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lewis m. grist, proprietor. j Jnkpeniieitt Jamilp Bewspajier: ^or tjte. promotion of t|e political, Social, ^gricnltaral anb (Commercial Interests of tjie Sontj). jTERMS?$2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 28. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 19, 1888. 7 NO. 42. $he j?tont leller. THE FALSE^jOVER. "But do you really mean it, Mr. Brabazon ?" Rosa Dale was standing in the illuminated archway of the autumn woods, her bright braids of hair pierced by one or two wandering sunbeams, her dimpled child-face framed in, as it were, by sprays of red veined autumn leaves while her apron was full of the glistening brown chestnuts which she had picked up. John Brabazon leaned against the tall, smooth trunk of the birch tree, and looked at her with a lazy, luxurious sense of artistic beauty entering into his mind as he gazed. "Of course I mean it," said he. "But I am only twelve years old," cried Rosa, flinging back the sunny tendrils of hair that hung over her forehead. "Your are exactly twelve times as lovely as any of the city belles that congregate hereabouts," said Mr. Brabazon, striving to conceal a yawn. "And if they think I am engaged?don't you see ??there will be some probability of their leaving off persecuting ?~ 11 uir. ' "Well 1" said Rosa, every dimple coming shyly out on lip and cheek as he stood there. "It's to be a compact, eh ?" said said Mr. Brabazon. Rosa nodded her fair little head. "But," she questioned, rather dubuiosly, "where is the ring ?" "The?what ?" "The engagement-ring, Mr. Brabazon," explained Rosa, reproachfully. "Don't you know there's always a ring in the novels? And most generally it's a diamond." "If you'll believe me," said Mr. Brabazon, tragically, "I never thought of the ring. But here's a little opal that used to be my mother's, hanging on my watch-chain. Won't that do ?" Rosa held out her brown finger, while he fitted it on. "You?haven't kissed me yet!" she said, when this ceremony was complete. "Lovers always kiss their fiancees."' Mr. Brabazon laughed. "Come," said he, "this is getting serious. But here's the kiss, before the rest of the chestnut party get back. And, mind, this is to be a profound secret between you and me." Rosa ran back home with a vague sensation of mysterious delight, and thought how nice Mr. Brabazon looked, at the time she was munching her roasted chestnuts; and Mr. Brabazon himself took advantage of the little joke to proclaim himself an engaged man. Nor is it an exaggeration to say that the young ladies were genuinely disappointed. "It must be a recent thing," said Kate Kennedy, tossing her head. "Oh, quite recent," acknowledged Mr. Brabazon. "Love at first sight ?" asked Miss Day. "N-no, not exactly," said Brauazon. -in fact, f may say that I have admired the young lady since her infancy." "What a delightful enigma!" said Belle Yernon, looking anything but delighted. "But of course, Mr. Brabazon, you'll tell us her name ?" "I am pledged to secrecy," said the engaged man, solemnly. And when he left the Mountain Notch, in the late autumn, and forgot all about the wild little woodland sprite who climbed trees and pelted him with chestnuts, waded with brown, dimpled feet in the foamy waters of the glen torfent, and conducted him so mysteriously to the barn-chamber to show him her empty birds' nests, butterfly wings and diamondbright pebbles, how was he to know the episode under the yellow-leaved chestnut-trees as a red-letter day in her calendar ? "He ought to write to me," said Rosa gloomily, as the weeks and months glided by, and no epistle came. "I do hope he isn't going to turn out false like the wicked cavaliers in the storybooks." And when Mr. Brabazon sent her a huge wax dbll, with its miniature Saratoga trunk and complete outfit of elegantly-made dresses, at Christmas, Rosa flew into a passion. "As if I were a baby !" said she. "A doll, indeed, and I twelve years old in October! I wonder if he takes me for a child ? Who ever heard of gentleman sending a doll to the young lady he was engaged to ?" "My dear Rosa," said her mother, half vexed, half amused, "what nonsense you are talking." "We are engaged !"'said Rosa. "See the ring!" And she slyly pulled it out from the bosom of her dress. "It was only a joke," said Mrs. Dale. "It was sober earnest!" flashed out Rosa. "My dear," said Mrs. Dale, "haveu't you heard? Mr. Brabazon is to be married to Lady Helen Hartford, Mrs. Pailleton's Eng lish niece, next montn. xne caras arcaueuuy ; oat." "What!" cried Rosa, her sapphire-hlue eyes blazing, her rosy lips apart. "To be married !?and he engaged to me!" And then Rosa rushed away into the barnchamber, and hid heiself for full two hours, to sob out the current of her childish grief. Mrs. Dale smiled and sighed. "Who would think the child would have attached so much importance to a piece of nonsense like that ?" said she. "Really, I'm afraid I have made a mistake in allowing her to read so many novels. But she was always an impetuous little creature." Rosa wrote several harrowing letters to Mr. ; Brabazon, all of which she finally tore up, ! and when she saw the marriage proclaimed in ' the papers she gave the big wax-doll to a little j girl who was only eleven years and six months old. "She won't have any associations connected ! with it!" sighed Rosa. And about that time she was promoted to a higher grade in school, began lessons on the guitar, and put her unhappy love affair out of her mind. It could not have been more than eight years subsequently that the collision occurred j on the Grand Canal at Venice, in which one of the gondolas capsized, and a beautiful . young American lady, niece of the then Uni- j ted States consul, received an involuntary ducking. Perhaps the romantically-dressed gondoliers were intoxicated; perhaps Miss Barony had, i as they asserted, risen hastily to point out i something, and destroyed the balance of the mouldy, black-velvet-lined old conveyance. | At all events Miss Barony was upset directly j in front of the Palazzo di Silvia, where Mr. Brabazon occupied the first floor, a marble paved desolation of old pictures, broken-noseil : statues, and orange trees in tubs. Or course, Mr. Brabazon sent out his valet j to offer his services. Of course, they carried Miss Barony in, and laid her on a sofa (draped with tapestry which somebody said Lucrezia ! Borgia had helped to embroider), and made much of her. "But how ridiculous all this is !" said Miss j Barony, with merriment gleaming in her beautiful, dark-blue eyes, "I am a little wet, tol>e-8ure, but otherwise I am entirely unharmed. Why didn't they put me in the gondola again , and send me back to my uncle's piazza ?" Mr. Brabazon, however, was far too hospitable for that. His capped and spectacled j old house-keeper was ready with spiced drinks | and great baskets of grapes and cake, and lie himself was all politeness and chivalrous courtesy. Miss Barony gazed curiously around. IIow angelically beautiful she looked, wrapped in j the violet velvet cloak, edged with ermine, her cheeks flushed with the softest rose, her eyes sparkling, her hair hanging in a fringe #f dark gold over her forehead ! "Where is Lady Helen Brabazon V" she asked, abruptly. Mr. Brabazon winced. "She has been dead for a year," lie said. "I am a widower. You were acquainted with my late wife?" "Oh, no, not at all!" said Miss Barony. "Only, of course, all the world has heard of her. She was a famous beauty, wasn't she ?" "She was very lovely," said the widower. When Miss Barony was carried away in a newly summoned gondola, whose picturesque oarsmen were more to be relied upon than tlieir predecessors, Mr. Brabazon asked per-! mision to call at the consulate, to inquire how she was, in the course of a day or two ; and Miss Barony accorded the permission as a young queen might have done. Miss Barony was young, beautiful and piquant ; Mr. Brabazon, whose life had been nearly badgered out of him by the caprices, exactions and varying temper of the late Lady Helen, was charmed by her sunny brilliance; and at a month's end he came to Mr. Barony, The United States consul, to ask permission to press his suit with his niece. Mr. Barony looked conscious. "Didn't you know ?" said he. "She is en- j gaged." "Engaged!" repeated Mr. Brabazon, his , heart seemed to turn into a lump of ice with- j in hiin. "Quite an old affair, I believe." said the, consul. But perhaps you had better see my niece herself about it. I'll give her your mes-1 sage. She can-decide to suit herself." Miss Barony was prettier than ever, in her cool muslin dress and pale-blue ribbons, as she sat among the jessamines and pomegranates of the consulate" reception-room the next flay, to receive Mr. Brabazon. He had a speech carefully prepared, wherein all the nominatives and subjectives were carefully balanced, and the exact words stationed in their exact places; but he forgot it all at the fair vision of her perfect loveliness, and could only stand helplessly before her, and say : "Miss Barony, I love you !" "So you have been driven to confess it at last," said Miss Barony, "after all these years " "I don't understand you," said Mr. Brabazon. "You have forgotten me,'' said Rosa. "That would be impossible," asseverated Mr. Brabazon, eanestly. "But it's the fact," said she. "I'm little Rosa Dale, who was engaged, to you under the chestnut-trees at Amber Hill, nearly nine years ago, and here is the engagement-ring," holding up a slender golden hoop, with an opal glimmering in its centre. "Xo, I'm not at all surprised that you did not recognize me. I was a child then?I am a woman now. And after my parents' death, when Uncle Barony adopted me, I took hi3 name instead of my own. But I never have gotten over the pang of bitter jealousy that pierced my baby-heart when you were married to Lady Helen Hartford." "But dare I hope," began Mr. Brabazon, "that y<?u still care a little forme V I know it seems like presumption, but?" "Yes, you may hope," whispered Rosa, halflaughing, half-crying. "I do care for you? more than a little." The consul gave them his blessing. "It was she herself who told me to say she was engaged," said he, patting Rosa's head. "Little puss ! she is always full of her mischief !" "I wanted to be revenged," said Rosa. "Rut I have quite forgiven my false lover at last."?Helen Forrest Groves. DESTINY. "Going to the pine woods to teach school ? Adele Legarde, you are crazy! What new freak is this V" And Mrs. Legarde, the widow of a New Orleans merchant, smoothed down the folds of her crape-trimmed bombazine, and held her black bordered hankerchief to her eyes. Adele, her eighteen-year-old daughter, a pale, delicate girl in deep mourning, folded the I letter which she held in her hand, and glanced up. "Mother," she replied, firmly, "I will accept the situation if you will permit me. I?I am tired of the city, and long for quiet. Of course so soon after poor papa's death you will not go to a watering place, for the season." "Certainly not. Your Aunt Emma wishes me to come to her for the summer; I shall accept her invitation. Well, go on, Adele, what next V Of course, it is but a foolish whim, still, I am willing to hear all that you have to say about it." So Adele proceeded with her explanation ; only, for obvious reasons, she did not hint at the truth that, because of a foolish quarrel with John Travis, she wanted to get away from the city, away from the chance of witnessing his flirtation with Clara Winters a vain, silly girl, who angled, with more or less success, for the hearts of half the men in their exclusive set. It looked like a serious matter between ~ 1 ? J - o/xK uiara ana -jonn, uuu <i girnt, uiiumhh ovu arose in Adele's throat as she recalled all that had transpired since she and John had quarreled ; and he had gone over at once to the enemy. Adele knew that Clara was exerting herself to win the heart of this man ; and loving him very dearly, it was not strange that she felt exceedingly unhappy. John had never said, in so many words, that he loved Adele Legarde, but all that looks and actions can express had revealed his regard for her, and ere Adele realized the truth', she had given him her heart. It was about a month since she had quarreled with John, a lover's quarrel, but in this case, somehow, it was not one to be easily patched up. They could not tell exactly how it had begun, some trilling matter; the "Little rift within the.rift, Which hy-and by makes all its music mute." And Adele was very unhappy. John seemed to have forgotten her existence; except for his courteous bow when they chanced to j meet, one would not believe that the two were ------I iicquiuuifii. Adele was very proud ; she could not en-1 dure this estrangement; so she had determined to go away, and some employment would distract her mind. Hence her endeavor to procure a situation i as teacher in one of the country parishes; which situation she had finally succeeded in ! procuring, and after a time managed .to talk j her mother over, and she consented to the : project. That very day Adele met (Mara Winters. "I have something to tell you, Del," the j gay girl began at once, "an awful secret, re-1 member. I am going to be married." Allele's heart stopped beating for an instant. "Going to be married ?" she repeated. "I i did not know that?you?Clara?f congratulate you." "And, John, too, I hope," laughed her friend. Adele forced a smile. "Yes, of course, certainly," she faltered; and so they parted. Adele hastened her preparations for the! pine woods, but ere the day for her departure j arrived, she received a note from Clara, tel- \ ling her that her wedding was to be a speedy j one, and they were intending to start for1 Europe immediately after. Adele answered the note with all the kindliness that she could muster, and informed ! eil Clara of her own project. A day or two after, she started for the conn-, try and her experiment m teaching. She found her lot cast not unpleasantly. ' Sl?e was to board in a sunny, old country 1 house, with its kind-hearted owner, a cheery j old lady, Mrs. Linley, who was quite alone iii the world, save for a nephew, her only, living relative then absent. But Mrs. Linley never weaved in his praises, and to hear the old lady expatiate on the superior accomplishment of her nephew, Arthur, one would imagine that there h;ul never been his equal on earth before. Adele grew heartily tired of the sound of his name ere she had been domesticated at Mrs. Linley \s a fortnight. Life had grown flat, stale, and unprofitable to the eighteen-year-old martyr. She found little pleasure or profit in existence, and moved about her daily round of work with a sad and heavy heart. She found her pupils rough and untaught, but Adele did not mind that; she learned to j work hard, and the labor did her good, and ' was a wonderful boon to the girl. She began to wonder vaguely, if she had not been the more to blame in the estrangement between John Travis and herself. A word, kindly spoken at the outset, would have brought him to her side;-but in her foolish pride, she had held herself aloof, the kind word had not been spoken, and" now it was too late. She heard the news of Clara's marriage, and subsequent departure for Europe, without a comment. It was all over, then? John was indeed lost to her. It seemed to Adele, in that dark hour, as though her heart would surely break. But she went about her duties, as usual, arid tried hard to forget. It was a sin now to think of John Travis, and she must crush his every memory from her heart. That evening when she returned home after school was dismissed, she found good Mrs. Linley in a state of great excitement. "Arthur has come !" she cried, as soon as Adele had entered the house. "You don't know how glad I am to see him, Miss I.egarde; he has been in New Orleans for the past two years, without my laying eyes on him." And Adele, secretly annoyed at the intrusion of a stranger on their peace and quiet, smiled and made some polite rejoinder, then sought her own room to lay aside her school attire. She dressed lierseif in a pretty, white dress, with black trimmings, and arranged her dark hair prettily; then with a book of poems in her hand, she went down stairs anil strolled out into the garden. The sun was just setting, doing it in grand style too. From the vine- wreathed dining-room came the clatter of the tea dishes; and black Dinah's musical vi^ice, while she spread the evening meal chanting a negro hymn: "Keen in de storm so lontr, so long!" Adele, half smiling, passed down the long leafy avenue, and turned a corner, where the shrubbery grew dense and shady. There was the unmistaken perfume of fragrant cigar smoke, rising like incense from amid the leaves, a tall form extended upon a rustic seat, a pair of quizzical, dark eyes met her own?John Travis. He arose and confronted her with an amused smile on his lips. She checked the horrible impulse to scream aloud which took possession of her as she paused, involuntarily. "You!" shesaid in amazed surprise. "What are you doing here ?" The fun deepened in his eyes; he took the cigar from between his lips. "Destroying the aphides, Miss Legarde, he replied. "Cigar smoke is recommended for that purpose, and Aunt Hester's fruit trees seemed to bear little else. Aphides are not healthy, nor altogether agreeable. May I? it's not very polite, though is it?return the compliment by inquiring what in the mischief, world, I mean, brings you here, Miss Adele ? Aunt Hester did not mention that she had a guest!" "I am teaching school," returned Adele, demurely. "And, do you mean to say that you are Mrs. Linley's nephew ? I had believed his name to be Arthur Linley." "John Arthur Travis, at your service!" returned the gentleman, bowing lowly. "Mrs. Linley was a Miss Travis before she accepted the heart, hand and fortune of the late Samuel Linley, Esq. May I offer you a seat, Miss Legarde V" Adele accepted the offer mechanically. . "Where is Clara?" she ventured at last, thinking it best to get it all over with as soon as possible. Mr. Travis arched his black brows with profound surprise. "I don't understrnil you!" he returned. "Why, your wife, of course!" blurted Adele. "Were you not married, a few weeks since, to Clara Winters ?" "Now the saints forbid!" quoted Travis, with mock solemnity. "My sins are indeed great; but surely such punishment would not be merited, and is more than I could bear. Greater, aye, than I deserve. Clara Winters is indeed married, and has gone to Europe^ but the happy man is John Wesley. I do not wonder at your mistake, Miss Adele, for the young lady in question nau apparently so many favored suitors; but of the sin of attempting to win her heart's best affections, I am not guilty, I assure you." Adele's heart beat fast and furiously. She averted her head, and Mr. Travis sat gazing upon her, quite as though he liked to. "John?Mr. Travis," faltered Adele, at length, "I've been thinking. It seems to me that perhaps I was a little to blame in that matter upon which you and 1 differed. You remember V" "Don't mention it " 'ie cried. "I was about to attempt the same cv jfession myself. Adele, it's my opinion that we have both been foolish. Will you forgive me darling, and love me a little ? Adele, will you be my wife ?" Her hand was in his in an instant. John's eyes were looking into Adele's blushing face, when: "Tea is ready, please, sail." They started up in confusion as old black Dinah made the annoucement, and then lmrripd awav back to the house. When they were alone again, John caught Adele in his arms. "I shall not let you go," he cried "until you say yes. You shall not get away, and you're awfully hungry, ain't you, Adele V" She laughed. "Yes," she replied. And the answer must be applied to both questions, for, when winter came, there was a merry wedding in New Orleans, and Adele Travis told me afterward in confidence, "there is no escaping Destiny." mmmmmm?mmmmmmmMM A GEORGIA CORN SHUCKING. The farmer who proposes to give a corn shucking selects a level spot in his lot, conveniently near the crib, rakes away all trash, and sweeps the place clean witli a brush broom. The corn is then pulled off the stalks, thrown into wagons, hauled to the lot and thrown out at the spot selected, all in one pile. If it has been previously "unrated" through the neighborhood that there is to be plenty to eat and drink at the corn shucking, and if the night is auspicious, there will certainly be a crowd, soon after dark the negroes begin to come in and before long the place will be alive with them?men, women and children. After the crowd has gathered and been moderately warmed up, two "gin'r'ls are chosen from SiniOIIg Kit: must liiiuuus i.uiu-oimu?/io vyu the ground, and those proceed to divide the shuckers into two parties, later comers reporting alternately to one side or the other, so as to keep the forces equally divided. The next step, which is one of great importance, is to divide the corn pile. This is done by laying a fence rail across the top of the corn pile, so that the vertical plane, passing through the rail will divide the pile intotwoequal portions. Laying the rail is of great importance, since upon this depends the accuracy of the division ; it is accompanied by much argument not to say wrangling. The position of the rail being determined, the two generals mount the corn pile and the work begins. The necessity for the "gin'r'ls" to occupy the most conspicuous position accessible, from which to cheer their followers, is one reason why they get on top of the corn ; but there is another equally important, which is to keep the rail from being moved, it being no uncommon thing for one f n ciiiuiirfi the oosition of the rail, and thus throw an undue portion of the work upon their adversaries. The position of "gin'r'l" in a corn-shucker ditfers from that ol' the soldier, in that the former is in greater*danger than any of his followers ; for the chances are that, j should his side seem to be gaining, one of their opponents will knock the leader off the cornpile and thus cause a momentary panic, which j is eagerly taken advantage of. This proceeding, however, is considered fair only in extreme cases, and not unfrequently leads to a j general row. If it is possible, imagine a negro man standing upon a pile of corn, holding i in his hand an ear of corn, and shouting the 1 words of a song below, and you will have picj tured the ucorn gin'r'l." It is a prime requiI site that he should lie ready in his improvisations, and have a good voice, so that he may lead in the corn-song. The corn-song is.almost always a song with a chorus, or to use the language of the corn-shuckers, the "gin'r'ls give out," and the shuckers "drone." Those songs are kept up continuously during i the entire time the work, is going 011, and though extremely simple, yet, when sung by ; fifty pairs of lusty lungs, there are few things more stirring.?Century Magazine. Miscellaneous Reading. FRANK JAMES, THE OUTLAW. * HIS VOLUNTARY SURRENDER TO THE GOVERXOR OF MISSOURI. When Frank James surrendered to Governor Crittenden at Jefferson City there was a scene in the Governor's room. The hands of the clock on the wall of the office, says the St. Louis Globe-Democrat's account, were close upon the hour of 5 when the expectant ears of those present heard the sound of footsteps entering the rotunda Of the building. A moment later the well-known form of Major John W. Edwards appeared in the open door-way. As he advanced into the room he was followed by a man nearly six feet in height, of slender, neat and trim build, who walked erect and with a quiet, easy and self-possessed gait to the middle of the room. Stopping in front of the Governor, Major "Edwards said : "Governor and gentlemen, this is Frank James. He is heret#give himself up." This brief introduction brought face to face the Executive of Missouri and the noted outlaw whose name has been a terror in this State and is familiar throughout our land, if not the whole world. It was a scene without a precedent in the annals of the State, and to all present was intensely interesting and dramatic. To all appearances Frank James was the coolest and least moved man in the room. While Major Edwards was introducing him his countenance was as quiet and calm in its expression as if the business in hand were no concern of his. He advanced a step toward the Governor and by a dexterous movement unbuckled a belt from around his lithe body and,-holding it toward the Governor, said : "Governor, I am Frank James. I surrender my arms to you. I have removed the loads from them ; they are not loaded. They have not-been out of my possession since 1804. No other man has ever had them since then. I now give them to you personally. I deliver myself to you and the law." Governor Crittenden received the proffered belt, pistol and cartridges, and with characteristic courtesy requested Frank James to be seated, saying that be was very glad to meet him, particularly in this manner. Frank James answered that he had come in and surrendered himself because he desired to do as he had done for years?that is, live the life of a law-abiding citizen. He hoped to be able to prove that he was not so bad as he had been painted. Although he had been living the life of a quiet, orderly and law-abiding citizen for four years, he well knew that everything criminal and bad that had been committed of late years had been credited to him. To the Governor he said, with more earnestness in his tone than he had hitherto shown : "If some ! Arm Tirorr, tA ouauoaiiv.ito vnn nlthniinrh I mifllt | ViiU 1TVIV UV tkuuituutilltiw J Vl4^ Mt*v?VMQ? ? ....0... be able to prove myself entirely innocent, I would not be able to convince people that I was guiltless of the crime. They have been in the habit of attributing all manner of crimes to me, and are ready to believe anything they hear." Reference being made to the time he had been in the State, Frank James said he had not been in Missouri for over a year previous to Sunday, September 24, when he reached St. Louis. Governor Crittenden said : "I have received over half a bushel of letters from you, or from those professing to be you. 1 have received them not only from three or four different men on the same day, but from several different States." "Yes," answered the outlaw ; "this proves that any crime, no matter by whom committed, is likely to be laid, to me. I have surrendered because I wish this to end and to prove, as I can, that for four years I have been a lawabiding citizen,'and that I have been painted blacker than I am. I do it for my wife and child's sake. I am in your hands, do with me as you see best." As soon as the talk between the Governor and Frank James was over, those present gathered around him. Adjutant General Waddell said to him : "J met you to-day at dinner, but had no idea who you were." Indeed, no one would take the quiet, calm man, with the wide open and frank-looking eyes, for the outlaw who had held sway over Missouri for so long. Ilis clear complexion indicated habits of temperance and there was not an ounce of superlluous Mesh upon his frame. A TALK WITH TIIE OUTLAW. A letter from Independence says : Frank James, the outlaw, has been leading a very quiet life for the past four year's. lie denies i'*"t Jwknllrtofn/I Sn frnin rnh. 11 litL IIB IliVM UCCII u Hi ??tv> UIKUI It.u beries which liave caused so much excitement. If his story is true, and he gives names and dates to substantiate it, he has not done much shooting of late. lie is not a lierce-looking man, such as the typical bandit is supposed to be. He is about five feet nine inches in { height and is thirty-nine years of age. His : face is rugged and his strong jaws slope away at a blunt angle toward the ears, which are I rather large. His bluish-gray eyes are bright I and small. His forehead is high, his cheekl bones prominent and his face marked with I several scars. For the past year he has been i flying around to different places. He talks freely to people who visit him here in jail and says he wants to settle down and live an honest life. He does not apparently fear the j result of his trial, and the story is pretty geni erally believed that if convicted he will be i taken care of by the Governor, j "I have been outside the laws of Missouri for twenty-one years," said the prisoner dur; ing a conversation upon his voluntary surren! der, "and now I have come back here to try : to regain a home. I have been hunted like a wild animal from one State to another. I have known no home; I have slept in all sorts of nlaces?here to-day, there to-morrow ; . I have been charged with nearly every great crime committed in either Missouri or her ! neighboring States; I have been taught to suspect my dearest and nearest friend of treachery, and where is the end to be ? I am tired of this life of taut nerves, of night-riding and day hiding, of constant listening for footfalls, cracking doors; tired of seeing Judas on I the face of every friend J, own?and goodness i knows I have none to" sipare?tired of the sad; die, the revolver, and the cartridge belt; tired : of the hoofs and bonis with which popular belief has equipped me, and I want to see if there is not some way out of it." j Then the outlaw said that he had proved ! that he could be an industrious citizen by his career of late. In August, 1S77, he went boldly to Nashville with his wife. Ilis health was poor. As emigrants were plentiful just then he found no difficulty in passing himself off as an emigrant, and took the name of II. J. Woodson. In a short time he rented a piece of land from Josiah Walton on White Creek, a few miles out of the city, and worked hard at farming. At the end of a year he became a teamster for the Indiana Lumber Company, and took his meals in the woods every day with the darkeys. After a year of this kind_of work he hired land on White Creek from cenx rsnmn aim reuuuueu Micro* until April, 1881. During- his four years around Nashville he never enjoyed himself better. lie numbered among his acquaintonces Charles II. Eastman, the county clerk, Rev. I)r. Wall, and J. W. Sluite, a member of the Legislature. Among the detectives at Nashville were Flelch Horn and a man named Watson. He knew them both and shook hands with them every few days. One day he was with Jim Cummings, one of the noted Missouri outlaws, in Warner's restaurant. "I jerked him by the sleeve," said James, "and asked him to come out and be introduced to a detective. 'Not by a d sight,' said Cummings; 'do you think I'm a fool? You'll get pulled in one of these days with your rashness." I explained to him that the safest course was in 'cheeking it out,' and that the man most liable to get pulled in was the man who sneaked ; but I never converted him to the view, as the result will show." .1 ESSE JAMES 1NT NASHVILLE. "Was Cummings there with you ?" I "No, he was stopping with Jess." "What! did Jess live there, too ?" "I forgot to tell you about that. It was ' something curious. I had not seen Jess for two years, and I had no idea where he was. One day in the spring, after my arrival, I stepped into Ray & Son's store to buy some red oats. Whom should I see in the office talking to Ike Ray but Jess. Ike knew him well as Joe Howard. Jess was as much surprised as I was, and he told me he was living near Waverly, Humphreys county, West Tennessee, and had come up to sell some corn. After some further talk we separated, and a year and a half later he moved into North Nashville." "What was Jesse's occupation ?" "He was a great patron and lover of the race track and spent much of his time there, lie had several fine horses, and among them was the famous Jim Maloue, which won a big race not long ago in St. Louis, a fonrmilfi rsiee at Louisville and a cup at Atlanta, Ga. The horse had not made much of a record however, at the time Jess sold him to a druggist in Nashville named John Greener. Jess moved around witli perfect freedom there." "When did Cummings go there?" "He and Dick Liddel came there in the fall of 1880. Jim came on horse hack and Dick came through by cars. Jim was always getting frightened. Jim stopped witli Jesse, and so did Jack Ryan. Dick Liddel lived with me and was a right good, industrious young chap. ; I never thought there was anything very vicious about Dick, hut he was easily inHu! enced. Well, our residence at Nashville was abruptly cut short by a curious circumstance, and it was a strong illustration of the fact, tryas we might to break off from our Bohemian life, something would always occur to drive us back. Jim Cummings had always been the fearful, frightened wretch that I have described, and he got an idea that he was not safe at Jesse's. Ilis fidgeting and restlesness attracted Jesse's attention and he became suspicious that Jim was nerving himself up to betray us. We both kept a close watch on him. One night in April, 1881, he mysteriously disappeared. Jess and I saddled our horses and for a week kept in the saddle, but our fears were groundless. lie had merely got scared and run away. THE FLIGHT KUOM NASHVILLE. "Just as we were settling down to security again, however, and less than two weeks after Jim's departure, Jack Ryan (known here as Bill Ryan) got drunk one day and was arrested at Wlnte ureeit ror uisorueny conduct by 'Squire Erthman, whom I knew well, and who lived about three miles from me. When they arrested him they discovered that he was heavily armed, and found 011 him some evidence as to his identity and character. He was removed to Missouri, as you know to answer to another charge here. As soon as we heard of the arrest we mounted our horses, rode away and have never been back since. That was the last time I saw -Jess. My old life grew the more detestible the further I got away from it, and it was with a sense of despair that I drove away from our little home on the Smith place and again became a wanderer." The caged outlaw said that while in Nashville he exhibited hogs at the fairs and once or twice rode in the races. The popular idea that he sought out retired places was wrong. lie made it a point to spend as much time as possible in the cities, for nobody would look for him there. He never wore a disguise on a railroad train and always traveled by rail when convenient. He had many tried friends in whose parlors he was safe. "How did the outlaw band get recruits from time to time ?" "More offered than were wanted. I can honestly say that I never in my life encouraged a young man to leave his home, but on tiie contrary, always advised that of all the terrible, God-forsaken lives that ever man led, the life of an outlaw is the worst. I never in my life painted anything but the darkest pic-v tnres of it for those who showed a disposition" to turn from the right path, and I always held that there are few crimes in the world more hideous or dastardly than the killing of any man for money." "What do you propose to do if you are permitted to return to your home ?" "Farming is my legitimate occupation, and as soon as I can get affairs settled, if that can ever be done, I will engage in it." "How are you fixed financially ?" "I am almost entirely without means, and if I am allowed to return to farming I will be able to equip a small farm in only a very humble way." "You have evidently read a great deal V" "Yes, I am very fond of reading. When in retirement I occupy nearly all my time that way. 1 tell my friends that I have the finest library in the world. It consists of the Bible, Shakspeare and Plutarch's Lives. I don't suppose you and the public would believe it, but I am very fond of reading the Bible." Poor Humanity in London.?Many a sad sight is to be seen in London, but few are more melancholy than the spectacle of those poor broken-down creatures who are hired to saunter in the gutters of our great metropolis with advertisement boards on their backs. Their hopeless, famished faces, their listless gait, their tattered garments, often drenched with rain, and the thought of the precious pittance ifchich a hungry child or two may be waiting at home to share, are too much for sober contemplation; and more distressing than all, perhaps, is the look of shame about these poor wretches. Of course, they are glad enough to earn a shilling in this way; And yet?especially on a cold, raw, rainy day?it does seem an outrage almost for one man to pat another to such uses. But when these poor wretches are forced to wear ridiculous costumes then we have no doubt about the outrage at all. Here, ton, the ''sandwich man" has no choice ; he has to conform to the demands and illustrate the humorous invention of his employers if he does not wish to starve and does not like to steal. In this case, also, he is glad enough to earn a shilling; but though there can be no doubt about that, ^ u i._ +|1Q ,,,i. yec SllOUKl \YC UC UCllglllCU iu ncc lih, mull <??? monished who athls to the humiliation of failure, friendlessness and poverty by making "guys" of these poor strollers. "It is done, however. Here we see a row of them, with tall extingui.'iher caps oiv their heads; there another, rigged with pigtails, like Chinamen, and all looking so piteously ashamed. As for that, however, we all know where the shame, the disgrace of the thing really lies, and a deep disgrace it is. A ItivEit of IIotWater.?Thegreat.Sutro tunnel, cut to relieve the celebrated Comstock mines at Virginia City, Xev., of the vast quantities of hot water which is encountered in them, affords an outlet to 12,000,000 tons every twenty-four hours. Some of the water, as it finds its way into the mines, has a temperature of 10") degrees, while four miles from the mouth of the tunnel the temperature ranges from l.'IO degrees to degrees. To obviate the inconvenience which would arise from the vapor such a vast quantity of water would give oil the tlow is conducted through the entire tunnel, four miles, in a tight lluine made of pine. At the point of exit the water has lost but seven degrees of heat. Sixty feet below i the mouth of the tunnel the hot water is util ized for turning machinery belonging to the company, from whence it is carried off by a tunnel 1,100 feet in length, which serves as a waterway. Leaving the wasteway tunnel, the ; water Hows to the Carson river, a mile and a j half distant. This hot water is being utilized j for many purposes. The boys have arranged j several pools where they indulge in hot baths, j The miners and others use it for laundry pur-' poses, and arrangements are being made j whereby 1,000 acres belonging to the company are being irrigated. It is proposed to conduct the hot water through iron pipes beneath the j surface of the soil, near the roots of thousands j of fruit trees which are to be planted, and in I a similar manner giving the necessary warmth to a number of hothouses to be used for the propagation of early fruits and vegetables. tgF Says the Augusta Chronicle: The Rieh! inond and Danville Railway Company deserves the thanks of all our people for its splendid exhibition of Southern products at the-Boston | Exposition. The people of New England can take in, almost at a glance, the wonderful re- j sources of the South. ' LIFE OX THE PLAINS. THE 11LOODIEST PAGE IX TITE HISTORY OF THE I)VEL. ? [From the Denver Republican, September 22.J There arrived in the city yesterday a young man who was a wonderful history, even for the wild Western country, and is destined to rank at no distant day with Cody and Ilicock, Sy Slocum and Carson. His name is John Kelly, and while the name is not a familiar one to lovers of literature treating of wild adventure, it will at no distant day become a household word. Kelly was a pupil of Buffalo Bill and Capt. Burton on the old Pawnee reservation in Nebraska, where he herded cattle and was known as "Kid Frank." lie brings in the first news of a terrible tragedy in which he took part three weeks ago. The story is one of wonderful romance and thrilling interest, and is jierhaps the most remarkable affair of the kind ever known. It was in Oio tint-lira nf <1 ilnnl nrifl limvllPrP ill all the bloody pages of the Code can there l>e found anything to equal it. It was fought with six men on each side to settle the ownership of a valuable herd of cattle ; but before relating the fight in detail a few facts in regard to "Kid Frank's" life are given. lie was born and raised in Buffalo, N. Y., about thirty years ago, but came West at an early age. lie was always quiet and reserved in his manner, and remarkable for his strict adherence to truth in all his utterances, lie followed the natural bent of his desires, and drifted into the great plains of Nebraska in the days before '70, when Indians were numerous and white men scarce. At that time there was no industry except cattle-raising, and the Indians made life-a burden. It was in this country that Kelly's character was moulded under the tutorship of the generous, big-hearted, fearless Buffalo Bill and the reckless, dashing tf ickok. Kelly soon began to attract attention by the skill he attained in handling a pistol. HE WAS A COWBOY, and although yonng in years soon gained the reputation of being next to Wild Bill and Cody the best shot in the country. This accomplishment, backed by unllinching nerve and quiet manners, made him many friends and gave him influence. These facts are given by Capt. Burton, the well-known journalist, who knew Kelly in Nebraska about twelve years ago. "Kid Frank" drifted further westward and was lost sight of by his old comrades. lie went down into Arizona and there betran to build uu his fortunes in the cattle business. He took up a ranche in old Mexico and made bis head-quarters at Tucson. He was employed by the California Stock Company to bring up immense numbers of cattle, for which he was paid handsomely, and he soon gathered a herd of his own, with which lie was so successful that now at the early age of .'10, he finds himself a rich man. The first adventure which brought Kelly to notice wasamassacre of Apache Indians in the Raton Mountains four years ago this fall. Cochise, tne famous Apache chief, had been raiding thecountry ail during the summer of 1878, committing the most terrible 'atrocities. His path across the country was marked with blood and fire. Ranches were burned, stock killed, and not a man, woman or child was spared. Cochise finally captured a number of emigrants and burned them at the stake, after indicting the most horrible tortures upon the victims. This aroused the men, and a company of 2R0 took the trail. Kelly was one of the avengers. They were all determined men, used to the Western country?men with clear eyes, steady nerves and iron muscles, and it was an evil day for the murderous band when these tigers started after them. In the Raton Mountains the avengers overtook the band, and driving them into a canon, killed a score and CAPTURED THIRTY OF THE DEVILS. Punishment followed swift and sure. It was an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. The men built a huge frame like a gridiron, and filling the interstices with fine pine wood, bound the struggling fiends to the logs and set fire to the pile. The Apaches were burned to death slowly, and Kelly and the men stood by looking on with grim joy in their eyes at the thought of the white men the Indians had burned a few weeks before. Cochise learned a lesson from these men he never forgot, and soon afterwards he gave up his murderous raids. The fearful punishment may have been unjust according to the ideas of Eastern men, but the executioners were raised in a hard school and possessed a sense of justice peculiar to the country. The news of the affair readied the authorities, who ordered the arrest of the band of avengers. Kelly was one of the leaders, and with several others was arrested by Col. Jones of the Sixth Cavalry. They were held for four months without bail, but were finally released. They were very much surprised at being arrested for such a little thing as burning thirty Indians, and their genuine astonishment to the army officers, who were heartily in sympathy with the prisoners, was very amusing. "Kid Frank" has also another claim on public attention in being the one who drove the wagon out from under Jack McCall when the latter was lynched in the Black Hills for murdering Wild Bill. Kelly was very young and had no intention of taking a hand in the lynching, although Wild Bill had been his Intimate friend and the death of his murderer exactly fitted his views upon the subject. While he was standing in the midst of the crowd some one singled him out as one of Wild Bill's friends, aud immediately the crowd, with a poetic idea of justice, yelled to him to mount the wagon and drive the team out from under the limb of the tree, Kelly urove me team, aim saj? nc NEVEIt PERFORMED A PLEASANTER TASK, and refers to it with pride. All these adventures occurring at an early age, together with the surroundings of his rough life among fearless men, who held human life cheap, moulded "Kid Frank's" life into a fitting shape of fearless action, lie married a well-to-do Mexican woman, and by her secured a line ranche forty miles square in old Mexico, on the San Pedros River close to the line, lie became known far and wide by his skill in shooting, and was generally avoided by men desirous of killing some one for the sake of notoriety. Ilis herd grew rapidly until about four months ago, when he found his brand 011 3,000 head of- cattle, worth nearly $100,000. lie determined to sell 2.500 head, and gathering up 1,500 head more he started to drive to Denver, a distance of nearly 1,500 miles. His outfit consisted of thirty-two cowboys, and Frank took command of the exjiedition. The trip was a very long and severe one, but by using great care the losses were small. The party started May 23, and made a slow march across the burning plains and trackless wastes of Arizona and New Mexico, until September 8 found them fifty miles north of Trinidad and an equal distance east of Cuehuras. The Kelly outfit went into camp for a day near the camp of Geortre Howard, a large cattle-grower. The latter had a herd of cattle, and commanded twenty-eight cowboys. Thotwo herds became mixed up while traveling close together, and Howard made a claim for cattle which Kelly considered unjust, and refused it. This angered Howard, and words followed. Kelly claimed Howard had some of his cattle and offered to exchange, but the latter refused, and the quarrel became very dangerous. The cowboys on each side gathered around and began to handle their weapons in a manner which indicated that they meant business. KELLY SAW THE DAXGEK. He knew if a light should occur between such deadly marksmen there would hardly be a man left to tell the tale, and in addition to loss of human life, the huge herds of cattle would be scattered and all hands ruined. .Tust as the cloud of war was about to burst he conceived a plan to avoid bloodshed and broached it to Howard, who agreed to it. The plan was as follows: Each was to select six cow boys, the best shots in their outfits, and placing them in line fifty yards distant on horseback, to give the word "Fire," and let them settle the dispute. This novel method of settling a difference was hailed with delight by the men on each side and volunteers were numerous. Kelly selected six men who had been with him a long time, and been tried and proved in many a desjierate situation. Howard selected six of his best men. There was no time lost in preparing for the duel, i which was to be the greatest affair of the I kind ever known. The men of the opposing sides retired to their camp and coolly made | preparations for the feast of death. They | groomed their horses, oiled and cleaned their i revolvers, and putting their saddles on with ! care rode out to the fight. "Kid Frank's" men | were armed with Winchester revolvers, 38 and 44 calibre, long barrelled, and Howard's six carried Colt's improved. Each man knew his weapon and his horse, and they were fully I aware of the fact that the men standing so | grimly in front of them were equally well 1 equipped. The opposing duellists were drawn | up in line facing each other at 3 o'clock in the j afternoon. The sight was one which few men | have looked upon. Fifty yards apart stood like statutes two lines of men, horse and rider almost one, every- duellist grasping a huge, glittering revolver in each hand, with the reins in his teeth or hanging loosely, for these WILD, FIERCE, DARE-DEVIL RIDERS guide tneir horses with their knees, as the scarcely more save Indian does. Around about, carelessly in the range of stray bullets, were the friends of both parties, mounted on their horses, watching the fight and to see that no advantage should be taken. At either side the chief, who had sent these men out to die. Over all brooded a death like silencp, while on all the swelling, rolling, silent plain shone the gold of the bright .September sun. If a painter could catch that picture it would be a thing for the coming civilization to wonder at. The man who was detailed to give the word which was destined to create a whirlwind of death started forward. At the first move there was a shiver of life along both lines, but it was not a shiver of fear. Each man straightened himself, grasped his pistcls the firmer and singled out his opponent. The umpire lifted his hand, and suddenly on the still air came the cry of doom, "Fire!" At the word twelve horses bounded forward, and twelve pistol shots rang out. Three of Howard's men threw up their hands and fell from their horses, while only one of Kelly's men fell. Kelly's men, not heeding their comrade's death, s]>ed straight towards the three men in front of them. The latter dropped their pistols in their bridle bands came riding swiftly on, pouring a hail of bullets in from a pistol in every hand. The Howard men saw the odds. They were too great, and turning swiftly, they ran, turning in their saddles as they flew and bravely returning the fire. In three brief minutes the duel was fought and won, and four dead men lay upon the ground. Frank rode up to Howard and said: "Now you and I will settle with each other." "No," replied Howard, as he looked sadly at the dead men, "I am satisfied." "Very well," said Kelley, and orders were given to exchange the cattle. Very strangely 110 news of the fight was received until yesterday, but this, perhaps, was due to the fact that 110 towns were passed by the Kelley outfit. Only Frank himself has arrived, his herd not being due for two weeks yet. Kelley himself is a sunburnt, manlylooking young fellow, and told the story in a matter-of-fact way which would hardly attract attention. Death of a Noted Local Character.? Mr. Albert Wallace, a well-known citizen of the eastern part of the county, fell Friday evening from a spring wagon he was driving and broke his neck, opposite the residence <?f Mr. Cyrus Morrison, eight miles from the . City, lliougu no one wan in uic nn^uu mvn him, several wagons were just behind, and the accident was discovered immediately. The cause of the fatal fall was a slight jostle as the wheel of the wagoij ran into a small tut, and Mr, Wallace being intoxicated was thrown out. The victim of this accident was a well known character, lie was known in the city and county as "Prince Albert," a title which he gave himself. For thirty years or more it had been his unbroken habit to get very drunk when he came to Charlotte, and during this long period it is said that what with runaways and falls similar to the fatal one of Friday, he had actually broken every bone in his body except the spinal column. In the city he was generally known for his drinking habits, as when he got thoroughly full he used to mount his horse or get into his vehicle and leave town with a whoop and a run when he could manage to avoid the police. But at home and among his neighbors he was very different, seldom getting drunk and commanding respect and confidence, and but for the unfortunate whisky looping habits inherited from his Scotch Irish ancestry, he would be remembeaed without doubt, only asagood and substantial citizen of the county. His father before him was a man of substance and character, and left him a considerable property, which was however dissipated by the war and his habits. lie leaves a widow about whose maidenhood some romance is thrown by the fact that she was courted and fought over by two distinguished South Carolinians, Lewis T. Wigfall and Preston Brooks, to the latter of whom she was a full cousin. Besides the duel with Brooks, Wigfall, it is said, fought another and a fatal duel on her account with a relation of Mrs. Wallace, Thomas Bird. She was first married to a gentleman of upper South Carolina named Cross, whose widow she was when Mr. Wallace married her.?Charlotte Journal, Sth. Duty of Rf.st.?There is a false idea prevalent about resting enough in the few weeks of summer to last a year. However full of delight and peace the lazy hours in the country, however freighted with strength and rest the loner days by the sea, we cannot hoard and carry away enough of the precious store. Every twenty-four horn's is a circle of its own, in which to tear down or build up, and whatever is spent between one sundown and another must be made good from food, recreation and rest, and whoever commences the morning already tired is spending too much some where, and will find that a system of paying nature's past debts by drawing on the future will make him a bankrupt. But we do not need to wait till in the fullness of time we can join the throng at watering places. To any one, unless shut up between four brick walls, if there belong a green spot some where around the house, if he can sit at least under one vine and fig 'tree of his own, there is at hand a perennial spring, if he but knows how to drink of it. Perhaps you will say, "I cannot stop to rest; I have no time; I will by and by, but now I must do my work." Ah ! but are you sure of your by and by ? the one on this side of eternity, i mean! Are you not doing the very thing now that may lose it for I you, or if entered upon, will it not, instead of I being spent in rest as you fondly hoped, be ! o.w*,,* rofrrotd t'nr flip strength SO UU I ? ? wisely and hopelessly lost ? Moreover, what I is this work you must l>e constantly doing? ! If to do good is your ruling motive, have yon | not learned that it is what you are. as well as ? j what you do, that blesses the world ? and : though the toil of your hands is worth much, a beautiful spirit of good cheer surrounding ! you is worth more and you are not becoming the best you might be if you have no time to | entertain this spirit of rest and strength which j cannot live with weariness.?Herald <>/ Health. ! Wheat is supposed to hftve come origij nally from Asia, north of the Himalaya mountains, where it grew wild. Corn comes from South America. Wheat was first grown on the American continent by a slave of Corte/. j in Mexico. The James river settlers, under ! instructions of the Indians, began to raise corn j iii^0()8. Samples of wheat were sent to Kurope from the Dutch colony of New Xether, lands as early as 10*2(5. As early as 1(5:10, urye' and-Indian" bread was becoming fashionable, and oats and barley were cultivated as soon as 1 rye. The growth in the grain area has been almost unbroken, and at a very early day the colonists had a surplus for ex|>ort. New England, the South and Middle States do not produce enough wheat to supply their own wants, but the South is rapidly increasing her acre! age of both wheat and corn. The export trade in grain has been a regular and important business since 18*21. Prior to that it was spasmodic and intermittent. Often as late as 11817 the home wheat crop was not equal to the consumption, and inqiorts were made from Europe.