tremblin' like a leaf. They ! thought at the time that he was scared at the ' danger he'd been in, an' didn't notice how ! much exhausted he was, but they found out i a J_ .t? * L-'J _i 1 :? J ! anerwarus luai ue u piajreu it uu?u iu mat i shaft as mean as one man can play it on another at sich a time. "You see there was five of em' in the lower drift, an' when the burning' timbers of the j upper works began to drop down, they all ! made a rush for the main shaft. The cage ; was on, an' they couldn't get out till a rope came down. They could see a flicker of light above, an' yelled till they were hoarse, watching that glimmer growin' brighter'n brighter every minute, an' knowin' that the ahaftin' timber would blaze mighty soon an' cut off all hope of their ever gittin out. It was a terrible thought, an' you can't blame Bill Slocum fur grabbiu' the rope as i soou as it dropped down to 'em. Harry j Miller jumped 'iongside of him yellin : " 'Let go, d?n ye, let go ! They can't lift two of us.' 'Let go yourself,' shouts Slocum, turnin' round on him like a tiger. "'My old mother's up there,' yelled Slocum, pointin' up the shaft. "'My wife's waitin' fur me,' howls Miller. "An' with that he knocks Slocum down iu the drift an' goes up the rope hand over hand before the others could stop him?they would have killed him on the spot if he hadn't climbed the rope as he did. Sarved him right Kerrect mister; they'd a sarved him mighty well an' do mistake, but he beat that game. He'd jist strength enough to tie the slack round his waist when he gave way all at once an' hung to the end of the rope like dead weight, and Daody Ferguson, a haulin' | him out o' the fiery jaws o' death. | "Down went the rope agin, and Slocum was tied on an' hauled up, Ferguson work in' the win'lass like a giant. The cords stood out on bis neck like black-soake whips, an' the sweat poured off him just like a sluice stream. Two Cornishmen stood by him tryin' to make him let them roll up the rope while he rested, but he cussed em' and told 'em to dry up; he said he was at the wheel, an' he'd stay there if he died fur it. When Slocum came up, the fire was all around an' over the win'lass, an' the two Cornishmen grabbed Bill an' carried him out?they couldn't 8tan' tbe neat. Ferguson sent nown the rope agin, an' up come Sam Hildreth, with jist strength enough to make fur the door. The roof over the biler and the pitch on the door-post was smokin*. Jist as the rope went down fur the fourth time, an' we loaGn' round on the outside watchin' every minute to see him drop, an' net a man of us with gumption enough to think of what was wanted, a woman rushes into the fiery furnace an' slings a wet blanket over the bravest, gamest man in the State of Californy. "'That's the ticket,' shouts Ferguson. 'You're a trump, whoever you are, my girl, an' I won't forget ye, live or die.' "An' he didn't. It was Sam Hildreth's sister Maggie, an' when she came out o' the smoke and flame with her dress in a blase, she calls out sharp to the men : " 'Keep the blanket wet. There's water in tbe tank. I'll marry the first man that throws a bucket o' water over Dandy Ferguson?I'll marry him if he's a Chinaman.' "Them's her identical words, mister. The men didn't need no further orders, cause, you see, Maggie Hildreth was the ban'somest girl in the country, an' tbe best, an' bed ev'ry young buck fur miles aroun' close at her heels all the time, handicappin' each other fur smiles. But her brother Sam saved her from them galoots?saved her fur a better man, by wettin' the blanket himself. "About this time the heat was terrible; one man in the drift an' another half way up, crawliu' slowly to the ragiu' furnace on top, crawlin' fast enough in ordinary circumstances, but hardly fast enough with death racin' down on his savior at a two-forty gait When Jack Harmon came out o' the shaft he stood a minute on the scantlin', swayin' back an' forth like a drunken man, blinded by smoke, " * ? " I 1 I, an' bewildered, an' it i? erguson naan i caught him, he'd a gone back again. "Two more of us had got in with buckets o' water?'bout all there was in the tank ; but it seemed to dry off as fast as we poured it on, fur the blankit was sraokin'. When the rope went down fur the last time, to haul up Joe Harper, the scantlin' was burnin', an' the upper timbers was beginnin', to blaze. The wbirlin' smoke hid Ferguson from us, but we knowed if he didn't come out purty soon the whole shebang would give way and bury him ; the sides was in a light blaze, an' the place where the win'lass stood was the only spot where even Dandy Ferguson could a worked. It must a bin an awful strain on him?the last pull?but he never owned it, an' bimehy up comes Joe, the bravest roan in the camp, I reckon, barin' Dandy Ferguson, 'cause, you see, he wouldn't touch the rope till they'd all bin hauled up; be tied every man on except the coward, Miller, an' then came through the burnin' shaft himself, watchin' the little tongues o' fire shoot up from the side every once in a while, as if they'd lick the life-thread in two. "As Joe grabbed the upper chains the shaft lit up with a hiss an' a roar, as if the fire was mad at losing its prey. Joe got out, an' Ferguson staggered away from the win'lass, but his luck went back on him at the last minute. He stumbled an' fell jest as he come to the tramway at the door, an' the whole side o' the buildin' come down on him with a crash. A hundred meu forgot danger an' death, an' rushed into the flames; but Miller, the man who played it so sneakin' mean down in the Baft, got to him first, an' dragged him out. "Every body thought he was dead, an' the crowd carried him and Miller?who drop ped insensible after he'd got Ferguson out? to camp. But Dandy Ferguson lived through it, though fur weeks he lay betwen life an' death, an' fur months he didn't stir out of a dark room. But there wasn't no lack o' help an' prayers an' faithful nurses to bring him round. No, sir; an' there wasn't a man, woman, or child within a hundred miles o' the Chapparral Mine that wouldn't a crawled on their hands an' knees to watch one hour at his bedside, an' thought it one o' the biggest kind o' honors?you ken bet your life on that. Yes, sir ; Dandy Ferguson is a king in this yere country?he's better than four kings most o' the time, 'cause any roan that knows him would lay dowu four aces any day if he held them against Ferguson ; it would be like takin' the advantage, ye see, to hold 'em out on him. He can have anything or do anything he likes. We'd send him to Congress if he'd go, but he wou't. We've got him here, though, an' I guess he'll never leave; I wish I was one o' them poetry writers; I'd write the bulliest poems about Dandy Ferguson you ever read, you hear me. "Yes, he's married. Got married after he came out. "Talk about weddin's ? That teas a weddin'; ev'ry body got an invite, an' ev'ry body piled in to see the gamest man in the State tied to the gamest woman on God's footstool. Who was she? Why, Maggie Hildreth, of course. Who else would it be, I'd like to know? What became of Harry Miller? Well that's purty good. Miller, ye see, came out all right, an' you bet he didn't rest till he begged Bill Slocum's pardon fur leavin' him in the shaft as he did ; but Bill wouldn't have it; said that Miller had balanced accounts by the savin' the life o' Ferguson, the 4 ??? ?/? U J D >t f f Vt n f'o nlona/l UIUU tllttb BttVCU IIAIU Jfuu iiiuij o pioj vu. "You want to know what become of him. Well?say, look here, mister, I don't like to own it, but I'm the cuss?I'm Harry Miller. Interdooceye to Dandy Ferguson? Ofcourse I will, an' you'll never get an interduction to a gamer man, or one it's more honorable to know. "An', mister, if ye ever tell about the Chapparral shaft, an' how Dandy Ferguson stood by that win'lass in the red-hot histin' works, jest throw in somewhere that be is better than four kings in this camp?it'll top off the story fustrate' an', besides, you bet, its no more'n the solid trutb. Is the Circus Immoral??A country editor says, after discussing the question all winter, he comes to the conclusion every spring that the circus is immoral; but wheb the bill poster comes along with the big pictures, his mind changes. He adds: As we gaze at the lions, tigers and monkeys, and think that nature made all of them, we are not sure. And when we look at the beautiful young lady with nothing on but a blue ribbon round her waist, with one leg pointing to six o'clock and the other to high noon, and think that nature made her, too, except the ribbon, we begin to lean up to the circus. But when the brass baud begins to play, and theelephants go round, we rush for a front seat to get in ahead of the deacons, who always wear stove-pipe hats, and won't sit down in front. ! fpswlMMUS fUadrog. For the Yorkvlllc Enquirer. A VISIT TO <<MONTIOELLO.? The heart of every true Southerner swells with emotions of pride at the mention of old Virginia. Around her name cluster unfading halos of both martial and civic glory. Her record of great men equals that of any State, either in ancient or modern history. To her may be aptly applied the poet's language? "Land of the beautiful and brave, The freeman's home, the martyr's grave; The nursery of great men Whose deeds have linked with every glen The magic of a patriot's name." The world delights to honor the memory of - * ? ? * r i a Washington, a JLee, a Henry, a iviaaison, a Marshall and a host of other worthies, among whom we find the name of Thomas Jefferson, that great man who drew up the text book of freedom and placed it before the world to teach it liberty. His name is indissolubly associated with the American "Declaration of Independence," that palladium of liberty which has taken its place beside tbe "Magna Cbarta," the "Bill of Rights" and the "Habeas Corpus Act," as one of the priceless legacies of humanity, one of the boasted jewels of civilization. He was an ornament to his country and a benefactor to bis race. But tbe purpose of the present communication is not to extol tbe virtues of Jefferson, but to tell you of a recent delightful visit made to his home. It is situated in tbe county of Albemarle, Virginia, two miles from Charlottesville, the county seat, on the ftpex of a mountain five hundred and eighty feet high. The top of the mountain, under the supervision of Mr. Jefferson, was leveled for the space of six hundred by two hundred feet, and made circular at each end. Hero, in 1770, he caused a structure to be erected, which was designed by bis own fastidious taste, and which, to the modern observer, presents quite an antique appearance. With its massive balustrades and heavy cornice, it is, externally, of the Doric order of Grecian architecture, and internally, its public rooms are ornately and elaborately finished after the Ionic style. It contains thirty-six rooms and is one story, except the parlor or central room, which is surmounted by an octagonal story with a dome or spherical roof. The house has two porticoes fronting Dearly east and west. There are also subterranean passages, ten feet wide, leading from the hou.-e to the stables, to the kitchen, and to bin offices, whose floors are level with the cellars and whose flat roofs, or terraces, are nearly level with the first floor of the building. He called bis residence "Monticello," a sweet euphonious Dame, which, in Italiao, means "Little Mountain." This may be considered by the casual reader a modest title to be given a mansion situated on so lofty a mountain as is the home of Jefferson. But it is; assuredly indicative of the fact that this great man was devotedly attached to the language of Italy, and especially to the floe arts of which that, country was the cradle. He being a fond admirer of Nature, selected tbis elevated spot as a most desirable one for studying her in all her native simplicity and grandeur. He, doubtless, never had reason to regret bis selection. For from tbis exalted height what wizard landscape beauty, what enchanting mountain scenery, pass in a series of successive views, like an overpowering panorama, before the mental vision. Our standpoint for observation was the lawn, which is a beautiful one, in the shape of an ellipse, shaded here and there by the Dicturesaue linden, which is so much admired by all lovers of rural scenery. From this point, looking eastward, our eager gaze rested upon the placid waters of the smoothly flowing Rivanna, which, after peacefully running for a while, meets with ledges of rock, and dashing itself into foamy spray and whirling eddies, forms hundreds of small waterfalls, which, catching the rays of the setting sun, appear as so many white crested-billows of the sea after a Btorra. Who can see the tiny rainbows enameliug the brows of those miniature cataracts, and as the bubbles fall, see the pearls and jewels reflected in prismatic colors in the foam, without ardently longing for the genius of an artist or the pen of a Wordsworth ? Nature here presents her loveliest, sublimest aspects, and in truth shows "the last ascending footsteps of the God." No dull uniformity prevails. In a northeasterly direction, the smiling valleys, with their variegated beauty, veiled in a shroudlike mist, repose on the broad bosom of mother Earth. Just beyond, flushed in the glory of Sol's departing rays, the mountains stand, and down the forest aisle? "A bird's sweet voice let float upon the air An evening melody of peace and prayer." Yonder, the beautiful Blue Ridge is lifting up its peaks, as if attempting to kiss the azure dome of Heaven; and now, the blue haze is half concealing, yet half revealing, the grandeur of scenery and the vastneas of extent, of that pyramid shaped mountain, "wboBe distance lends enchantment to the view." Aud now, standing in the eastern portico of Monticello and looking through its portals, upon the clear blue sky, with its I A L. ^ Inl ?n?vvn /J n/ilr t n r? fkn LUUUBttlJua Ul tucgtiai gciuo uctaiug tuo ?uuu brow of Night? "Forever singing as they shine, The hand that made us is divine," hinting to my restless spirit of the peace and lustre of the heavenly world, completely lost in reverie, my mind on the verge of ephemeral fancy, soared to an imaginative realm. I will not say that the scenery, as viewed by an observer from "Monticello," has subliraer accompaniments and nobler inspirations than ever rose upon the eye of a gazer from the summit of the Alps or the Appennines; but I do think that for poetic beauty, for delicate inspiration, the scene is as sweet as ever wooed I the eye of a Grecian minstrel on the slopes of Parnassus or around the fountains of Cortalia. The compass in the ceiling of the eastern porch is still intact; and the queer, old fashioned clock, which, so often, in tones unmistakable, warned Jefferson of life's fleeting hours, still faces the rising sun ; but it has long since ceased to tell of old Father Time's rapid flight to Eternity. The eagle, that proud old bird of freedom, may still be seen in the "Reception Hall," of this its mountain home, whose walls were once reverberant with the soundof the mighty Jefferson's voice in advocacy of liberty. The dumb waiter, used in days of "Auld Lang Syne" for the purpose of bringing up wiue from the cellar, is an object of interest to every visitor. After visiting the ball room, and the bed room in which the sage of "Monticello" died, we wended our way to the identical spot where Jefferson, tottering under the weight of years, welcomed* to the hospitalities of his home, his friend, LaFayette, who "was permanently lamed and broken in health by his long confinement in the dungeon of Olmutz." In imagination we saw them bursting into tears as they fell into each other's arms and beard the mournful exclamation, "Ah! Jefferson," "Ah 1 LaFayette." While it is true that the iiame skies sparkle in brightness above the cowering dome of "M( nticello," the same sun during the d?y dwells fondly upon it, the same breezes fan it with their perfumed breath, and the same earth blooms in verdure and beauty around it, as in the days of yore, but else how changed ! Into stranger hands has it fallen, and most sadly is it neglected. "Ichabod" might well be written over the doors. Not far from Monticello, on the side of the mountain, in the mystic shades, under the umbrageous boughs of a favorite oak, lie the remains of Thomas Jefferson. His monument is a si mole one; The pedestal, on which it rests, is to the shape of a cube, three feet high, with no moulding. Il; is surmounted by an obelisk of plain granite six feet high. On one side is the inscription : "THOMAS JEFFERSON." On the other: < "Born April 2nd, 1743, 0. S. Died .July 4th, 1826." It seems to have been his desire to have bis monument hewn from coarse granite, in order that it might be saved from mutilation. But in this he was mistaken ; for already have vandal hands carried away chip by chip of its edges until, instead of being an imposing monument, it is a misshapen column. But he needs no monumental pile to perpetuate his name or tell posterity his fame. For it will go sounding down the ages, and generations yet unborn will hymn forth the praises of "The Author of the Declaration of American Independence," and of "The Father of the University of Va." "Sleep, patriot sleep, no croaking sound Disturbs your still and long repose ; Here in deep silence you have found A safe retreat from all you.r foes." J. M. Mc. University of Va., Nov. 2nd, 1878. MBS. I. A. POLLARD. SOMETHING ABOUT THE WOMAN WHO DIDN'T REMEMBER SHOOTING A DRUGGIST. The following account of Mrs. E. A. Pollard, who was a witness last week in the Vanderbilt will case, is from a recent number of the Chicago Timw : She first appeared in Richmond, in 1862, as the wife of a Mr. Dowelil, who at the time was in charge of the entire telegraph system of the South. Mrs. Dowell was very beautiful and dressed in elegant taste. She was the most fashionable lady in the whole city, and lod a lif? nf continual nleasure. At that time Richmond was somewhat cut off from the outside world, and the inhabitants of the city were in a state of continual excitement and anxiety. All was novelty, coufusion and uproar. The Confederate Congress was there? Senators and Representatives from all over the 8outh and West. aud'They added to the short-lived splendor. In this raging, seething society, Mrs. Dowell was a kind of queen, gone mad with the excitement of the hour. As before saicl, she was beautiful?passingly beautiful?and her admirers were counted by the dozen. They were Generals, Cabinet officers, Senators and Representatives. Tbey had all acknowledged her supremacy and all sought her smiles. As time wore on she grew tired of Dowell and left him. She fell a little below the grade of respectability. About this time an event occurred which forever allied her name with a very prominent politician in Missouri. He was a Representative in the Confederate Congress from Missouri. By chance, the witty Missourian and the enchanting daughter of the South me:t, but it was the coming together of two steels, and there was no conquest on either side, but a mutual dislike. She made a satirical remark to some one about his size ; he retorted with an appropriate repartee. A quarrel sprang up. and wherever they went they were continually saying wicked things about each other. One day, as the little Missourian and a number of his colleagues were standing on the steps of the - i i J tv 11 ~ CapitOI PUUaiDg, lura. JL/u?t;ii ubijjc liijjpiug along. She was dressed in perfect splendor, and looked ra.vishingly beautiful. The witty and caustic little Missouriau dropped a remark, common in the days of slavery, which means that what a woman appears to be she not always i3. Some friendly ear was close by, and some trouble-making tongue went and told her of the slighting comment. She flew into a rage and declared she would disgrace the little man who had cast his iuuendoes at heir. On the following morning, after the opening of the day's session, she wended her way to the capitol, clad in cloak and hood, with a rawbide clasped in her hand. She swept into the hall of Representatives, singled out her victim and flew at bim like a tigress. Down came the merciless - cowhide once, twice, thrice and time and time again. There was no escape from her fury. She was as strong as a giant, and held her prey like a lion strangling a calf. The House was in an uproar, and cries of order from the Speaker were unavailing. When she had wreaked her revenge she quietly turned around to the thunder-struck assembly, and suid she: "Gentlemen, this man publicly said I was not what I appeared to be; I have now shown bim and you that I am good a deal more than what I appear to be." This reckless and audacious act made Mrs. Dowell more notorious, and in the eyes of some she became more enchanting ; but she grew more and more reckless, and one fine morning she weut off to New York city. How she got through the lines was a mystery. In a week or two after her departure her former husband, Mr. Dowell, received a copy of the New York Herald, in which was a notice announcing the death of Mrs. Dowell. The memory of old days came back, and he said he would go and get the body for the sake of the sweet baby they had buried at Petersburg before their love bad been debauched. He weut, and on his arrival at the Astor House met an old friend, to whom he told the sorn y + _ 1 _ rowiui laie. "It is a hoax," said the friend. "It cannot be," said Dowel). "Trace the obituary notice up and see," said the friend. And that be did. He went into the Herald. office and asked for the copy of the advertisement taken on a certain day. The copy was found, and in whose handwriting should it be but his wayward wife's ? It was a hoax, and the telegraph superintendent went back to his home a sadder and wiser man. After a time she, too, returned to Richmond, but the dark days of the dissolution had come, and the brilliant galaxy that once surrounded her were beginning to fade out and seek a safe retreat. She had obtained a divorce in New York, and came back a free woman. Among those who had long worshipped at her shrine was E. A. Pollard, the celebrated author of the "Lost Cause." He pressed his suit, she consented, and they were married. She lived a quiet life for some months, but a bad temper brought ruin to another household, and poor Pollard fled to New York to escape the torment. She followed him in a rage, swearing death and destruction. He hid away in some quiet nook, and, not being able to find bim, she went to a young druggist in the city, who, she had reason to believe, knew where the fugitive was. .1 - t r* if 3 oji !J A. "wnere is mat aog, jronaru i emu ane. "I do not know," said the druggist. "You do," said she. "I do not," saiffbe. "I will make you tell," said she. And at that she drew out a revolver and shot him in the thigh. Xhe wound wa3 not a fatal one, and she was never punished. This was after the war. Pollard went back to Richmond and died, as much of a broken heart as anything else. About 1869 Mrs. Pollard made her appearance in Washington. There she became acquainted with a rich but frail bachelor by the name of Lyon, and obtained from him a long lease of the St. Clould Hotel, just then completed. The hotel was handsomely furnished, and everything connected with it was arranged on a grand scale at Mr. Lyon's expense, so completely was he enthralled. The day the hotel was opened Mrs. Pollard gave a speoial invitation to the press. It hardly seems necessary to say that all of them went. Mrs. Pollard was in semi-military costume, covered with big brass buttons, and, with feer dashing ways and generous hospitality, she won the favor of her guests and got a splendid "send off" in a score or more of newspapers. Poor Lyon was more dazed than ever. The widow seemed to him an enchantress who, if she willed it, could people the new hotel with millionaires. He loved worse than ever, and became intolerably jealous as well. But Lyon was not of her sort; all she cared for him was for bis money, and Bhekept him "on the string," so to speak, until he became embarrassed. Then ensued "lovers' quarrels," breaking of leases, destruction of the business, and, finally, on the part of Lyon, a series of persecutions. His love turned to hate, and he resorted to every device to humiliate her, and at last succeeded in landing her, after one of her frightful fits, in a madhouse. She was not long, however, an inmate of St. Elizabeth. When she got out she started some prodigious stories of cruel treatment by Dr. Nichols and his subordinates, which were probably all false. After this Mrs. Pollard lingered around Washington for a while, and then went on to New York, only to make her reappearance in the Federal city as a lecturer and reciter. She is a woman of native dramatic ability, a writer of fair doggerel poetry, and possesses a sympathetic voice; but somehow she failed to draw, and her backer, a New York man, cut loose, and she was left again to her fate. Fertile of resources, she next turned up in California. A happy thought struck her. She bad read of the 1 troubles of the Chinese on the Pacific slope, | and seeking an introduction to the heads of the Chinese six companies, impressed them with the belief that she could be of great service to them in Washington and some of ' the larger cities East. So she had a lecture written about the Chinese, their wrongs and virtues, which she called "My People," procured ao expensive wardrobe after the patterns and styles of Chinese ladies of the first rank, had a kind of Chinese pagoda or temple built, took a thousand dollars or more of the six companies' money, went on to j Washington, hired Odd Fellows' Hall, and iu the gorgeous apparel described, and stand ing beneath her temple, read her lecture to almost a hundred people. This was last December. She then went South, speaking at different points, and returned to California. This is the briefest outline of her remarkable life and adventures. She is full of action and romance and crazy for notoriety, and her private as well as public life has been one series of sensations from the first. She is of i French extraction on her mother's side, full of dash and nerve, witty and pleasant in 1 conversation, generous to a fault with her ' own and especially with other people's money, loud, but yet never descending to anything 1 like commonplace vulgarity, and is as likely to do something before she dies that will 1 make the world gape at her, as any woman J we know of. HARD TIMES*ABROAD. j If, as the old proverb says, "misery loves ] company," Americans may derive a liberal amount of consolation from the fact that the trials and tribulations embraced under the general name of "hard times", are even more I severe on the other side of the ocean than 1 here. From every country in Europe, France i only excepted, comes complaints of business < stagnation, tight money market, locked up I capital, unemployed labor, bankruptcies large I and small, and all the various legitimate and I and illegitimate results of sharp financial j pressure. France?thanks to the peculiar 1 character of her productions and the indomita- j ble energy and unflagging industry of her people?enjoys a prosperity for which Ger- I many would gladly exchange the empty glo- I ry achieved by the sword. Germany, indeed, I is learning to her sorrow that it is easier to i organize victory in the field than to organize | economy in the several departments of gov- 1 ernment; and that it is quite possible for a 1 victorious nation to become poor, while the t vanquished nation grows rich. The purse in j these days is mightier than the musket, and I the laurels won at Sedan are not half as valu- < able as the wine or silk crop of France. Oth- < ? p er continental communities aresunering irom the same disease which afflicts Germany; a disease so widely spread that it cannot be attributed to mere local causes altogether, but must be regarded as a sort of commercial epidemic?the natural and inevitable consequence of violated commercial laws. But it is in Great Britain, just now, that the bard times are the hardest, are doing the most damage, and promising even worse things hereafter. The daily telegrams from London indicate an excitement in business circles amounting almost to a panic, and the tone of the financial articles in the Times during the past week is more gloomy and discouraging than at any previous period that we remember. Of course some of this is due to the collapse of the Glasgow bank and its disastrous fruits in and out of Scotland ; but if the financial sky were clear elsewhere, the breakdown of a single rotten concern, however destructive to public confidence and private fortunes, would occasion no such general alarm. There are clouds all over that sky, sufficiently dense to rouse the gravest fears. The wholesale reduction in the wages of operatives, and the announcement of other reductions in the immediate future, show that the great manufacturing establishments see the approaching 11 storm and are preparing for it. And the 11 li:_i ?:it iwv i? great raanuiaciuriug esiauuaumtriuo mu uc ? fortunate if they can continue to run on short time and lower wages. Many of thera, it is believed, must suspend operations entirely, and with small prospect of resuming. The fact of the matter is that what has hitherto been the largest and best market for British products, is gradually closing its doors against them?for the simple and sufficient reason of home production. That market is the United States. American genius and enterprise have beaten our British cousins on their own ground. We now supply tbem with as many lines of goods as they supply us, and each year is putting the balance more in our favor. In less than twenty years, if things go on as they are now going, the American mar ket will be practically lost to JbJngland; and i where is she to find another to take its place? 1 The world has no other. It is this change i in the channel of trade which moat disturbs 1 the English mind, and makes the hard times 1 there more hopeless, and therefore harder to 1 bear. In our own case there is abundant room for hope, and when we compare our condition with that of the vast majority of foreign na- 1 tioDalities, there is abundant cause for self- 1 congratulation. We have got through with j the worst of the trouble ; we are nearly, or quite, "down to bed rock," and on that solid foundation we may, by the aid of dear-bought 1 experience, build up a broader, deeper and more enduring prosperity than the country has ever known. And there is cheerful prob- 1 ability that when this prosperity comes, we 1 will have sense enough to appreciate and re- 1 oj T D ..u: Lalll II. AJU JJVUW t - t I From the Columbia Daily Register. I A WORTHY TRIBUTE. j We venture to print the following private i letter from Judge Aldrich to the editor of The Eegister, in which a most fitting and de served tribute is paid to the heroic sacrifice of ; Lieutenant Benner by one of the truest men < in Carolina. Our readers will sanction every i word that is written, and it will be gratifying to receive a more substantial token of their i sympathy for the family of the gallant Boldier, ( who periled his life in the cauBe of humanity, and left behind him the tender love of wife i and little ones, in order that he might be in-. i strumental in furnishing relief to famishing i thousands. The letter of Judge Aldrich is < as follows: Winnsboro, S. C., November 1,1878. My Dear Sir : If all the persons in the State who can spare a dollar, or even ten 1 cents, will contribute to the fund for the support of the wife and the education of the children of the heroic Lieutenant Benner, it will be a graceful tribute to the memory of a man who was gallant in war, true in peace, and instantly recognized the fraternity of the 1 whole people when the battle was done. I have been holding the courts in the dis- 1 tricts where Lieutenant Benner was stationed 1 since peace was declared, and learn that he ' came here a gallant soldier, frank and gener- 1 ous, with not a word of reproach, not a spark 1 of enmity, meeting our people as a true man 1 and honest gentleman, performing his duties < courteously, kindly, and, above all, justly. < He has laid his life down to aid the strick- 1 en South. It was a martyrdom that compels < our affectionate recognition. He fought us j four long years, and now with this fever 1 plague staring him in the face, almost certain < death, not the death of battle with its light in < his eyes, under its glorious excitement and < the clash of arms, but the silent creeping i death of the pestilence that walketh in darkness and is not staid at midday. Facing such a death he volunteered to bring succor to our stricken people, and fell a martyr to the cause of humanity. And so he died for us. Ob 1 what a reproach is this to all the bad blood that has been stirred up by mere venal politicians for personal advancement I If the settlement of the war had been left to the men who fought it, thousands like the noble Benner, respecting the gallant people against whom they battled, would have bridged over the bloody chasm long ago. It only needed this fever stroke of death, which has filled our land with gloom and unutterable woe, to show that the heart of the great North and the great West beats true to those fraternal emotions which neither war, nor pestilence, nor politicians can ever exhibit. Hoping that my example will be generally followed, I enclose this modest contribution. Very truly yours, A. P. Aldrich. To Col. J. A. Hoyt. ? ? ORIGIN OF SALEM WITCHCRAFT. During the winter of 1691-92, a circle of young girls was formed in Salem Farms, which met at the house of the Rev. Mr. Parris, for the practice of palmistry and fortunetelling, necromancy, magic and spiritualism. En this circle there were-(l) Elizabeth Parris, the minister's daughter, aged nice years, who at first bad a leading part in the subsequent excitement, but was early removed from them by her father; (2) Abigail Williams, Parris' niece, living in the same house, aged eleven; (3) Ann Putnam, aged twelve, daughter of the parish clerk and recorder, a nrnrnin?nt. man at the Farms: Marv 1 Walcott, seventeen, daughter of Jonathan Walcott, Mr. Parris' next-door neighbor; (5) Mercy Lewis, seventeen; (6) Elizabeth Hubbard, seventeen, niece of Dr. Grigg, the village physician, and residing in his family; [7-8) Elizabeth Booth and Susannah Sheldon, each eighteen, belonging to families living near at hand; (9) Mary Warren, aged twenty, a servant in the family of John Proctor, who was brought to the scaffold by the girls; (10) Sarah Churchill, a servant in the family of George Jacobs, sen. Her employer also became their victim. With these ten, other person were drawn to act. There were John Indian and Tituba, two slaves of Mr. Parris', who probably were brought to the colony from the Barbadoes, and besides these one or two others; but the girls, with the slaves, formed the circle, and were the leading characters in the events which have been a horror and mystery ever since they transpired. In those events these girls were bold and even vicious in their bearing, and evinced an utter absence of 1 compunction or commiseration ; except in one i )r two instances, displaying a complete disregard of the agony and destruction which f they brought upon others. v In the course of the winter they became v expert in the arts they were learning. Grad- 1 jally they came to exhibit their attainments s to beholders. At first these exhibitions con- c listed of creeping into boles, and under 8 benches and chairs; putting themselves in- t to odd and unnatural postures, making wild { gestures, and uttering incoherent and unintel- c ligible sounds. Then they were seized with s spasms, dropped insensible to the floor, or t writhed in agony, pretending to suffer tortures, s with loud and piercing outcries. Naturally, v they began to draw upon themselves general c ittention. Soon they came to be styled "the 1 afflicted children." In the early stages no ex- c planation of their condition was so much as i suggested by any one; but as soon as Dr. f jrriggs was called in, and had examined ^ them, he declared them bewitched. In those s 3ays, and prior to those days, physicians fre- \ juently disposed of difficult cases which came t Defore them by such a resort. The profession f nust bear its fair share of responsibility for t lucceeding occurrences.?The Galaxy. 1 A Long Walk.?A young man in To- s *ento has a very clear knowledge of the dan- s ger of attempting to flirt with a female pe- ii lestrian. One of these walkers stopped at an i nn there last week, without making known t ler powers of speed and endurance, and the t ilerk of the inn showed her a good deal of c ittention. At last, he one afternoon, proposed v o take a walk. She consented at once, say- I ng that she was longing for a ramble. "Let a tip know." hp said, "if I po too fast." She t iood took the lead and began a pace of five li nilea an hour. Her gallant companion kept b ip by great exertion, but when she increased v ler speed be proposed to return home. She ti protested she was not in the least tired, and 1< >n they went. When about a dozen miles a lad been walked, the clerk found that his ti gallantry must yield, and he dropped down il tnd confessed that he could not take another b step, ms companion men lurnea uaca ?uu walked to the inn, saying that she would send a carriage for him. The young man thinks that he will take a year's practice before asking another young lady to have a stroll with him. "HEAT IS LIFE-COLD IiTDEATH." There is no greater fallacy than the opinion of many, particularly the young and strong and vigorous, that winter?especially a sharp, frosty one, with plenty of snow?is the most healthy season of the year. Very few seem to realise the fact that cold is the condition of death, and that in warm and cold climates it is our unconscious effort to maintain our bodi ly beat at a temperature of ninety-eight degrees, that wears us out. To this temperature, called "blood beat," every cubic inch of oxygen that serves to vitalize our blood must be raised by our own bodily heat, or life ceases. Since in cold weather the maintenance of a sufficiently elevated bodily temperature very often becomes a difficulty too great for our strength* the advent of a severe winter is really more to be dreaded than a visitation of a pestilence. The saying, "Heat is life?cold is death," has a striking illustration and confirmation in the reports now regularly submitted by Dr. Russell to the Glasgow Sanitary Committee. The death rate rises and falls with the regularity of the thermometer. So many degrees less heat, so many more deaths, and vice versa. In one of his fortnightly reports, Dr. Russell says: "The death rate in the first week of the fortnight was twenty-one, and in the second week twenty-five. The mean temperature in the former week was 40.8 degrees Fahrenheit, in the latter 39.5 degrees." He attributes the low rate of the first week to the high mean temperature of the preceding fortnight, which was 47.03 degrees, and adds: "This is a good illustration of a law which we frequently observe in these reports of temperature and death rates, that a week of low temperature produces a rise in mortality the week following." In our climate, it would probably be difficult to find a more frequent cause of serious ailments than taking cold. Whatever weak place we have, whatever constitutional disorder we be subject to, cold will surely discover. We take cold because our vitality is too low to ward of the effects of the reduced temperature around us. As a matter of first importance, then, to resist cold and the various derangements of the system consequent, it is necessary by proper nutrition to maintain our natural animal heat; second, to retain this heat by a suffioient quantity of clothing; third, to regnlate with care the temperature of the air we breathe. Contrary to the opinion current among lovers of cold weather, a fire in a bed-room in the winter is cheaper and better than a doctor's bill; for, jwing to our inactive condition during sleep, the circulation of the vitalizing blood is both slow and imperfect, and hence the danger of taking cold by breathing cold air is grfatly increased. A cold is the beginning of everything that is bad. If any one conscious of having caught one, feels cold chills running jp the back, let him apply a mustard plaster to the bottom of the spine and lower part of the back at once; and by so doing he may avert a dangerous illness before it is too late and medical advice caD be procured. It should never be forgotten that "heat is life? jviu io uvuvu wivitvytv aaniv* ww?*t The Management op Dogs.?According :o Dr. Hill, who has recently written a book jn "the management and diseases of the dog," ilmost all house dogs suffer from overfeeding. The organism of the dog is peculiar; his digestive powers are undoubtedly great, but ;he process of assimilation is a long one. The cravings of the carnivorous stomach are not )f the frequency, observed in herbivorous or )mnivorou8 animals, owing to the comparative slowness of the digestive function ; but it the same time a larger stock of materials a required than where the intervals between food-takings are shorter. The author's contusion is that the canine species does not require more than one meal in twenty-four boars, with the exception of sporting dogs in full exercise, which may be allowed two meals i day. The food should always be given at i stated time, viz., where one meal is the rule, it mid-day, and in the case of two, at nooning and evening. The quantity should be. exactly proportioned to the animal's appe;ite. Only when the dogs have been previously starved, or have missed a meal or two # 8 there much danger of gorging. As to the lind of nourishment, fresh meat may be used vith discretion, where dogs are used in sport )r kept on the chain, but even in these initances, some coarse meal, like Scotch oat seal, snouia rorm me oasis ot toe aiei. as 'or ordinary bouse dogs, Dr. Hill points out hat these never require meat beyond an ocsaeional bone and meat gravy; bread soaked n milk, oatmeal porridge, potatoes, plain rice ludding, with green vegetables once or twice i week, form the best regimen for this class >f dogs. It seems that bones are of great ralue to the dog. Independent of the nutrinent contained in the shreds of flesh that adlere to them, they assist in cleansing the teeth tnd aid digestion. The animars instinct vould appear to teach him this, for however avory a meal may be, he will straightway lick out the bone, if such there be, strip it if the meat, and store it eafely away for ma^ ure discussion. A STRANGE STORY. Mr. Benjamin E. Barwick publishes, over lis name, the following most remarkable story n the Sandersville (Geo.) Courier: "Here is something that occurred within a ew miles of your city fifty-one years ago, vbich never has been in print, though it was vritten down at the time for publication. Che writer vouches for the truthfulness of the tory, and says it can be authenticated by two ither witnesses. I have the original manucript in my possession : "An infant was born o me on the 19th of October, 1827, and was a iromising child until it was seven weeks ild ; its mother departed this life three weeks ifter the birth of the child ; the child was hen fed by hand. On the morning it was even weeks old, I and my eldest daughter, vho was then living with me, took the child tut of the bed to feed it. After making a ight we discovered a different look in its ountenance. It looked as though death tad made its appearance. We, as usual, offered it the nourishing bottle, but it refused. iVe waited a short time and made the ame offer. The child refused again. This ras done several times. The child appeared o be perfectly easy, and a smile was upon its ace. We then procured some fresh cow Mill* An/I rtonfl if f/> fkn />ki 1/1 in o anAnn ulia quu gave i? kv vuw vuiiu iu m d^vvu* Che moment the milk touched the child's nouth it was instantly clabber. We thought trange of this. We threw that away, and ome fresh milk was given to the nurse, and a moment that was clabbered. We tried t the fifth time with the same results. We hen got the milk that we had and set it by he nurse, and it was all clabber in one mocent. We were then fully convinced that ?e need not try to feed the child, so we quit, iy this time it had the appearance of a saint, nd soon began to shout the Redeemer's praise, hough it did not utter a word, but with loud aughs so that one might hear it across the louse distinctly. This laugh would be heard rhen anyone would talk to it. At the menion of its name it would turn its head and M>k the speaker in the face, and break out in loud laugb. This was done about twenty imes, and, and then it 'died with a guile on is face.' The above facts can be established y two other living witnesses,"