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F _ ? lewis >i. wbist, Proprietor.' Jndependent ,jJfaimlij Heirepaper: A the $romoiio? of the folitical, Social J^riniltural and Gloimnercial Jntercsts of the $outh. |TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE. VOL.39. YORKVILLE, 8. C., WEDNESDAY, FKBIU7ARV 22, 1893. I^O. 8. HE REFUSED A CROWN AN EXAMPLE OF WASHINGTON'S NOBLE AND UNSELFISH NATURE. How This Action Impressed Gladstone and Carlyle? It Seemed Incomprehensible to llonaparte?Washington's Relations with Trnnibull and Arnold. tCopyright. 1SR1, by American Press Association.] Mr. Gladstone, in one of liis chats with Chauncey M. Depew, said that he was inclined to the belief that all in all perhaps the greatest man since Martin Luther was George Washington, and the great English statesman went on to explain what he meant by this characterization. He did not regard "Washington as intellectually possessed of such g?UiU9 its ail v uuo ui uaii a uv^cu iu^u whom he could name. His military genius is undisputed, although of course it is hardly fair to compare it with that displayed by John Churchill or Napoleon or Wellington. Judged simply by results, it was as great as the victories of any of these men, since it led to the establishment of a nation destined to be pre-eminent in the nations of the world. Every one who has studied the military movements of the Revolution on both sides is aware that Washington was very- greatly helped by the distractions which existed in Great Britain and which made it impossible to concentrate its efforts in the American colonies. What the result would have been had Great Britain 6ent a Wellington commanding a great British army in case he and Washington joined in battle no man can say. Yet Mr. Gladstone thought that in some respects Washington stood the greatest tests. His so called Fabian policy, which consisted in extraordi GENERAL WASHINGTON*. narily skillful avoidance of battle when defeat would have been almost certain and when it required strategy of the highest order to avoid it, was carried out with the patience and the conviction of genius. His retreat after the battle of Long Island was of itself, in Gladstone's opinion, sufficient evidence of great military ability to justify his appointment as commander in chief uf the A. American armies. But it was not in respect of military quality that Mr. Gladstone regarded Washington as so pre-eminently great. It was in the perfect balance of all his greater moral and intellectual qualities that this pre-eminence lay. His patience, ^ according to Mr. Gladstone, was someB thing exceeding that of any other man Dfer who achieved greatness, for it was paW tience under extraordinary irritations, and natienco exercised for no personal ambition, but simply for the cause. His conception of what the government which lie was seeking to establish should be was quite as distinct and comprehensive as that of Hamilton, Jay, Madison or Jefferson, although he probably could not have set forth in legal argument as they did the reasons for that conception. They were admirably set forth in his messages, and especially in ' -. his farewell address, although there are indications that some of the messages were written by Hamilton, while the farewell address was unquestionably written by Livingston, although 6ome writers believe that Madison wrote it. But if the phraseology was that of the secretary the ideas were those of Washington. and he undoubtedly set them fortu to his t>ecrclar?.s, asking thorn, who * were more familiar with the literary use of the pen than he, to put them in fitting language. Mr. Gladstone regards the finest triumph of noble, unselfish, patriotic and majestic impulse to be illustrated by one brief incident in Washington's career. When Washington refused the j crown, then the world had the finest exemplification of a noble, majestic nature. The incident is not as familiar as it * should be. American youth know that Washington captured Cornwallis, made a brilliant retreat after the battle of Long Island and worried and fretted the British armies into exhaustion during a seven j years' war. They also know that he was i president twice and declined to become j ar president a third time. There are not : many who know that the only time tears j were seen in his eyes and the manifesta- j tion of great personal sorrow was made u^aiif h-im trnc nnnn flint aa. IiV buvtjv uvvuv tuiu ?? u^/vii bill*i; wv casion at the close of the war when his army, encamped upon the banks of the | Hudson, was about to be disbanded. There WASHINGTON REFUSING THE CROWN. \?ere men who were fearful that the ambitions and jealousies of some of those who had been of influence during the Revolution would lead them to attempt to gain great personal power. There were others who believed that as a result of the victory there would be established in America a constitutional monarchy modeled after that of Great Britain. The nation as we now know it was a government yet to be created. So a company of officers?men having influence ? having talked this matter over, agreed to go to Washington, ask him to accept the crown of empire and to promise aim the support of the army in establishing thus a personal throne. When they approached him Washington believed that these officers and friends of his had come upon some such errand as * led them often to seek him for counsel. * He was in a happy frame of mind that morning. The war was ended victoriously, and he had already been in consultation with Hamilton and some others respecting the form of civil government which the now free colonies should un- : dertake. They offered him the crown in but a single sentence. A few years before, * across the river, Washington, being seated at breakfast, had been approached by 1 an officer, who said to him that Benedict Arnold had fled after an attempt to be- ( tray West Point into the hands of the British. The news was appalling and to ^ Washington must have been extraordinarily painful, since for Arnold he had a personal affection which ho bestowed , upon only two or three of his other officers. Yet so great was his self command, so superb his capacity for suppressing j emotion, so thoroughly had he schooled himself to face adversity with calmness, j that those about him only saw a look of j sad sternness come to his countenance as I J he uttered the now historic words. "Whom can wo now trust?" But when these officers proposed to him the empire and tried to put the j scepter in his hand Washington broke ! down. There was sorrow and there was | anger in his countenance and in his manJONATHAN TRUMBULL, ner. Tears came to his eyes, and when he dismissed them with a sad gesture and only a brief word these men realized that Washington had been shocked and grieved that it could have entered into their hearts that he for one moment could have regarded an empire as possible or could have fought through those seven years that he might himself attain the throne. In that action Washington not only revealed his moral greatness, but, according to the opinion of Mr. Gladstone and | other great English thinkers who have studied his life, made it impossible that a monarchy could ever be established in the United States. Carlyle, who hud no great opinion of the American Revolution, believing, if his private talks with Americans whom ho met have been correctly reported, that it was little more than a guerrilla warfare, nevertheless has said that this ha1! sorrowful, half angry and contemptuous repulse to those who were bringing to him a crown was something greater than j the command of the American armies through seven years to ultimate victory. It was an act that Europeans could not understand. Bonaparte was always inclined to believe the story purely apocryphal, although he was a great admirer of Washington and paid a higher tribute to his military genius than some other great captains have done. But it was incomprehensible to Bonaparte that a man should have conducted a prolonged warfare to success without any idea of Dersonal aeerandizement, and, moreover. Bonaparte himself had no conception whatever of any other form of republican government than that hideous nightmare which followed the French revolution. Washington's greatness was impressed upon some of the great men of the times in which he lived even before the world understood his victories, and there are some anecdotes traditionary respecting his relations with two of the ablest men of the Revolutionary period which have not become threadbare by constant repetition. and which illustrate this impression of greatness which he gave to his contemporaries. Two of the ablest men produced by the Revolutionary era were Jonathan Trumbull and Benedict Arnold. They were both natives of eastem Connecticut. Arnold was born only a few miles from Trumbull's home. Trumbull was a man of great piety, splendid executive capacity and possessed in the highest degree the qualities of statemansliip. Arnold was intellectually brilliant, but even in childhood had revealed deficient moral quality. He would have made a great business man, and was in fact em BENEDICT ARNOLD. barked on sncli a cateer when tlie guns at Lexington brought him into the field. ; Trumbull, who was governor of the Connecticut colony, greatly admired Arnold's energy in getting his company together within an hour after the messenger brought the news of Lexington, and at tho bayonet's point demanding powI der from the hesitating New Haven authorities, and then, equipped, leading them in tho march across country to I Boston. It was Trumbull who advised Washington of this exploit, so that Washington became early impressed with Arnold's military ardor and ability. . Arnold's achievement in taking an army across the wilds of Maine to Quebec, which has been likened by some writers to the marches of Xenophon or Hannibal, gained for him the warmest friendship of Washington. Arnold's letters show that tho only man in Revolutionary times for whom he felt either fear or respect was Washington. In Washington's presence Arnold was subdued, gracious and respectful. Some of his letters indicate that he had for Washington a feeling ho had for no other man, something of affection, and it was apparent to those who studied the life of Arnold that the only person before whom he stood tamed and whoso authority ho cheerfully acknowledged was Washington. That indicates something of that great moral quality which led Mr. Gladstone to speak of Washington as perhaps the greatest man since Luther. When ho was contemplating his awful treachery the only thought that gave Arnold pain was that Washington would suffer. For the rest he cared not one jot. Trumbull, although not so conspicuous in +hn nrritntinna which led to tllO revolt " V"V of tho colonies as Sam Adams or John Hancock oc Roger Skennan_or Thomas Jefferson, was nevertheless regarded by Washington as the strongest friend that ho had to lean upon. It is probable that ho revealed_moro of his confidences to fAniLY ! Trumbull than to any other man. They I I were something alike in their moral qual- | j ities. although Trumbull was of Purij tanic piety, while Washington was not, j | though each of them was a religious j j man. Some fifty years ago the Hon. Learned j Hebard was appointed executor, of the : estate of William Williams, who was a : grandson of Jonathan Trumbull, and whose father was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. In the settlement of the estate Judge Hebard : came across a vast amount of correi spondence, including letters which passed ; between Washington and Governor I Trumbull. Some of these letters were j 1 formal business documents: others were j | of a more confidential nature. They re: vealed on the part of Washington a freei dom from reserve which none of his i other correspondence shows. One or two j ' of them contained that term which Washington publicly applied to Gov- j ernor Trumbull, and which for many i years was regarded as a nickname for the i American nation. "Brother Jonathan.1' Some of Trumbull's correspondence : was also found, which shows that this j man of genius and clear intellect, a man | born to be of authority himself, had ! I recognized in Washington that quality | ; of greatness early i:i tho timo of the j j Revolution and before ho had demonstrated it to the world. Trumbull's let- j ters, while not extravagant, for ho was not the man to use extravagant terms, indicate that Trumbull regarded Washington as having been specially furnished by Providence with those greater qualii ties, not only military, but moral, which were necessary to establish tho Amerij can nation. He had almost the feeling { for Washington which Arnold had, al- J ' though in his case there was personal in- j j timacy and almost an equality of rela-, j tion which probably no other man of tho ; Revolution enjoyed. Thus the impression and influence I which Washington created and exerted j upon these two men?one of brilliant ability, but morally bad; tho other of in- j tellectual and moral integrity and of; t statesmanlike quality?suggest how it j j was that to men of all quality the im- j : pression that he gave was that of great-1 I ness, exactly as to the greatest intellects ; of this day, like Gladstone's, the same im-. pression has been given by a study of his life. E. Jay Edwards. AN OLD WASHINGTON STATUE. It Was Purchased by Contributions from New York School Children, i [Copyright. 1893, by American Press Association.] There is now on one of tho most pic' turesquo spots on Manhattan island a j ; statue of George Washington which has ! : an interesting history. The statue stands 1 in Riverside crescent, and is to the lower t end of Riverside drive what the Grant mausoleum is on a grander scale to tho I upper. Tho figure stands with its back to tho Hudson, about eighty feet abovo the tide. General Egbert L. Viele, who saved the statuo from oblivion, told me about it as follows: "Tlnspiecoof statuary is a life size representation of Washington. The first thing you notice about it is its apparent smallness. It shows tho pater patriae to have been a much smaller man than everybody supposes. That is because all his statues pro either heroic or colos| sill. In exalting his character the people have magnified his person. It is so the world over with military and political heroes. In pcrs m Washington was not I a man of gigantic proportions by any means. This is a truthful counterfeit, if I may use tho paradox. It is one of ~ i < . 1 1.5 1. - A 11 nvo wmcu snow mill as uu waa. mi others make him out a man of heroic ! ! build. Suppose you look up his biog- ! raphics and see if you can find in a single , one of them a specific description of his 1 person, with reference especially to his i weight and stature. "The original of this effigy is in tho j capitol at Richmond. It is by Houdon, ' the celebrated French sculptor. Iloudon i was given tho commission through Thomas Jefferson. "Ho stripped his subject to the buff and made a plaster cast. It is the only perfect model ever made of Washington. The result was tho statue at Richmond. "Some time before tho rebellion the general assembly of Virginia authorized a German sculptor ? Guntherman by name?to make a duplicato of tho Houdon statue, and from this four casts were made. One of these is tho statue in Riverside drive. Just after tho war tho sculptor's widow brought it to New York and placed it on exhibition in one of tho public halls. She wanted to sell it to tho city for one of the parks. Her price was $10,000. It was very cheap for such a piece of art, but tho offer was declined by the city authorities, and it was finally decided that a subscription should be opened among the children of the public schools to make up the purchase money in sums of a dime or less. : After considerable exertion $5,01)0 was raised, and there the matter stood until the widow agreed to accept that sum and j to give a bill of sale to the city. THE WASHINGTON STATUE. "The authorities now accepted the ! statue, and ordered it to bo placed in a storage room in the park with a lot of' rubbish, ami there it remained something like twenty years. When I became president of the park department this J 6tatuo came under my notice as I was inspecting the city's property of which I I was to have charge. It was covered with dust and was hardly recognizable. Its history had been forgotten. No 0110 knew what it was or how it came there, j The Tweed regime was past, and new! people were in. Finally I found an old : clerk who knew, and ho told mo of it. r ^"" " ^^ "' "Wo were then laying out Riversido park and decided that tlio statue should be placed in the little crescent where it now stands. A number of residents along the new park joined me in a subscription, and we brought a block of granite from New Hampshire and had a pedestal made. When the pedestal ws ready the statue was dedicated. It was on a Fourth of July. Cliildren to the number of 500, detailed in military form from the various public schools, carried out unaided on that day the programme ! that had been begun before any of them j were born. The school commissioners and 5,000 other citizens, with Cappa's Seventh regiment band, assembled at the crescent, and the children united in anthem and song and oration to com- ! plete in their own way the programme of inauguration. The little girls were dressed in white, and the boys were all bright and decently clad. Every girl and boy carried a little flag of the country, and they all marched in procession two anil two, singing hiiu scuiiering flowers about the statue as they passed. The scene was the most interesting and touching of any I ever beheld. And thus the statue was dedicated." Soil is now being hauled from Fort Wasliington, more than three miles up the river, to complete a bastion front for the statue, and congress will bo asked to donate two or more Revolutionary cannon to place at the angles. This fort was the first geographical point to be named for Washington, and there is not a square foot of its soil but was consecrated by the blood of Cadwallader's noblo Marylanders and Pennsylvanians when they made their final and hopeless stand, a Spartan band of 3,000, against the king's army, seven times as strong. General Vielo originated the idea of making the bastion front with this soil. It will be when completed an exact duplicate of one of Alexander Hamilton's bastions at the old fort. Edson Brace. THE LORDLY HUDSON. WASHINGTON'S WOOING AND WARFARE ON ITS BANKS. He Courted and Was Refused and a Score of YeArs I.atcr Fought and Won on the Scene of His Early Disappointment. Romance of a River. [Copyright, I8SB, by American Press Association.! The Hudson river and various points along its banks teem witl* historic glory. To one who is familiar with the record of the colonies that afterward became the United States of America the mention of the name evolves a panoramic retrospect that has all the gorgeousness j of a dream and tho 6olidity of fact. J There was tho old Dutchman who sailed | up the stream looking for a waterway to j the Indies. Following the explorer came ' the colonists, the village of New Amster- : dam, and later tho city of New York, j whilo at tho head of tidewater, nearly j 170 miles from the bay, rose tho trading | post of Albany, afterward destined to bo j the riHLLIPSE manor, the capital of the Empire State, and | . far above there frowned, as they still do i " Aflivfvnf1n/?lrc nrnhnlYlv oldest mountain range on the face of the ! globe. It was from a boat 011 the upper Hudson that the Indians carried John- | son, the noted English general, to the "healing waters" of the Saratoga springs. It was on the Hudson that West Point, the famous military academy, was established. On that stream Fulton launched his steamboat, and near its banks lived Washington Irving. But the chief historical charm, of the lower Hudson particularly, is associated with the events of the Revolution and the mighty name of Washington. From < Garrison's down to the sea the land on both banks teems with splendid memories of sacrifice, romance and patriotism, although in one place the beautiful picture of heroism and endeavor is tinged by the dark stain of treason. Wherever a mansion still stands in which the Father j of His Country slept for a night it is known and visited as "Washington's headquarters," and there are several of them. Two, though, have about them +hnt oil- nf lnvo nr tvnrrorlv with which many delight to associate a great man's name. It was at the manor house of her family in what is now the city of Yonkers that Mary Phillipse was born 1G2 years ago. Washington met and wooed her in 1750, hut slio refused his addresses and by so doing possibly changed the fato of the colonies. When the conflict with j England began a scoro of years later she and the rest of her family espoused the Tory cause, and as a result they were attainted for treason and their ! i property confiscated. The turn of tho wheel of fortune brought Washington to tho manor house again, not as a wooer, ; but as a warrior. He made the mansion his headquarters before and after tho i battle of White Plains, and again took | possession of it in 1781 while his army camped on Locust hill. The house is a fine old structure, built with the sturdiness and honesty of purpose for which tho architects and me- j i chanics of tho colonial period were noted, i and is now the principal official building occupied by the Yonkers city govern- j inent. Where the tho minuet was < danced and tho Christmas feast was j served, where brides came home to becomo stately matrons and mothers, a i court now sits, and blue garbed officials 1 go in and out of tho doors that wero ] wont to open in welcome to gentlemen who wore small swords, satin coats, i knee breeches and lace ruffles at collar i and at wrist. The sister of Mary,Washington's scorn- ] ful sweetheart, was Susannah Pliillipse, < who married Beverley Robinson and went to housekeeping in tho old family j mansion, which stood on tho east side of : a road leading to Peekskill, about a mile below Garrison's station. This place i was called tho Beverley House, and i around it centers the story of the treason 1 of Benedict Arnold. It consisted of three j 1 THE BEVERLEY HOUSE, buildings joined together, extending east and west and fronting toward tho south. Last spring it was totally destroyed by fire, and three tall walls of blackened brick and masonry, says a contributor to the New York Evening Post, are all that is left of tho most interesting dwelling on the Hudson. It was Benedict Arnold's headquarters in 1780, and from it he fled to the enemy. The owner had gone over to the British some time before, and Putnam and Parsons lodged there while campaigning in 1778-9. On July 81, 1780, Washington took up hi? lodgings in the mansion, and five days later Arnold arrived, Having been ap- \ pointed to the command of West Point j and its dependencies. Thus tlio river' rolls on to the ocean, i gathering its strength from the storms | in the Adirondack mountain forests, , its beauty from the wide sweep of plains, and later from the lofty Palisades, and its historic splendor from the deeds of George Washington, of Virginia, first commander in chief of the armies of the United States of America. Fred C. Dayton. THE WASHINGTON FAMILY. In the presidential campaign of 1876 it was often remarked as a curious coincidence that of the men elected president every third one was childless. The list ran: Washington, Madison, Jackson Polk, Buchanan and?but there seems to have been a break in the line, so that the omen failed on Tilden. It is also worthy of remark that these childless men had singularly happy home lives, and nono more so than George Washington. Martha Dandridge was a beauty and a Virginia belle when at seventeen sho married Daniel Parke Custis. Of their four children two preceded their father to the tomb, and when the Widow Custis married George Washington in 1759 she had but a son and a daughter. History gives us a few exquisite glimpses of the homo life of Washington for the next few years. He and his wife were very nearly of the same age: both born in ! 1732; both were wealthy, refined and of i the highest standing among their Vir- | wno^inrrfAri ! 3yes. Suppose it should be invaded? It | lind always been so sure and peaceful a ; haven. Remote and secluded, only the j rumors of war had disturbed its inmates, , Mid the one member of the immediate ' Family who had ever been called upon to yield to its demands had thus far been singularly preserved from danger. But , its grim shadow had taken all the color rot of the girl's life. All her opportuni- j ties had been sacrificed to it. Every j promise of her opening girlhood had been blighted by it. "You were to have gone to school in Philadelphia, dear," her mother would say sometimes, passing her hand over jHen's fine head caressingly, "and then | ibroad, if it had not been for the war; j your father and I had planned it all." Jr, "There is no hope of your coming out, or of our entertaining for you, is we would once have done. It would ill have been so different if it had not been for the war." Of course these wero but minor con^derations, and the girl unselfishly felt them to be such. Were there not al- ! ways graver consequences to be lamented? Had not this insatiable war 1 i matched from them their all, whitened iier mother's hair with untimely snow, ind torn son and brother from their irms? And just beforo her, as she i reached the hall, was a sadder evidence i than these of its terrors. i The hall was a fine old entrance to a j i Ine old house. Its oaken floor and rich i wainscot gleamed in the evening light, ind a curiously carved settle ran around j i three of its sides. A few high backed chairs and oue or two old tables with quaint spindle legs i instituted its meager furniture, but its < noble proportions and rich carvings releemed it from bareness, and it was nveet with the pine cones and wild fiow?rs of which Glen had yesterday rifled j ;he woous. a uowi mien wun i*.m> riolets ami pale primroses was placed lirectly beneath a portrait draped with the sad Confederate flag, and looking up it the boyish face above her with all the I < iery tragedy of a hopeless self devotion written upon it, Glen read once more ; . through a mist of tears the inscription jeneath: I ] "Captain Helen, a brave soldier and a i i pallant commander, fell in leading a tliarge at the battle of Antietam, Sept. , 1 17, IMS." i As she turned away, her eyes instinctively seeking the window opposite : vliich commanded a view of her foes, she itarted with surprise and terror. A man ] n the uniform of a Union cavalry officer i .vas making his way up the long avenue ] ;o the house. j < I i CHAPTER II. j Before she had time to collect herself i ' die heard the ,ingle of spurs outside, md a perempr/n y hand knocked at the j ' loor. It was jarred and bolted. Before Glen had cossed the floor to open ( t she was herself again. As she stood 1 ivith one hand still upon the bolt con- j ' 'routing her visitor the instinct of lios- j " [litality, as old as lier race itself, forced 1 i sentence from her unwilling lips. ' 'Will you come in," she asked coldly j jut not ungraciously. An instinct as 1 strong, the instinct of homage to her sex ; 1 md her beauty, stirred in the man before 1 ler. With bared head and a profound J ? tiow, he acceptedjier invitation. His face j i ^llim V/UUkClIl|A/iai lVO? fitwuiiijjWU *V?VU I the two children as his own. There was j nothing to mar their domestic life. But in 1773 Martha Parke Custis died, j and Washington was long affected with j a strange restlessness. Indeed his do- j mestic life never again seemed so calm j till after the Revolution. Martha was j sometimes called the "dark lady" or "dark beauty" because of her brunette | complexion, but she was both beautiful and amiable. The son, John Parke Custis, at the ago of nineteen married one of the famous Calvert family at Baltimore, but he, too, died young?died of camp fever at Yorktown soon after the surrender, leaving four children. Of these General and Mrs. Washington adopted two, and these constituted the Washington family seen in the familiar pictures. Eleanor Parke Custis, the daughter, was so young at her father's death that 1 she knew no home but Mount Vernon. J In 1799 she became the wife of Major Lewis, Washington's sister's son. The ' son was the well known George Washington Parko Custis, an author of some note, who acquired the famous Arlington estate, where he died in 1857. His only 1 child, a daughter, married Robert E. ' Lee, who thus became the owner of < Arlington. J. H. B. A Ileanonuble View. Teacher?Willie, when I called at your j ( house yesterday and saw the "Life of ; ( Washington" I gave you Christmas I was j much grieved to notice that the leaves j , had not been cut. ! . Willie (meekly)?No'm. If I'd cut j ( those leaves I wouldn't have half the , , chance to swop it off. i , Ihr ftovi) ?cllcv. j; When Lee Surrendered! i By SALLIE PAT? STEEN. | j [Copyright, 18!U, by American Press Associa- J tion.] ! ' ^ ; She turned away, lirr eyes Instinctively ' scckiny the window opposite. He was just vanishing over the brow ( of the hill when they came clattering I ] along the dusty road. Heavens! Would | * the brooinstraw hide his tall young form from their searching eyes? With her ] arms about her mother's waist Glen strained her own sight to watch him, i while a sob rose in her throat. Maum Betsey, with her fat arms akimbo, stood j 1 ut the corner of the house, alternately i * watching the disappearance of her oldest nursling and the rapid approach of a squad of cavalrymen as they drew nearer und nearer in a cloud of dust. "My Gawd! Miss May, it is de ! Yanks, sho' 'nuff," she gasped, with her eyes starting from lier head. "I clar to ; grashus, dey's a stoppin', and dar's dat boy Nelse hangin' on to de front gate an' talkin' to 'em, like as ef his black In'/lo 'ml tn*n -a bullet. Wislit. dev would pepper him onct, ennyhow. I'll give him s Yankee Doodle when I gits holt o' him i again, see of I don't." j < A new fear pierced the mother's heart, i Were the soldiers about to enter this de- i fenseless home? But no; after a brief j 1 consultation with Nelse the party 1 wheeled across the road and entered a ] grove of live oaks just opposite the i mansion. 1 1 Nelse hung on to the gate with out- 1 stretched neck and starting eyes until ; * the last blue coat was out of sight, and | J then dropping off, sped like a bullet up ; 1 the avenue and around the house into \ 1 Minim Betsey's wrathful presence. "Lawdy!" he panted, nimbly dodging ; n cuff which she directed at his ear, "Is J you seen dem Yanks, mammy?" But before Maum Betsey's ire could j burst forth, Glen left her mother's side j and turned her stern young face inquiringly upon the boy. "What did you tell those men, Nelse?" she asked. "Lawdv! I ain't done tell'em luiffiu, Miss Glen. Hope I may die. ?-.f i did. Dey up an' axed me who lived here, an' I tole 'em jes you an' ole Miss, an' Missy?an' me an' mammy?since all dem yuther niggers done runned off." "And what did they say then?" Nelse writhed under her steady eye. "Den dey tuk an' axed me war dere no i gen'l'men 'bout de place, an' I tole 'em ole marstcr he done tuk on' died fo' de wall?an'?an' dat was all." "And you said nothing about your young master?" "Lawdy, Miss Glen, 1 hope I may die ef T ili,l " his hlnek lindv t.wistinf? in em phatic denial. "You jes go an* ax 'em, I ef you don't b'lieve me, you jes go an' j ax 'em." But Maum Betsey was no longer to be kept out of the conversation. "You look heah, nigger." She had managed in the heat of the discussion to grasp the ! wary Nelse by the shoulder and was | pushing him before her to the kitchen i doorway, near which they were standing. "Yon jes lemme ketch you hangin' on to dat front gate agin, projeekin wid Yanks, will you? An' if ever I heah a word out o' your black mouf 'bout ! Mars Frank gittin' away I'll skin you 1 like a eel, boy. You heah me, dou't | you?" As the pair disappeared Mrs. Helen ; lifted her anxious eyes to her daughter's face. "Glen, do you think he told them?" she whispered. "I am afraid he did, dear, but mother, don't give up 60. They must have learned it sooner or later. They have made no move as yet to search for him, and he is out of their reach now, or J soon will be. He knows every foot of ; these woods and hills, and there are j plenty of doors open to him. He will j not lack for food and shelter. Besides, J we can still communicate with him, and i they will surely not be stationed long ! in this out of the way place. What a mercy he escaped them." "But, oh, my child! think of the fear- I ful outrages these straggling bands of J soldiers have committed through the | country. Oh, if I ha? but been wise j enough to have sent you away, and kept ! only Missy with me!" "Now, mother, listen. I am not ; afraid of a whole regiment of Yankees, I and what in the world would you have ' done without me? You must come right | in now and have a cup of tea and lie i down, and if Missy's nap is out I'll bring her down to keep you company while I watch the movements of the blue coated gentry over in the grove a little and keep my eye on Nelse, for he'll slip through Maum Betsey's fingers like an eel, sure enough." But when her mother had been comfortably established on the sitting room sofa with Missy, warm and rosy from her afternoon nap, chattering happily beside her, Glen's lighthearted show of fearlessness forsook her. Her anxiety took the form of restless wanderings or the house, whose every window r manding a view of tbe grove opposite, drew her in turn like a magnet. It was a fine old house of red brick, standing well back from the high road, surrounded by clustering trees and approached by an avenue of magnificent cedars; but the grounds were no longer trim and well kept, and the numerous outbuildings were dilapidated and va- | cant. An air of neglect and loneliness, enhanced by its remote situation from any town or village, hung about the place, and its interior corresponded but too well with this external desolation. There had evidently been but few modern additions to the household belongings in late years. The furniture was still handsome, but old and massive, and the brilliant hues of the Turkey carpets and the rich curtains had faded to 3ober and neutral tints. The bare floors in some of the rooms were actually more cheerful, for they were waxed and rubbed until they shone like mirrors, and when the fires were lighted in the open , fireplaces the flames glistened upon shin- ! ing oak and danced on the polished sur- ' face of old mahogany and multiplied j themselves in the big brass andirons, j that shone in rivalry of the brass candle- | sticks upon the high, old fashioned man- [ tels. As Glen wandered restlessly from room ; to room, her home seemed to wear a new ; ind unfamiliar aspect to her startled i was very young, Glen thought quickly? 1 as young as the pictured face just opposite. Her eyes had noted the captain's epaulettes upon his shoulders, and his i courteous manner reassured her. "May I speak to the lady of the house?" 1 he asked; '.'or, perhaps" Glen motioned him to a chair. "If you will be seated, I will call my mother," she said, and left the room. Now if yoa had told Captain Campbell ten minutes before that this would 1" his method of approaching a southhousehold he would have laughed to scorn. He had already planned ' "This in the hnllronm," xhc xuld, xud denly xtoppiny. this "move." He had meant simply to Btate to the owner or owners of the mansion that he required certain accommodations for his men in general and for a wounded comrade among them in particular. This was to be done in that curt, businesslike manner which befitted a Union officer upholding his government when addressing a rebel. And behold, a pair of beautiful eyes, which had looked up fearlessly into his own, had suddenly changed his tactics. The charms of the room into which he had entered completed the transformation he was undergoing. . There was little in it to attract a marauding soldier?there was much that appealed to the refinement of a man who in camp and bivouac had longed for all the sweet amenities of home, and been none the less brave for the longing. He reveled in the scent of the pine logs flickering softly on the hall hearth and mingling their perfume with that of the violets .and primroses upon the quaint old tables. He even longed to touch a bit of feminine lacework which was reflected in the polished surface of one of them, upon which it lay. When he rose at the entrance of the lady of the house he bent before her with even greater reverence than that with which her daughter had inspired him. Surely she resembled his own mother, perhaps not in ieaiure, uui in mat exquisite uiteueoa of expression which all tender mothers bear to each other. "Madam," he said, "I have no apology to offer for my intrusion but the fortunes of war. Your woods afford but a sorry asylum at this wet season, and a wounded fellow officer under my charge is afraid of suffering from the effects of exposure. I must ask shelter for him and for my roen." , r iV. He was not wholly unprepared for the gentle courtesy of her reply. "There are a number of vacant rooms In the house," she said. "They are at your disposal. Perhaps you had better look at them to ascertain if they are sufficient for your force. If not, I may be able to make other arrangements as my family is small. I will send some one to show you over the house." It was well that he could not hear the troubled discussion which followed between mother and daughter in the next room. "I am most unwilling, Glen" "But, mother, I am not at all afraid, and there is no one else; your going is out of the question. Maum Betsey would never mount the stairs with her'jints, and Nelse would betray us on the first landing. Set your mind at rest. Missy shall go with me." And so it came to pass that Captain Campbell presently found himself following a slender figure, which held a lighted candle high in one hand, up a winding stairway and along a wide hall, with Missy toiling patiently in the rear. It was a strangely silent procession. His guide flitting on, with such quick, light footsteps before him, said nothing but a few words of explanation as they entered one misty, closed up room after the other; but he was sufficiently occupied in noting the poise of he* head, the turn of her rounded wrist, the scant, soft folds of the gown that clung to her young shape. It was of :ne faint gray stuff?a motheaten hei .? om of her mother's, if he had but know, it-and her only adornment was a cluster of carnations which Missy had fastened at her sister's throat a half hour ago. He thought he had never seen colors so artistically blended. ^ "This is the ballroom," she said, suddenly stopping before a double door and throwing it open for him to enter. It was with a pang that she did so. Of all the rooms in the house it was in this that she had dreamed the sweetest day dreams. It had been used as a school room of late years, and an old blackboard and some forlorn desks in one corner still bore witness to this profanation, but a raised platform at one end for an orchestra attested its true character, and the floor was as smooth as polished ivory. There was a tradition in the family that Washington had once danced a minuet upon its honored boards, and that here Lafayette had bent the knee in stately courtesy to some fair ancestress of the Helens, but in all Glen's young girlhood it had never echoed to the footsteps ot any dancers save those with whom her fancy had peopled it. What a fine old room!" said Campbell admiringly. He impulsively put out tine foot to try the polished surface, and ;,t the same time Missy, with her short skirts daintily?iifted in her chubby hands ;md her charming head held smilingly to one side, advanced toward him with pretty mincingsteps. He looked up. hoping to see her sister's severe young month relax, but there was a sudden whiz, the candle was dashed from her hand, and they were in utter darkness. Glen uttered a faint L-rv, there was a scream from Missy, and j for one brief moment the captain felt that these two young creatures shrank toward him for protection, but Glen soon recovered herself. "It was only a bat," she said calmly, nnd sure enough, when the candle was , i ?,?i ....lit H,Bnfrlvpwntin-., srsirfil I from some dusty hiding place, was seen circling and swooping over their heads. But they had had enough of exploring. As they retraced their steps the captain insisted upon holding the candle and leading the way, and Missy clung confidingly to hia hand, in spite of her sister's whispered remonstrances. When they reached the head of the stairs the small witch put up her arms with a plea to be "carried" which could not be resisted. and before Glen could interpose the captain had shifted his candle to the left hand and swung her up to his shoulder with his strong right arm, to her great glee and delight. All the way j down the long staircase Glen bit her lip it the sight of the small, dark head resting so contentedly against the bloud ! jn'e, and when Missy's evening ablutions were performed some hours afterward, her left cheek and her pink right palm j were scrubbed so vigorously as to cause complaint. When she came to say her prayers at her sister's knee, Glen stumbled at the sublime plea for forgiveness ?"as we forgive those who trespass xgainst us"?and hurried on, with a lump in her throat, to an additional petition. "And now, Missy, don't forget?God sless mother and Frauk and Glen and ilaum Betsy." "And the Yankee man," Missy added " luulv with aneh AYniiisifo innocence n her serioug eyes that the girl could but I bow her head at the soft amen. When the captain and his men moved into their new quarters Missy went over j body and soul to the enemy. Aside from the flattering devotion of which she gradually became the object, there were other considerations which appealed to her as strongly. The captain had learned j( to coax her affections by catering to her 1 taste for dainties?sweet crackers, pre- 1 served, ginger and other luxuries not unknown to an officer's table?and the j ( pretty gourmand was feasted and petted 1 to her heart's content. But if her humble slave and admirer imagined for an in- 1 ; stant that her naive friendliness might 1 act as an opening to some intercourse . 1 with the rest of her family he was destined to disappointment. ' What a fine network of dignified, yet ! 1 exquisite, reserve these southern women could weave around them! Day after ; 1 day Captain Campbell found himself smiling at it, wondering at it, chafing at it. j His enforced term of idleness in a lonely ! country house was a sufficient explana- ; i tion to himself of any interest he might i 1 take in his surroundings. Such an ex- | | perience of boredom was enough to war- , rant the degree of pleasure ho began to ( feel in the rare appearance of a girlish ; form, or the sound of a fresh young ! voice, which was not often audible, i Sometimes he enjoyed the privilege of j seeing the grinning Nelse lead a fine old ! hunter around to one of the side doors of the mansion, and then he would watch : breathlessly the breezy grace with which i the Virginia girl swung to her saddle. ! He learned in time that these afternoon ; rides were not pleasure excursions. They i were errands to the postoffice, about five | miles distant, upon which Nelse was never trusted, and the captain soon sue- < ceeded in approximating so exactly the ' period required for their performance i that the twilight was almost sure to find j him at his window in time to watch the j return?the thoroughbred skimmingover J the ground like a bird, while Glen's lithe , body swayed easily to his magnificent i stride. But never once did Captain Alan I Campbell gain an opportunity of speak- ; ing to her after their first meeting. Her ; mother he saw almost daily, for her worn- j an's heart was not proof against the fact j that a sufferer was lying under her roof, and the wounded young sergeant, who i was wasting away with fever, had reason to bless her tender ministrations. j For awhile the captain found himself hoping that another gentle presence might brighten the sick room, but Mrs. Helen always came alone, and only once j did the captain meet his younger hostess face to face. It was one evening when Missy, entirely forgotten by her elders, had made one of her surreptitious visits to the soldiers' quarters, and there, overcome with drowsiness and an excess of sweetmeats, had fallen usleep in Captain Campbell's arms. He could not bear to waken her, and so, with her unconscious little head resting against his breast, he j strode down the long hall and ventured I to knock at the door of the family sitting | room. It was opened by Mrs. Helen, who thanked him, with some gentle confusion at her apparent oversight of tho child. He was not invited to enter, but over the lady's head he caught a glimpse of Glen, and was not slow to interpret her quick indignant glance at her little sister in such a resting place. lie had seen that impatient brightness in her eyes before, and he went back to spend a 1 restless night in the old ballroom, which some whim had led him to choose as his own and his wounded comrade's sleeping apartment. He was beginning to curse himself for tho fancy. A veritable spirit of unrest paraded the ghostly old room. When the lights were extinguished, and the sick man lay quietly sleeping beside him, a mocking bird, in the syringa hedge just below the open windows, filled the night with melody, and in the pauses of his song the plaintive cry of the whip-poor-will echoed across the wide lawn. The air was filled with the sweet night scents of languishing spring flowers, and 1 the captain, tossing on his couch, peopled the room with half waking fancies. Once more the floor rang to the tread of dancing feet, and as the music throbbed ; his own arms encircled a slender shape; j or, ir that alcoved window filled with ; shadows, while' the moun hung low in a tender sky, his clinging lips found 1 hers. In his dreams ho shook with the ! sweet agony of the caress?and the next morning he laughed mockingly at its recollection as he made his toilet. "Surely this languid air and this idle J life have fired my blood," he said, stretching himself. "I no longer won- j der at southern sentiment. I need a ten i mile march through Virginia pipe clay, I under a pouring sky, to shape me up I again. If my orders don't come this j week I shall be a proper subject for irons : and a court martial." And at the same early hour Glen was j in the hall beneath him, engaged in her I morning tasks of sweeping and dusting, with Missy, elevated on one of the tables, gravely watching her. "Missy," said Glen, suddenly throw- j ing down her brush and putting her i arms about the child, "do you know ' what mother says? that you must never, never go into the soldiers' rooms again. Do you understand me? Do you know that they are bad, wicked men, i Missy; that they have taken everything j , away from us, and that they are keeping Brother Frank away from home, and poor mother breaking her heart about ! him? And Missy," Glen's face darkened ! as she lifted the child in her strong young arms and held her up to tho draped portrait above them, "don't you i j know that they killed Uncle Matt, our 1 clear father's youngest brother?" Glen | J waited to watch the effect of this last ; statement, but it was certainly not what she expected. Missy had evidently heard ! the story before, and in her eyes it had lost some of its tragic features. There was actually a judicial severity in her face as Glen put her down. "No, they didn't, Glen; indeed they didn't," she declared. "What do you mean, Missy?" j j "Because I asked him," the child said ^ triumphantly. "I brought him in here 1 one day when you were away, and I j < said, 'Did you?kill?my poor, dear un- j ' cle?' " Her exact imitation of her sis- i ter's tones gave the girl a sobbing, hys- j terical desire to laugh. "And what did he say?" "He said"?missy's eyes grew solemn , as she raised her right hand and repeated in a whisper?" 'God knows I did not, 1 my dear little one!' " . And Glen, suddenly bending down, j kissed the innocent face that had grown ^ so awed at the recollection of that oath. i TO JJK CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK. , j Negroes in Washington.?There 1 1 are 2,394 negroes employed in Wash- i * ington by the government, and they ! s draw from the treasury in salaries ' 1 about $2,000,000 a year. Naturally j 1 the defeat of the Republican party was I a severe blow to them, for, being Re- i publicans themselves, they expect to J be removed by the Cleveland adminis- ' tration in so far as they are not pro- j tected by the civil service rules. A ; large number of them, however, may j j be happily disappointed, although men j like ex-Senator Bruce, who receives j ( $18,000 a year as recorder of deeds in ( the District of Columbia, are very ( likely to be accelerated into private ( life. j In all there are betwec-G 7~>,000 and ^ 80,000 negroes who live at the national capital, and their accumulation j nf wealth is now verv lame. Among tlieni. too, are many of the best edu- . eated young men of the race, who ought to he scattered among their j people in the South helping to elevate ^ the general condition of the negroes.? i Springfield Republican. fta?" A starving man won't find fault j 1 with the table cloth. j < THE CASE OF PREACHER ATT A WAY. Presiding Elder Campbell Denies the Story of Starvation. The following card from Presiding Elder J. B. Campbell, is published iu answer to the startling communication of Rev. J. P. Attaway, published last week. It is dated at Greenwood on February 1.3, and addressed to the Columbia State On Saturday, while away from home, r was handed a copy of the SemiWeekly State containing a startling account of the insanity of Rev. A. McSwain Attaway ami his wife, both of whom have been recently sent to the asylum in Columbia. I wish to state the facts in the case, as the author of the article, Rev. J. P. Attaway. seems entirely unfamiliar with them. As far back as two or three years ago, while Rev. A. M. Attaway was in charge of North Edgefield circuit, he irave out alarmitur symptoms of men Lai depression and nervous excitement during the progress and after the close of a revival meeting. His frieuds were greatly excited over his condition, and Mr. Attaway afterward referred to it himself as bordering on insanity. This passed away, and his health became good again. Mrs. Attaway received a fright during that year, as Mr. J. P. Attaway states, and never after this could she be left alone, until late last year, when she became more quiet. Mrs. Attaway's mind has been giving away for three or four months, and from my personal knowledge was intensely exercised over the subject of sanctilication. I would not undertake to say that this was the cause of her failing health, however. I have uo means of knowing this. During this period she received the most considerate and delicate attention from her neighbors and friends. I wish here to state that I am the presiding elder of Kev. A. M. Attaway, have visited his work five times during the year 1892-93, and have frequently visited Mr. Attaway's home. Mr. Attaway received $453 as his salary in Butler circuit for the year 1892. In addition to this, he lived iu a comfortable and nice parsonage, rent free, and used the furniture supplied at the expense of the charge. The house and furniture are as good as that used by the average family living in the country. Mr. Attaway paid nothing for wood, vegetables, potatoes, chickens, milk and butter, etc. He owned three weeks ago, when I was with him, three cows, young and old, and spoke cheerfully and strongly of his prospects for beef for the opening year. Mr. Attaway also planted quite liberally of corn and muaeu crop suuicieiu 10 supplement his salary very considerably. This corn was cultivated by a colored man, and not by Mr. and Mrs. Attaway, as Mr. J.. P. Attaway states. Living in the country is exceedingly cheap, but few of the enterprising and progressive farmers will speud duriug the year one-half of $453, after deducting home productions. This was true of Kev. Mr. Attaway and family. In addition to the above, Mr. Attaway was tenderly loved and cared for by his charge, and received constant evidence of their interest in him. Mr. J. P. Attaway states that his church was kind to him. Hear him: "During my stay (with them) the kindness of the parishoners overflowed, and they had abundance." This was De cember '92. Mr. Attaway adds "I left them hopeful, cheerful and happy." How could these loved ones be both "hopeful cheerful and happy aud at the same time be verging on insanity from starvation?" I visited Mr. Attaway's work just after Mr. J. P. Attaway left his brother's home; and the board of stewards paid him at that time?Januuary 14, $70.70. I never saw Mr. Attaway more cheerful and hopeful of success than during this visit. Never one time did he intimate that he was needy, and we were very close friends. I am sure that at no time did Mr. or Mrs. Attaway sutler for the essentials of life. Mr. J. P. Attaway says that his brother "had no right to complain." Just let me remark that Kev. A. M. Attaway urged me to return him to Butler circuit for the year 1893, giv ing as lus reasons mai ne nan goneu along well, had been happy and would be well supported by his charge. Mr. Attawav was returned, and the missionary appropriation raised from $130 to $300 for the present year. The above are facts. Whatever may be the opinion of persons living in cities as to the salaries our preachers in the country places should receive, I wish here to state the preachers of the South Carolina conference do not in any proper sense suffer for the want of all the substantial of life. They are well provided for, are cheerful and happy aud are doing a grand work in the interest of humanity and the cause of God. Respectfully J. B. Campbell. The Sense of Smell in Dogs.? Dogs are able to track their masters through crowded streets, where recoguition by sight is quite impossible, and can find a hidden biscuit even when its faint smell is still further disguised by eu de cologne. In some experiments Mr. Romanes lately made with a dog be found that it could easily track bim when he was far out of sight, though 110 fewer than eleven people had followed him, stepping exactly in his footprints, in order to confuse the scent. The dog seems to track him chiefly by the smell of his boots, for when without them or with new hoots on it failed, hut followed, though slowly and hesitatingly, when his master was without either hoots or stockings. Dogs and cats certainly get more information by means of this sense than a man can. They often get greatly excited over certain smells and remember them for very long periods.?Chamber's Journal. To Gauge a River's Breadth.? Anybody can measure, approximately, the breadth of a river without a surveyor's compass or any mechanical means whatever. The man who desires to make the experiment should place himself at the stream, then stand perfectly still, face the opposite hank ind lower the brim of his hat until it just cuts the opposite hank. Then let him put both hands under bis chin to steady his head and turn slowly round until the hat-brim cuts some point on the level ground behind bim. Mark the spot where the hatnrini cuts the ground, then pace off :he distance, and it will he found ihout the breadth of the river.?St. Louis Globe-Democrat. Curiosities About Snow.?The pure white luster of snow is due to the ract that all the elementary colors of light are blended together in the raiiance that is thrown oil' from the surface of the various crystals. More than a thousand distinct and perfect forms of snow crystals have been enumerated and figured by the various investigators in that line. One hundred \nd fifty-one different forms were once observed by the English scientist, Gflashier, who carefully made engravings of each and printed them in a paper attached to the report of the British meteorological society for the year 1855. If some men were as tender in mart as they are in pocket what great kings they would do for their Lord.