Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, April 05, 1883, Image 1
lewis'm. gbist, proprietor. J %n fitbqpbtnf Jfamilg fttfospptr: Jbr % |jroiiiofion of % ^political, Social, ^.gritnlteal aitb Con?rriaI $ntatsfs of fj)t Soflfji. |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance.
"V7"<~kT oq YORKYILLE. S. C., THURSDAY, iAPEIL 5, 1883. ISTO. 14.
V WJJ. &J Kj .
Original ffltiru.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
; - THE SNOW.
SUGGESTED BT THE LAST EASTER STORM.
BY COLDMAN.
Cold comes the blustering blast,
Rushing from' the North-east,
Driving with fury fast,
Regarding man nor beast;
But dashing on its way,
Loud muttering as it goes
With unabating sway,
As a swift torrent flows.
The heavens are all o'er cast
11 * 1?? tLnf Inwar
witn irowning ciouus umt i?.. ,
While from them is falling fast
A cold and fleecy shower.
The streams now cease to run,
Fettered by snow- and ice,
Deserted by the sun,
Stand still as in a vise.
All feel the storm's great power,
Yet like to see the snowWhirl
down from hour to hour,
Though earth be covered o'er.
The shrubs and trees now groan *
Beneath the spiteful storm,
And wither and shiver and moan
Where they have life or form.
Yea, see all that hath breath,
Trembling for shelter fly,
Fearing that they'll meet death,
Before the storm they hie.
The kine rush for a stall,
The flocks to find a shed,
And all that creep or crawl
Seek shelter or a bed.
Each bird hath found a hedge,
Or, crouching In its pain,
Beneath some frnnch of sedge,
In silence do.h remain,
Where they may find repose,
Contentment, peape and rest,
While the mad tempest goes,
?i haIiI liroilyt
OUriWllljJ U CI cai ill a vvtu
Remember now the poor,
Who've neither food nor tire,
And give them, if no more,
Of theae what thev desire;
< Preserve them all alive,
O, God, and keep them warm,
While the elements shall strive
In this relentless storm.
Greensboro, JV. C., $larch 20,18S3.
idle*.
the convict's child.
It was early morning. "Is this the way.
sir, to Sing Sing?" "Yes," roughly replied
a broad faced country-man, and passed on.
It was afternoon. The child was some"Vhat
fragile in her appearance. Her bonnet
was of broken straw, her shoes were
much tornthe sun played hotly on her
forehead. She walked on and on an hour
longer.
"Is this the way to Sing-Sing, sir?"
"Yes, little girl, but what are you going
there for ?"
The child trudged on, her lips quivering,
but not deigning to answer the pleasantfaced
old man who had stopped the jogging
o? his horse to note her hurried manner,
and who liked that little face, anxious and
sad as .the expression was.
The dew was fallen. Katie had fallen,
- too, alrtlbst. A rongh stone by the way,
imbedded, in moss, received her tired little
frame. SKe looked so worn and tired, sitting
there, her tangled hair falling on her
handsthat were clasped over her face. By
the shaking of her frame the tears were
coming, too, and she was bravely trying to
hold them back.
"Whv. what is the dear little girl doing
here?" came the exclamation from a pair
of young lips.
"A curiosity, I declare!" exclaimed a
harsher voice,' and Katie, looking up suddenly,
cowerea away from the sight of the
young lady and her agreeable looking companion.
"Whatever are you doing here, little
girl ?" asked Nell May wood, moving a little
nearer toward the frighted child.
"Going, Miss, to Sing Sing," said Kate.
"Why, George! this child is going to
Sing Sing?ten miles off. Child, did you
know it was so far off?"
Kate shook her head, arid wiped away
the hot and heavy tears.
"Why, you little goose, what are you
going to Sing Sing for? Have you had
your supper?"
Katie shook her head.
"Have you had any dinner?"
Atroin the child shrink her head.
"And no breakfast. Why, George, the I
poor; thing must be almost starved!"
"I should think so," mechanically replied
her brother, just recovering from a yawn,
and showing signs of sympathy.
"Look here, what's your name? Well,
girl, you must come up to the house and get
something to eat. Follow me, and we'll
take care of you to-nitrht somehow, and see
about your going to Sing Sing to-morrow."
Katie followed. What a glorious vision
burst upon her view! The palatial house;
the rocKs reddening in the low western
sun ; the shining river; the signs of luxury
on every hand.
"Susan, give this child a good supper;
she is hungry and tired, too, I imagine.
After that 1 will see what can be dor e l'oi
% her."
Susan wore a mild face. She looked pleasantly
down at the poor tired little 01 e, and
taking her hand, which trembled now, led
her back into the kitchen.
Meanwhile her story, or that brief part
of it- which we know, was being told in
the drawing-room. The sylph-like figure
in white, lounging gracefully in the midst
of delicate cusnions: accompanied her narration
with expressive gestures, and now
and then a little laugh.
"I should like to know what she is going
to Sing Sing for," she said leaning languidly
nonir ?Wp trm^t lnnk her un something to
k/ilVft ?? V MAWW -V r 0
wear?a bonnet, a pair of shoes, and then
maybe we can manage to carry her some
distance. Oh, she's such an odd little
thing!"
"Who is that, my daughter ?"
"Oh, papa, you are come home! Why,
I was talking of a little mite of a child; she
can't be more than ten, if that. I saw her
out here sitting on a moss rock, the most
forlorn object. She says she is going to
Sing Sing."
"I met her on my way," said the pleasant
faced old man; "she asked me about it
and I would have stopped her but she trudged
on. Where is she? It was noon when
I saw her."
"In the kitchen, papa. Susan is taking
good care of her, I think, and when she has
ad a hearty supper we will talk with her."
A gay trio of young girls came in. The
nettings were put up, the gasburning.brightlv,
and music and mirth banished all
thoughts of care. Suddenly Nell Maywood
remembered the odd little figure, and clapping
her hands, cried?
"Oh, I've something to'show you, girls!"
and disappeared.
Susan was picking gooseberries near the
pantry in the kitchen.
"Where is the child, Susie?" asked Nell.
"On the doorstep, miss."
"Why, no, Susan, there's nobody to be
seen."
"No, miss." Susan placed her hand
down, held her apron up to catch the stems
of the berries, and walked deliberately to
the door. "Why, she sat there sometime
after supper. I turned and came in?she
was sitting there, looking up, up at the stars,
I expect. I thought she was a mighty quiet
child, but she's deep, deep, Miss Nelly;
she's gone. Let me see, there ain't any silver
around?I should be afeared she'd took
something ; they're mighty artful."
"Why, didn't you tell her she might stay
fl
| here all night?" and Nell May wood peeped
! here and tnere^ to spy her if possible.'
"Yes, Miss Nell, and told her what a good
bed there was over the woodshed ; but she
| looked strange out of them large eyes of
hers."
"The poor child is in trouble," said Nell,
quite sorrowful that she could not further
relieve her necessities. "Itl have given
her. something to wear, and we could have
sent her to Sing Sing ; but perhaps she will
come baok again?if so, will you send her
to me ?"
"If she do I will, miss," answered Susan,
going at the gooseberries again.
But little Kate did not come back. She
had been watching her opportunity to get
off, and had already been gone some time.
She slept in an open field?crawled in some
hay ; she would have walked all night if
she had dared, but she was afraid of the
darkness.
"Mr. Warden, there's a queer case over at
my house," saida bluff-looking fellow, meeting
the warden of Sing Sing prison. "We
found her last night in some out-of-the-wayplace,
and nothing would do but my wife
must take her In. We can't find out her
4-V?rt4- .?+ 10 Vcite* onr1 T nvnonf
IlUJHt*} CAtrpt llUit lb Ary cvuvt x v^j^wv
that she wants to see somebody in prison.
But we can't get anything out of her?where
she's come from or anything about it."
"Bring her over here," said the warden?
"my wife is wanting alittle girl for help ;
maybe she's just the one."
- So Kate stood, trembling more than ever,
in a few moments, in the presence of the
warden and jailer. Kate was a pretty child.
Her large blue eyes wore an expression of
intense melancholy; her hair had been nicely
combed and curled, and some one had
put a good pair of shoes on her feet.
"Well, my little girl," said the warden,
kindly?for he was prepossessed in her favor?"where
have you come from ?"
"New York," said the child, faintly.
The men looked at each other incredulously.
"Ho you mean to say that you have come
to Sing"Sing from New York on foot ?"
"Yes, sir," said the child, frightened at
his ihanner, which had in it something of
severity.
"And what have you come for ?"
"To see my father."
The child burst forth with one great sob,
and for a moment her little frame was shaken
with a tempest of feeling.
"And who is your father?" asked the
warden, kindly.
"He is Mr. Lloyd," said the child, as soon
as she could speak for her rushing sobs.
The warden looked at the jailer.
"Lloyd; there are three Lloyds here?
Jim, Bondy and Dick." said the jailer.
"That may not be their proper names,"
responded the warden.
"That's so," said the jailer, "but I can try
'em all. Little one, was vour father's name
Jim ?"
The child nodded her head, or they
thought she did; she was all convulsed with
the reaction brought on by the termination
of her journey.
"If it's Jim, he's a bad one," said the
jailer, in a low voice ; "he's in irons this
morning for 'tempting to break jail; he
don't deserve a little gal like that one, the
villain. Come, child, I'll go and fjjid your
father."
He took Katie's shaking hand?with the
other she dashed the tears away as fast as
they fell. It frightened her almost into
calmness to see the ponderous door at
which the jailer applied the greatJcey, and
the stillness of long, stone passages, the
dimness thrown over all; the constant
succession of bars and bleak, black walls
were terrible to a sensitive mind like hers.
How the heavy tread of the jailer, and
the tread of the warden behind him, echoed
through the gloom and the space! It
was, in truth, a great tomb through which
they moved?a tomb in which were confined
living hearts?whose throbs could almost
be heard in the awful stillness. On,
on they went, now through that passageway.
Everything snoke of crime?of fierce
passions subdued and held in stern control?
everything, from the grim face of the ferocious
watch-dog to the sentinels armed.
Then thev turned and went up the stairs,
the jailer holding the scared bird close to
his side with a tender clasp, the warden
following. Another tramp, and at last
they eame to a standstill. The jailer rapped
at a cell-door. Slowly the figure of a
man, with a harsh, hair-covered face, appeared.
"Here's your little girl come to see you,"
said the jailer.
.... . - n ?.M
"Little girl! nem ! you're green,- sum
the man, in glum accents. "I've got no
little girl, or you wouldn't catch me here."
"Father," said the childish voice.
It sounded so sweet, so childish, in that
terrible prison. But as the scowling face
came close to the bars, the child laid her
head quickly in the jailer's arms, half sobbing
; it wasn't him.
"We'll try the next one."
He walked further, and spoke more pleasantly
this time.
"Well, Bondy, here is little Kate; don't
you want to see her?"
"Little Katie?" there was a long pause.
"I had a Kate once?not a little Kate; I
broke her heart?God pity me! Go on, it
can't be for me."
Again the sweet voice rang out,?
"Father."
The prisoner came up to the bars; a youthful
face, framed with light wavy hair?a face
in which the blue eyes looked innocent?
a face that it seemed a sin to couple with a
e 1 .1,?l ,v.if T+ li'ou n Piiril
IUU1 Ut'fU, uuu XV lino ?.? ~
est, pleading, tearful eyes; a dark expression
rolled like a wave across his brow; a
groan came up from his bosom, and with a
low moan he staggered against his bed, crying?
"Take her away ; I can't stand the sight
of anything pure like like that."
Kate had hidden her face a second time
as she feebly cried:
"It isn't himso they kept 011 to the
third cell. A
"Jim, here's a little girl?little Katie,
your daughter?wants to see you."
A stupid "what" came from the bed; the
man had probably just awakened.
"Your little daughter."
There was a sound of rattling irons that
made the girl shiver. Dimly appeared the
face and outlines of a welhmade man?the
countenance handsome but evil. He seemed
not to comprehend. But as fast as the
chains would permit him he came forward
and looked out at the anxious face below.
With a loud, convulsive cry she exclaimi
ed, "father! father!" and fell nearly sensej
less against the jailer.
"Katie?" exclaimed the man, and there
j was a nervous twitching about the muscles
I of the mouth; "whatever has brought her
1 horp
The jailer was calling the child to consciousness.
"Shall we let her come into the cell?"
j pskc 1 the warden.
| Jim was dashing his hand across his face.
J A smothered "Yes," issued from his lips,
j They opened the ponderous door and put
j the child within. Her arms were outi
stretched, his were wide open, and they
! came together with a clanking sound?toI
gether about the form of that poor little
! child.
"Oh, father!"
"Oh, Katie, Katie!" and then there was j
! a quiet crying. I
i By-and-by the man lifted the little head,
j whose glossy curls were falling on his shoulI
der?and oil, what a sharp rattle of chains'
smote on the ear! and looked in her face.
After a moment's irresolution he kissed her,
and then his eyes fell under her earnest,
loving look.
"Katie, what made you come?!'
"Wanted to see you, father," and the
head was on his shoulder again.
"How did you come, Katie? Never
mind the noise, they are locking up; they
will be here again and let you out. How
did you come, Katie?"
"f walked here."
"From New York, child?"
"Yes, father."
There was 110 sound, save that of the
chains, as he strained her closer to bis bosom.
"And how did you leave?her, Katie?
your mother?"
Tin? question was asked fearfully, but not
responded to. He gazed eagerly in the
child's face; her little lip was quivering.
"Katie, tell me quick!"
"She died, father!"
A groan?a terrible groan?followed; the
man's head fell in the lap of his child, and
he wept with strong cries. The jailer and
the warden said that they had never seen
a sight so woeful. And the child tried to
comfort him, till strength seemed to be gone
and his sobs were like gasps.
"Oh, Katie, when did she "die? Oh, my
poor May! my poor girl!"
"Ever so long ago, I think; ever so many
weeks," replied the child; "but she told me
to come and see you and comfort you."
."Oh this is hard! very hard; she always
forgave me."
'*She told me to pray for you, too; she
told me to ask you would you be real good
after you came out, and meet her in heaven."
"In heaven ! I in heaven?" groaned the
man in his agony.
The child was angel-guided. Her soft
touch was better for his soul's good than the
stripes and the chains. He had been hardened
; her little love melted down the adamant?had
found the good locked up in his
nature?and she had sent her sweet smiles
through its prison door. Long he sat there,
his head in the lap of his beautiful; quiet
child. None dared disturb him; jailer and
warden walked to and fro.
"Father, when you come out, I'll take
care of you." He lifted his head; his eyes,
red with weeping, were fastened on her face.
"Mother saicl I might."
Tlio lirawlan /ilou rorl hi<s thrftllt: the isliler
iJ,t ""'V.V.. ...? , ?
spoke roughly to one of the prisoners?it
was to hide his emotion.
"You had better come now, he added, going
to the cell.
"Katie, you must go; will you come
again my child?"
"Can't I stay, father?"
"No, dear Katie; but you shall come and
see me again."
They took her gently from the dark cell;
she sobbed very quietly. In the warden's
room stood a pleasant-faced old man.
"I have come after that little girl," he
said. "She must go home with me. I'll
take care of her; I've heard her story, and
when her father comes out, if he's a mind
to behave himself, I'll give him plenty to
do. Beside that, I'll bring her up once a
week to see him. What say, little onewill
you go with me?" And good old Mr.
May wood stroked her hair as he said pityingly,
"Poor child! poor child !"
Ten miles from Sing Sing prison there is
now a little cottage occupied by an industrious
man and his daughter. Little Katie
is fulfilling the commands of her dying
mother. She is taking care of him as well
as of herself.
EVACUATION OF Mounts isjlaaw.
M. Quad in Detroit Free Press.
Early in September, 1863, it became plain
to the Confederates that they could not hold
Forts Wagner an Gregg many days longer.
The iron-clads had pounded them from one
side and Gilmore's troops from the other,
ancl that the greater part of Morris Island
would soon be in the hands of the Federals
was a conclusion which must be met and
prepared for.
And now here was the grimness of war.
The sand forts had been almost leveled to
the surface three or four times over, and
yet repairs had been made and the garrisons
reinforced. They had the iron-clads
on the one hand and the Federal infantry
on the other, and it had come to that pass
that a linger could not be lifted above the
parapet without finding a sharp-shooter
watching for it. Gilmore had about thirty
guns in a semi-circle before Wagner, and
not satisfied with raining tons of shot and
shell daily upon the work, he began a new
movement.
Here was the terror of war?sap and
mine. Foot by foot, inch by inch, the federals
had crept as near as was possible, rolling
their sand earthworks before them almost
as easily as one could roll bales of
cotton. Within pistol-shot of the parapet
they halted. War had become cold-bloocled
murder. A strip of sand, not 4U0 feet wide,
was the neutral ground, and the Tiger of
War raved back and forth over this in
search of blood. He found it?blood by
the gallon?by the barrel?blood flowing
out upon the white sands, until the tracks,
of the Tiger could be plainly seen in the
dampness.
BLOCKING TIIE PATII.
The iron-clads could neither reduce Fort
Sumter nor pass it, and the attempt to
reach Charleston by way of Secessionville
had failed. If the Federals could gain
possession of Morris Island, Charleston
would be under the fire of common artillery
and Fort Sumter could be attacked from a
new side.
Gilmore hail secured the lower end of the
island and intrenched his position, but he
could advance no further until Wagner and
Gregg were overcome. Wagner had received
the most terrific pounding from the
ironclads?a fire so fierce and continuous
that army and navy officers asserted that
all human life behind the sand-piles had
been wiped out, and yet the echoes of the
last gun had scarcely died away when a
thousand Confederates emerged from the
bomb-proofs and coolly began making repairs.
A column of 3,000 Federals had
flung itself at the fort, fought with desperation
and retired shattered and broken. A
second column, stronger by a thousand, had
rushed over the ditch?up the . lopes?over
the walls of sand?fought hand-to-hand
with the ferocity of tigers, and when the
broken ranks were reformed within the
Federal lines six hundred men were not
there to answer to their names.
Battery Gregg' had been pounded at for
weary days?its garrison torn to pieces by
the monster shells, its guns dismounted and
its walls torn out or leveled flat?but there
they were, sullen, defiant, and saying to the
Federal Lion:
"We are in your path and prepared for
you !"
The English, the French and the Germans
have their histories of that great four-years'
struggle in America, and their historians
have praised pluck wherever it cropped out.
An American who attempts it will be called
a patriot for praising the one side, and a
"rebel" for praising the other. There was
pluck at Wagner and Gregg and Sumter and
Charleston?such pluck and determination ;
such uncomplaining sacrifices for the cause;
such a steadfast purpose to defend every
brick and beam and plank to the last as
neither Greek nor Spartan ever exhibited.
FOOT BY FOOT.
When it was finally realized that neither
the missiles from the fleet nor the bayonets
from the infantry on shore could reduce the
forts of sand it was determined to blow
Wagner out of the path of the advance.
Wagner out of the way, Gregg would be
evacuated.
Beginning about the loth of July, the
Federal forces may be said to have advanced
foot by foot. During the night the sappers
would advance underground, burrowing
their way with pick and shovel, and next
morning the Confederates would look out
upon a new Federal position. Wagner was
being fought with its own weapon?sand.
Its sand walls had sa ved it?other sand walls
were to overwhelm it. Gilmore was the
specter of war. His. shadow was reaching
further and further up Morris Island, ana
that shadow never moved backwards.
Where it rested it burned into the sand, and
left a horrible trace. There was scarcely a
day that the specter did not seek to devour
more ground?never a night that the men
who followed it or opposed it, did not scream
iut as bullets tore their flesh.
I STRIKING AT FATE.
I In the last days of July the sight of the
gaunt and blood-stained Specter roused the j
Confederates to fury, and it was planned to
throw enough infantry upon Morris Island
to make a quick dasb upon the Federals and
overwhelm them. The regiments to make
this move had been flamed, when it was discovered
that lack of transportation would
prevent.
Twenty-four hours later it was realized
that the knell of fate was about to ring out
its warning over Morris Island. Gilmore
the Specter was as inflexible as death and
as unyielding as a coffin. A snail might
have progressed faster, but it was progression
just the same. Each morning saw his
tracks of blood a little nearer?each night
there were burials in the sand hills behind
Wagner. The fort was holding out?the
guns were roaring defiance at fate, but fate
ever conquers.
In the first week of September Gilmore's
trenches ended within a stone's throw of
Wagner, but covered from its guns. From
here he could drive mines into its very bombproofs,
or he could assemble a sufficient force
to make the chances of a sudden rush almost
certain. The guns from land and sea
had an enfilading fire, the mortars had the
exact range, and it bad come to pass at last 1
that Death groped in fcvery nook and corner 1
and bomb-proof in search of victims.
MAKING READY.
Fort Wagner would not surrender, but it
must be evacuated. Everything was plan- i
ned in thecoolest manner. Only the sandy
site, rent and torn by explosions, was to be ]
left for the Specter to gloat over.
One of the preliminary steps was to exca- i
vate trenches and rifle-pits in rear of Wag- (
ner. These, filled with the rear guard of <
the garrison, would check pursuit long ]
enough to enable everybody to escape. ;
Such ammunitions of war as could be re- J
moved to Gregg and beyond were taken j
away. 1
At dark on the night of the 6th the evac- i
uation began. The greater part of the gar- i
rison was withdrawn to the rifle-pits, two
or three light guns dragged away with them, i
and presently the fort, which had been ten- ;
anted so long and had withstood so much,
was without sentinels to challenge or artil- ;
lerists to fire. i
GHOSTLY SHADOWS. i
There was a suspicion in the Federal mind
that some movements were taking place 1
among the Confederates, but whether it was i
an increase of garrison or an evacuation, no ;
one could determine. To be prepared for 1
any emergency, a strong caicium ngm, ?uw
thrown upon the fort from one of the iron- J
clads. From the vessel it seemed as if one 1
could have seen a cat walking along the
parapets, but the light was deceiving. It
was a ghostly glare which betrayed those 1
who watched instead of those who worked. }
Men stood upon the parapets without dis- .
covery and the strong glare 011 the front of .
the fort deepened the darkness on all other
sides. .
On this night Federal pickets lay in their J
rifle-pits within thirty steps of the ditch of
Wagner, but they neither saw nor heard
anything to arouse their suspicions. There !
were less than 800 men in the garrison, and 1
as night came on they marched out of the '
fort and moved away like shadows. 'The ]
soft sand echoed no footstep, and 110 voice ;
was raised above a whisper.
While the ghostly glare of the calciuir j
light fell upon the ramparts, and while the 1
Tiger of "Yv ar croueheu in tne sand only a f
few steps away, listening, peering, glaring,
750 men flitted across the sand to Battery J
Gregg without the whisper of an alarm. 1
For every pound of sand used in construct- 1
ing Wagner and repairing it, two pounds of !
Federal iron had been used to batter it 1
down, but on this wight it stood there as j
proud and strong and defiant as ever.
LEAVING THE ISLAND.
Before 10 o'clock the garrison of Wagner 1
was rowing away from Morris Island. The 1
men had taken their muskets, but little <
else. Not one of the cannon had been 1
saved. Before midnight the garrison of 1
Gregg had left, and there remained only a <
small party charged with blowing up both 1
WAfto (
The intention of the Confederates was to <
leave nothing but two great holes in the i
sand to mark the sites of the forts. The or- <
ders transmitted from headquarters were 1
very plain and complete. The guns were to 1
be spiked, the trunions knocked off and the f
carriages broken. All ammunition was t} <
be placed in the main magazine, and time '
fuses used for the explosions. The big
guns were to be jammed full of powder, ;
sand and shot and arranged with time fuses <
ti burst about the time of the grand explo- i
sion. Gregg being about five minutes'walk <
from Wagner, was to have a ten-minutes 1
.jse instead of a fifteen, and the programme 1
was to have the two explosions occur in the ]
same second. <
WHAT WAS DONE. i
No move could be made at Wagner until 1
a.\er dark, and then it was found that a
blow struck upon the gun would arouse all
the Federal pickets lying beyond the ditch. ,
The guns were spiked by men crawling
about like cats, but they could not be arranged
for bursting nor the carriages de- [
stroyed. The spiking was better done at ;
n ? o wra \r Knf. ltdfll- I
l.XI"Cgg, UfJlJJJ llll lllUl UIIUJ , J V.V ...... ,
in six hours after tho Federals took posses- .
sion every gun was in good working order.
The fuses had been repeatedly tested, and
each time they had burned brightly and exactly
such a distance to the minute. In ,
each fort the fuse was carefully laid and led
to a barrel of powder, and they were burning,
all right when the last boat left the ;
island. And yet, strangely enough, neither
fuse accomplished the result deemed posi- ,
tively certain. One went out altogether six
or eight feet from the powder, and the other
became disarranged, and was consumed
without damage to anything.
The last boat from the island was discov- ]
ered by Federal picket-boats and fired at,
and ten minutes later it was known to Gil- (
more's forces that Morris Island had been
evacuated by the Confederates.
At a given signal Forts Sumter, Johnson
and other works turned their fire upon the I
evacuated forts to prevent the Federals from
rushing in and extinguishing the fuses, and
though this fire answered the object in onesense
it failed in another.
From April to September Wagner had
been stormed and assaulted and pounded
until almost every grain of sand had soaked
a drop of blood, but here it was at last in 1
Federal hands. Ten thousand infantry,
cannon and mortars in battery, backed by
a fleet of ironclads, had finally driven 720
men out of a sand heap, and Gilmore was
half a mile nearer Charleston.
Federal history called it a great victory,
and the masses shouted glory without counting
the cost or consulting the facts. To-day
I xt._ uunrl.hnr ill
uiu sea, js puuimg unu? n.v ?
three or four different channels, and a few
months more may see white-capped waves
rolling over the spot where whole pages of
a nation's history were written with bayonets
dipped in blood.
Behind, Abreast and Ahead.?Those
who have but little to do or to care about,
who have no great ends to accomplish nor
hope to fulfill beyond the search of pleasure
for its own sake, find that, while present
time seems to move slowly and the future
looks drear, time which is past seems, on
the other hand short and unsatisfactory.
Looking forward they are appalled by the
length of time they know not how to use;
looking backward, they can call up but few
vivid memories of good work accomplished
or strong purposes fulfilled, and but ltttle
therefore to mark the years that are gone.
On the contrary, those whose life is a worthy
and useful one, who laber energetically
and heartily, with good success, look backward
upon a long and well-defined past,
while their future seems all too short for
the aims they have in view. A year full of
activity, resolution, and enterprise will
offer a long and pleasant page for memory
to dwell upon, while a year of bodily inaction,
mental vacuity, and general supineness
will melt from the remembrance like a
tale that is told.
THE YOICE OF SPRING.
Bill Arp in Atlanta Constitution.
Hark, I hear the bluebird sing!
And that's a sign of coming spring.
The bullfrog bellers in the ditches,
He's throwed away his winter britches.
The robbin is bobbin' around so merry,
I reckon he's drunk on a China berry.
The hawk for infant chickens watcheth,
And fore vou know it one he cotcheth.
The lizard is sunning himself on a rail,
The lamb is shaking his new-born tail.
The darky is plowing his stubborn mule,
And gayly hollows "gee, you fool."
King cotton has unfurled his banner,
And scents the air with sweet guanner.
The dav grows long?the night's declining,
The Indian summer's sun is shining.
The smoking hills are now on-fire,
And every night it's climbing higher.
The water warm, the weather fine,
The time has come for hook and line;
Adown the creek around the ponds
Are gentlemen and vagabonds,
And all our little dirty sinners
Are digging*bait and catching minners.
The dogwood buds are now a swelling,
And yallerjonquills sweet are smeiling;
The little busy bees are humming,
And everj'thing says spring is coming.
It has been a hard old winter on man and
beast. Hard in weather and harder in lire
and flood and pestilence, and all sorts of unnatural
troubles. The horrors of hotels
burning up, and theatres and circuses
shrouded in flames, and thousands of poor
people made homeless and destitute by the
raging waters, and small-pox marking its
- i-; ? ? "ii lrtw/1 10 nififitl lnnaf.
V1CUII1S Mil UVCi 111c lauu, 10 puiMi, .uvuv
pitiful; but I can't get over the shock of
those poor little children who were trampled
to death in that school room in New ^ork
eity. I can't help but seeing them all laid
out in the room together, ana their parents
hovering over their little, disfigured and
mangled corpses. The distressing scene
haunts me. There is a power of trouble in
the world that we know nothing abouttrouble
that we who live in the country do
not have. Here there are no storms, no
floods, no fires, 110 pestilence, no sjarcity of
wood, or food, or comfortable clothing. A
poor man in the country is safer from all calamity
than a rich one in the city. A poor
man may lament his poverty and envy the
rich but he has no reason to. A. man who
makes a comfortable living on a farm has
i greater security for life and liberty and
happiness and long life than any.other class
that I know of? Cobe says he* is getting
ilong "tolable well, I thank you." Cobe .
is always calm and serene. He owns a
mouse-colored mule, and has owned him
ever since the war. That jnule is one of
the family, and he knows it\ The children
play under him and over him and between
his legs, and the mule is happy, too. Cobe
has a chunk of a cow and a sow and pigs,
md about enough old rickety furniture to
move in one wagon-load, and that's all Cobe
has got except his wife and half a dozen
little children, who live on corn bread and
taters. And they are smart children, and
healthy and good looking, though Cobe is
?alled the ugliest man in tne county, and I
think enjoys his reputation; His face is of :
three colors, and splotched about, and his
mouth is in a twist one way and his nose 1
in another, and his eyes are of a different
iolor, and he is hump-shouldered and walks
pigeon-toed, but he don't care. His wife 1
fciys he is just the best little man in the
world. He works hard, he and the mule,
aiwovs envs hp is ^eftine aloner "tola
*IIVt WI IT W o o rj
ble," and says he finds no more trouble in .
supporting six children than he did one.
He says there never was a possum born that
didn't find a 'simmon tree somewhere.
Says he is raising his boys more for endurance
than for show?for another war will
come along about their time of day and
he wants 'em to be able to stand it. Cobe is
m honest man and came iVom an honest
family,"and'his wife did, too" and their children
are well mannered and they are getting
a little schooling, and my opinion is
that there is more hope for the country in
that kind of stock than in the average
children of the rich. They will make good,
humble, law-abiding citizens and they will
work and produce something. When war
or trouble comes it is the yeomanry of
the land we have to depend on. The children
of the poor are running this Southern
country now. They are the foremost men
in most everything. They are the b ost merchants
in Atlanta and other cities?the
best farmers, the best mechanics and the
best railroad men. Some of 'em make
splendid bankers if they do spell hog with a
double g. Grammar may deceive, but figures
don't lie.
We are mighty busy now in these parts.
[ can sit in my piazza and see over a good
leal of farming territory, and the mules are
moving up lively. They seem to know the
jpring is late, and the farmers are behind
time. But I don't sit long at a time, for
the garden is to plant, and the rose bushes
have to be trimmed, and the flower-beds
dressed off, and the compost scattered
iround, and the vines want new trellaces,
ind everything got ready for a suit of new
clothes. The old year is just now dead and
the new one is born with the spring. March
used to be the first month and it ought to
be now. I don't see what they ever chang- (
cd it for. One hundred and twenty years
Ago our English forefathers took a notion to
jet old father time back a couple months, ,
without any good reason for it. and I think
we ought to move up the clock and put him
Forward where he was. The spring is the
new birth of nature, and is the type of our
:>wn resurrection. I don't believe that ev- J
crything that dies will live again, but 1 do
believe that everything that is good and
\trill civpii fn animals and trees
L./V (UlUUH TV A**) V T V.. WW
ind flowers. This is a mighty pretty world
we live in?mighty pretty, especially in
the spring, and for fear of accidents, I'm ,
willing to be a tenant a good while longer.
"I would not live always,
I ask not i.o stay,"
is a very beautiful sentiment, provided a
man is sure of a better home when he quits
this one. Hut another poet sung with more
jaution and content when he said:
"This wo Id is very lovely?Oh ! mv God!
I thank Thee t nit I live."
I reckon the majority of mankind are like
the fellow who said he didn't wart to go to
heaven if he had to die to get there. Many
would like for the ages of Adam and Methusaleh
to come back again. It wouldn't
do though?it wouldn't do at all, for if Jay
Liouici ana \ anaeroni ami company snuum
live a thousand years they would gobble up
the whole terrestrial concern and crowd us
all off onto a plank in the ocean. On the
whole I'm obliged to think that everything
is fixed up about right?I reckon it is.
-?
DIET.
It is the popular idea that the majority of
persons eat too much. If reference were
made to the bad cooking generally in vogue
in this country, it is probably true; but if
it were practicable to make an estimate of
the amount of food required by every individual,
based on the energy expended in
the mental or bodily nctivities of each, we
believe the nutriment contained therein
would rather fall below than exceed the
reasonable requirements of the body, and
that that this inadequate quantity, togeth
with its Daci preparation, accounts m a great
measure for the premature decay visible
011 every side. This practical age, with its
gauges and tests, and its demand for reasons
and for facts, has dispelled many false notions.
The present generation of men cannot
be made to believe that their forefathers
attained an average age of eighty years
by hard work and "hard-tackbut they do
know that the average term of human life
was ten years less in the last century than
in the present.
There is 110 question so frequently asked
of the physician as that which relates to
diet, and there is none more difficult to answer.
The answer almost always given by
one of the most prominent physicians in
New York is, "eat whatever yoli think you
would relish.1' This reply is wise. Nature
craves what will best agree with the system;
and unless there is some special reason why
it should be witheld, the desired food should
be furnished if possible. One qualification
however, is -necessary; and that is that the
food shall be wholesome and properly pre- h
pared. A patient just recovering from ty- i
phoid fever might crave an article of food f
to which he had always been accustomed, 1
as for example,; "mince pie"?a dish most r
trying to the strongest digestive organs?and \
which, if then indulged in, would almost t
certainly result in a relapse that would a
prove fatal. A similar case once came t
under our observation as consulting physi- i
cian. It is our firm conviction that no restriction
should ordinarily be placed on the
quantity of food given, to any one, provided
it is plain, nutritious food, properly cooked
and taken at meal time. Young children
require food more frequently and are permanently
injured by fasting between regu- 0
lar meal hours. Never say "no!" to a child ?
who asks for food or water, it matters not i
how often. No person who has been habitu- c
ally underfed in childhood can ever enjoy ^
perfect health, nor is he likely to attain old
age. We see this truth exemplified in men *
and animals. t
The use of food is not alone to nourish the r
body; it has another most important office, 3
which is to distend the stomach and intes- <
tines. If a horse were to be fed on oats or 'l
other concentrated food only, he would soon
Hio onri thus it would be with anv other
animai. s
When a child is underfed during years? j
as thousands are?the stomach becomes t
weak and contracted so that in time it has i
neither the strength or capacity to contain t
sufficient nutriment for the wants of the u
system, and the child dies of "marasmus," i
a disease common enough among the poor \
and degraded, and not altogether unknown t
in higher life, where errors in regard to the t
care of children are sometimes adhered to s
with most persistent obstinacy.?Hall's u
Journal of Health.
i
THEODORE PARKER ON MARRIAGE. I
Men and women, says Theodore Parker, \
and especially young people, do not know .
that it takes years to marry completely two j
hearts, even of the most loving and wellsorted.
But nature allows no sudden change.
We slope very gradually from the cradle to
the summit of life. Marriage is gradual, a
fraction of us at a time. . ?
A happy wedlock is a long falling in love.
I know young persons think love belongs j
only to brown hair and plump, round, crimson
cheeks. So it does for its beginning,
just as Mount Washington begins at Boston '
bay. But the golden marriage is a part of '#
love which theoridal-day knows uothi ng of. t
Youth is the tassel and silken flower of
love, age is the full corn, ripe and solid in
the ear. Beautiful is the morning of love e
with its prophetic crimson, violet, purple
and gold, with its days to come. Beautiful
uiun wtiip pvonino- of love with its triad re- \
membrances, and its rainbow side turned f
toward heaven as weM as earth.
Young people marry their opposites in
temper and general character, and such a
marriage is generally a good one. They do r
it instinctively. The young man does not ,
say : "My black eyes require to be wed to t
blue, and my overvehemenee requires to be
a little modified with so. lewhat of lullness
and reserve." When these opposites come
together to be wed they do not Know it, but
each thinks the other just like himself.
Old people never marry theirsimilars and ?
from calculation. Each of these two arrangements
is very proper. In their long *
journey these opposites will fall out of the 1
way a great many times, and both will
charm the other back again, and by-and-by
they will be agreed as to the place they will
go to and the road they will go bv, and become
reconciled. The man will be nobler
and larger fdt being associated with so much
humanity unlike himself, and she will be a
nobler woman for having manhood beside
her that seeks to correct her deficiencies and
supply her with what she lacks, if the diver- fl
sity be not too great, and there be real piety
and love in their hearts to begin \\ ith. ?
The old bridegroom, having amuch short- '
er journey to make, must associate hiniseK 1
with one like himself. A perfect and complete
marriage is, perhaps as perfeet as per- t
sonal beauty. Men and women are married j
fractionally?now a small fraction, then a
large fraction. .
W e ? +,x+r,ll,T o,?l L
very lew tvie uiamcu luiau,*, mm mvj j,
only, I think, aftersome forty or fifty yeais ^
of gradual approach and excitement. Such
a large and sweet fruit is a complete mar- ^
riage that needs a winter to mellow and e
season. But*a real happy marriage of love ?
and judgment between a man and woman +
is one of the things so very handsome that .
if the sun were, as the Greek poets fabled,
a god, he might stop the world in order to .
feast his eyes with such a spectacle. u
SPECULATION IN COTTON FUTURES. J
It would be difficult to estimate the loss a
to the people of the South every season, by v
the baleful practice of dealing in futures, as i
it is termecfin the slang of the commercial t
world. Hnndreds of thousands that should i
be employed in building up the legitimate t
industries of the land, only go to fill the i
insatiate maw of Wall Street. It is gam- s
bling, of course, and gambling with sharp- c
ers who have the cards stocked in their a
hands. q
The extent to which this passion has been t
developed is realized by few. Disguised in 1;
the form of "business" this insidious vice t
has invaded the quiet country, and brought t
its feverish unrest and dream of unholy t
gain to the Church member, the trusted q
deacon, the experienced merchant, the c
hard working farmer; and even the wo- t
men of the land have felt the mania. t
We have heard an eminent .man declare
that it reminded him of nothing more viv- i;
idly than a mighty trap, set by the bird- f
catchers in New York, and baited, and al- r
though a few birds may hop out with a <>
crumb, when the telegraph assures them t
that birds enough are fairly under the trap ]
all over the country, down it falls, catches a
their little savings put in on margins, and e
the next day the broker raises it serenely e
for another deal. o
This is an alarming evil, not simply be- c
cause it transfers the profits of years of labor v
to the cormorants whose trade it is to feed
upon others, but because it does that which t
is worse, infinitely worse, in degrading and 1:
demoralizing those whose passion for gain, c
or demand for excitement leads them to I
this species of gambling. a
Nor is it confined to cotton. It has inva- rJ
ded every avenue of commercial life, and f
does not scruple to make bread and meat, t
the dearest necessaries of life, its playthings t
and toys. Shame on the Christian man c
' ? -i? n r t r
who worships this image 01 luuiuiiiuii; v,
We think, in this matter, that the press e
of the land needs to purify its advertising e
columns. How can they give these thieves 1
and robbers entrance into the household t
of their fellow citizens? f
We observe with pleasure, the arrest of a
men in Chicago, who have flooded the c
country with their circulars of "Co-opera- i
tive dealing in stocks," and trust they may r
receive justice.?Church Messenger. e
I
Sensible Sentences.?Don't be whin- s
ing about not having a fair chance. Throw
a sensible man out ol a window, he'll fall
on his feet and ask the way to his work, i
The more you have to begin with, the less t
you will have in the end. Money you earn 1
yourself is much brighter than any you can a
get out of dead men's bags. A scant break- s
last in the morning of life whets the appe- f
tite for a feast later in the day. He who T
has tasted a sour apple will have the more a
relish for a sweet one. Your present want t
will miii-p future nrosneritv all the sweeter, i
Eighteen pence has set up many a peddler in c
business, and he turned it over until he has J
kept his carriage. As for the place you are f
cast in, dontfind fault with that; you need C
not be a horse because you were born in a i
stable. If a bull tossed a man of mettle sky- f
high, he would drop down in a good place, a
A hard working young man with his wits r
about him will make money while others a
will do nothing but lose it. "Who loves v
his work and Knows how to spare, may r
live and flourish anywhere." As to the d
trouble, who expects to find cherries with- 1
out stones or roses without thorns?" Who v
could win must learn to bear. Idleness lies s
?
a bed sick of mulligrubs, where industry ?
inds health and wealth. The dog in the
:ennel barks at tieas; the hunting dog does
lot even know they are there. Laziness
vaits till the river runs dry, and never gets =
o market. "Try" swims it, and makes
ill the trade. "Can't do it" would not eat
he bread cut for him, but "Try" made
nore out of mushrooms.
COMETS.
Bishop Clark in the N. Y. Ledger.
Last year we were favored with a visit by
>ne of the most beautiful comets that has
ippeared in modern times. Millions of
>yes looked upon it; some with scientific
nterest; many with vague and unthinking
uriositv ; some with solemn awe, and some %
vith fear and dread. From the earliest
iges, and in all quarters of the world, this
irratic wanderer of the heavens has been
egarded as the harbinger of dire events
tnd the prophet of woe.
'When bt^gars die there are no comets seen ; >
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of
princes." S
Comets have battled the investigations of
cience, and their origin, constitution and
mrpose, in days gone by, have been remited
to the region of "the unknown and the
mknowable." They come and go ; someimes
in accordance with the prediction of
Lstronomers, and sometimes when they are
lot expected, sweeping round the sun
vith inconceivable velocity, and then, with
he new impetus acquired bv this close con- p
act with the great solar luminary, they
hoot off into space, likea stone hurled from
i sling, and are seen no more for ages.
Some are enormously large, and with an
ncalculable orbit, while others are of comlaratively
moderate dimensions and keep
vithin reasonable limits. In 1862 a comet
ippeared which accomplished its' orbit in
ix years and three-quarters, re-appeared in
832, when, if it had been on hana only one
nOnth earlier, it would have struck the
farth. As it was, it came near enough to
>ur globe to split itself in two, and went
areering off, each part with its own head
md tail, and about 16,000 miles apart. The
>ictures of these creatures, taken from life,
ook very much like the nead of a goose
vith a brilliant eye in the centre, and along,
ipen beak, and a gosling alongside of much
mailer size, but constructed after the same
ashion with its father. It ought to have reurned
in 1852, but it has never appeared .
.gain, the presumption being that the shock
vhich it received from its vicinity to the
arth was too much for it, and so it went to
uin. The two heads may have gone off
omewhere, and are perhaps wandering
.bout to-day in an aimless manner, but \
'they left their tales behind them," and
eased to be comets any mora.
In the year 1767 a comet came so near the
f r, v. rv 4- I Ii.i +A ifc OAlltHJO
,1 tTcll piUHCL ?J uunci (Ul lu uciaii^c iiovwuiov.
'and went hobbling around Jupiter until
779, when it became entangled with Jupier's
moons, and then it lost its orbit again,
nd was whisked off into infinite space, nevr
more, perhaps, to be seen by human
yes." :
Nine years ago a comet came between the
arth and sun, traveling at the rate of 363
niles per second (more than 1,300,000 miles
>er hour !) and when it took its sharp turn
round the sun the distance between the
wo was only six times the breadth of the
un's face. It is very possible that the sun *
night swallow up a quantity of the smaller
oniet fry without feeling it much and withut
its making any perceptible impression
ipon us ; but to consume at one meal such
.creature as appeared in 1843, with a tail
ong enough to reach from the earth to the
un?with fifty million miles of tail to
pare?might tax the digestion of even such
, mighty being as the sun.
We are accustomed to regard the comet as
, somewhat rare phenomenon, but Kepler
ffirms that "comets are scattered through
he heavens with as much profusion as fish's
in the ocean," and those wlr'ch belong
o our solar system are counted by millions,
t may be well for us that only an occasional
'isitor intersects the orbit of the earth ; for,
ven as it is, we have sometimes come very
tear hitting one of these fiery monsters.
rVhat would be the consequences of an actlal
collision it may be difficult to determine.
.'here are scientific men who say that comts,
so far at least as their tails are concernd
are made of such light and tenuous maerial
that we might go directly through
hem, without any danger, and perhaps
vithout knowing it; while tnere are others
vho believe that contact with a comet would
>e disastrous. Even if there were no solid
ubstances in the comet capable of doing
tann, there may be, and undoubtedly there
re gasses and electric potencies which it
could be very uncomfortable to encounter,
t. recent writer, to whom I am indebted
or many of my facts, describes what is gong
on in the heavens as "a celestial game of
r?n Hfl+Vl tllrt u/llor CVifptll fhr ? hmvl
Cll'piliOj U llil iiliw UJ ?w> ?? ivv >1
ng alley, and the earth waiting for a tentrike."
It is not a pleasant picture, but I
lo not think that we need concern ourselves
bout the danger to be apprehended in that
iiiarter ; whatever may nave happened in
lie earlier periods of the world, we have
>een going on quietly enough for many
housands of years, and shall probably coninue
to do so for many ages to come. It is
he opinion of the writer from whom I have
[uoted that in ages long past there were
ollisions of comets with the earth, and he
lasjust published a very ingenious and enertaining
book to prove it.
More space would be required than is at
ny command to give anything like a satisactory
statement of his argument. He has \
ansaeked the literature of all nations for legends
and myths which indicate the tradiions
of such* an event, and summons the
lible to his aid after a fashion that would
mim'pnt pnmmpntators. He is
vidently well posted in astronomical scince,
and is well worth studying, whatever
me may think of his conclusions. The title
if the book to which i refer is Raynarok,
vhich means the "rain of dust."
It is certain that the climate and condiions
of life on the earth have not always
teen what they are now. Tropical plants
nice flourished in the arctic, and tropical
easts roamed there, which by some sudden
nd awful catastrophe, were destroyed.
The destruction must have been swift, and
robablv instantaneous, because the flesh of
hese animals is found in perfect preservaion,
no time for decomposition having ocurred
after their death. Later on, a sneet
f ice enveloped the greater part of the
artli, and at some period the line of the
liptic {appears to have been changed.
A'hat changes may await the world in fuure
times heaven only knows. It is enough
or us to know that there is a supreme and
ill-wise Power behind all the phenomena
>f nature and that He doeth all things well.
the globe 011 which we live had a beginling,
so it must, sooner or later, have an
nd. "The things which are seen are tern >oral
it is only "the things that are not
een which are eternal."
The Great Wall of China.?An
American engineer who, being engaged in
/ - ? ;i nu:.? |
ne construction OI it ran way iu viuiiit, iiiw
lad unusually favorable opportunities of ex,mining
the famous Great Wall, built to obtruct
the incursions of the Tartars, gives the
ollowing account of this wonderful work :
The wall is 1,728 miles long, 18 feet wide,
nd 1") feet thick at the top. The foundaion
throughout is solid granite, and the retiainder
is compact masonry. At intervals
if between two nundred and three hundred
'ards towers rise up twenty-live to forty
eet high, and twenty-four feet in diameter. .
)n the top of the wall and on both sides of ||
t, are masonry parapets, to enable the de
enders to pass unseen from one tower to
nother. Tne wall itself is carried from |
loint to point in a perfectly straight line, |
cross valleys and plains and over hills,
/ithout the slightest regard to the configu- I
ation of the ground ; sometimes plunging I
own into abysses a thousand feet deep. I
Irooks and rivers are bridged over by the
/all; while on both banks of larger streamy ~^|
trong flanking towers are placed, - ^
J