Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, April 25, 1888, Image 1
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VOL. 34. YOBKYILLE, s7c.. WEDNESDAY, APRIL 25, 1888. NO. 17.
fjfcfwwtion fag.
Soldier rest, thy warfare o'er,
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;
Dream of battlefields no more,
Morn of toll, nor night of waking.
THE BLUE AND THE GRAY.
[Decoration day was iiist established in the
sooth, and on the 26th of April, 1SG6, the
ladies of Columbus, Miss., in a noble spirit of
tenderness and hope for the renewed union,
strewed flowers upon the graves of both Federals
and Confederates.. This act elicited the
following poem:]
By the flow of the Inland river
Whence the fleets of war ha-re fled,
Where the blades of the grave grass quiver
Asleep are the ranks of the dead.
Under the sod and dew,
Waiting th? judgment day,
Under the one the Blue,
Under the other the Gray.
These in the robings of glory, .
Those in the gloom of defeat,
All with the b title blood gory
In the dusk of eternity meet.
Under the aod and the dew.
Waiting the judgment day,
Under the laurel the Blue,
Under the willow the Gray.
b?From the silence of sorrowful hours
The desolate mourners go,
v Lovingly laden with flowers
Alike for the friend and the foe.
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day,
Under the roses the Blue,
Under die lilies the Gray.
So with an equal splendor
The morning sun rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender
? On the blossoms blooming for alL
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day,
Broidered with gold the Blue,
Mellowed with gold the Gray.
So, when the summer calleth
On forest and field of grain.
With on equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain.
Under the sod and the dew.
Waiting the judgment day,
Wet with the rain the Blue,
Wet with the rain the Gray.
Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading
No braver battle was won.
Under the sod and the dew,'
Waiting the judgment day,
' Under tho blossoms the Blue,
Under the garlands the Gray.
No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead.
Under the sod and the dew.
Waiting the judgment day,
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray.
?Francis Miles French.
MAMMY PHILLIS' WATCH.
-vn?sDoue upon a Doraer
c^>Jb city spread out on the
"" banks of the Mississippi
?a city from which some were fleeing to get
away from Yankee territory, some to escape
t!*o reported advance of the boys in gray,
and some to join either the Union or Confederate
armies. For days there had been
an ice gorge in the river. At midnight without
warning, with a roaring and a cracking,
the ice had broken up and gone off with the
current. As morning dawned all was activ*
ity on the levee. People were hurrying to
and fro. Lazy negroes that had been torpid
with cold, were slowly crawling out from
among the cotton bales. From the long
black pipes of steamers?whoso captains during
their period of enforced idleness had forgotten
their rivalries, and whose boats had
* in the meanwhile been resting quietly side
by side?wreaths of smoke were curling and
drifting away in the wind. Vehicles bearing
passengers and freight, struggled for place
on the levee. The cracking of whips,
tho braying of mules, tho "heave ho,"
"heave ho" of the roustabout, the shouts of
the mates as they hurried tho men in no
gentle terms to get on with the freight, made
up a combination of sounds, a scene nowhere
to be witnessed save on the levee of a southern
river citj*.
Among thecarriages hurrying to one of the
steamers about to depart for the south was
one containing a gentleman and by his side
a lady, his junior, and evidently an invalid.
In attendance upon the lady was an old
colored woman, bent with age, but eager and
willing to perforin the duties of a nurse.
The gentleman carried his delicate companion
over the gang plank and up into the
cabin, where he laid her on a sofa. Kneeling
beside her and taking her hand in his, he
gazed upon her as if ho would engrave forever
upon his heart the sweet smile that
tn V?io Vnf fKnw trn?*a cnil cmi'loo"
1 C3|A/*?UVAI IV 1*10. JL w IUCJ nuo oau oiunvo,
it was a sad parting. The young wife, broken
in health, was about to depart for their
former home in Louisiana. The husband, a
Confederate officer, was to go to report for
duty to Gen. Albert S. Johnston, and was
destined soon after to march with his regiment
to join the force which Gen. Pemberton
was then collecting at Vicksburg.
"Surely, Robert," the young wife said, as
6he held him when he endeavored to break
away from ber with a view to ending the
parting, so bitter to both of them; "surely
it will all be over soon, and you will join
me, and at once?the moment peace is declared?won't
you?"
"Let us Hope," be said manfully. "I wilL"
He turned and hurried away. Mammy Phillis
followed her master as he passed through the
cabin to the staircase in the bow of the boat.
"Done you fret, Mars' Robert, honey," she
said; "ole Phillis '11 care for missy like she
did for you when you was nothen but a little
pickaninny on her bres'."
Robert Gibson tried to speak to her, but he
could not His lips moved but no words
came. Ho pressed the old woman's black
hand, and hurried down the staircase and
out on the crowded levee. Once he turned
and looked back at the boat that held his
treasure. The last sight that met his gaze was
the figure of the mammy straining her eyes
to discover him among the crowd. An hour
after the steamer was standing down the
river while the negro deck hands stood in
the bow .singing that strange weird melody
onco heard never forgotten.
When they reached a point near Island No.
10, they had come to the advance of the Confederate
lines. They were passed through,
and within a few days were again on another
steamer, moving southward.
As the days passed, nearer and nearer
camo the boat to the sunny south. Hero
and there on the river banks the tender green
of the poplars and the sheen of the Spanish
moes told that spring was waking, and soon
the song-of the tnocking bird brought cheer "
to the weary heart of the invalid, which in
spite of all its courage conld not rise to
resignation. Mommy Phillis hovered over her
young mistress with loving care, beguiling
her as well sho could with dreams of the
future when Mors1 Robert should come home
jj
^ ^11 AlOfT PHHJ^
covered with glory which should rival Solomon's.
But sho saw with agony untold that
"the silver bowl was broken." Her young
* - * * 1 * m -1 - ? - J di AI.aixu] MAII f rt/l f
mistress' me roueu turn uiujmmou, imucu j.<j?
a day, relapsed, flared for a moment like a
candle in its socket then went out altogether.
One morning the bell on the steamer was
struck, the fires were banked, and her prow
turn'd toward the shore. It was but a few
miles south of Vicksburg. The boat tied to
the landing, a procession of tho i>assengers
bore the lifeless charge of Mammy Pliillis to
the shore, and there, after several of the
deck hands had dug a grave, reverently laid
the body in it. The steamer had "lain to"
at an opening in the forest. Huge cypress
trees threw their dark shadows into the unknown
depths, trailing moss waved its gray
tresses in the summer breeze, birds were
caroling in all the tree tops, and tho magnolia
and climbing jessamine filled tho soft
air with their delicious perfume. Sad eyes
looked on as tho rough steamboat hands performed
their strange office. Was there no
one to offer a prayer for this sweet spirit in '
all that company# No! Only the uncovered
beads of the rough sailors and the few strangers
there gathered bore witness to tho uu- |
usual scene. A moment moro and they bad '
recrossed the gangplank. Mammy Phillis
stood like a statue where she had placed herself
at the head of the grave, deaf to all entreaties
to go with the rest.
"Where missy lies, dare I lie," was all she
would say.
* a 1"'* a t> flla ivmif
Ab lU5b tiiCJf 1XSKV UU ?fi3 vuu uvuv
moved^away they heard her cry, "How long,
oh Lord, how Jong!" The sua went down,
silence reigned in the vast wilderness and the
stars looked down upon the solitary form of
Mammy Phillis, faithful almost uuto death.
* * * ? ? ' *
It was the summer of 1863. Grant and
Sherman were investing Vicksburg. For
more than a year old Mammy Phillis had
watched over the grave of her mistress on.
that shore in the wilderness. An old cabin
had been deserted by its tenants as being in
too close proximity to the lawlessness of war,
and in this the old woman had made her
home. From a plantation not far distant
she had drawn what scanty subsistence she
needed, and there she stayed and watched
and prayed that Mars' Robert should come
and relieve her of her lonely vigil.
One day the old woman thought she heard
the booming of distant guns. Was it guns
or was it thunder? She stepped to the cabin
door to listen. The sounds came nearer.
Then she heard volleys. Then the sounds
seemed to recede, then to advance, yet with
each advance drawing nearer, till at last the
forest about her resounded with the deafening
roar of artillery, the sharp rattle of
musketry, the shouts of men, the neighing of
horses. During the presence of these mighty
concussions old Phillis sat crouched in the
corner of her cabin praying tho Lord to take
her to his " Kingdom come."
THE SOLDIER'S DEATH.
Then the sounds grew further and further;
the noise of the cannon became again a low
muttering, and the volleys of musketry died
away into an occasional distant shot.
Now it happened by a strange fate that
this battle brought the end of Phillis' watch.
"When the old woman found strength and
courage to go out of her cabin, she found
near it the dead and the dying. A temporary
hospital was established within a few rods,
and who should be brought dying to tho old
creature's cabin, but her beloved Mars'
Robert
None of the arts with which tho aged
nurse had soothed him as a child would
avail now to bring him strength. No gentle
m nistrations or tender words could rouse
him from his deathlike stujKir. With his
head upon her breast she crooned over him,
till the present vanished and he was lier own
little "pickaninny" at the old plantation
home, and she sang the song he loved to hear
as a child as she rocked too and fro:
Come friends come, done stop at Jordan
When de waters roll away,
Take up de staff an hurry on,
For de Lord won't let you stray
Into de promised land.
Ilurry on, hurry on!
Mammy looked down and saw tho ej*es of
the wounded soldier open, but n smile of recognition
was all that passed between her
and her beloved master.
"Bress do Lord he done gone to bcben, an
when de angel Gabrel blow de horn fer do
battle to begin, Mars' Robert go fine dat Yank
what shot him an pay him back, or Mammy
Phillis dou't know uuffiti ob de meanin ob
de Scripters."
From far and near they canto, a dusky
crowd to pay the last tribute of respect to the
young massa, and ho was laid to rest by the
side of bis loved one, in the lonely forest.
Mammy sat iu the door of her cabin, gray and
blind waiting for the sound of Gabriel's horn,
firm in the belief that somehow when Mars'
Robert finds that Yank she will be there to
?
Ono day after peace came, a boat landed
at the bank near mammy's cabin. A gentleman
camo ashore aud took the old woman
away. Ho was her young master's father.
Mammy went back with him to Louisiana,and
when she went "into do promised land" she
was watched by those of fairer complexion,
and who were no less faithful to her than she
had been to her "Mars" and "Missy."
THE REVIVED SOUTH.
Signal Proofs of Capacity for Self Government.
History may bo searched in vain for a
parallel to the energy and.political skill with
* * 1 A'- ? o/MifW ?/? ru>f nklioltA^
WHICH W pt'OJJlU UL tuo 9VUIU 1 <.-COVauii3UCU
their industries, reasserted their political
rights and resumed their place, after the
desolation of the war and the reconstruction
era. Other defeated people have lingered
long in sullen inaction, unable to resume the
strifo and unwilling to accept the new conditions;
but the only charge the victors
brought against the Confederates was that
they were too eager to resume their old place
in the Union and too skillful in preserving
all that was best in their distinctive civilization.
Long years of hatred have followed
civil war in other lands; the Scotch rose
again and again for sixty years after the
Stuarts were expelled, and the Irish are still
fighting, each recurring 12th of July, over
the events and the results of Boyne and
Limerick. But in all the south, with rare
local exceptions, Confederate soon elapsed
bands with Federal; they sat in the same
pew at church, met in the same lodge and
voted the same ticket, and in every city of
Dixie, nay in every street, one might
see firm names of which tho partners
bad but a little before looked at each other
along gleaming riflo barrels. Political malice
may distort these facts for a whfie; but
tbo common sense of mankind recognizes the
fact, and history will so record it, that this
spontaneous popular amnestj* shows the
possession of the very highest qualities
which ennoble humanity.
"They didn't give in till they had to," was
the unanimous verdict of the Federal victors;
"the Confederacy was a mere shell." It was
worse than that?it was a waste. From the
Potomac to the Sabine, every branch of production
wus paralyzed, the commerce of
every port was dead, all public improvements
were destroyed or badly crippled,
every family was in mourning, every fifth
house was in ashes, every third soldier had
sunk to his grave. Society was plowed up
from tbo very bottom: the industrial system
was completely destroyed; "the bottom rail
was on top;" the currency was worthless,
and no man knew whether there was any
local government The people barely had
time to breathe and begin to rebuild their
waste places, when the reconstruction measures
of 1867 again overwhelmed society; the
negro vaulted into the seat of his former"
master and commenced playing tho beggar
on horseback. For seven years several of
the states were subjected to tho most galling
humiliations that men of the Aryan race can
suirer. au imperial race was put under the
control of a lately servile race; white men
were ruled by their former slaves. The
white people of six states and parts of five
more were confronted with the most stupendous
problems in government; but natural
superiority asserted itself, and out of
chaos they organized victory.
While reconstruction was in progress, and
while the whites were prostrated, there were
complaints of social disturbances, of riots here
and there; but now that we look back on
that period we are filled with amazement
that there was so little bloodshed, so much
forbearance. Suppose some philosophic
student of human nature, unbiased by prejudice,
had looked upon the eight states sub
jected to tho rule of tho freedmen in 1867
and attempted to forecast the future; what
cnu3t he have prophesied? Here, ho would
have said, are two races alien from the
dawn of history. Tho 0110 bns behind it
3,000 years of slavery and barbarism; it is
timid to a painful degree, just out of servitude,
without education, unaccustomed to
the use of arms, without military experience
or organizing capacity?a servile race. The
other is an imperial race, with 2,000 years of
L'UUhUUiU prugress ueuinu it, a pcvpiu uvtuotomed
to rule, inured to war, good riders,
crack shots, with sentimental ideas of honor
and personal dignity, feeling an insult more
than a wound, and with as little dread of
death as any people in the world. And it is
proposed by wise statesmen to put this race
under the control of that race. Reasoning
a priori what would this student philosopher
have said? That there would be an upheaval
without precedent, riot and bloodshed in
every precinct. That hundreds of thousands
would be slaughtered. That the streams
would run red with blood. .And so thought
the few who could reason in that exciting
era.
Nothing of the sort occurred. True, there
was trouble here and there, for the bonds of
society were completely relaxed, and local
government had no force except to tax and
plunder. Yet, considering the temptatious,
the aggregate was surprisingly small. The
average forbearance was wonderful. The
ratio of crime among the 14,000,000 or more
people in the south was scarcely greater than
in communities where peace has prevailed
for generations. In no long time there came
to the front a class of young men not broken
in the spirit by the war, and with the counsel
of the elders they soon redeemed the
south. Then was seen a restoration of peace
and order as sudden as it was surprising.
The state governments became thoroughly
efficient; no municipalities were more orderly
than those of the south; life and property
were as secure as in any country in the
world, and the rapid progress in temperance
and religion Astonished mankind. For seven
weeks of 1877 riots raged from the Hudson
to the Missouri; but not a shot was fired in
the south. Frauds and embezzlement multiplied,
but southern business was conducted
on the old and honorable plan. Bankc *s and
cashiers, trustees and aldermen fled to Canada
with the funds intrusted to them; but
the south sent no such emigrants. Credit
mobiliers and star route frauds, Indian rings
and whisky rings were exposed till decent
Americans held their noses and blushed; but
no southern statesman was involved. For
tho past ten years there have been fewir
frauds and thefts and less intemperance in
the south than in any equal period before in
any section of tho country.
In the meantime the southern people have
established a comprehensive school system,
taxing themselves generously to educate the
youth of both races; have carried out vast
public improvements and built up a score of
great manufacturing cities. The politicians
of distant states have sneered and criticised,
but their capitalists have come and invested,
and that shows where confidence is due.
"Money talks." No other stato has been
more abused by men of the Wind-galls tribe
then Georgia; no southern state has received
more northern capital. No state is more imbued
with what .they call the "southern
spirit" than Texas; none has received more i
immigrants from tho north. I
Do men voluntarily locate where life and
property are insecure, or where they nro not
free to express opinions? Or do capitalists
act as if thev expected to gather grapes of
tborns or figs of thistles? No; these facts
are unanswerable proof that peace, order and
liberty rule in the south; and in evolving
such a system out of chaos the southern people
have shown apolitical skill and rapacity
for statesmanship unequaled in the world
beside.
Our colored citizens must have their share
of praise. Since the evil days ended they
have worked willingly with us for better
things. When impartial history comes to be
written, these plain truths will be recorded:
That no conquered country ever settled down
to peace and order so soon; that no defeated
people ever accepted the situation so man- I
fully; that no suddenly freed people ever !
used their freedom with more moderation, !
and that in no part of the United States is J
there to-day a more earnest, honest and j
whole souled devotion to the common good 1
of our common country. The Confederates i
fought bravely for separation, and when de- j
feated they submitted manfully. It is only j
those who are brave in battle who can main- I
tain a manly dignity in defeat. Our bravo j
victors are foremost to recognize this fact, j
and, with rare exceptions, the south has no j
more devoted citizens, the ex-Confederate no |
better friends than the Federal veterans Tjrho
have settled among us.
"War, the greatest curse of mankind,
will never cease so long as women
and clergymen continue to approve and
encourage it."
THE LAST GUN.
At sunset on May IS, 18G5, between Palmetto
ranch and tho Boca Chtco strait, in Texas, the
Sixty-second United States Colored infantry fired
the last volley of the war.
Thank God! The bloody days are past;
Our patient hoi>es are crowned at last;
And sounds of bugle, drum and flfe
But lead our heroes homo from strife.
Thank God, we see on every hand
Breast high the ripening grain crops stand;
The orchards bend, the herds increase,
Then, oh, thank God, thank God tor peace!
THE SWORD OF HARRY LEE.
[From "Personal and Political Ballads," a rare
work of the war era, in possession of Charles St.
Clair, Si Park row, New York.]
An aged man, all bowed and worn,
Sat by his hearthstone old;
Beside him sat, with
reverent mien,
jr A youth all proud
/ w and bold,
sw He listens with rapt
7 eagerness :
?waff To the old man's
\ /Tjfc?> every word;
v? One aged liand rests
^ JK on his head,
bjji The other grasps a
/' "m7 boy," the gray
4 ' * baired patriot
r "A precious legacy
I give into your keeping now?
The sword of Harry Lee I
Ah, how we loved that noble chief?
A hero grand was he;
No craven thought e'er filled the heart
Of Light Horse Harry Lee.
One day?it all comes back again,
Though I am old and gray?
The battle had raged long and fierce,
For we would not give way.
Our chieftain at the legion's head
Rode on exultingly,
When a red coat vile his saber raised
nv. ?y. t
I dashed before the hero bold,
Right in the deadly strife;
I clove the Hessian to the earth
And saved brave Harry's life.
That night he grasped my wearied hand,
The flush was on his cheek,
The tears stood in his manly eyes,
His voice was hoarse and weak.
He gave me his own trusty sword,
That oft had led the free;
He told me I must wear it for
The sake of Harry Lee.
Ah, boy! that was a happy night,
For proud he well might be
Who e'er deserved such heartfelt praise
From .ight Horse Harry Lee.
I wore this blade all through the war,
And when the storm was o'er,
I kept it bright and free from rust
As in the days of yore.
But when the British come again,
To threat us with their might;
I buckled on the good old sword
And wore it through the fight.
And when the soft, sweet, southern breeze,
From tropic regions far,
Came laden with the clash of arms
And thrilling notes of war,
Ltook the old sword from its place,
With tears of honest pride,
And buckled it right gladly by
Your gallant father's side.
He bore it manfully and well
In regions far away;
It flashed o'er Palo Alto's plains
And sunny Monterey.
It never was laid down in shame?
God grant I ne'er may see,
Cue base blot on the shining blade
Of Light Horse Harry Lee.
Now. boy, I draw this sword again?
Alas, that it must be,
That I must count as foes the sons
Of those who fought with me.
My limbs are old and feeble now,
And silvered is my hair;
I cannot wield this sword, and so
I give it to your caro.
Today I saw your noble chief,
And, ah, I seemed to see,
Erect again before me stand
The form of Harry Lee.
That same bright eye, that noble form,
That bearing light and free;
Ah, yes, he's like his noble sire,
This son of Harry Lee.
Now go and do your duty, boy,
You bear no coward's name;
And as you dread your grandsire's curse,
Ne'er sully it with shame.
.And I, as long as life remains,
Within this bosom free,
Will ask God's blessing on you, and
The sou of Harry Lee.
Jamcs D. McCaBE.
Vjcksbuhg, May. 1803.
IN THEIR MEMORY.
Sorrow is transformed by time into a
pleasant memory. \Ye look on the faco of a
dear one for the last time with intense
anguish; but when there has been time for
grief to bo assuaged, we recall all the good
qualities of the departed and muse on them
till the thought becomes a pleasure. Many a
middle aged or old person will admit that
tho memory of one child who died in the
loveliness of early youth is now more agreeable
than tho attractions of any one that
GEN. STONEWALL JACKSON,
lived to full manhood or womanhood. This
'8 often true of the dearest friends, and
always of great leaders and men of eminent
talents in any walk of life. Lee, at Appomattox,
was then a sad sight; the memory of
his dignified bearing and manly resignation
i$now an unalloyed pleasure. Ask any
veteran of the Army of Virginia, on this
GEX. LEE.
Decoration Day, what ho would take for his
recollection of Gen. Robert E. Lee! Suppose
a memory could be bartered and ask this:
What money would hire you to blot out that
mind picture of our noble commauder as we
have often seen him on horseback among us?
How much, to make your mind as if you had
never seen Gen. Lee? If he did not tako the
question as an insult and answer with a blow,
he would certainly say that there was ouo
poss on no money could buy.
Who that grew familiar with the heroic
figure of Thomas Jonathan Jackson, as ho |
rode at the bead of his column in the stirring
summer of 1862, would part with that memory
now? Every veteran who can recall the
scene considers the memory among bis
dearest possessions. And it has a value which
ar.thmetic cannot measure; it ennobles the
man; the thought "I was with Jackson at
such a place" still makes bis bosom swell with
pride?still makes him feel that he is distinguished
among men and has that pictured
in his memory which allies him with heroes.
Jackson's career of glory was quickly run.
Before Ball Run he was only known as "one
of the new brigadiers," and not quite two
yeare after it he received his mortal wound;
yet what wonderful achievements were
crowded into that short period. The world
will never willingly forget them. Even before
the war closed the soldiers opposed to
him frankly conceded his greatness, and now
his fame is a part of the common glory of the
country. Stonewall Jackson had graduated
with a rather low rank from West Point in
1S40, and, though twice brevetted for gallantry
in Mexico, was but little known. As
professor of philosophy and artillery tactics
in the Virginia Military institute, he becan
known merely as a conscientious and pain
taking official and teacher. But all these
years he was growing, and when the grand
opportunity came his inherent greatness was
shown.
There are those who imagine that an existing
condition will always exist, and hence
that the old sectional lines will be maintained
in history; that Lee, Jackson and their colleagues
will always be the peculiar glory of ;
the south, Qrant and Hancock of the north; |
It is a shallow and unpatriotic view. It will j
never be in America as in Ireland, where
feuds of race and section have purposely been
prolonged; but it will be as in Scotland,
where the heroic achievements of Saxon and
Gael, Lowland and Highland, Jacobite and
Hanoverian are thrown into a common
stock and are the common glory of the country.
In no part of Walter Scott's works do
his lines swell to a more sublime strain than
when ho paints the achievements of the
Gaelic clans over men of his own race and
religion. No man loved Scotland more than
he, but he looked upon the past without prejudice
and felt a pride in all heroic Scotchmen.
So will it lie in America?nay, so it
now is in many sections.
Another of our heroes whose memory is a
pleasure was Ambrose Powell Hill. Hs rose
to prominence more
slowly than Stonewall
Jackson. It Ki n
was his sad fate to
fall by the shot of \3
a Rtruggler only
one week before
the surrender. It
is claimed that no
general in the Confederacy
was in l.[f(A vpvKwSs*
more battles and
" ttfnn '" . '
Gen. Hill. He was ?sn. a. p. hill.
but once severely wounded and rapidly recovered,
and though once granted leavo of
absence he returned to duty before his leave
expired; thus he was almost continuously in
service, frequently getting into a battle by a
forced march, from May 1, 18GI, to April 2,
1865, when he received his death shot. By a
heroic charge his body was recovered and
finally laid in Hollywood cemetery, Richmond.
Considering the high rate of mortality in
the war, that twenty-three years have passed
since it closed, and that the leaders in it were
necessarily men of mnturo age, it is really
surprising that we have so many of them
among us to-day. General Longstreet is
living at Gaiuesville, Ga., and begins to
feel the infirmities of age Gen. Joseph
E. Johnston is a fine specimen of the
vigorous old gentleman, still active in j
the service of his country. But time and j
space would fail us to tell of the many |
worthy survivors. We close with the
hope that on this Decoration day all feel- ;
ings of estrangement may be laid aside, i
that all difference arising out of recent j
politics may be ignored, and that the old
radical and"old conservative may clasp j
warm hands above their comrades' j
graves and remember only the time i
when they fought together in a common !
cause.
Strength of the Sonthern Armleu.
The strength of the Confederate armies
cannot be stated exactly, but we can come
very near it by the well known proportions
of age and sex in a given population. The
largest fraction of a whole people ever put in
the field by any European power was not
quite one in seven; the total white population
of the Confederate states was 5,600,000. If,
therefore, they had secured every available
man, their total of enlisted men, excluding
recounts in successive organizations, would
have been 800,000. But it is evident that
they did not secure such a force, for it is
proved that at least 50,000 of their able bodied
menwero fugitives in the north ("refugees"), j
and the lowest estimate of Unionists in the
mountains of Tennessee, North Carolina,
Georgia and Alabama?resisting all drafts,
and therefore a negative force?puts them at
40,000. It is also conceded by the historians
of both sections (see Blaine, Vol. I, pp. 556-7,
also Pollard and Greeley on same subject)
that the number of Confederates from the
border states was equaled or exceeded by the
number of Federal soldiers from the Confederate
sfates.
Much is said of the "sweeping conscription
Art*" in the south, and arguing thereon some
have rashly concluded that the Confederate? !
"bad 1,000,000 men. But the first enforcement
of those acts was in Jul}', 1S63, when nearly
half the south was within the Federal lines,
and the rigid enforcement was in 1564, anil
was only in five states and small portions of
two others. It is also a fact r.ot generally
known that the Confederate conscription
laws provided for a much larger list of exemptions
than the Federal. Making the lowest
reasonable deductions for these causes, we
should conclude that the total of actual men
in the Confederate armies from Sumter to
Appomattox was considerably below "00,000.
and that there never were in active service at
one time 500,000. Excluding re-enlistments,
the actual men in the Federal armies did not
much, if any, exceed 1,*00,UUO, and the
highest estimate would not put the number
in active service at any oue time ever sou,000.
Greeb-j-'i Tribute to Southern Women.
Nor would our survey of the great struggle I
bo complete without a recognition of the fact i
that the spirit evinced by the women of the j
south, while even more intense and vehement,
prompted them to efforts and sacri- j
fices equally practical and beneficent. Their
means were limited and they unaccustomed
to persistent labor; but they gave to their j
brothers and sous, in field anil hospital, every i
solace for their hardships and sufferings |
which affection could devise and unwearying
devotion provide. True, they did not (as had ;
often been threatened) seize the urnis that j
drotmed l'rom the hands of their vanquished I
kinsmen, but tliev did whatever they could j
to mitigate the hardships of the soldier's lot j
and insure the triumph of the Confederacy, i
?"Amerieau Conilict" Appendix
Such enormous wealth as the Astors
doubles easily?some calculators say every
ten years?and if the present heads of the
family live thirty or forty years more?
and they are likely to, for your accumulator
of money is proverbially careful of
his health?and the country continues to
thrive, it is not beyond the bounds of
probability that their riches will then
amount to two or three thousand millions
of dollars, and live families may own the
most valuable part of the real estate in
that portion of the city of New York
lying between the Battery on the south
and the Ilarletn river on the north. 1
ittisffllitncmtjs 21 catling. t
For the Yorkvllle Enquirer.
REMINISCENCES OF WESTERN YORK. 01
Up to this time we have neglected 01
to say anything about old uncle Joe ai
Logan. His best days, and perhaps re
his whole life, was spent in Western tl
York. Teaching: school was his pro- ^r
fession when he had one. He was a , ra
pretty fair English scholar, yet not ! H
hv mnv niPMiw Molishpd. He wrote n i ot
plain copy hand, and could indite i
almostany common legal instrument, j
"Uncle Joe" was like a great many |
useful men of the present day?he i
would take a little too much toddy :
at times. It was while under its in- cr
fluence that he was most enthusias- n<
tic. His moral and mental worth "
was the only thing he could talk e'
about then. With most persons, n<
when they get too much liquor, at
their tongues get thick. This was ^
particularly the case with uncle Joe. |
He wanted everybody to know that
"old Joe Logan is a schmart old ; a
animal. He's got more schenshe fr
than all the lawyers in Yorkville P1
put together." Sometimes he would J*1
say that "Judge O'Neal is the "
schmartest man in the Sehtate of J"e
South Carolina; Tom Dockings is h)
next and old Joe Logan next. George
Williams is a mighty schmart man, "
but he's a long ways behind Joe at
Logan;" He was a peaceful man, a 01
lafe counsellor and withal a good xv'
citizen. Many ludicrous incidents
might here be repeated in which he
was a central figure, but prudence cc
forbids it. Notwithstanding his cc
civil, good nature he had pluck about P(
him and would resent an ins,ult or
injury momentarily if he had the ?f
auimy in uo so. uurwg me last
years of his life he spent much of 1,1
his time with old man Ben Childers, V(
of Benton notoriety. ?c
Wheat cutting time was the ocea- irj
sasion for neighbors to gather in and *3
make it a holiday season. The wo- .
men of a neighborhood would gather ,r
in, and, of course, talk over the ec
doings anil misdoings of the neigh- sa
borhood. A jug of whisky was the w
motive power in the wheat field. P1
Uncle Joe was a great convenience y
on these occasions to furnish the !r
amusement. On one of these ocea- ,r
sions it was necessary for the liar- ca
vesters to cross Bullock's creek on a
log. Uncle Joe was old and clum8y;
besides a little top-heavy, and he P1
couldn't walk the log, so Henry
Price agreed to carry him across the ir
creek on his back. He found a place se
shallow enough to wade, stripped Vl
off his clothes and found where the 0(
deepest water was and then got uncle r
Joe on his back and started across. C(
When he got to the right place he w
fell down and went under head and
ears and took uncle Joe with him. 01
He not out of uncle Joe's embrace 1 jV
and began laughing at him. Uncle
Joe got mad and said: "Henry
Priche, if I was a young man I would ,a
whip you for this." The old man P1
Logan died during the war or imme- CJ
diately afterwards. He had two
daughters tosurvivehim?Mrs. Har- i
riet Gozee and Mrs. Dock Bolin. ' Ic
His son Wright died years before, j "
Next in my mind is old man Joe ^
Wilson. He, like uncle Joe Logan, j
had his failings in much the same !
way. He was not so well educated. ^
A descendant of Welsh parentage he 11
showed his nationality. He was a "
cooper by trade, and much of his
work, I dare say, can he found in
Western York to day. His knowl- !r
edge was mostly from observation ; !j"
a man of fine sense, yet it was not jjj
cultivated. His debauchery lower- j"
ed him helow the plane of society he ,a
should have occupied. Too profane
and vulgar for the companionship of tf
decent people, he made himself the ^
peer of his inferiors. He could repeat
the history of Wellington, Na- 1
poleon and Waterloo with wonder- J1
ful accuracy and intelligence. Corn *r
shuckings and log rolling seasons 'J1
was the time for him to enjoy him- ^
self, particularly if a jug of whisky
had anything to do with it. He put ~
in a good deal of his time with old
Johnnie Bolin, near Smith's Ford. * '
When he died, he was buried at ^
Unity. %
i'll venture to say that there was
hardly such a man in York county, ; ^
before nor since, as old uncle John- ;
nie Bolin. Uneducated and unpre- Jj:
tending, he was proverbial for his
truth ami honesty. He was a man j
of considerable wealth. At the age j i0
of 55 years he had never heard a ser- j 111
.... .. i .1 am n..u:
mm mi |irm'iicu. \/iu nuiit .raisey, his i
wife, was much like him in this respect.
I once heard that a Met ho- j
(iist minister by the name of McKib- ! f()
ben went theie and began talking ?(
about religious matters and old Mrs.
Bolin made him leave. j ^
Few men lived longer, did more S(
good and less hprm than uncle John j ^
Bolin. lie was an excellent neigh- j ]n
bur and a truthful and honest citizen, ^
He stayed at home and attended to !
his own business. lie would take |ri
his dram and get a little funny some- ga
times. He had a contempt (as all
honest people have) for profanity and
vulgarity. Inhisday Western York nj
had no better farmer than he was. j ^
He planted corn and always had hogs | c.?
and meat to sell, as well as corn. It j ^
has always been a mystery to me how j a]
a man can have such reverence for j w
truth and honesty as he had and so i
little for the other virtues of religion. st
It shows how near to and yet how
far a man can live from perfection. I C{1
have heard him say he would never ^
sell a bushel of corn for less than 50
cents or more than 75 cents. It cost
50 cents to raise it and was worth no
more than 75 cents to the consumer. ni
Whenever a man went outside of ,
those figures he was wronging some- : fl,
body?himself or somebody else. In
this he was eccentric; but I suppose ; j,
to the end of his life lie carried out j n(
that conviction. How many men ; cg
are like him in this respect at the i jy
present day? I don't suppose he irj
ever sold a bushel of corn he expect- , Hl
ed the money for he did not get. He
had seven sons, all but one of whom
preceded him to the grave. I have a,
no idea he ever had a law suit or te
was on a witness stand as such in his
lifio Knf mnvur *1 i ffi mi 11 \ nu liot\i/OPn
parties he was instrumental in set- ,
tling permanently and satisfactorily.
j. l. 8.
- I 111
A Buried City.?That one of the i ei
greatest of all of the cities built by | a
the Buddhists in theeastshould have d<
been forgotten and lost in the depths sa
of a trackless forest for 1,000 years is pi
a fact that lays a powerful hold on g<
the imagination. Headers of Mr. | S|
Ferguson and Sir Emmerson Ten- j th
nent have heard something of the e:
architectural wonders of Anuradha- at
pura, the ancient "city of granite," St
in the island of Ceylon, and of the gi
unparalleled immunity of itsstruc- th
turesand rich monumental remains cc
from the ravages of the spoiler and so
the religious fanatic. Tl
Since they wrote great progress g(
has been made in the way of clear- th
ing the jungle. Mr. Burrows, who of
has lately visited the city, gives in i
Mac/nillan's Magazine a remarkable ; th
account of the progress made in local Si
archteological researches since this j th
marvelous record of the past was ac- j fu
cidentally rediscovered. The ruins m
at present disclosed are described as j d<
already extending for a distance at of
i
a9t of four miles by two and a half, c
he wonderful Cingalese palace, sup- t
ised to have been built about the ii
immencement of the Christian era, g
' which Mr. Burrows gives an elab- a
ate description, was discovered S
ily last year. So far the clearings t
id excavations are stated to yield t
suits which entirely agree with t
le most authentic account extant v
om an eye witness of ancient Anu- t
idhapura?the Chinese traveler, Fa r
Jan, who visited it in the early part h
' the Fifth century.?Chicago Times, t
c
From the Chester Reporter. p
A CHANGE NEEDED. ?
The method of nominating Demo- t
atic candidates for State offices is
)w agitating the public mind. As !
ie nominations are equivalent to an
ection, the method of making the t
^minations is of primary import- t
ice, affecting not only the policy of t
ia Ilomnfirati/. nurtv hill, thp nnlipv ?
.x- ^?.wv.Mviv r" v ? ?w %
mt shall control the State. t
The nominations are now made by c
convention composed of delegates ^
om each county exactly equal in ^
urn her to double its representation j
i both branches of the Legislature, j
here being 159 Senators and Hep- G
(sentatives, the convention will j,
ive 318 members. t
The present method of noinina- t]
ng has been attended with constant j
id growing discontent, and well it t
ay; for under it fifteen counties j.
ith an aggregate white population e
' 1138,308, by the census of 1880, sent 0
10 delegates or a majority of the 0
invention; while nineteen other a
runties with an aggregate white a
ipulation of 252,797 sent only 158 0
.'legates. The fact that Beaufort
runty with about 488 white voters I
is eight delegates, while Spartan- j,
irg county with about 5,274 white (
:>ters has only ten delegates in the s
invention presents in a mostglar- \
ig light the injustice and inequali- r
' of the mode now in use. j
Some change must be made. Nom- t
lation by a primary vote is demand- ]
1 by some. And it will not do to j
iy that a primary is impracticable t
hen we have had two successful G
rimaries to nominate candidates for c
ongress. A primary would be of s
ivaluable consequence in compell- a
ig candidates for State offices to t
irefully formulate and discuss the i
ilicies that should prevail in the
tate. The chief objection to the ^
rimary plan is that its proposed c
loption will provoke diverge and
reconcilable views from different
ctions as to the qualifications of
iters at the primary. That methi.
if limited to white voters, would
>duee the influence of counties with
>]ored majorities to an extent that
ould he impolitic, if not unjust.
In North Carolina, Georgia and
:her States nominations are made
y conventions composed of delegaons
from the counties based on the
emocra ifc vote of the county at the
ist gubernatorial election. This j
Ian stimulates the citizens of each g
junty to poll its full Democratic j
rength, which is very desirable.
I North Carolina one delegate is alivved
for 150 Democratic voters and
actions over 75. Ifour nominating
inventions were formed on acorn- {
ination of the principles which now
gist and those prevailing in North 6
arolina it would approximate much ,
earer to justice and would likely J
ispel all lurther discontent. J
It is suggested, therefore, that each J
>unty be allowed as many delegates *
i the convention as it has members 1
i the House of Representatives, and f
len add to this one delegate for each v
K) white voters or 1500 white popu- ^
ition?by the census of 1880?for the '
ext nominating convention, and c
lereafter one delegate for every 300 ?
hite votescast in the preceding gu- J
srnatorial election. This would in- 1
easethemembershipoftheconven- I
on to about 371 members and dis- f
ibute them among the counties as 1
I I A LI ill? to A 21- ? ? m A M
niuws : Auuevine 10, /\iKeu 14,
erson 1G, Barnwell 14, Beaufort 4, ?
erkeley 9, Charleston 28, Chester 8, [
hestertteld 8, Clarendon 6, Colleton '
I, Darlington 12, Edgefield 15, Fair- ?
eld 7, Georgetown 4, Greenville 19, <
[ampton 7, Horry 8, Kershaw 8, I
ancaster7, Laurens 10, Lexington 9, 1
[arion 14, Marlboro 7, Newberry 8, ?
conee 9, Orangeburg 13, Pickens 9, *
ichland 11, Spartanburg 21, Sumter '
), Union 10, Williamsburg 8, York v
I. ?
This plan is respectfullysubmitted *
ir the consideration of the approach- '
ig State convention. "
A WISE DOG.
Bruno and his master were very I
nd of each other, and went out to- p
ither a great deal. F
One evening they made a call, r
runo walked into the kitchen to p
ay, lay down and fell asleep. His
laster spent the evening in the par- s
r. When it was time to go home, d
le master forgot his dog and went s
[>me without him. But in the t
lorning. almost the first thing he r
iw was Bruno, safe at home. How r
3 you suppose he got there? t
He did not wake till late in thejg
ight, when the house was still; but t
len when he found that nobody c
ime to let him out, he jumped c
trough the window and broke out >
1 the glass. The noise he made
aked everybody in the house, and
te.v all got up and came down- 'J
airs to see what was the matter. e
Some weeks after, the gentleman f
died again on the same family, and j
runo with him. He went into the t
jrlor as before, and sent Bruno into s
le kitchen. t
When it wad time to go home, the t
laster's hat and cane were missing, e
[e looked and looked, but could not s
nd them anywhere. j f
At last, somebody happened to go s
ito the kitchen, and there lay Bru- f
a under the table, fast asleep. The c
ine lay by his side, and one of a
is great paws was on the hat. His ci
laster was called out to look at him, \
id every body laughed heartily at s
1 . r iu" t
runu 3 mreiiiuugiu uiiu [muiiuiu^. 1
He did not mean to be left behind a
jain, and he knew that if his mas- I
r forgot his dog, he would not for-: i
?t his hat and cane. ,c
I I
THE UNITED STATES AND MOROCCO, j 8
Morocco is attracting more and I r
lore attention from the great pow s,
each one in turn seeking to gain !
footing in that country. It is, in- 1"
?ed, this antagonism which will I t
ive the empire of Morocco from j J
irtial dismemberment, for every t
jvernment?especially that of; f
pain?is following with jealous eye v
le action of its rivals. This may i fc
cplain the sudden change in the 1 a
titude just adopted by the United j v
ates. The bombardment of Tan- j 'J
ers by an American frigate sent j f
lere to support the demands of the i i
insul, which was announced with n
i much noise, will not take place, if
he only punishment inflicted on the p
>vernment of Morocco by that of p
ie United states will be the rupture 11
' official relations. j c
So prompt a retreat after the noisy j 1
ireatsso patiently endured by the j u
jltan gives rise to the supposition 5
lat the United States, having care- f
lly considered the consequences of e
ilitary action against Morocco, has p
?clined to face the expense and loss ti
' life it would have entailed.. One 2
annot blame the United States for
his tardy return to moderation. It
3, however, none the less to be reretted
that this species of retreat is
11 to the benefit of a semi-barbarous
itate, which is always ready to make
he best use against foreigners of
he slighest signs of weakness on
he part of the great powers. It
vould have been better all around if
he great American Kepublic bad
nade less fuss of its grievances and
lad insisted with greater firmness on
heir redressal, for in future the loal
authorities, emboldened by this
tartial success, will show themselves
till more arrogant toward any Euopeans
who may have to do with
MAKING OUR LEAD PENCILS.
The lead pencil was unknown to
he world until the year 1564, when
here was discovered in the couny
of Cumberland, in the northvestern
part of England, a mine of
he best and purest graphite. This
nine at Borrowdale at once became
rery celebrated, and of course very
valuable. Pencils made of Cumberand
graphite were sold alt over
Europe, and were highly prized
tverywhere. The manufacture of
ead pencils became a very important
lusiness, and the British Goyernnent,
in order to protect the new
ndustry, passed laws prohibiting
he export of graphite to foreign
ands. Only a certain quantity,
nough to supply the requirements
f the pencil makers, was doled out
m the first Monday in every month,
nd a military force had to be kept
t the mines to protect it from bands
f marauders.
For nearly three hundred years
England supplied the world with
ead pencils, and then the great
Cumberland mine, which had added
o much to the coffers of Great
Britain, became exhausted. The
netallic part of this little implement
s universally called black lead, but
here is not a particle of lead in it.
rbis black and glossy substance is
woperly called plumbago, of which
here are several varieties, and is a
orapound of carbon and iron. One
if these varieties is fine grained,
oft, nearly free from grit and well
dapted for writing purposes, and
his has received the name of graphte.
When the mine at Borrowdale
rave out it became advisable to disover
some way of making the im>ure
graphite available for the needs
if the world. After im y ex perinents
had been tried the ingenuity
C - T* 1 1 ,1 .....ULv...
>i h. r reuuiiiutiii suiveu wit? {jruincm
md we have pencils now of a l>eter
quality than ever were made of
he best Cumberland graphite j)V
he old method. I understand that
he present mode of treating the
dumbago, after it is powdered ami
>uritied, is to mix with it, in certain
jroportions, powdered clay, and then
he mass is moistened, dried, pressed
ind baked; the treatment varying
iccording to the different grades of
jencils required.
ICE THAT NEVER MELTS.
It is remarkable indeed that so
nuch of the surface ground on the
ifukon is frozen solid to a depth of
leveral feet, it is the more so when
ve come to realize the fact that
luring the summer it gets as hot
here as in the south. During the
leatofthe past season the miners
bund it a great convenience to go in
>athing in the streams at least twice
l day, and to seek shady places in
vhich to rock the gold out of gravel.
At the breaking up of winter the
iours of sunshine are rapidly inTeasing,
and continue so until midummer,
when the sun beams forth
wenty-two hours out of the twentyour,
while on the high mountain
>eaks it is for a period of several
lays in June not entirely out of sight
lie iweui.y-iuui luiuis.
But during all this heat and long
lays of continuous sunshine the sun's
ays do not penetrate the heavy
nosses that cover nearly the entire
urface of the country, and conse[uently
the frozen ground underleath
lies in that state as if packed
n an icehouse. After it once beomes
frozen, as any damp ground
vill do in the winter time, it quicky
becomes covered with this moss,
vhich is of a rapid growth and
,ttains a depth of two feet or more,
during the heat of summer this
noss become dry to the depth of
everal inches, and the miners think
hat by continuous burning of it as
tist as it dries they will soon have
he gravel bars .along the creeks, at
east, cleared off, being of the imiression
that when the gravel de>osits
are exposed to the scorching
ays of the sun and rains and atmos here
they will readily thaw out.
When winter sets in the hours of
unshine gradually decrease until
luring the shortest days the sun
hines hut four hours out of the tweny-four.
But at this period the auora
is most intense, and helps very
naterially in driving darkness from
he dreary land. The thermometer
;oes down to 70 degrees in winter.
>ut the atmosphere is very dry, anu
onsequently the cold is not so pereptible
as one would imagine.?
hineau {Alaska) Free Press.
Land of the Midnight Sun.?
?he inhabitant of a southern country
an with difficulty comprehend how
ullv the shortness of the winter day
n the far north is compensated by
he extreme duration of dayilght in
ummer. As we steamed up the
larbor of Christiana at noon on a
right June day, it seemed like the
ntrance into dreamland. The senation
of seeing the sun lew on the
lorizon at midday, and finding it
carcely lower at 7 in the evening, is
ar more easily remembered than
lescribed. The towers of Christiana
ilways cast long shadows, and the
Ireamy feeling is only intensified
vhen the sun persists for hours in
taying above the horizon until, at
0 o'clock, you can still see the men
.nd boys playing games in the fields.
Bedtime is a movable feast to the
lative in the summer season, and
omes not at all to the visitor unless
le darkens his window and peruades
himself that it ought to be
iight if i t is not.-Scribner's Magazine.
The Hogs of Mexico.?While
togs are not raised to any great exen
t in Mexico that pay a good profit,
Mexican hogs are a cross between
he Spanish porker and the wild
tog of the mountains, and, like the
rood hog of one half century ago
lere in the States, they are rarely
ttacked by disease. The average
reight of those killed is 175 pounds.
?hey are fattened and killed chiefly
or the lard, worth 20 cents per pound,
n Monterey, while fresh pork oomtiands
12 1-2 cents per pound. None
s cured for bacon. Bacon is princiially
used by Americans, and is imiorted
from the United States, bringng
40 cents per pound and sugar
ured hams 60 to 75 cents per pound.
Ibout five hogs a day meet the deoand
of the city of Monterey, with
0,000 people. While the people are
ond of pork they cannot afford to
at it. There is no desire $0 iri>rove
their stock of hogs by imporations
of better blood.?Chicago
Veics.