Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j Jobtpfitbtitl Jfamilj fttfospptr: Jfor % ^roittotian of % political, Social, ^gritsltaral aitb Commercial $irtmsfs of % .Sonfji. TERMS--$2.50 A TEAR, IN ADVANCE. "VOL. 25. YOBKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 1879. 38. ?he $tfltg Icllw. FIAT JUSTITIA. j "Let justice be done though the heavens should fall I" Mr. Elkingtou spoke with a firm voice and steady eye. "Crime is often committed under the pressure of great temptation. In a moment of weakness, the unhappy subject of evil allurement falls," said the person with whom the gentleman was in conversation. "A41 true," replied Mr. Elkington; "all very true. But every act has its legitimate consequence; and we wrong society, and the individual wrong doer himself, whenever we seek to interrupt so wisely ordained a relation. If a man steals from me, he is a thief. For theft, the law ordains punishment ; and I hold it to be every man's duty to give up the thief to justice, if in his power to do so. The progress of crime is arrested thereby, and society guarded from future depredations." "This is stating the case very generally. vBut genera] principles are never of equal application. There are collateral considerations, in every case, which may not be disregarded without wrong to the individual. And we may assume it as an undoubted truth, that in doing wrong to an individual, we wrong the body of which that individual is a member." , "There is a great deal of false philanthropy, as well as false judgment, excused by this argument based on exceptions to general rules," said Mr. Elkington, with an air of satisfaction. "For ray part, I believe that more harm is done in the end by admitting the exceptions that could possibjy arise from an invariably stringent application of the rule. The man who steals knows that he is violating a law of both God and his fellow. The statute of his country says that for such an evil act he must suffer the penalty of imprisonment. Let, then, the penalty be made so sure that escape becomes next to a moral impossibility. Let every one who becomes cognizant of an act of stealing give the offender : to speedy justice. For my part, painful as the necessity might bq, I should not stand between iuBtice and my own son, were he to be come an offender. The stern old Roman father has left an example of unswerving justice that Christians would do well to imitate." "The time may come when you think a little differently," said the friend; "when collateral influences will have sufficient weight to interpose an exception to your stringent general rule." "We'll see," returned Mr. Elkington, confidently, as the two men separated. A few days after this conversation took place, Mr. Elkington, who was a merchant, was rather surprised to receive a notification that he had overdrawn his bank account more than two thousand dollars. "Altogether a mistake," he said to himself, as he opened his desk in order to take therefrom bis bank book. But the bank book was not in the usual place. After tumbling over some paper hurriedly, to see if it were not concealed beneath them, he turned to one of his clerks and said: "Where is James ?" "He hasn't been to the store this morning, Bir." , "Why? Jp he sick?" "I cannot tell, sir. He made no complaint of indisposition on leaving the store last evening." It was on the lips, of Mr. Elkington to say, in a doubtful tone of voice: "There is something wrongbut checking the utterance thereof, he took his bat and left the store. A .little while afterward he presented himself at the counter of the bank where he kept his deposits and asked the bookkeeper to oblige him by turning to his account. "I see no credit here for two thousand dollars, deposited yesterday," said Mr. El kington. "Did you make such a deposit?" asked the book-keeper. "I certainly did; or, at least, intended to make it." The blotter of the receiving teller was referred to, but no credit of the sum mentioned was found thereon. "What does your bank book say ?" inquired the teller. ' '*1 can't find it," said Mr. Elkington, in some confusion and perplexity of manner. "It has been overlaid in or upon my desk. But I know the deposit was made." "The bank book will settle the matter at once," remarked the teller. "I don't like the look of this at all," said, Mr. Elkington to himself, as he went hurriedly back to his store. "James absent; the bank book not to be found; and no memoran dura of a two thousand-dollar deposit made yesterday standing to my credit. What can it mean ? Truly, that young man has not robbed me ? He cannot be so base. But if he has!" " 1 a 1 . .1 V xl- _ now stern ana nara instantly oecame ine countenance of the merchant. "If he has, woe be to him ! I will track his steps with quick-footed justice; the UDgrateful wretch !" It was, alas! quite as bad as the merchant had suspected. James Craig, a young man in his twentieth year, whose character hitherto had stood above suspicion, in an evil hour had yielded to temptation, and become the base robber of his employer. But scarcely was the deed done beyond the possibility of avoiding exposure ere the dishonest deed was bitterly repented. His first act, after appropriating two thousand dollars, instead of depositing the sum in bank, was to leave the city in the earliest train of cars for the South. In Baltimore he took lodgings in an obscure tavern, where he hid himself away from observation, hoping to remain concealed until the first search for him should be over. Here, in great humiliation and distress of mind, he r*t>/\r?HAao AtrAnfo Vvi tf Awl tt ?AAAr> f AYV Al l/CU tilU VX UVCIlliO} KJIV bVHJ i y ing his folly and crime. Oh ! what would he not have given for restored integrity ! The price of virtue and a good name was his ; but thesum of two thousand dollars, which, a litlittle while before, had loomed up with such golden attraction, now seemed of no value whatever, compared with the rich treasure he had parted with in order to secure it. On the second day after Graig's arrival in Baltimore, as he sat irresolute and despondent in his room, the door thereof was thrown suddenly open, and Mr. Elkington stood before him, with sternly knit brows, and eyes that seemed as if they would pierce him through and through. Instantly the wretched young man turned pale as death, and he was for some moments so paralyzed that he could neither move nor speak. "Humph ! So I've found you, have I ?" said Mr. Elkington, as he closed the door. There was a cruel menace in the tones of his voice, that left small room for hope in the mind of the guilty one who cowed before him. "And now, what have you to say for yourself?" "Speak!" he added more imperatively; "what have you to say for yourself?" "Nothing," replied the young man. "Where is my money ?" said Mr. Elkington. Craig drew from his pocket a thick roll of bank bills, and handing them to Mr. Elkinjton, replied: "There it is; I have not used a dollar. God in heaven knows how bitterly I have repented of this dreadful crime!" The merchant was taken rather by sur prise at this unexpected restitution. Still, his purpose to hand the offender over to justice remained firm. He had pondered the matter closely?had even weighed the strong appeals made by certain collateral considerations; but his rigid motto?"Let justice be done, though the heavens should fall"?had decided his course of action, and even now a police officer awaited the summons below. "James," said Mr. Elkiugton, sternly, "you have crossed the Rubicon of crime, and your enemy, retribution, must be met. The law wisely ordains punishment for theft. You have stolen my property, and as a good citizen, it becomes my duty to give you up to the minister of the law ; which I shall do. A police officer is in the house; you will pass frnm here into his hands. Unhappy young man ! how have you marred your whole future life. What insanity was upon you ?" '*0, Mr. Elkington!" exclaimed Craig, sinking upon one knee, and lifting his face to that of the merchant, "do not sacrifice me for one false step, the first I have taken." "I do not sacrifice you, James," said Mr. Elkington. "The act is your own. You have committed a crime, and it is my duty, as I have said, to hand you over to those who punish crime. I feel for you, deeply ; but I cannot give place to weakness. Justice must be done, though the heavens should fall. II each one against whom a crime is committed, suffer the offender, when in his power, to escape, every social safeguard is removed. No, no, James, painful as the act will be, I must give you up to justice." And Mr. Elkington turned to leave the room. But, as he did so, the wretched young man started forward, and seizing bis hand, said imploringly: "I have a poor, widowed mother, sir; if her son is disgraced her heart will be broken." "You should have thought of that before, James. It is too late now." "Do not say this! 0, sir, do not not say f T am 6a Ko/1 oo vrnn All tuio i X aui JJUb o\j uau ao j vu vuiua* **?* I wickedly took I return to you. But ah, sir, if you ruin me here is your money?I did not spend it?every cent befbre the world, if you have me removed from all contact with %e virtuous, and associate me with old and hardened criminals, what hope is left for me?" If I could be overcome in tempation while surrounded with safeguards, how will I be able to stand when all these are removed ? O, sir, I claim justice for myself; just for my unhappy mother. Do not utterly ruin the widow's only son 1" "Justice! justice!" said Mr. Elkington, in a half bewildered manner, as he turned toward the young man. "You talk of justice!" "Will it be justice to destroy a young man, when you might save him ?" The voice ot Craig was now firm, and his eyes steady. His imminent peril had made him calmer. "The law was made for the protection ol society; you have?" "Listen, Mr. Elkington ! Hear to reason ! Will society be safer, so far as I am concerned, ten years hence, if, by your act, I am hardened into a deliberate, criminal?" The stern purpose of the merchant began to waver. Craig saw it, and grasping his hand, said: "Think of my poor mother, and let me go free. Believe me, sir, your head will rest upon a quieter pillow than if you set the heel of imaginary justice on my head, and crush out all innocence beneath its iron tread." A moment or two Mr. Elkington paused. Then in a softened voice, he said: "What theu ?" "I will puss on farther South ; and under a new name, seek to win back for myself, by honest industry, the position I have lost." Mr. Elkington stood silent for the space of nearly a minute. "Have you any money?" he then asked. "Enough to take me as far as New Orleans." "James," said Mr. Elkington, his manner still more softened toward the young man, "it shall be as you wish. And to show you that I feel an awakening confidence in your good purposes, I will lend you fifty dollars. You may not readily find employment, and destitution might lead to temptation." "Not fifty dollars, Mr. Elkington," was the quick answer; "but if you will make the sum twenty dollars, it shall be returned if I live. Ah, sir! this generous kindness will never be forgotten. 1 feel it, already, as a new impulse to virtuous actions." "May your good resolutions fail not," said Mr. Elkington, with visible emotion. "Take this," and he handed Craig a small roll of bank bills. "Be true to yourself and your mother, and all may yet be well." Ten years passed. Occasionally, in his ' J 1*- - T native City, some one inquired ior uames Craig; but from the time he left in disgrace, no one seemed to know anything about him. A few months after his disappearance, his mother went somewhere to the South?it was said.. to join her son. As time wore on, they were forgotten, or only thought of casually by a few who had known them more intimately than the rest. One day a Southern merchant, named Floyd, to whom Mr. Elkington had sold large bills of goods during the previous four or five years, but who had not visited the North during that time, called in at the store of Mr. Elkington and mentioned his name. His hand was at once grasped, cordially, and much pleasure expressed at making the personal acquaintance of a valued business correspondent. As the two men stood looking into each other's faces, Mr. Elkington was struck with something strangely familiar in the countenance of his visitor. "Do you not remember me?" said Floyd. "James?James Craig! Is it possible ?" exclaimed Mr. Elkington, in a low voice. "Not James Craig. That name was dishonT^uf Anrtroa? TJMnvd ? namp vpf. nnt.ar nished, and which, I trust, may keep bright to the end. You were just to the good that remained in my heart, Mr. Elkington, and I am, thank God, a man again. What the consequences would have been had your sterner ideas of justice had their way, I shudder to imagine." For several moments Mr. Elkington stood silent, and in some bewilderment. Then he said in a subdued manner : "And I shudder, also. Ah ! how much harm we may do by too stringent applications of general laws in particular cases. FiatJustitia is a golden rule, but when we resolve that justice shall be done, let us be very certain that we are notguilty of the rankest injustice." And so we say to all. Let justice be done, but pause and consider well the case, and be very sure that something really good is not destroyed by your action. Should such, unhappily, be the result, then, instead of being just, you have surely wronged your neighbor. A Slight Mistake.?A wag walked into ! a saloon in New York lately, where three men were sitting around a tireless stove. As he entered all eyes were turned toward him. Apparently taking a mental review of the number of people in the room, th?new-comer stepped up to the bar, and blandly ordered four glasses of beer. The boots that had adorned the top of the stove now sought the floor, three men cleared their mouths of tobacco, and all looked at the barkeeper as he filled the glasses and placed them on the bar. When everything was ready, the three loungers rose, and the stranger paid for the beer. Then, starting with the glass furthest from the door he emptied all that the barkeeper had filled, and very quickly left the saloon. The three chairs were then resumed. ?totes of Itawl Written for the Yorkvlile Enquirer. THE "LAND OF THE SKY." A TRIP TO THE MOUNTAINS. ? We read of the beauties and delightful salubriety of the far-famed Adiondacks and the CatskHl?these pleasing sketches of wild and romantic scenery?so well calculated and fully intended to induce the reader to conclude that this is the land of which the poet dreamed. To this health-giving region he must at once fly to breathe rejuvenation and drink in the pure climate and loveliness ot the surrounding scenery. As a picture this is entrancing, and this we conclude is but a fnnm niciure.. In view of this conclusion, we stepped aboard the Spartanburg and Asheville Railroad train, bound for Hendersonville, N. C.?a name within itself so very unromantic. But what is in a name?"a rose by any other name," etc. The train was crowded with people bound for different parts of the mountains and towDS along the 4ine of railroad. As we journeyed, after leaving the'tbriving, business town ot Spartanburg, the fertile and well-tilled fieldsof corn and cotton first met our eager gaze. On we sped over this new and well-built road, at the rate of twenty-eight or thirty miles per hour. We strained our eyes in contemplation of the first sight of the mountains. At last in sight, as we neared the foot of Tryon, we could see in the distance its mountain heights, as they loomed up to the very sky as it were, to meet and welcome the feathery, floating clouds. Thus towering far above the common level, it looks a mighty power within itself, bidding defiance to feeble man and human skill to ascend or penetrate. Distance here only lends enchantment to the view? simply creating a stronger desire to explore the heights?more ardent and adventurous than any other scene could excite. At length we reach Tryon Station, at'the very base of the mountain. We come to a halt. A few of the passengers get off to stop a while with the affable old Doctor McAboy. The Doctor was at the depot, of course, his face wreathed in smiles, as he talked and assisted ladies and children to get out of the cars. We regretted that the-stop was too short to admit our hearing the Doctor expatiate upon his favorite theme?the isothermal belt?the most wonderful phenomenon in nature, a region clothed in perpetual Spring, enjoying a mean temperature unequaled in the known world, the "Land of the Sky," in which he lives, and which he never ceases to praise in the most glowing terms. The Doctor is undoubtedly the Sage of the Land of the Sky. He occupies the "Mills House," on the Howard Gap road, leading from Spartanburg to Hendersonville. Doubtless,^sorae of your readers have many peasant recollections associated with this old place,and thus recalled, it will awaken sweet memories of the past, when they, in company with gay young friends, traveled in an old lumbering stage coach to Hendersonville and the Warm Springs. Onworrl wp snpH. nnssincr lovelv vflllevs. wild and rouiantic views of the mountains towering far above us, covered with the most" luxuriant growth of the tall, straight pine, oak, chestnut and black walnut, and many other trees of beauty and value, the verdure presenting no dwarfy, scrubby growth, so peculiar to most other mountains, North and West. Its rugged sides are evenly fringed with the long and graceful feather fern, so much coveted by the ladies to adorn their green-houses. From each mountain gorge flows a rapid, leaping, dancing stream of crystal waters, the Minehaha's of this most picturesque of countries. Onward, upward we climb, having reached that most remarkable of grades?rising seven hundred feet in three miles?in our bumble opinion one of the grandest and most wonderful undertakings of the age; grand in its conception?wonderful in its construction. Again upon a level, we reach Saluda, a lovely little mountain village. Here we have a most delightful view of the surrounding mountain peaks and green valleys. Far up the sides of the mountains we see dotted about the neat little cabins and cottages, which constitute the village, in addition to the large and commodious hotel, which presents a most inviting appearence with its oldfashioned, long piazza extending the entire length of the house. From the piazza, a magnificent view of the surrounding country is admirably presented. Here, again, a few of the climate Seekers disembarked. While we wait, a native mountain genius, wearing a broad-brim slouch hat and a suit of well-worn jeans, appeared on the scene. Under his left arm he held an old fiddle, strung with white cotton strings. With a broad grin he enquired, "Whar's the cornductor ? I am a wantin' to ride awhile on this thing. Ef I can't pass by playin' a tune on old Bets, I calkilate I'd better go like freight; they tell me that's cheaper. Now, boys, you never beam no music tell you hear me. I played last night at the frolic over here at 'Squire Potts'." Wo acL-or) Viim to nlnv ono of Vila moat, in spiriting pieces. He commenced to tune his instrument, which was not a Cremona, nor was the artist a Paganini, and extorted from it a tone, the remotest idea of which cannot be conveyed on paper, either by words or the most violent contortion of the chromatic scale. Like all performers of his calibre, he employed much time in tuning, and after winding up the strings until their feeble vibrations suited his ear, he rasped away on the fragment of a "breakdown," repeating the same "strain" several times without variation, smiling while he progressed, as though he was highly pleased with his performance, and that the acme of musical perfection bad at last been attained. The performance forcibly reminded his hearers of the fellow in the "Arkansaw Traveler." When the train moved on, the fiddler took his seat. Major Anderson, superintendent of the railroad, took a seat near the fiddler. The Major was thus addressed by him : "See here, Cap, I want to ride, and I can play you one of the gonebyest tunes you ever hearn. Can I go on ?" The Major nodded his assent. Again the firMlor oiriiplr nn hi? favorite tone. .Inst, then -r ?? > ? the conductor came along collecting tickets. The Major motioned to allow the old fellow to pass. This seemed to arouse the fiddler, and he determined to get nearer his benefactor. As he jumped up to change his seat for this purpose, his black bottle and corn-cob stopper were thrown from his shallow coat pocket and shattered on the floor. The old fellow looked around upon the crowd with the saddest and most woe-begoue expression that ever disfigured a human countenance. He stooped down and picked up the broken glass which had contained his lost delight, and threw them out and droppeff into his seat dejected. The fun for him was all over. The crowd laughed, and on we moved, regardless of the accident by which the musician had lost his bottle. The beauty of the scenery by this time became more varied, and we were lost in admiration of its surrounding grandeur. Now we reach Flat Rock Station. The village is situate about one mile from the depot. The name is quite significant, the village being located on a plateau?the finest plain upon the American continent. It extends to within a mile of Asheville, ranging from five to ten miles in width. Flat Rock has large and commodious hotel, many neat cottages and some very elegant residences ; the latter having been built by wealthy citizens of Charleston as summer resorts. Among these, we would mention Col. Memrainger's?an elegant and very handsome residence, with most .beautifully improved grounds around a white pine grove, terrace and grotto, a fount in full play, it is beauteous Nature aided and embelished by the hand of artistic -culture to complete its many charms. Many are the attractions of this little mountain village. Three miles further, and we reach Hendersonville, nestled among the mountains, upon the same grand plateau. Once there, we are constrained to exclaim, Eureka / Like many villages of similar size and primitive growth, one long, level street contains all of the pubI H/> or.^ hnainAM houses. two 'hotels and manv private residences. The other streets are somewhat irregular, this also being a characteristic feature. We registered at the "Chase Hotel." Here we found in person the affable and accommodating proprietor, Mr. C. C. Chase, who sustained his well-deserved reputation as the best of hotel keepers. Supper was announced, very acceptably to us just then, as our appetites had grown keen by the trip, while the bracing air was decidedly appetizing. We did ample justice to a most excellent meal. Oh, that water! We never shall forget it. It tasted as if it had flowed a long distance through the crevices of an immense ice boulder. The water alone, it seems to us, is a sufficient inducement to visit Hendersonville. After a night of most refreshing slumber, we arose quietly and breakfasted heartily?it seemed with an increased appetite, after which we took a stroll to take a view of the surroundings of the town and vicinity. Our walk proved quite extended, as we never grow lired admiring the beauties of nature; fl-n- "o tliinc* nf Koonfv ia ? inu forever." After ? 'b **v J"J roaming about promiscuously for an hour or more, careless of course or distance, we came suddenly from the woods upon a beautiful ; grass grown lawn, in front of a handsome but decidedly quaint looking house, so perfectly in keeping with every 'thing around that it seemed almost to have lost its identity as an abstract thing and become a part and parcel of the landscape, surrounded by a tall white pine grove, situate upon an eminence which commanded a fine view of Hendersonville and the many mountain tops in the distance. The lawn in front, and the grove on either side, are artfully arranged with a view to court the fresh mountain breeze. On one side of the winding gravel path from the house to the old rock spring under the edge of the hillside, shaded by the white pine, stands on old, dilapidated log cabin in gray ruins of decay, left there as a relic of the place of other days?a romantic idea of the owner, the entire premises showing evidences of taste and lavish wealth, combining elegance, comfort and convenience. We were informed that the former owner and occupant was British Consul Moleyneaux. He came with his family to America many years ago and settled in Savannah, Georgia. There he found the Southern sultry clime too trying upon himself and family. So he bought and located this beautiful home within a mile of Hendersonville, where he lived for a number of years. At length his health failed and he returned to England. Thence to France, where he died. His widow returned to America sometime after, for the purpose of spending the rest of her life in her rural para dise. But she never reached this lovely mountain home, having died in Washington City. We returned to the hotel, highly pleased with our morning ramble, and ready to refresh the inner man. We were told that from the front portico of the Moleyneaux mansion the sunset was sublime. So the sunset hour found us there, wrapt in admiration of the setting sun, as he seemed to linger upon the mountain tops, loth to leave this earth in darkness. No Italian sky ever reflected a more gorgeous sunset?as grand as the imagination can conceive?the last blush of roseate hue tinting the fleecy clouds as he sank to rest beyond the Occidental hills, in beauteous grandeur, which language can but feebly portray. So perfectly delighted were we with the transcendant loveliness of the glorious sunset, that darkness obscured our view ere we were 1 awakened to the fact that the hour had past. We retraced our steps and refreshed ourselves with our evening meal, in ecstatic joy over the pleasures of the day. We went early to bed, determined to rise early, that we might witness the rising of the sun which we had seen set in such passing glory. We slept J?- J.?Xf?1_: 1? J soundly, dui most reiresniugiy, nuu oiuoo juou in time to see the sun peeping over the mountain tops. His radiant rays tinged the etherial blue in rainbow hues. The dew upon the mountain verdure, like freshly-watered flowers, reflecting myriads of sparkling diamonds set in emerald, seemed to us but the consummation of a long-cherished dream. Breakfast over, we sauntered forth in search of new scenes upon which to feed a desire insatiate. We rambled the green banks of the shady rills, meandering through fertile valleys; climbed mountain sides; seated upon a gray old rock, we gazed upon the towering peaks around us; watched the lovely waterfall gushing from the mountain-sides, leaping far down to mingle with the little stream we had traced through the cool shades of the* valley below. Here, amid the salubrious climate, bracing mountain air, beauty and grandeur, all of which have brought back the bloom of health to the wan cheek of many an nvalid, the same rock and stream and waterfall, which had filled many a heart with rapturous delight, formed in our imagination the Arcadian wilds. As we returned, we followed a winding path, which led us to a little spring. As we neared the spring, we beheld a form? "A grand Olympic creature, Heaven's mould in form and feature." At the spring we rested to admire her?a perfect Hebe in ease and grace. As she handed us a cup of the cold crystal waters, she did not display such a timidity as would cause her to be supplanted by a Ganymede, there was such a freshness?an innocence so peculiarly lovely?the rich bloom on her cheek, (so different from the gaudy counterfeit by which the fashionable city ladies strive to conceal the ravages of excess and dissipation,) i the dewy brightness of her lips, the healthful radiance of her eyes:, and her attire quite charming in its neat simplicity?formed our ideal of feminine loveliness. We could not linger longer, for the fear of losing our heart entirely. Fortunately, she seemed to vanish ; in a moment she was lost to sight. We resumed our tramp, endeavoring to make our way back to the Chase House. We reached there somewhat fatigued, but felt fully repaid for the day's journey ot delight. At length, the day had come for our departure, and we entered the cars very reluctantly. Again we find ourselves traveling? this time homeward, over the Spartanburg and Asheville Railroad, through the lovely country of which we could never tire. As we returned, we were more forcibly struck with the "Horse-Shoe trestle" and the acute windings of the road ; the high embankments and deep cuts, to look at which, it would seem a physical impossibility ever to construct a road through. This enterprise has developed a great source of industry, opened a country whose facilities for manufactories are, perhaps, unsurpassed by any portion of the globe; and with an energetic and industrious population, it would soon become one of the most flourishing sections of the Union. Tourist. UMImwm ftadiuij. THE LAST STRUGGLE. GENERAL GORDON DESCRIBES THE CLOSING SCENES OP THE WAR. The latest and one of the roost thrilling ot .the war sketches published iu the Philadelphia Timet is Qen. Gordon's account of the closing struggle of the great war which ended at Appomattox. The story is the more interesting because it has never before been published, no official reports having ever been made of the Confederate operations during the memorable fortnight preceding the 9th of April, 1865. Gen. Gordon, after giving a pitiable picture of the condition of Lee's array, worn out, stretched over a line of twenty miles and literally starving, goes on to Bay: "Before daylight on the morning of the 2d of March, 1865, Gen. Lee sent for me. 1 mounted my horse at once and rode to the General's headquarters. I reached the house in which he was staying at 4 o'clock in the morning. As I entered the room to which 1 had been directed, 1 found Gen. Lee alone. I shall never forget the scene. The General was standing at the fireplace, his head on his arm, leaning on the mantelpiece?the first time I ev?r saw him so thoroughly dejected. A dim lamp was buruing on a small centretable. On the table was a mass of official reports. Gen. Lee remained motionless for a moment after I opened the door. He then looked up, greeted me with his usual courtesy, motioned me to the little table, and, drawing up a chair, sat down. I sat opposite him. "I have sent for you, Gen. Gordon," he said, "to make known to youi the condition of our affairs, and to confer with you as to what we had best do." The night was fearfully cold. The fire and lamp both burned low as Gen. Lee went on to give us the details of the situation. "1 have here," he said, "reports sent in from my officers to-night. I find upon careful examination that I have under my command, of all arms, hardly 45,000 men. These men are starving. They are already so weakened as to be hardly efficient. Many of them have become desperate, reckless and 1 1 il 1 t L Tx aisoraeny as iney nave never ueea oeiore. xi is difficult to control men who are suffering for food. They are breaking open mills, barns and stores, in search of food. Almost crazed from hunger, they are deserting from some commands in large numbers and going home. My horses are in equally bad condition. The supply of horses in the country is exhausted. It has come to be where it is just as bad for me to have a horse killed as a man. I cannot're-mount a cavalryman whose "horse dies. Gen. Grant can mount ten thousand men in ten days, and move around your flank. If he were to send me word to-morrow that I might move out unmolested, I have not enough horses to move my artillery. He is not likely to send this message, however, and yet," smiling, "he sent me word yesterday* that he knew what I had for breakfast every morning. I sent him word that I did not think this could be so, for if he did know he would surely send me something better. But, now, let us look at the figures. I have, as I have shown you, not quite 45,000 men. My men are starved, exhausted, sick. His men are in the best condition possible. But beyond this there is Hancock, at Winchester, with a force of probably not less than 18,000 men. To oppose this force I have not a solitary vidette. Sheridan, with his terrible cavalry, has marched almost unmolested and unopposed along the James, cutting the railroads and canal. Thomas is approaching from Knoxville with a force I estimate at 30,000, and to oppose him I have a few brigades of badly-disciplined cavalry, amounting to proboK1 rr 5 nnn in oil Hen SViormon 1Q in Nftrtll ttUiJ VjVVV 1U Mill VIVtll UUV1UJMU ?W 4M Carolina, and, with Scbofield's forces, will have 65,000 men. As to what I have to oppose this force, I submit the following telegram from Gen. Johnston. The telegram reads: "Gen. Beauregard telegraphed you a few days ago that, with Governor Vance's Home Guards, we could carry 20,000 men into battle. I find, upon close inspection, that we cannot muster over 13,000 men." (This, Gen. Gordon said, was as nearly as he could recollect Gen. Johnston's telegram.) "So there is the situation. I have here say 40,000 men able for duty, though none of my poor fellows are in good condition. They are opposed directly by an army 160,000 strong and confident men, and converging on my little force four separate armies numbering in the aggregate 130,000 more men. This force, added to Gen. Grant's, makes over a quarter of a million. To prevent these from uniting for my destruction there are hardly 60,000 men available. My men are growing weaker day by day. Their sufferings are terrible and exhausting, my horses are broken down and impotent. I am apprehensive that Gen. Grant may press around my flank and cut our sole remaining line of supplies. 'Now, General,' he said, looking me straight in the face, 'what is to be done?' With this he laid his paper down and leaned back in the chair. "I replied : 'Since you have done me the honor to ask ray opinion, I will give it. The situation, as you portray it, is infinitely worse than I had dreamed it was. I cannot doubt that your information is correct. I am confident of the opinion, therefore, that only two things should be done, and at once. We must either treat with the United States Government for the best terms possible, or we should concentrate all our strength at one point of Grant's line?selecting some point on the right bank of the Appomattox?assault him, break through his lines, destroy his pontoons, and then turn full upon the flank of his left wing, sweep down it and destroy it if possible, and then join Gen. Johnston in North Carolina by forced marches, and combining our army with his, fall upon Sherman.' " 'And what then?' " 'If we beat him or succeed in making a considerable battle, then treat at once for terms. I am forced to the conclusion from what you say, sir, that we have no time for delay.' 'So that is your opinion, is it?' he asked, in a tone that sent the blood to my face. I ought to have remembered that it was a way Gen. Lee had of testing the sincerity of a man's opinion by appearing to discredit it. ". 'It is, sir, I replied; 'but I should not have ventured it had it not been asked ; and since you seem to differ from the opinion I hold, may I ask you what your opinion is ?' "At once his manner changed, and leaning forward he said, blandly: '1 entirely agree with you, General.' "'.Do President Davis and the Congress know these facts? Have you expressed an opinion as to the propriety of making terms to President Davis or the Congress ?' '4Gen. Lee replied to this question : 'Gen. Gordon, I am a soldier. It is my duty to obey orders.' " 'Yes,' I replied, 'but if you read the papers, Gen. Lee, you can't shut your eyes to the fact that the hopes of the Southern people are centred in and on your army, and if we wait until we are beaten and scattered into the mountains before we make an effort at terms, the people will not be satisfied. Besides, we will simply invite the enemy to hunt us down all over the country, devastating it wuerever mey go. "Gen. Lee said nothing to this for some time, but paced the floor in silence, while I sat gloomy erough, as you may know, at the fearful prospect. He had, doubtless, thought of all I said long before and had decided probably on his course before he sent for me. I don't wish you to understand that I am vain enough to believe for a moment that anything I said induced him to go to Richmond the nezt day. As I said before, he had doubtless decided upon that already, and only feigned a difference of opinion or hesitation in order to see with what pertinacity I held ray own. He did go to Richmond, and on his return sent for me again, and in reply to ray question as to what had occurred, he replied: " 'Sir, it is enough to turn a man's hair gray to spend one day in that Congress. The members are patriotic and earnest, but they will neither take the responsibility of acting, nor will they clothe me with authority to act As for Mr. Davis, he is unwilling to do anything short of independence, and feels that it ' - --- l 1a 1 ? mm 1a ImA/1 1 AM ill ?1 VlOOID Ttl_ 19 II8eJC39 IAJ wjr \AJ bioou uu vuctv umoio. *udeed, he says that, having failed in one overture at Hampton Roads, he is not disposed to try another.' " 'Then,' said I, 'there is nothing left us but to fight, and the sooner we fight the better, for every day weakens us and strengthens our opponents.' "It was these tw<t conferences that led to the desperate and almost hopeless attack I made on the 25tb of March on Grant's line at Fort Steadman and Hare's Hill, in front ot Petersburg. After giving the details of the late desperate and partially successful assault on Grant's lines, which ended in the withdrawal of the half starved victors from the captured works, Gen. Gordon continues: "And then the death-struggle began. Grant hurled his masses upon our starved and broken-down veterans. His main attack was made upon our left, A. P. Hill's corps. Grant's object was to turn our flanks, and get between us and North Carolina. The fightjng was fearful and continuous. It was a miracle that we held our lines for a single day. With barely 6,000 men I was holding six miles of line. I bad just 1,000 men to the mile, or about one to every two yards. Hill and Longstr&t were in not much better trim, and some part of this thin line was being forced continually. The main fight was on my line and Hill's, as Gen. Longstreet was nearer Richmond. Heavy masses of troops were hurled upon our line and we would have to rally our forces at a certain point to meet the attack. By the time we would repel it we would find another point attacked and would hurry to defend that Of course, withdrawing men from one part of the line would leave it exposed and the enemy would rush in. Then we would have to drive them out and re-establish our line. Thus the battle raged day after day. One line would bend and twist and swell and break and close again, only to be battered againsf once more. Our people performed prodigies of valor. How they endured through those terrible, hopeless, bloody days, I do not know. They fought desperately and heroically, although they were so weakened through hunger and work that they could scarcely stand upon their feet and totter from one point of assault to another. But they never complained. They fought sternly, grimly?as men who had made up their minds to die. And we held our lines. Somehow or other?God only knows how?we managed day by day to wrest from the Federals the last inch of our lines. Then the men, dropping in the trenches, would eat their scanty rations, try to forget their hunger and snatch an hour or two of sleep. "Our picket lines were attacked somewhere every night. This thing went on till the morning of the 2d of April. Early that day it became evident that the supreme moment had come. The enemy attacked in unusually heavy force, all along the line of mine and Hill's corps. It became absolutely necessary to concentrate men at a few points along 'my line, in order to make a determined resistance. This left great gaps in my line of breastworks unprotected by anything save a vidette or two. Of course, the Federals broke through these undefended passes, and established themselves in my breastworks. At length, having repulsed the forces attacking rkAlnfa T ^n^onrlo/1 T VvXirraTi rO-OfltflKllflllinor bUD IA/1UW3 A, UO!CUUVU| A WgWU *v ray line. My men fought with a valor and a desperate courage that has been rarely .equalled, in my opinion, in military annals. We recaptured position after position, and by 4 o'clock in the afternoon I had re-established my whole line except at one point. This was very strongly defended, but I preferred to assault it I notified Gen. Lee of my purpose and of the situation, when he sent a message, telling me that Hill's line had been broken and that Gen. Hill himself had been killed. He ordered, therefore, that I should make no further fight, but prepare for the evacuation, which he had determined to make that night. That night we left Petersburg. Hill's Corps, terribly shattered and without its commander, crossed the river first, and I followed, having orders from Geo. Lee to cover the retreat. We spent the night in marching, and early the next morning the enemy rushed upon us. We had to turn and beat them back. Then began the most heroic and desperate struggle ever sustained by troops?a worn and exhausted force of hardly A finn n.i+li a TToof on/1 ni/tfnrimia armv ijuuv lilClJj TTibU Ot VH?9v HUU T?vw? ?vm?i m* j fresh and strong, pressing upon our heels! We turned upon every hill-top to meet them and give our wagon trains and artillery time to get ahead. Instantly they would strike us. We invariably repulsed them. They never broke through my dauntless heroes; but after we had fought for an hour or two we would find huge masses of men pressing down our flanks, and to keep from being surrounded I would have to withdraw my men. We always retreated in good order, though always under fire. As we retreated we would wheel and fire, or repel a rush, and then stagger on to the next hill top or vantage ground, where a new fight would be made. And so on through the entire day. At night my men had no rest. We marched through the night in order to get a little respite from fighting. All nightlong I would see my poor fellows hobbling along, prying wagons or ar tiiiery out or tne mua, ana supplementing the work $? our broken-down horses. At dawn, though, they would be in line ready for battle, and they would fight with the steadiness and valor of the Old Guard. "This lasted until the night of the 7th of April. The retreat of Lee's army was lit up with the fire and flush of battle, in which my brave men moved about like demigods for five days and nights. Then we were sent to the front for a rest and Longstreet was ordered to cover the retreating army. On the evening of the 8th, when I had reached the front, my scout, George, brought me two men in Confederate uniform, who, he said, he believed belonged to the enemy, as he had seen them counting our men as they filed past. I had the men brought to my camp-fire and examined them. They made a most plausible defence, but George was positive they were spies, and I ordered them searched. He failed to find anything, when 'I ordered him to examine their boots. In the bottom of one of the boots I found an order from Gen. Grant to Gen. Ord, telling him to move by forced marches towards Lynchburg and cut off Gen. Lee's retreat. The men then confessed that they were 'Jesse's,' and belonged to Gen. Sheridan. They stated that they knew that the penalty of their course was death, but asked that I should not kill them, as the war could only last a few days longer, anyhow. I kept them prisoners and turned them over to Gen. Sheridan after the surrender. I at once sent the information to Gen. Lee, and a short time afterward received orders to go to his headquarters. That night was held Lee's last council of war. There were present Gen. Lee, Gen. Fitzhngh Lee, as head of the cavalry, and Pendleton, as chief of artillery, and myself. Gen. Longstreet was, I think, too busily engaged to attend. Gen. Lee then exhibited to us the correspondence he had had with Gen. Grant that day, and asked our opinion of the situation, it seeihed that surrender was inevitable. The only chance of escape was that I could cut a way for the army through thd lines in front of me. Gen. Lee asked me if I could do this. I replied that I did not kpow what forces were in front of me; that if Gen. Ord had not arrived?as we, thought then he had not?with his heavy masses of infantry, I could cut through. I guaranteed that my men would cut a way through all the cavalry that could be massed in front of them. The council finally dissolved with the understanding that the army should be surrendered if I discovered, the next morning, after feeling the enemy's line, that the infantry had arrived in such force that I .could not cut my way through. My men were drawn up in the little town of Appomattox that night I still had about 4,000 men under me, as the army had been diftwA anrl rnvrnn Don V iucu iuia/ unu wiumauviO) ?uu gi t vu w v?w*?? Longstreet and myself. Early on the morn* ing of the 9th, I prepared for the assault upon the enemy's line and began- the last fighting done in Virginia. My men rushed forward gamely and broke the line of the enemy and captured two pieces of artillery. I was still unable to tell what I was fighting. I did not know whether I was striking infantry or dismounted cavalry. I only knew that my men were driving them back, and were getting further and further through. Just then I had a message from Gen. Lee, telling me a flag of truce was in existence, leaving to my discretion as to what course to pursue. My men ,'N were still pushing their way on. I sent at once to hear from Gen. Longstreet, feeling that if he were marching toward me, we might still cut through and carry the army forward. I learned that ne was about two miles off, with his .men faced just opposite from mine, fighting for his life. I thus saw the case was hopeless. The further each of us drovethe enemy the further we drifted apart, and the more ex posed we left our wagon trains and artillery, which were parked between us. Every time either of us broke, it only opened the gap the ?? wider. I saw plainly that tne Federals wc^WT soon rush bei;ween us, and then there vfould have been no army. I, therefore, determined to send a flag of truce. I called Major Hunter, of my staff, to me, and told him jbat I * wanted him to carry a flag of truce forward. He replied: ' "'General, I have no flag of truce."I told him to get one." He replied ^ - "'General, we nave no flag of truce in oar command.' "Then said I: 'Then get your handkerchief, put it on a stick and go forward.' ".'I have no handkerchief, General.' . ^ " 'Then borrow one and go forward with it.' ' "He tried, and reported to me that there was no handkerchief in my staff " 'TJien, Major, use your shirt J" " 'You see, General, that we all have flannel shirts.' "At last we found a man who had a white shirt. He gave it to us and I tore off the . ^ back and tail, and, rigging this to a stick, Hunter went out toward the enemy's lines. I instructed him to simply say to Gen.' Sheridan that Gen. Lee had written me that a flag of truce had been sent from his and Grant's headquarters, and that he could act as he thought best on this information. In a few moments he came back with Major , of Sheridan's staff. This officer said: " 'Gen. Sheridan requested nie to present his comnliments to von and to demand the unconditional surrender of your array.' ?~" 'Major, you will please return my compliments to Gen. Sheridan, and say that I will not surrender.' " 'But, General, he will annihilate you.' " 'I am perfectly well aware of my situation. I simply gave Gen. Sheridan some information on which he may or may not desir? to act.' "He went back to -his lines and in a short time Gen. Sheridan came galloping-forward on an immense horse and attended by a very large staff. Just here, an incident occurred that came near having a serious ending. As Gen. Sheridan was approaching, I noticed one of my sharpshooters drawing his rifle down upon him. I at once called to him: 'Put down your gun. sir; this is a flag of truce I' But he * never raised it. He simply settled it to his nm<1 T*rna ^wovnnirr Q "Knurl /vn flKfilHHan OUUUlUCl a.ju rvaa luanuig u i/v<4u vu ^uv*avu?uj when I leaned forward and jerked bis gun. He struggled with me, but I finally raised it. I then loosed it and he started to aim again. I caught it' again, when he turned his stern, white face, all broken, with grief, and streaming with tears, up to me and said: 'Well, General, then let him keep on his own side 1' The fighting had continued up to this point. Indeed, after the flag of truce, a regiment of my men. who had been fighting their way through toward where we were, and who did not know of a flag of truce, fired into some of Sheridan's cavalry. This was speedily stopped, however. I showed Gen. Sheridan Gen. Lee's note, and he determined to await events. He dismounted, and I did the same. Then, for the first time, the men seemed to understand what it all meant. And then the poor fellows broke down. The men cried like children. "Worn, starved and bleeding as they were, they had rather have died than have surrendered. At one word from me they would have hurled themselves on the enemy and cut their way through or have fallen to a man with their guns in their hands. But I could not permit it. The grand drama had been played to its end. But men are seldom permitted to look upon such a scene as the one presented there. That these men should have wept at surrendering so unequal a fight; at being taken out of this constant carnage and storm; at being sent back to their families; that they should have wept at having their starved and wasted forms lifted out of the jaws of death, and placed once more before their hearthstones, was an exhibition of fortitude and patriotism that might set an example for all time. "Ah ! sir. every ragged soldier that surrendered that aay, from the highest to the lowest, from tne* oia veteran to tne Dearaiess ooy, every one of them, sir, carried a heart of gold in his breast. It made my heart bleed for them, and sent the tears streaming down my face, as I saw them surrender the poor, riddled, battle-stained flags that they had followed so often, and that had been made sacred with the blood of their comrades. The poor fellows would step forward, give up the scanty rag that they had held so precious through so many long and weary years, and then turn and wring their empty hands together and bend their heads in an agony of grief. Their sobs and the sobs of their comrades could be heard for yards around. Others would tear * the flags from the staff and hide the precious rag in their bosoms and hold it there. As Gen. Lee rode down the lines with me and saw the men crying, and heard them cheering 'Uncle T?r>Hor+' untli tlioir simnlfl hut. mthfttic re marks, he turned to me and said, in a broken voice: 'Oh, General, if it had only been my lot to have fallen in one of our battles, to have given my life to this cause that we could not save.' I told him that he should not feel that way, that he had done all tliat mortal man could do, and every man and woman in the South would feel this and would make him feel it. 'No! no !' he said, 'there will be many who will blame me. But, General, I have the consolation of knowing that my conscience approves what I have done, and that the army sustains me.' "In a few hours the army was scattered, and the men went back to their ruined and dismantled homes, many of them walking all the way to Georgia and Alabama, all of them penniless, worn-out and well-nigh heart- broken. Thus passed away Lee's army; thus were its last battles fought 5 thus was it surrendered, and thus was the great American tragedy closed, let us all hope, forever."