University of South Carolina Libraries
lewis m. gbist, proprietor. j. ^n Iniicpcnlient .familj Betospptr: Jfor % $r emotion of tjw political, Serial, ^gricnltnral anil Commercial Interests of tjje jJontJj. |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 27. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, VTTG-ITST 11, 1881. NO. 32. Ihe J>toni ftrUct. THE CAPTAIN'S YARN. A few years ago I had command of the bri| Nimrod, and was bound up the Mediterran ean with an assorted cargo, meaning to brinj home liquors and fruit. On the tenth da; out, just at night, I was overtaken by th , United States sloop-of-war Preble. She ha< been in sight nearly all day, and at lengtl overhauled us. She spoke to us, found ou where we were bound, and informed us sh< was bound in tbe same direction. At darl ^ she was still up ahead, not having gaine< two or three miles. As the sun went dowi there were no signs of bad weather, and wi shortened sail some. About midnight wi thought that we could see something tha looked like a fire clear away off the starboan how; but it lasted only a few minutes, fine then went out. On the next morning the sloop of war wai just in sight, but we lost her before noon The wind was from the southward and quiti fresh. About two o'clock in the afternoon one of the men who happened to be aloft ?? ii said he saw something away to me suuuiwan and eastward, that looked like a boat. ] took my glass and went up into the foretop and I soon made out a boat full of men toss ing about upon the water, with a red shir hoisted upon a pole. I came down, and a once stood for the boat, which we came up t( in half an hour. She was a long, large, ligh built boat, square-bottomed almost, and dif ferent from the common boats of sea-goin| vessels. There were twenty-five men in her and as they came up over the sides I wai not much pleased with their appearance; bu their gratitude, however, soon won upon rae They were hard looking fellows, stout, darli and reckless; and even as they thus steppec from death into life, I fancied I could see ? peculiar carelessness in their manners whicl seemed to iudicate that they only received what they had expected. Perhaps I did no) notice this so much then, because they professed to be very grateful, and I have no doubl they were. The leader of the saved ones gave me his name as Samuel Lowbray. He said he was captain of a barque from Havana, and bound to Lisbon. The night before, his vessel caught fire, and when he found that it could not be extinguished, he and his men took to their boat. So they had only been in the boat some sixteen hours. Of course, that was the fire we had seen, aud I thus knew that so much of the story was true. This Lowbray was a Spaniard, though he spoke the Euglish language very well. But of course I knew he had not given me his true name, for there was nothing Spanish about that. We got the boat over the side, and stowed it away amidships, aud then I directed my mate, a Mr. Allen, to provide some sleeping place for the new-comers. Five days passed away, and at the end of that time I began to mistrust that all was not right. The strangers jabbered together in their own jargon, ~ * and 1 kuew from their looks that they were up to some mischief. Or, at any rate, I fear " * . ?t _ 4. ed so. I hkd seen enough to assure me imu . they all had hidden arms, aod that they were unscrupulous fellows. I communicated my fears to ray mate and he acknowledged that he had the same fears. We talked the matter over and at length came to the conclusion that we would make a ruu for the sloopof-war. We had of our crew only fifteen hands, all told?fourteen beside myself; so we would stand little chance with the interlopers. For forty-eight hours we ran with all the canvas we could crowd on, but I found we had no hopes of overhauling the Preble. I began to feel uneasy. But it seems that I wasn't to be in doubt much longer, as you shall hear. The night after we had made up our minds that ye could not catch the sloop-of-war, I went down into the cabin to look over the day's reckoning. It was ten o'clock. I was alone, and had just got my dead reckoning out, wheD I heard some oue behind me. 1 turned around and saw one of the boat's crew. At first I was a little startled, but I quickly saw that this was the only one of the whole gang who had a decent-looking face. He was a good looking youth, not over twenty one or two, and I had been puzzled by his presence in such a company. He looked V " rather pale on the present occasion, and I saw that he cast his eye3 cautiously around as though he would be sure I was alone. "What's wanted ?" I said. "Captain Morbuck," he answered, at the same tiruetaking a seat close to me. "I want to tell you something. It is for my good as well as for yours. Will you listen ?" I assured him that I would. "Then listen," he resumed, and he went on and told me as near as I can remember, as follows: "My name is John Myers. I am a native of Philadelphia, and have followed the sea several years. Two years ago I shipped on board one of Uncle Sam's men-of-war at the navy yard in Philadelphia, and went on to the Brazil station. After a while I got sick of the service and deserted at Rio. I shipped on board a schooner there and made my way to Havana, where I remained nearly two months. I had got nearly out of money, and was oue day in a drinking house there, when some men asked me if I wanted a good paying berth. I was half drunk at the time, and should have embraced any opportunity that might have turned. I followed those men down to the pier, and was pulled off to a brig that lay at anchor just outside the Moro. More liquor was giveu me, and I shipped for a voyage in a slaver. We went to sea that , very night, and on the following day I was too sick to care for anything. I had a touch of the delirium tremens, but got over it at length, and then went about my duty. But the first day I spent on deck I would have given all ? I ever owned could I have been clear of the hi ig. Not only did the work we were engaged in sicken ine, but the company of the crew was disgusting. I only hoped that I might find some means of escape before we went at work on the slave coast. But I came nigh being delivered with all the rest. Our brig caught fire at night from some fire in the galley dropping into the hold. We could not put out the fire, and we got out our river boat and put off. You picked us up?and then I thanked God, because 1 thought I was clear of the accursed work I had shipped to do. But I soon found that I had given'thanks too soon, for the villains bad concocted a work more fearful, even than the one I had so much dreaded. Captain Morbuck, they have planned to take your ship, murder you and your crew, and then steer for the slave coast and get their cargo." You may believe I was thunder-struck ; and yet I had feared something of this kind. I questioned Myers closely, and was soon satisfied of the truth of his whole story. I asked him when the villains meant to put theii bloody work into execution, and he told im he thought on the next night, but he was nol sure that they might not do it before anothei sun rose. He told me he had not known until that day, what they had determined upon or he should have warned me before. He begged of me to save him if I could ; auc then he asked me what I meant to do. Bui I could not tell him. I only bade him, lei come what might, to seek my side, aud dp ai I said. He promised that he would, and ther left me. As soon as he was gone, I awoke my mate ; and told him the story. He was frightene< j half out of his wits at first, but gradually hi - I became calm. We talked the matter over ! but we could think of nothing that could helj ! us. The villains were bunked in the fore castle and the fore-peak, some in hammocks t* j and some on the floor. Before we could kil -1 half a dozen, the rest would be up. Anc ?: then they were mixed with my own men p ! One thiDg wa3 sure?I knew I had not a mar e : who could be hired to join them, i "By Heaven !" uttered Allen, let us risl !i ourselves in our boat rather than surely die t j I know they mean to murder us?there car e j be no mistake about it. And now, rathei i ; than have our old brig turned into a slavei 1 why not set her on fire, and then let the vil i lains have their own boat, and we take ours ?' e I thought of my mate's proposition a mo e ment, and then I leaped to my feet. A new t idea had entered my mind. I pondered upor 1 it a while, and I felt sure I had hit an expe1 dient. "I'll smudge 'em out!" I cried. And ther 3 I sat down and told my plan to the mate . He started up with hope ; and when he thor 3 oughly understood it we went on deck to ex , plain to the JCR,en. We found none of the , villains on deck, and in a few minutes every 1 man of the watch had his cue. But of courst [ we could do nothing until after midnight, foi , it would not answer to rout out the othei watch lest we should excite the suspicion ol t the slavers. t It -was now pa9t eleven. If the villains ) meant to make an attack before we were ready t then we had to fight?that was all. It was - not quite midnight when we called the watch, j but of course no one below knew of that. , The first watch went down as usual and turn 3 ed in without undressing. Two ofthe slavers t came on deck when the mid watch was set, . but they only remained a few minutes aud : then went below again. At one o'clock all 1 was still. I had made the Eecond watch act quainted with the whole affair, and was now i ready for work. Oue man was sent down I into the forecastle to see how matters were t there, and he returned with the information that all was quiet, the villains being all asleep : and the others all awake. As soon as I heard this I went to work. ' The jnain hatch wa9 taken carefully off ' and laid one side, then two very large thick tarpaulins spread over the open hatch-ways and openly secured to the combings. We let these tarpaulins bag down as much as possible, so that they would hold considerable of a load. They were thoroughly soaked in salt water, and I knew that they could not easily catch fire. Then into the wide basin thus formed I put a lot of shavings which the carpenter had made a few days before, some old rags, oakum, and so on, and had them all well soaked with oil; and also had a couple of buckets filled with oil and set by ready for use. My next movement was to take the cook's great copper kettle and fill it with cotton rags and tar. This we took forward and made a line fast to the bail. Just forward of the foremost there was a small hatchway which opened into the after part of the fore-castle, and which was used for letting down a windsail. I carefully took off this hatch and the i set fire to the mass in the kettle, and as soc i as it burned well up I threw on a lot of wet rags and powdered rosin and deck sweepings. Of course this made a cloud of smoke and team which would fill the forecastle in a mc-nent. I let it carefully down through the hatchway, and as soon as it touched the forecastle floor I hastened aft. The mainsails had been already clewed up. While T " .i . -M- 1 ?? | I set nre to ?tne piie 01 coniuusuoiea uu I the tarpaulins, some of the men had the | main topstril aback, and then we raised the cry of fire! fire! with all our might; and J some of my crew cut loose the fastenings of | the slavers' boat and began to work it over j the rail. | In a moment the pile of stuff upon the se! cured tarpaulins was in a blaze, and it looked I exactly as though the flames came pouring j up from the hold. Even to me, who had | fixed -all, it seemed as though the devouring element had full sway below. Of course my ; own men rushed for the deck as soon as I let j the kettle down, one of them remaining on j the ladder to arouse the sleepers. He had to , wait but a moment, however for the forecastle i was filled with dense, hot smoke, ere my men ! had gained the deck. Then he, too, yelled? ! fire! Ere long the villains began to flock upon j deck. They came up in wild confusion, and a cry of terror broke from their lips as they ; saw the fire, as the'y supposed so furiously bursting forth from the hold. I had kept a ! man pouring water carefully upon the edges I of the tarpaulin, while another was throwing ' oil over the fire. "Ho ! let that boat alone!" yelled the vil* I lain captain as he saw that my men had it S nearly over. "Get your own boat!" I sang out for my men to bring out the long brat, and they apparently went at the work. In the meantime the Spaniards and their companions got their boat over the side, and then their captain wanted to know if J there was bread and water on deck. "I've put a lot on your boat," I told him, | "for I supposed it would hold all of us. But i if you want that boat all to yourselves, then 1 let me have one breaker of water and a bag j of bread. I can't get to the bread room now." But the bloody villain only told me to J go to the very place where I fancied he ought to have been, aud then ordered his men to go ! over. Young Myers crept to my side and asked what he should do. "Stick by me." I answered, In a few minutes their large river boat was | shoved off, aud the villains seemed to be waiting to see what we would do. ! "Oh!" uttered Myers, in quick, fearful ' tones. "I am lost at any rate, and so are jyou! I heard the captain tell his mate that ! they'd push off and wait until you'd get off, | and then rob you of your provisions and every! thing !" They'll do it !?they will surely!" "We'll see," said I. And then turning to my men, "Give the main topsail to the wind?quick ?" I cried; aud while the i yards were coming around a dozen buckets of water were cast upon the fire. The water ; we had been pouring upon the edges of the tamaulin to prevent that from burning , through, had already formed quite a pool iu the basin, and these twelve buckets extinguished the flames entirely. Myers was fair| ly thunderstruck. He could not at first be, | lieve the evidence of his own senses ; but he ; soon comprehended the whole thing and then I saw his hands quickly clasped and his eyes turned upward. , | By the time the fire was out, the old brig i1 had begun to gather headway aud the boat was just under the stern. I looked over and , hailed the hounds. "The fire's all out," I cried. "Wouldn't ; you like to come back! Ho! I know you now, you may try another plan for carrying out your scheme [ "Where's Myers ?" I heard one of them ask. "He's left behind !" said another. ; And then came up the curses loud and deep. The villains now knew that they had . been somehow deceived, and that Myers had , betrayed them. They swore they'd have his ? life ; and many other things they swore ol I equal terror. They had six oars, and, I t heard their commander order them to pull II with all their might?and they did so; but i ; we had a fresh breeze, and the boat with its i ! black hearts and bloody hands, was soon oul of sight astern. The tarpaulins were taken , I from the hatchway, and all was found safe, 1 The fire in the kettle had done no damage a in the forecastles, and ere long the place was ,! free from smoke, and the off watch.turned in. 3 We saw no more of the boat, nor have I [ seen any of her crew since. What became , j of them I know not. If they were lost at sea 1 11 could not feel mournful, for, had I been in 1 doubt before, the oaths which I heard from . them after they were in their boat were proof i positive of their intention to murder us and take possession of our vessel. In fact, they ; assured us in so many words, and swore they ! would yet do it! But they didn't! i John Myers proved himself a seaman, and r I engaged his services, and he has sailed with r me ever since. And now, my friends let me - just say?I have seen a good many hours of ' danger but never experienced quite so severe a shock as I did when John Myers first told r me the story of the slaver and her crew. Nor i did I ever feel any more cause for thanks to God than I did when I saw the last of those villains leave my vessel and tumble into his i own boat. ; ^lisfrUiiueous . THE BATTLE-FIELD OF SEVEN PINES. Richmond, July 20, 1881.?"Have you a ' match, sir? Ah! much obliged. Pleasant ? morning ?" The brown cheeked, gray-bearded old geni tleraan, clad in cool linen, who thus approach' ed me in capitol square, snugged his walkingi stick up under his arm, and dexterously drew , fire by scraping the bit of brimstone upon the butt of the caue. "That was cleverly done," I said, seeing that the wind was so Btrong as to blow the tame squirrels, running here and there through the beautiful grounds, slightly sideways <fhenever they attempted to spring from the grass to the trunks of the trees. "Exactly, sir. I learned how to make a match do its duty out of doors, when cami paigning with that glorious old fellow there," said the veteran, looking from under his clothlined straw hat, and poiuting to the statue of Stonewall Jackson^ a few yards away. "War taught me many lessons." "But there are few evidences of the war here in Richmond and around ?" "Why, sir, didn't you hear about that shell out in Hanover, Wednesday evening?how a shell was struck by lightning?" "A shelletruck by lightniug?" "A shell struck by lightning. Just so. In Mr. Faulkner's field, eight miles from the city, there is a tall tree, a pine, which I remember seeing once. During the storm ou Wednesday evening, and while some hands were at work in the same field, lightning struck the tree and set it on fire. Faulkner UJrt *v?/m ?a n!nl? Im fKa Kriioll fA lfPPn lV?P OCiib IJ13 1L1CL1 IV/ |'IUIV u | / L Li v Wi uuu bv uvv^/ v u w fire from reaching his fences. In less than half an hour the "men heard a terrific explosion in the tree, and, with some fear, they searched for the cause. They found that the tree had been shattered by a shell, and they picked up pieces of the shell that had torn through the bushes near by. The shell lodged in the tree during the war, but no one knew it was there. If that was not a relic of the war, and a forcible one, too, what is? Or take a drive out to Oakwood, and you'll see where sixteen thousand of our boys are buried, and in the beautiful Hollywood, just over there, where I'm pointing, a granite monument stands in the midst of graves containing fourteen thousand southern soldiers. Oh ! yes, Richmond has many points of interest in connection with the war; but, as you see, this is now a driving business city, and the people here rarely think of things of the kind." A GLIMPSE AT LIBBY. Such an entertaining talker did the veteran prove himself to be that the sun began to whiten the Doric columns of the capitol before I was fairly started, upon invitation of my interlocutor, on our way to the Williamsburg road and Seven Pines battle field. Passing out Main street the placard "Washington and Lafayette's headquarters" on a small stone house with revolutionary slant of roof, caused a halt, but an objeot of keener interest sat in plain eight a square below on the James, and thither we went. This was' Libby prison, a squat building of brick, an ugly warehouse sort of a place, the top of which looked hot, even in the early morning sun. The prison walls are full of windows, ; but they are traversed with cobwebs of iron, and the whole mass is so low-pitched and al- \ together so suggestive of a toad that its re- ( moval would be taking away of what appeared to me to be an eyesore. Yet the sign, "The Southern Fertilizer Company," over one of its doorways, and the passing to and fro on the wharf near by of sweating steve- 1 dores, who puffed their pipes and cracked their jokes, serves to bring the mind away from the past, and all feeling is lost iu the common-place street. RICHMOND IS FULL OF THINGS I to make one tarry, and what with stopping I at the Federal cemetery, on Williamsburg road, where 842 known and 6,542 unknown Union soldiers lie in grass plats, dotted with blocks of granite and fringed with flowers, it got to be 9 o'clock before we approached the < battle field seven miles east of the city. We moved in a slow jog, for the road is sandy. As we neared the place of interest I thought there must be more like seven mil- < j lion than seven pines on the battle field. The pines grow in thick woods, and upon their j smooth brown shatters, covering the ground : beneath them, the sun glistening all day long. | The fields are level and mostly fallow. By : i the roadside are small trees and bushes, and ! within sight of Seven Pines we sniffed air ' laden with the perfume of wild roses that nodded pleasantly on either hand. SEVEN PINES AND SEVEN CEDARS. At the point whither we were bound a j i flag floated above a grove of maples, and, j coming to the nine-mile-road, we found our-1 selves in front of the national cemetery,; around which is the hamlet of Seven Pine9. i The first thing that one looks closely at is a row of small, healthy pines, seven in number, j that stand along the cemetery wall. When the battle was fought, on the last day of i May, 1862, there grew close by thi3 spot! seven pine branches from one stump. Those i branches gave the locality its name. Now the seven shoots have disappeared, and not so much as the roots are discoverable. But nine years ago Storekeeper Lyne brought j seven little pines from the woods and planted , j them where they now thrive, nut-brown and I scaly of trunk and dark green of color. Sev- j en cedars line the other side of the road directly opposite, and, strange to say, seven i houses, clustering around, make up the little ! village of Seven Pines. It is another case of i "WE ARE SEVEN"? the sad story that all of us used to read in our sing song way in the school books of long ago. ; None but Union soldiers were buried in the cemetery, which contains the bones of 1,857 i men, of whom only 150 are known by name, i It is nicely kept and everything about the ! place, from Keeper Barrow's lodge to the far- j i ther edge of the acre and a quarter grass plat,1 ? is trim and neat.# A hedge runs around the j inclosure and besides the pines the grove con- j tains many maple and cedar trees.. Roses,! ; I pinks, geraniums, lilacs, and the spirea bloom i [ among the graves while what the superinten; i dent's mother called "the devil's Walking i j stick" stands sentry Dear the gate. The visi,' lor feels like rolling in the grass and making a feast of the pretty picture. The air is cool and fragrant. Loveliness bangs about the spot. BONES UNDER THE BLACKBERRY BRIERS. But what a contrast when, under the guidance of an obliging neighbor, one walks a few hundred yards up the Williamsburg road, crosses a corn-field, and suddenly trips over a skeleton hand thrust out from a patch of briers! The friends of the men who rest below the blossoms there in the cemetery won ; the men who lie under the briers here in the field lost. The first is victory ; the last defeat. Death came to the victims of both, but in this field is death with desolation. The neighbors say that the bones of about two hundred southern soldiers remain in this field, a part of the Tigner or Twin house property, now occupied by Farmer R. H. Kuhn. When, on the 31st of May, Johnston beat Casey back upon Couch and split the letter's division in twain it was not until the oltanlf innr fhnnonnrta hftrl RllflfprpH BftVPTftlv. w "-V A Georgia regiment that swept pas! the Tigner farm-house, came at a double-quick and with fierce energy, down upon Casey's left. They were met by volley after volley, and quite two hundred sifice that day have slept in the field which they entered with such stern front and brave stride. The part of .the field nearest Seven Pines is now a pine thicket. Along the edge of this thicket, and along the line where underbrush skirts a piece of cleared land, I saw blotches of weed-covered earth in which, as Farmer Kuhn assured me, were THE BONES OF MANY MEN. In plowing across this field three months ago Mr. Kuhn frequently came across thigh bones, shoulder blades, ribs and smaller parts of skeletons. Seeing a large bone he would take it and hold it until he reached the end of the row, where other bones were. In this way it came that the bleaching things lie thicker along the fences than elsewhere. I counted a dozen clumps of black-berry briers, and by kicking the sod saw under each saw evideuce that the field is of the nature of a graveyard. Where corn isn't growing round about, grow nettles, herd grass, smart grass and summer weeds. Little boys going from Seven Pines to the Twip House after dusk, walk cautiously until they reach the place in the road opposite the spot of skeletons, and then they scanper down the road as though the old boy were after them hot-footed and with hin forked tail unfurled. Mention of the difficulty under which the Seven Pines small boy labors when night comes on brings to mind the local tradition of the Tigner children. AT THE OPENING OF THE BATTLE the giants seized each other by the throat so quickly and wrestled with such immediate violence, even leaving their heel marks in the hard earth of her yard, that Mrs. Tigner was unabl3 to escape. What could she do? Where could the children go ? In through the windows bullets were flying, and they came zipping against the sides of the house. The only safe place appeared to he the well. The brave woman seized her children as if for sacrifice, tied them to the bucket and lowered them into the well, where they remained throughout the day. But she couldn't get down in the well. And yet save herself she must, for her children's sake. In this extremity she thought of the protection of feather beds, and with quick -fingers sewt i herself into her geese down armor, remaining there safely until the storm had passed. In like manner Captain John Eacho saved his bacon, at his house, near the Seven Pines store. The tall sycamores that surrounded the Eacho place during the battle are there now, while the Seven Pines farm house, east of the cemetery, stills shows its bullet-punctured weatherboarding. A FEW STEPS TO FAIR OAKS. The neighbors seem not to comprehend when one begins to ask them questions concerning the "Fair Oaks battle fiekl," for while northern writers speak of the battle as fought there, the fight is locally know as that of Seven Pines. Fair Oaks station, on the Richmond and York railroad, is within easy rifle shot of the Seven Pines cemetery. A man with long legs?even one of McClellan's veterans?could travel between the two points in five minutes, especially, as in days of yore, if behind the runner was a rough and ready rebel with a gun. The intervening belt of land is now in timber, much of which has grown up since the battle. A federal redoubt is well preserved in one bit of woods, and the A T>ira AD DTFT U DTTG may be seen occasionally. Issuing from the woods we came to the little building used for a railroad station, and, crossing the railroad, were soon resting in a grove of oaks that are fair indeed. The oaks now number thirtythree. They stand in front of a farm house, and their acorn shells are scattered over the yard. There are no marks of fighting about the house, but in its rear, where brave old Sumner, who sniffed the battle from the other bank of the Chickahominy, five miles away, put himself up as a shield for the array, there are trees that were killed by shells and other evidences of the struggle. It is growing dark as we approach Richmond from the Hanover road, and the last thing seen before coming within the limits of the street lamp is in keeping with the objects seen during the day's, trip?a fort in ruins. In the twilight th!j pile seems a strong.thing?formidable, indeed, with its clean-cut banks of red earth, its perfect angles and ditches that still are filled with water. But getting closer one sees that it is unfanged?a mud bill, without a garrison and without a gun.?G. M., in Philadelphia Times. CIRCULAR. Office of General Manager, ) Richmond, Va., July 20th, 1881. j It is the purpose of the Richmond and Danville Railroad Company to make, at the International Cotton Exposition, to be held at Atlanta, Ga., this Fall, a comprehensive exhibit of the agricultural, mineral and forest products of those regions through which the several roads comprising its system pass. Erabraced in this system are the Richmond and Danville, Charlotte, Columbia ^nd Augusta, and Columbia and Greenville Railroad Companies. A splendid opportunity, attended with no expense beyond the furnishing of specimens, will thus be afforded to owners of mines and of mine/al and timber lands, to bring to the attention of visitors, from all parts of this and from other countries, the remarkable variety of products, and the re- i sources and capacity of the sections of our i Southern country referred to. All persons throughout the great Piedmont j and mountain regions embraced in our system ; of railroads are not only requested, but urged to contribute to the exhibit made by the Richmond and Danville Railroad Company, good and large specimens of minerals?of all woods valuable for house and ship building, for cabi.iaf o.irt i.atiinlpQ And fhp m Pptl A n I <?B.l arts?of roots, herbs and plants which have commercial value, and of all farm products of excellent variety and appearance. In short, it is desirable to have specimens of every native product which can embellish and complete the exhibit. Ample and attractive space for such an exhibition has been secured. We appeal to our friends and patrons to give us their cordial and practical assistance toward making an exhibition worthy of the grand region it will represent. Capt. C. C. McPhai' has been assigned to the duty of making"all arrangements for the exhibit, and will have general charge of it until the exposition closes. All persons desiring information and to make contributions of material and specimens are requested to correspoud with him, care R. & D. R. R. Co., Richmond, Va. All articles for the Richmond and Danville R. R. exhibition should be marked, Capt. C. C. McPbail, Agent, R. & D. R. R., Atlanta, Ga., and will be shipped from any station on all the roads of the R. & D. system free of charge. T. M. R. TALCOTT, General Manager. JACKSON'S DUEL. The Bad Wound He Received. \fpn?inn urna matin in thp fteniihlir.nn. fl few days ago, of the contest between Jackson and Benton, in which the former was wound ed. The following is a graphic description of the duel between Dickinson and "Old Hickory," causing the death of the former and entailing much bodily suffering to the latter : "The duel took place ou the banks of the Red River. Dickinson's second won the choice of position and Jacksou's the office of giving the word. The eight paces were measured off and the men were placed. Both were perfectly collected. Strict duelling etiquette was preserved. Jackson wore a loose frock coat, buttoned carelessly over his chest and concealing in some degree the extreme slenderness of bis figure. Dickinson was the younger ond handsomer man of the two. He was twenty-five and Jackson thirty-nine years old. The general's tall, erect figure and grave demeanor gave him a commanding air as he stood in the shade of the poplars in the bright May morn." "Are you ready ?" Overton inquired. "I am ready," Dickinson replied, and Jackson reiterated the words. Quick as thought, Overton shouted, with his country accent, "Fere !" Dickinson as quickly raised his pistol and fired. Overton saw a puff of dust fly from the breast of the General's coat. Jacksou raised his left arm and placed it tightly across his chest. "He is surely hit," muttered his second, "and in a bad place, too ; but no, he does not fall." Jackson, erect and grim, with teeth set firm, raised his pistol. Overton glanced at Dickinson. Amazed at the un wonted failure of his aim, and apparently ap palled at the awful face and figure before him, the lawyer had unconsciously recoiled a pace or two. "Great God !" he faltered, "have I missed him ?" "Ronlr r\ fKo mart oil*" rftorori HnoffAn juava tu IUUI a f on, IUUI^U v tuu j with his hand oo his pistol. Dickinson recovered his composure, and toed the scratch. He averted his eyes from hi. antagonist. Jackson took deliberate aim and pulled the trigger. The pistol neither snapped nor went off. It stopped at halfcock. Jackson drew the lock hack to its place, took aim a second time, and fired. Dickinson's face blanched ; he reeled ; his friends caught him in their arms and gently seated him on the ground against a bush. His trousers reddened. They stripped off bis clothes. The blood was rushing from his side in a torrent. The ball had passed through the body below the ribs and lodged just under the skin above the opposite hip. All the doctors of Christendom could not have saved his life. General Overton w< nt forward and looked at him. A glance was sufficient. He rejoined Jackson, saying, "He'll want nothing more of you, General." They walked to where the horses were tethered. Overton was on one side of Jackson and the surgeon on the other. Neither spoke a word. The surgeon saw one of Jackson's shoes was full of blood. "My, God, General, you are hit!" he exclaimed, pointing to the blood. "Yes, I believe he has pinked me a little," Jackson replied. "Let's look at it, but say nothing about it." He opened his coat. Dickinson's aim had been perfect. He had sent the ball precisely where he supposed Jaekson's heart was beating. The thinuess of his body and the looseness of his coat deceived him. It was a bad looking wound. Two ribs were broken and the breast-bone was raked. Jackson mounted his horse and rode to the tavern. Upon apMKnankinrr ^mien V\a ironf a o narrrn irn. pi UO^UlUg IMG UUUOO 11V HWUV IrU U U^l V flW" man, who was churning, and asked whether the butter had come. She said it was just coming. He asked for some buttermilk. While she was getting it tor him, he fuatively opened his coat. She saw that his shirt was soaked with blood. While she was gazing at the sight, dipper in hand, he caught her eye, and hastily buttoned his coat. She dipped out a quart of buttermilk and gave it to him. He drank it off' at a draught, and then went to the house and had his wound dressed. He sent a frieud to inquire concerning Mr. Dickinson's condition, and to offer the services of his surgeon. Dr. Catlet replied that Dickinson's case was past all surgery. General Jackson then sent a bottle of wine to the physician for the use of his patient. Dickinson bled to death. The flow of blood could not be stopped. He suffered extreme agony, and uttered distressing cries all day long. At nine o'clock that night he asked why they had pat out the lights. The end was at hand. Five minutes afterward he died, cursing with his last breath, the ball that had entered his body. His wife had been summoned. On the way to Harrison's Mills she met a procession of silent horsemen escorting a rough emigrant wagon that contained her husband's remains. Jackson gaye as a reason for concealing his wound that, as Dickinson considered himself the best shot in- the world and was certain of | killing bim at the ffrst fire, he did not want him to have the gratification of knowing that he had touched him. "I should have hit him," he said, "if he had shot me through the brain." Jackson was then taken to the Hermitage. His wound proved to be even more severe than was at first anticipated. It was a month before he could leave the house. The wound healed falsely. Some of the viscera were displaced and so remained. During the exciting session in 1825, when John Quiucy Adams was elected President over Jackson and L'rawtord, by tne action 01 j Henry Clay, the wound broke out afresh, i Jackson was closeted late one night with a ! member of Congress in Washington, in deep i converse over the situation. It is said that the member promised Jackson Clay's support if he would agree to make Clay Secretary of State. This would have elected the General, as three States were voting for Clay, three for ! Crawford, seven for Adams and eleven for j Jackson. Long did the Congressman plead j with the old man. It was useless. Jackson J would uot give an iuch. At midnight the i member took his leave. The hall lamp of! the hotel had been extinguished, and the General went stumbling upstairs in the dark. Upon reaching the top he supposed that he had yet to ascend a stair, and made an awkward step forward. The viscera which had been displaced by Dickinson's ball, and had falsely healed, was again severed from the breast bone, and the internal wound was thus reopened. The General staggered to his room. Over a week elapsed before he was able to leave his bed. He had several attacks of bleeding at the lungs, caused by the wound. Many times was he brought by th^n to the verge of the grave. The affection was probably aggravated by his mode of treating it. When threatened with an attack he would bare bis arm, bandage it, take his pen-knife out of his pocket, call his servant to hold a bowl, and bleed himself freely. Often during his Presidency he performed this operation i in the night without atiy assistance. Thrice while President his friends despaired of bis life, and during the greater part of his term ' he was debilitated to a degree that would have prevented most men from transacting business. Duriug the first six years after "his retirement from the Presidency his health was not much worse than it had usually been in Washington. Every attack of bleeding at the lungs, however, left him a little weaker than he bad ever been before, and his recovery was slower and less complete. During the last two years of his life he could never be said to haVe rallied from these attacks. He grew very weak and had slight relief from pain. A cough tormented him day and night. He had all the symptoms of consumption. Six months before death dropsical symptoms were developed. They increased, and he finally died on June 8, 1845, thirty-nine years and nine days after the duel. - CIRCUMSTAKTIAL EVIDENCE. In the year 1793 a young man who was serving his apprenticeship in London to a master sail-maker, got leave to visit his mother to spend the Christmas holidays. She lived a few miles beyond Deal, in Kent. He walked the journey. On his arrival at Deal, in the evening, being much fatigued, and also troubled with a bowel complaint, he applied to the landlady of a public house who was acquainted with his mother, for a night's lodging. Her house was full and every bed occupied, but she told him that if he would sleep with her uncle, who had lately come ashore, and was boatswain of an Indiaman, he should be welcome. He was glad to accept the offer ; and after spending the evening with his new comrade they retired to rest. In the middle of the night he was attacked with his complaint, and wakening his bedfellow, he asked him the way to the privy. The boatswain told him to go through the kitchen, but as he would find it difficult to open the door in the yard, the latch being out of order, he desired him to take a knife out of his pocket with which he could raise the latch. The young man did as he was directed and after staying half an hour in the yard, returned to bed, but was much surprised to find his companion had risen and gone. Be* ing impatient to visit his mother and friends, he also arose before day, and pursued his journey, and arrived at home at noon. The lady, who had been told of bis intention to depart early, was not much surprised ; but not seeing her uncle she went to call him. She was dreadfully shocked to find the bed stained with blood, and every inquiry after her uncle was in vain. The alarm now become general, and on further examination, marks of blood were traced from the bedroom into the street, and at intervals down to the pier head. Kumor tuoo Knur onrl Qiianintnn fpl 1 nf n?o iiaiauvuiuuviJ uuoj y uuu uuo|yiviuu ?w*? w? course upoo the young man who slept with him, that he had committed the murder, and thrown the body into the sea. . A warrant was issued and he was taken that evening at his mother's house. On being examined and searched, marks of blood were discovered on his shirt and trowsers, and in his pockets was a knife and a remarkable silver coin, both of which the landlady 8woj*e positively were her uncle's property, and that she saw them in his possession on the evening he retired to rest with the young man. On these strong circum- r stances the unfortunate youth was found guilty. He related all the above circumstances in his defence, but as he could not account for the marks of blood on bis person, unless he got them when he returned to bed, nor could account for the silver coin being in his possession, his story was not credited. The certainty of the boatswain's disappearance ; the blood at the pier, traced from his bedroom, were two evident signs of his beiDg murdered; and even the judge was so convinced of his guilt, that he ordered the execution to take place in three days. At the fatal tree the youth declared his iunocence, and persisted in it with such af- i fecting a8servation8 that many pitied him, though none doubled the justness of his sentence. The executioners of those days were not so expert at their trade as modern ones, nor were i props and platforms invented. The young man was very tall, his feet sometimes touched the ground, and some of his friends whosur- ; rounded the gallows contrived to give the body some support as it was suspended, i After being cut down, those friends bore it speedily away in a coffin, and in the course of a few hours animation was restored, and i the innocent saved. When he was able to 1 move, hia friends insisted on his leaving the country and never returniug. He accordingly traveled by night to Portsmouth and en tered on board a man of-war, on the point of I sailing to a distant part of the world ; and as he changed his name and disguised his j person his very melancholy history was never j discovered. After a few years of service, during which bis exemplary conduct was the cause of his promotion through the lower grades, he was I at last made master's mate, and his ship being ' paid off in the West Indies, he with a few ' more of the crew were transferred to another j man-of-war, which had just arrived, short ' of hands from a different station. What 1 were his feelings of astonishment, and then 1 of delight and ecstacy, when almost the first I person he saw on board his new ship was the J identical boatswain for whose murder he bad ' been tried, condemned and executed five years 1 before. ( Nor was the surprise of the old boatswain ' much less when he heard the story. An ex- 1 planation of all the mysterious circumstances then took place. It appeared that the boatswain had been bled for a pain in his side by the barber, unknown to his niece, on the day of the young man's arrival at Deal, that when the young man had awakened him and retired to the 1 yard, he found the bandage had come off bis 1 arm, during the night, and that the blood was flowing afresh. Being alarmed, he arose to go to the barber, who lived across the street; but a press gang laid hold of him just as he left the public house. They hurried him to the pier where the boat was waiting, and a few minutes brought them ou board a frigate, then under way for the Cast Indies, and he omitted ever writing home to account for his sudden disappearance. These were the chief cir- ( cumstances explained by the friend thus efronrroltr mot oviaiigvij U4w* The silver coin being found in the possession of the young man, could only be explained by conjecture?that when the boatswain gave him the knife in the dark it is probable, as the coin was in the same pocket, 1 it stuck between the blades of the knife, and in this manner became unconsciously the strongest proof against him. On their return to England, this wonderful explanation was told to the judge and jury who tried the case, and it is probable they never afterward convicted a man on circumstantial evidence. It also made a great noise in Kent at that time. Mohammedan Mercantile Morality.? A mercantile firm in Solouica had bills to a large amount on the principal inhabitants and merchants of that place, which, with their books and papers were destroyed by fire. On the next day a prominent Turk, who was largely in their debt, went to them and told them that, having heard that their papers had been destroyed, he had brought a copy of bis account with him and fresh bills tor the amount due them. This example was followed bv all the Turkish debtors to the firm. What a contrast to this is presented in the conduct of many calling themselves Christians, who would gladly have availed themselves of such an opportunity to evade the payment of their just debts. There are very many ostentatiously contributing to send missionaries to convert these Mohammedans, who themselves are in great need of being converted to the principles of honesty. Did the Abolition of Slavery Deppbasf. the Wp.ai.th of the state??In an issue of your paper some ten days ago appeared an article under the above heading. The following statistics will throw some light upon the subject and may be interesting to those inclined to think upon the subject, or to pursue the investigation further, from the standpoint here presented. . No well-informed reader or observer will, at this period of the world's progress, deny for a moment that the most prosperous countries are those in which the soil .is secured by and divided among the largest number of persons. The vast recuperative powers of France are in a great part due to the magnificent result of her great revolution, which, sweeping away the feudal system, left her a nation of freeholders?a State founded on the most conservative elements to be found in human civilization?a free people living in free homesteads. Pauperism is a trivial evil in France, as compared with the curse under which Great Britain labors. The land monopoly and continued absorption existing there is a frightful source and principal cause of the necessities which makfe the poor rates so grievous a burden. Nearly 860,000,000 annually is what the British people pay for the support of their paupers. An examination of the condition prevailing throughout the South before emancipation of the slaves will show as marked a tendency, area and conditions being considered, to the absorption of the -land by a limited class of persons as has for more than a century been the especial bane of Great Britain. In 1860 Tennessee contained 82,368 farms. In 1870, just five years after the surrender of the Confederate armies, the State contained 118,141 farms, an increase in the number of farms of 35,773 in five years after slavery was abolished ; nor were the conditions under which this increase was made at all advantageous. In every one of the States of Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, North Carolina, South Carolina, Texas and Virginia, the census of 1870 shows a marked increase in the number of farmi over that exhibited by the census of 1860, the increase in none of these States being much less than 10,000 farms. The census of 1870 shows one subdivision that is not found in that of 1860. This is that of farms under three acres?without doubt market gardens, in the main located near large seaports and large towns of the South, and devoted to the raising of vegetables and fruits. The largest increase of farms is in the smaller divisions, there being in the States named, including Tennessee, a total of 114,574 farms under 20 acres in extent, against 92,416 additional farms between twenty and fifty acres in extent. Again, there is a total increase of 206,990 farms under fifty acres each, against ag increase of but 14,532 of between fifty and one hundred each. A partial exhibit of 1874-5 in the State of Georgia, doubtless now the wealthiest and most prosperous of the Southern States, shows in forty-eight of the more populous counties, out of 138 in that State, that the changes indicated by Northern papers, as sure to result from free labor have become rapidly manifest The following summary is interesting: Acres in corn, 659,886; wheat, 125,537; clover, 2,370; cotton, 549,396; tobacco, 542; gardens, 5,124; total, 1,342,956 acres. The number of hired bands was stated at this time at 12,926, evidently showing that there was a considerable number of white persons belonging to the land owning class who work on the soil?a habit considered before the war as unbecoming them. The number of acres of rented land was given at 21,110, and of the hands working on shares 19,024?making a total working force of wage and share laborers in the counties embraced, of 31,950. In fVio ponaiia nf IRfirt rr thnsn nrAfledinp. no ...? r- D' figures appear as to wages paid for farm labor. Attention has been called to these few scattered items simply to illustrate the growth of free labor ana its concomitaot advantages, where the ownership of the soil is easily accesjible'to those who must work on it.?Nashville American. ? ? ? A Peculiar Denomination.?A correspondent of the Varnville (Hampton county) Messenger gives an account of the services in the Old Black Creek Church, on the Coojawhatchie Swamp, several Sundays ago. He says : "We had been specially invited by its pastor and several members to witness the jrdiuance of "feet washing" that took place there on that day. On arriving at the church grounds we soon discovered that there was a large congregation on band. Services as us- * ual were opened with a prayer meeting, after which the Rev. W. H. Hogarth occupied the pulpit for more than one hour, taking for his text these words : "If ye know these things bappy are ye if ye do them," from 13th chapter Joh u, 17th verse. He preached a strong, forsible sermon, indicating all the way through what would be the finale of the meeting. When he finished, immediately, the Rev. A. J. Harrison, pastor of the church, followed in his usual'earnest manner, taking the same text, which he followed closely. When preaching was over, the church commemorated the Lord's Supper, and immediately after finishing the Lord's Supper an invitation was extended to all who desired to join in the other ordinance of "feet washing" to draw near. As soon as possible to do so, amid so large a crowd, this was done, and the Rev. A. J. Harrison cast off" his coat and vest and tied a long towel around his waist, and -having poured water in the basin asked the Rev. W. H. Hogarth to allow him to wash his feet, to which he consented, and then the Rev. Mr. Hogarth returned the courtesy, and so on through the whole number that was to wash?one would wash the other's feet ; so did the ladies. We witnessed a prominent white lady member washing a colored sister's feet, also a prominent white gentleman mem ber wash a colored brother's feet." A Gentleman.?Did you ever see a gentleman ? We have seen two or three in our day, but real gentlemen are exceedingly rare. A gentleman is one who treats everybody with respect, whether he be black or white, low or high, poor or rich. He does not bow to wealth, scrape his knees to honor, nor bold his tongue when he sees wickedness in high places. He desires to make every one happy around him, and never gives just cause of offence to any one. You always receive from hira a civil answer to your inquiry, and he kindly imparts to you any information in his power. He will not say a word to injure your feelings, or allude to a subject to pain your heart. Whatever may be done, be will not manifest angry feelings, or use unbecoming language. He uses no profane or indecent words, smokes no cigars in your presence, nor spits tobacco juice on your floors. He is the same kind and accommodating individual "" i