Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis >i. (ikisr, proprietor. J |nt independent ijainily $teaspaper: <j|or the promotion of the political, ^oqial, ^jritultiiral and (tfoininercial interests of the ^outh. |terms?$2.00 a year in advance. V0L.40. Y OBKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 4, 1394. NO. 14-. .. Feisiij -* BY CAl'T. ('HAS Author of Dunraven Ranc] Portia, The Deserter, Copyrighted, 1893 by Chas King. CHAPTER Vni. Whatever might have been his other ; moral attributes, Pasqual Morales had borne a name for desperate courage that seemed justified in this supreme moment surprise and stampede. What he saw * a ?A -j as ne leaneu ouiui me uuuuuiu^ tcun.? was certainly enough to disgust a bandit and demoralize many a leader. Scattering like chaff before the gale his J followers were scudding out across the j desert, every man for himself, as though j the very devil were in pursuit of each ; individual member of the gang. Eight 1 or ten at least, spurring, lashing their horses to the top of their speed, were . already far beyond reach of his voice. ' Close at hand, however, six or seven of i the fellows, desperadoes of the first water, had nnslung their henry rifles j and blazing away for all they were ! worth showed evidence of a determine- j tion to die game. Behind them, scream- I ing at the tops of their shrill, strident I voices, Senora Moreno and her daughter j were clinging stoutly to the iron rail i of their seats as the buckboard was ' whirled and dashed across the plain. Already both the wounded men had j been flung helplessly out upon the sands, and even as he looked the off fore wheel struck a stout cactus stump; flew into fragments; the tire rolled off in one direction, and Moreno's luckless tamily shot, cometlike, into space and | fetched up shrieking in the midst of a j plentiful crop of thorns and spines. The husband and father, gazing upon ; the incident from over his shoulder and ! afar, blessed the saints for their bene- ' ficence in having landed his loved ones j on soft soil instead of among the jag- i ged rocks across the plain. But for I himself the sooner he reached the rocks the better. A tall gringo, who cast i aside a dark blue blouse as he rode, j stooping low over his horse's neck, j seemed bent on racing the late ranch | owner to the goal where both would i be, and there was none to dispute with them the doubtful honor. Even those who had stampeded at the first yell of alarm were now reining back in broad, sweeping circle, unslinging the leady j rifle and pouring in a long range fire on j the distant rank of cavalry, just burst ing into the triumph of the charge, j Here, there and everywhere across the j plain little puffs of blue white smoke | were shooting up, telling of the leaden missiles hurled at the charging line. But on like the wind came the troopers j in blue, never pausing to fire a shot, i their leader at racing speed. Wounded though he was, Pasqual Morales was not the man to fail in the j fight. Yelling orders and curses at his ! driver, he succeeded in getting him to i control his frantic team just long enough to enable the outlaw captain fnmVilo nnt Thon nwnv thev dashed again, the stiffening body of Ramon and the weighty little safe being now solo j occupants of the interior. In the mad excitement of the first rush two or three horsee had broken loose, leaving their owners afoot, and believing that no quarter would be the rule these abandoned roughs were fighting to the last, selling their lives, as they called it, as dearly as possible. From their rifles and from others the shots rained fast upon the troopers, but. never seemed to check the charge. The rush was glorious. Drawing their revolvers now, for they carried no sabers, the soldiers fired as they rode down those would be obstructors, and two poor wretches were flattened out upon the plain when the main body of the troop dashed by, making straight for the fleeing Concord with the white canvas top. Drummond had not fired at all. Every j thought was concentrated on the occupants of the wagon. Every shot might be needed when he got to them. Chester was running grandly. The designated four who were to follow the ! lieutenant were already over 100 yards : behind when, from the trail of the am- I bulance, from a little patch of cactus, I there came u flash and report, and the beautiful horse swerved, reeled, but . pushed gamely on. Noting the spot, two of the following troopers emptied | a cartridge into the clump, but left the lurking foe to be looked after later. ! They were too close to the Concord to think of anything else?so close they could hear the cries and pleadings of a woman's voice, the terrified scream of / oat.. \ Chester pitched heavily forward. another, and then, all on a sudden, Chester pitched heavily forward, and I even as the wagon came to a sudden stand the gallant steed rolled over and over, his rider underneath him. When Lieutenant Drummond regain- j ed his senses, he found himself unable to ! believe them. Conscious at' first only J of being terribly bruised and shaken, he j realized that he was being borne along in some wheeled vehicle, moving with slow and decorous pace over a soft yet unbeaten and irregular trail. Con- i scions of fierce white light and heat about him on every side, he was aware of a moist, cool, dark bandage over his i eyes that prevented him from seeing. | Striving to raise a hand to sweep the | blinding clo' h away, he met rebellion. A sudden spasm of pain that made j him wince, the quick contraction of his ! features, the low moan of distress, were answered instantly by a most surprising wail in u sweet girlish voice. "Oh, Fanny, see how he suffers! Can't something be done?" And then?could he be mistaken?? soft, slender fingers were caressing the close cropped hair about his temples. A rrl nf r?V? f on/1 mini ni rr + V? *?i 11 Ofl ^ O v iigiiv uiiu kuiuivu through his frame as he realized that the main object of the fierce and deter- ; mined pursuit was accomplished, that the precious freight was rescued from the robber band, and that somehow he himself was now a prisoner. Striving to move his head, ho found it softly, warmly pillowed, but as ho attempted to turn it was held in place by two little hands, one on each side. Then as he found his voice and faintly protested that he was all right and wunted to look about him, another hand quickly removed the bandage, and Fanny Harvey's lovely face, pale and framed with much disheveled hair, was bending anxiously over him, but a smile of hope, even of joy, was parting the soft lips aa she saw the light of reL turning reason in his eyes. At this * same instant, too, the hands that supported his face were suddenly drawn away, and his pillow became unstable. One quick glance told him the situation. The seats of the Concord had { been lifted out, blankets had been spread within; he was lying at full length, his aching head supported in I. KING, U. A. ; ti, Two Soldiers, An Army : , Soldier's Secret, Etc. Ruth Harvey's lap. Fanny, her elder sister, was seated facing him, but at his side. No wonder Jim Drummoud could not quite believe his senses. It was Fanny who first recovered her self poise. Throwing back the hanging curtain at the side, she called aloud: "Mr. Wing, come to us! He's conscious." And the next instant the slow motion of the wagon ceased, the door was wrenched open, and there in the glowing sunshine 6tood the tall sergeant i whom he last had seen when scouting through Picaeho pass. "Bravo, lieutenant! You're all right, i though yon must bo in some pain. Can you stand a little more? We're ! close to the caves now?cool water and j cool shade not 500 yards ahead." "How did you get here, sergeant?" I Drummond weakly questioned. '' Where are the others?" "Followed on your trail, sir, Private Pike and 1. Most of the men are gathering up prisoners and plunder. You've made the grandest haul in all the hisFanny Harvey's lovely face im? baidlny > anxiously over hint. tory of Arizona. I got up only just in time to see the charge, and Pike's now > on his way back already with the good , news. We are taking you and the ladies to the refuge in the rocks where i Morales and all his people have hid so j long. Old Moreno, with a lariat around his neck, is showing the way." "Got him, did you? I'm glad of that. There was another?a deserter from my troop. Did you see anything of him?" "I haven't heard yet, sir. One thing's | certain, old Pasqual is with his hopeful j brother in another if not a better world, j 'Twas he that killed poor Chester, the i worst loss we've met. Not a man is I hit, and by daybreak tomorrow Dr. Day j from Stoneman will bo here to straight- ! en you out, and these young ladies' j father here to thank you." "Thank you, Mr. Druinmond? Ah, how can he or I ever begin to thank you and your bravo fellows half enough ? I had lost all hope until that disguised bandit suddenly leaped from the wagon, and Ruth was swooning again, but she heard your voice before I did. 'Twas she who saw your charge." And Fanny Harvey's lips quivered as she spoke, and tlio voico that was so brave at the siege became weak and tremulous now. Drummond closed his eyes a moment, ft was all too sweet to be believed. His right hand, to be sure, refused to move, his left stole up and began grop- j ing back of his head. "May I not thank my nurse?" he j said. " The first thing I was conscious of was her touch upon my forehead." i But the hands that were so eager, so ; active when their patient lay uncon- \ scions, seemed to shrink from the long brown fingers searching blindly for 1 them, and not one word had the maiden vouchsafed. "I heard your voice a moment ago, Rnthie. Can't you speak to me now?" i he asked, half chiding, half laughing. "Have you forgotten your friend Jim Drummond and the long, long talks we used to have on the Newbern?" Forgotten Jim Drummond and those long talks indeed 1 Forgotten her hero, her soldier! Hardly. Yet no word would she speak. "The little lady seems nil unstrung yet. lieutenant. Miss Fanny will have | to talk for her, I fancy." And Wing's ; clear, handsome eyes were raised to Miss Harvey'8 face as ho spoke in a look j that seemed to tell how much ho envied the soldier who was the object of such devoted attention. "Shall wo move j ahead ? The others will join us later j J on. But when a few minutes later 6trong anns lifted tho tall lieutenant from the j wagon and bore him to a blanket covered shelter in a deep rocky recess where tho sun's rays seemed rarely to penetrate, and a cup of clear, cool water was held to his lips, Drummond's , nna available hand WAS UTllifted in hopes of capturing the ministering fingers. There was neither difficulty nor resistance. It was Sergeant Wing's gauntlet, and Wing's cordial voice again accosted him. "Glad to see you so chipper, lieuten- j ant. Now, I have some little knowledge of surgery. Your right arm is broken below the elbow, and you're badly shocked and bruised. I have no j doubt the surgeon will be with us by this time tomorrow, but I can set that j arm just as soon as I have looked the ground over and disposed of ourselves and our prisoners to the best advantage." "How many prisoners have wo?" asked Drummond. "Well, as yet only Moreno and his interesting family and two of their gang, who are very badly wounded. Some of the others were neither prompt nor explicit about surrendering, and the men seem to have been a trifle impatient in one or two eases. You should | hear the old woman protesting to Miss Harvey her innocence and her husband's j spotless character. You understand Spanish, do you not?" "No, only the smattering wo pick up at the Point and what 'broncho' Spanish I have added to it out here. Where did you learn it, sergeant? They tell mo you speak it like a native." Wing's sunburned face?a fine, clear cut and manly one it was?seemed to i grow a shader or two redder. "Oh, I have spoken it many years. My boyhood was spent on the Pacific j slope. Pardon me. sir, I want to look more carefully after your injuries j now." "But the ladies?where are they?" asked Drummond uneasily. "Occupying the sanctum sanctorum, tho innermost shrine among the rocks. This is a wonderful spot, sir. We might j eventually have starved these people out } if once they got here,but 10 determined j soldiers could hold it against 1,000. I've as yet had only a glance, but tho j Morenos have been here before, it is most evident, for the senorita herself } showed Miss Harvey into the eave re- | served for the women. There they I have cool water, cool and fresh air and i complete shelter." And now, as with experienced hands ( the sergeant stripped off Drummoud's hunting shirt and carefully exposed the bruised and lacerated arm and shoul- ! der, he plied his patient with questions as to whether ho felt any internal pain or soreness. "How a man could be i flattened out anil rolled over by such a , weight and not be mashed into a jelly , is what I can't understand. You're ' about as clastic as ivory, lieutenant, I and you have 110 spare flesh about you 1 either. That and the good luck of the j cavalryman saved you from worse futo. I You've got a battered head, a broken j arm and had the breath knocked out of 1 you, and that's about all. But wo'll | have you on your feet by the timo the j fellows come from Stoneman." "But how about the young ladies?" again asked Drummond wearily and anxiously, for his head was still heavy and painful and his anxiety great. He was weak, too, from the shock. "Won't they suffer meantime?" "Well, they might?at least Miss j Ruth, the younger, might in the reac- , tion after their fearful experience, but j I'm something of a doctor, as I said, I and I Shall bo able to prevent an tnat. | -How?" "Well, by giving her something to do. Just as soon ns they've had a chance to rest, both young ladies will be put on duty. Miss Ruth is to nurse ! 3*ou." "Suppose she doesn't want to?" "The case isn't supposable, lieuten- j ant. She would have gone into hys- i terics this morning, I think, had Bhe not been detailed, as a preventive, to ; hold your head. At all events, she quieted down the instant she was told i by her sister to climb into the wagon , again and sit still as a mouse and see j that your face was kept cool and moist and shaded from the glare." And now , Sergeant Wing's lips were twitching j with merriment, and Drmnmond. hard- \ ly knowing how to account for his em- | barrassment, asked no more. His ama- j teur surgeon chatted blithely on. "There's an abundant store of provi- j sions here?dried meat, frijoles, chile, chocolate. You shall have a cup in a moment. There's ammunition in plen- ; ty. There's even a keg of mescal, | which, saving your presence, sir, us 1 am temporary commander, shall be hidden before the men begin coming in with their prisoners. There's barley j in abundance for horses and mules, j water to drink and water to bathe in. j We could hardly bo better off any- ; where." Drummond looked curiously about him so far as was possible without moving his painstricken head. He was lying in a deep recess in soino dark and j rocky canyon whoso sides were vertical : walls. Tumbling down from the wood- j ed heights ubove?rare 6ight in Arizona ; ?a little brook of clear, sparkling : water came brawling and splashing over j its stony bed at his feet and went on j down the gorge to its opening on the , sandy plain, 'mere, presumauiy, 11 | burrowed into the bosoxn of the earth, j for 110 vestige of running stream could the Cababi valley show. The walls about hiin were in places grimy with the smoke of cook fires. Overhead, not 50 feet away, a gnarled and stunted little cedar jutted out from some crevico in the rocks and stood at tho edge of tho cliff. A soldier was clinging | to it with ono hand and pointing out toward the east with the other. Drummond recognized tho voice as that of one of his own troop when tho man called out: "Two of our fellers are coming with \ the old yellow ambulance, sergeant, but I can't see the others." "All right, Patterson. Try to see whero tho rest have gone and what they're doing. I'll send the glass up to you presently. What I'm afraid of, lieutenant, is that in their rage over Donovan's death, and Mullan's, and all the devil's work done there at Moreno's, and your mishap, too, the men have become uncontrollable and will never let up on the pursuit until they have j killed the last ono of that gang. These | two who are coming in with the bodies of the Morales brothers probably have wornout horses, or perhaps Leo ordered them to stay and guard tho safe. The last I saw of any of tho gang they were disappearing over tho desert to the ; south, striking for Sonora pass." "I wonder they didn't all come in ! here," Baid Druinmond. " Well, hardly that, lieutenant. They knew they would be followed here, pen- : ned up, where their capture would only be a question of time. A hundred cav- ' alrymen would bo around them in a ' very few hours, and we could send to ! Lowell for those old mountain howitzers and just leisurely shell them out. Then, when they surrendered?as they'd have to?the civil authorities would immediately step in and claim jurisdiction?claim t^ie prisoners too. We'd simply have to turn them over to justice as a matter of course, and you know, and they know, that the only j judge apt to sit on their case would be that of our eminent irontiersman ana | fellow citizen?Lynch. They are scat- i tering like Apaches through the mouu- I tains and will reassemble and count : noses later on. Thanks to you and C I troop, they have lost all they had gained | and their leaders besides. No, sir, they won't stop this side of the Mexica . J line." "There's one, Wing, I hope to heav- : en they'll never lose sight of till they run him down." "Who's tha.t, sir?" "The fellow who was enlisted in C troop last winter at Tucson and deserted last night to join this gang. Ho drove for the stage company l;?st year and was discharged. He gavo his name as Bland." "Bland! Henry Bland!" exclaimed ! Sergeant Wing, leaping to his feet in uncontrollable excitement. "Do you mean it, sir? Had ho enlisted? Do | you mean that he was the man Miss Harvey spoke of?the disguised soldier, she called him?" And Drummond, amazed at Wing's emotion, gazed up to boo the sergeant's features working almost convulsively, his face paling, his eyes full of intense anxiety. "Why, 1 cannot doubt it, sergeant. Ho ran away from us on the discovery of Donovan's body and rode straight for Moreno's, beating us thero proba bly by an hour or so, for no eno hap- J pened to miss him." Wing's hands were raised on high in a gesture almost tragic, then dropped helplessly by his side. With a stifled groan the tall soldier turned abruptly ' away and went striding toward tho opening of tho canyon, leaving Drum- i moiul wondering and perplexed. When, a quarter of an hour later, tho sergeant returned, bringing with him some improvised splints and bandages, and Drmnniond believed it his duty to make inquiry as to whether ho knew Bland and what was tho cause of his excitement, Wing turned his grave, troubled face and looked his young su- i perior straight in the eye. "Mr. Drummond, I liavo known that man for good and for ill many a long year. If our fellows have killed him, let his crimes die with him. If ho is brought in alive?brought to trial?I may have to speak, but not now, sir. Bear with me, lieutenant?not now." W;es Drummond dreaming ? He could have declared that tears were starting in the sergeant's eyes as he turned hastily away, unable for the moment to continue the setting and bandaging of tho broken arm. "Take your own time, Wing," said j tho young officer gently. "Speak or keep silent jus you will. You have j earned the right." And tho sergeant mutely thanked him. The primitive surgery of the frontier took little time, and with his arm comfortably and closely slung Drummond lay impatient for the coining of his men, impatient perhaps to hear a softer i . r... i :.. *l,,. I, ,,f \ uh'l', l(> il'ul nil? ii^nt iwiivii in slender fingers, yet in his weakness and exhaustion dropping slowly off to sleep. All efforts to keep awake proved vain. His heavy eyelids closed, and presently lie was in dreamland. Meantime Sergeant Wing had busied himself in many a way. First ho had gone to loosen old Moreno's bonds? j enough, at least, to relieve his pain, yet hold him sccurciy. Tho soldier pitting drowsily on tho rock beside the prisoner gladly accepted permission to put aside his carbine and go to sleep. "I'll watch him, Mat," said Wing. "You lie down there. Moreno, and seo to it that you mako 110 effort to slip a knot while I'm at work here. IIow far away is that ambulanco now, Patterson?" he called to tho man ou lookout. "Halted down at tho edgo of the plain, sergeant. That's where they struck water first, and I reckon they couldn't mako up their minds to come farther. I can mako out ono or two of tho fellows coining back far down tho desert to tho south. Horses played out probably." "Anything to bo seen across tho valley along tho trail wo came?" "Nothing, sir; not a puff of dust. But here's something I don't understand?off hero in tho range south of us ?well up toward tho top." "What's that?" asked Wing, dropping the coil of lariat ho held in his hand and looking quickly up. "Well, it's more like signal smoke than anything else. Just exactly such smoke as wo have seen in tho Chiricahua and Catarinas and? Well, just como up here with your fieldglass, if you can, sergeant. I believe there's an answer to it way down to the southeast ?t'other side of tho valley." In an instant Wing turned. "Sorry for you,Senor Moreno," he grimly muttered. "But as only two men are with me, and both are otherwise engaged, I'll havo to 6ecuro you temporarily. It isn't pleasant, but it serves you right." In vain the Mexican pleaded and protested. A rawhide riata was wound and looped about him in a few scientific turns, and ho was left reclining against the rock, conquered yet inwardly raging, while Wing stole in to Drummnnd's rude couch. slinDed the field glass from its case, then, with a longing look into the darker depths beyond, and a moment's hesitation, ho stepped to the projecting rock that seemed to divide the cave into two apartments and called in lower tone, "Miss Harvey." "Here, Mr.Wing. What is wanted?" And at the instant, prompt, alert, even smiling, Fanny Harvey appeared beforo him. Tho pallor wan gone. The disheveled hair had been twisted into shape. Food, rest, relief from dread and misery and that little appreciated beautifier, fresh water, had wrought their transformation here. Wing's handsome eyes glistened as he removed his hat. "I have to go up to that point yonder a few minutes, leaving old Moreno alone, bound, to be sure, but his wife or daughter might slip out and release him. Will you have the goodness to take this and shoot him if they should make the attempt?" And he handed her his pistol. "I'll see to it that no one interferes with him, Mr. Wing. What has happened? Are the others coming?" And she took the revolver, balancing it in her accustomed and practiced hand. The admiration deepened in Wing's gaze. "I Bee you handle n pistol as though you had used one. You're a true frontiersman's daughter. I'll have to be away for a few minutes. I'm going up to look from our rock above there, Some of our men, they say, are in sight slowly returning, and tho paymaster's ambulanco is only a mile away, probably waiting for the rest of the party. How is Miss Ruth?" "Sleeping like a baby, bless her heart.'' "Well, I have promised Mr. Drummond that she should bo his nurse. 1 hope you will consent. lie is sleeping too. No fever yet. 1 am thankful to say." ' Ruth will bo ready, and so will I, to help in any way we can. But when are you to have a rest, may I ask?" "O-oh?by and by. Leo nnd the others must have theirs first. They have been in saddle much longer and farther than I. When is Miss Harvey to have her rest, may I ask?" "W-e-1-1, 1 don't know. I'll say, 'perhaps by and by' too. Look, that man is calling you. Whirling about, Wing saw his sentinel beckoning, and in a moment he went clambering up the rocky t rail, active as a mountain Apache. "What is it. Patterson?" "It is signal smoke, sir, ncross the valley. That ain't more than eight miles away, and down here in the range ain't more than sis. What Indians could bo out here, I would like to know ? Do they grow everywhere in this infernal country?" Wing took his glasses and long and earnestly studied the bluish white clouds rising in puffs, faint and barely distinguishable in the opposite heights, then fixed his gaze upon the filmy column soaring up among the dark pines at the heart of the range to the southward. His face grew graver every minute. "Stay hero and watch," ho said. "1 must go and get thoso other men in with the ambulance. Of course if it is Apaches, they've sighted "hat party and the few men straggling back, and those signals mean, 'closoiri on them.' I'll send the team right in and then ride and hurry the other fellows out." The sun was retiring behind the Cababi range as Wing went leaping down the trail. "Sorry for you, Dick, old boy," he said to his horse, who was drowsing in the shade. "More work for us both now." Never stopping to saddle, ho leaped upon the bare, brown back and went clattering down the canyon. "Keep your eye on Moreno, there!" ho shouted up to the lookout. "If he tries to slip away, shoot him." Ten minutes' brisk gallop through the windings of the gorgo brought him to the edge of the sandy plain. There, under a little clump of willows, was the ambulance, its mules unhitched and hoppled securely, nibbling placidly at such scant herbage as they could find. The horses of fho two guards, unsaddled, were drooping in the shade, too tired to hunt for anything to eat. "Saddle up, men. Hitch in and get that team to the head of the canyon, lively now," was his brief order to the sleepy trooper who greeted him, carbino in hand. "What's up, sergeant?" queried another, springing out from the willows. "Lee told us to wait here, or wherever wo could find shade and water.'' "Wait? How long and what for?" "Blessed if I know how long. None of 'em ain't in sight from hero coming back, but 'what for' is easy to answer. The paymaster's chest." "The paymaster's chest?" cried Wing. "Why, isn't that hero in the ambulance?" "Not a hinge of it. Thoso greasers swapped it onto an apparejo while wo wero all running for Harvey's daughters. The money's half way to Sonera by this time." TO UK CO NT I Nl'KD NKXT WKKK. A Sermon In ISruxH. A certain minister when preaching on cleanliness mentioned how ho had seen a brass monkey in his town Bet up in a store with a cigar in its mouth. The cigar was lighted, and by machinery the monkey could draw the smoke from the cigar and puff it out again. The works stopped on ono occasion, and thtf monkey was taken apart to discover tho cause, when the works were found to be clogged and in a filthy condition. Tho moral was drawn by the preacher thus: "If tobacco smoke will stop the works of a brass monkey, what will it do for you?" Let our weed indulging people rise in answer.?Ram's Horn. piswltetMW grading. WASHINGTON, THE MAN. i What Hi# Staff Officer# and Friend# Said of Hlin. Richmond, Va., March 23.? As the years go by, everything that can throw | any new light upon the character of I General Washington becomes more j deeply interesting. It is not Washing- j ; ton, the first president, that the world now wishes to know; it is Washington, the man, who is most interesting. 1 The writer has known several gentle! men whose fathers or near relatives ? ?- ? a.* j? ?r ri 1 I were murauie iriunua ui \ruuciui >?u?u- j j iiigton, nnd even some who knew him I in person. In 1857, a gentleman who had been his neighbor at Mount Vernon, and i whose father was joint owner with the ! general in a ferry and an enormous I seine for taking shad and herring in the i Potomac, died, aged 85. He was 24 I j years old- when Washington died. This was a son of Colonel Ramsey, of ! I General Washington's military stall' j during the Revolutionary war. Then ' ; from Charles Carter Lee, eldest broth- | er of Robert E. Lee, nnd Light Horse j Harry, Lee's oldest son, some very interesting incidents were obtained. A j near relative, Colonel Simms, who was j the commander of the Sixth Virginia j regiment in the line, in the Continental | i army, has furnished some valuable i data. A nephew of Tench Tighlman, I i General Washington's military secre- ; : tnry, gave much important information that, has never been published until j I now ; from a grandson of Major Piercy, i : senior aid-de-camp to General Wash j ington from the date he took command ; ' of the Continental army until the close j of the war, who was with bim in every | engagement except the final oue at i ! Yorktown, when an ugly wound kept | : him from the side of his illustrious ! j chief in the hour of his greatest tri- j , umph, and from several venerable j Virginia ladies facts about Washington, j the man, has been obtained. The first question always asked of j anybody who had known?or known } of?General Washington well, was: j ''What was his real intellectual meas| ure ? How great a mind did he have, j or, in our modern parlance, liovv big j was his brain?" In the replies to this question there has been a singular ! unanimity of opinion. Colonel Tiglilman said : "I have often asked my grandfather that very question. He always answered that ! General Washington was not a genius j in anything. His greatness consisted I in his admirable selfpoise. Each of ! his intellectual qualities was very much | above the ordinary, and never were | characteristic tendencies more admira| bly blended." "He had the stuff in him, and the kind of mind that enables a man to govern and influence other men," said | General William 0. Butler, a son of ; one of the four famous "fighting But' lers" of the Revolution, himself a major general in the Mexican war, and a candidate for the vice presidency, who barely missed being elected. "My father knew Generul Washington as intimately as did any of his staff," said General Butler when the writer visited him in 18G5. He was then u very old man, but his mind was as clear as a bell. "He always said General Washington possessed more of the qualities that go to make up a greet roan than any of the leading fighters of the Revolution. Greene came next to Washington, he tbniirrht. in force and abilitv. No * **0 7 / other man could have done what he did. Modern historians have but little idea of the" difficulties Washington experienced. Outside of his position as general-in-chief, there were so many things to worry and annoy him. The chief military trouble was with his own intimute friends, relating to ques; tions of rank. Especially difficult was i General Washington's position when i Lafayette came to our aid, and coni gross, as you know, made him a major ! general at once. This action greatly otrended the older officers, hotheaded fellows, sturdy, dashing fighters ; generals of brigades and colonels who had made the Continental line what it wus, and yet they had to take their orders from a man but 22 years of age, who | had never been under lire, and was j even unable at first to communicate ] with his officers, except through an in! terpreter." "In the pacification of these officers i General Washington shows the great! est tact," said hoth Colonel Piercey and ' General Butler. " 'Yes, gentlemen,' he . said to them, 'it is true that Lafayette I is but 22, that he was made a major ! general by congress upon my recommendation. But what else could I do ? ; He brought us 12,000 stand of the best ! i muskets Europe could produce (the 1 i French musket of that day weighed , nine pounds, was very carefully made, i had a particularly good lock, while the j English firelock weighed 11 pounds, ! and its lock was clumsy, badly fitted, I and very prone to miss fire), and r>,000 I sabers, 2,000 pairs of military pistols, j and bits for bridles, and the stirrups j and other ironwork for saddles, be- j I sides 1,800 cavalry carbines or musketj oons. Without these arms we could I never have equipped our army. Then j he brought and caused to be sent to us j | about 1.100,000 in gold. It is not too i j much to say that but for Lafayette's j aid just at the time it came, our army ; I must have been disbunded for want of equipments and arms.' "These representations soon quieted j j the testy and hot-blooded Continental j ' generals when they were made in this ' ! forcible way by General Washington. | It calmed the storm. 'But,' said my grauduuele, 'though I saw General ; Washington daily during the Seven .| ; Years' War, ami passed two hours out of the twenty-four in taking his peri sonal orders, except when I was twice I wounded, there was something about him that no man I have ever known possessed. It compelled the respect ; of everyone whom he met. Then, too, f though lie was always most courteous to the members of liis stall' and very j j kind to ine personally, he was hedged i | about with a dignity, or something j that no living mortal ever broke I ! through. It wus not mannerism. It i was not stillness nor hauteur. I can- i not define it. But this I do know, ' I that he inspired a feeling in everyone ' j of his generals more akin to awe than any other mortul ever created. We, i his old staff officers, felt it just as deeply in the last days of our service with him as we did when we went upon his ; , stall'.' ' "Washington was an admirable judge of men and their fitness for du- | ty of any kind. As illustrating this . peculiar power, take the instance of j Baron Steuben. He was the most ac- | complishcdollieer ofhistimein Europe I when he came to us, and the best ; drilled. He spoke English badly al- : : ways, but very bad, indeed, when he j first first joined the army. We had a i number of young officers from New j v-..t. SUoit. 1 DI ?V ?IIU illlutioiuuM x.j uivaii , ben spoke thut language as well as lie | did German. Under (ieneral Washi ington's orders, Steuben foinied an j 'oilieors' corps' from these young Knickerbockers, and taught them the 'Prussian drill,' the best then in Europe. They, speaking English as well as Dutch, taught this drill to the Con- i tinental line. When the war closed | our army was as well drilled us any in j : the world." "Speaking of Baron Steuben," con- i ' tinned General Butler, "our generation | ! has very little appreciation or under- j | standing of what it owes to this ofiicer. i | General Washington made him inspec- I ! tor general of the Continental army, at | first with the rank of brigadier general, i then major general. In that capacity he organized, drilled and mustered into service the entire force of Continentals, I and rendered services that were invaluable in thus putting our little army i upon a thorough military footing. lie i equipped the artillery, drilled it, and so organized it that it had a value and importance it could not have obtained : under any other method. Colonel Ramsey, grundson of the Colonel Ramsay of General Washington's staff, related a very interesting incident of the battle of Uermantown that has never been in print. "General Washington always wore, when on duty, a long, straight cut-andthrust sword. lie was un excellent swordsman, and his enormous physical strength made him a very formidable antagonist. His horses were trained not to flinch at the clash of steel nor the report of firearms. So in an engagement their rider did not have to look out for his antagonist and manage a frightened horse, too. General Washington had always in his holsters, when he went into action, a pair of heavy pistols, made especially for him, and probably the very first pair of rifled pistols ever made or seen in America. It was very uncommon to find a rifled pistol in this country until toward the close of the last quarter of this century. Being an excellent rifleman, it occurred to him that the accuracy of the pistol might he improved could the principle of * t- - i __i l. i; _.i A _ * A. ... grooving wie uarroi no applied 10 1 c, us it was in the rifle. A wealthy friend, Robert Morris, learned of Washington's belief and desire, and caused a pair of rilled pistols to be made for him. They were of the finest workmanship the colonies had ever seen. "At that time there were but three rifle factories in America?Deckert and Reman, in Pennsylvania, and Lang, at Charlottesville, Virginia. These three concerns made all the rifles used in the Revolution. The pistols in question were the work of Lang. He spent nearly three months in perfecting them, and early in 1777 they were finished. They were twelve inches in the barrel, most carefully sighted, and at fifty yards were as sure and deadly in the hands of a good shot as a rifle. They were beautifully mounted in silver, and the locks were of the finest French make. They carried a half ounce ball. I was present when they saved General Washington's life at Brandy wine. It was near Birmingham church. The general and I were riding in that direction, when we ran squarely into a picket of Knyphausen's German riflemen. The morning was foggy and we were past them before we were noticed. They fired a volley, but their shots went wild, though they came much too near for comfort or pleasure. There were six of them still in front of us, but the two behind were only about forty yards away. "As those in front of us began to reload, the others behind us were running up. We were in a lane, between two stone walls. We simply had to get by the two riflemen nearest us. Thut morning the general was riding old Nelson, his favorite war horse, and the only one of the four he had that seemed to carry well his rider's immense weight. He halted him, and the trained charger stood as steady as if on dress parade. Meantime the Germans were reloading with all possible speed. One of them seemed to be having some trouble with a tight hiillpt Wnsliiiirrtnn flrnw tli? rivlit hand pistol from his holster, cooked it, and with a quick nim drew the trigger. The sharp, whip-like crack, rang out upon the morning uir. The man of the two nearest had just got his bullet down and was priming his piece. He turned half around and then pitched forward on his face, shot through the brain. Before the other could finish loading we were upon him, and he surrendered. The general turned the prisoner over to one of Sullivan's captains, who had come up with his company, and said nothing. But the prisoner told the story, and soon the wouderful marksmanship of the general-inchief was talked about at every campfire of the Revolution." General Washington's sword was very sharp, as fighting swords always were in those days. The present dulledged sword or saber of our officers would never have been allowed 100 years ago. Washington was a fairly good swordsman when the war began, but he habitually fenced with Baron Steuben and the French officers under Lafayette. "None of us could break through his guards," said General Lafayette to the writer's grandfather, when the illustrious French patriot visited this country in 1824. "He was the strongest man and quickest on his feet, for one of his height and weight, I have ever known. He had a very handsome dress rapier, which he wore on occasions of state. It was sent to him by the king of France. It had a gold hilt, and was beautifully mounted. I never knew what became of it, for it certainly was not among his effects when he died." "What about General Washington's fortune ? History is greatly at variance touching it." "lean answer that question readily," said Colonel Simms, son of the colonel of the Sixth Virginia Regiment of Continentals. "My father was Washington's confidential attorney and legal adviser, and drew his will. He was reputed to be worth $500,000 at his death, a great sum then. It was not true. His wife was rich, hut not the general. There was never a year after his retirement into private life that Washington did liot have to encroach upon the principal of his fortune to make both ends meet. It is, as you know, a matter of history that Washingtod loaned to the government $65,000 in gold. Not a penny of it was ever paid hack. It is true that James Madison, in 1792, did propose to the general to introduce a bill in congress 1 1.: 1^ tlw. a!' title mrttti.f h'uiviii^ IV mi> tin in v/1 lino iiiviivj . 'But General Washington received ine so haughtily,' said Mr. Madison,'when I called upon him to learn his wishes 1 in regard to the matter, that I thereafter forbore.' When he died in 17!M), General Washington was worth $70,000 j in his own rigid. Had he lived ten years longer he must have been bank- I rupt." Thk Question ok thk Century.? , In the midst of the terrible pinch of 1 hard times of 1803-04 one thing is gradually becoming clear?that is, that the j economic organization of today is utterly inadequate to meet the needs of society and must be abolished on new principles. In New York nearly 70,000 people are suffering for want of food and clothes. In Chicago the number is still large. At the woolen and cotton factories thousands of workmen go hungry because they cannot work at their trade of producing clothing. In the very same cities of. New York and Chicago, where so many are starving, wheat is at the lowest price j it ever reached. What is it that hinders the clothmakers from producing j garments for the naked ? What is it that hinders the starving from getting the wheat that will give them bread? On his part the farmer is suffering, and suffering fearfully, because there is nobody to buy bis wheat and thus enable him to purchase the clothing which the factory workman ought to be making, j but are not. That is the situation today. What is the cause of it ? What is the remedy ? It is as if a hypnotic spell had been put upon the wheels of industry and 1 paralyzed them to inaction. The cause of it all lies deeper than the majority of even intelligent people imagi ine. The remedy is certainly not in soup houses and charity wood sawing. There is a radical wrong when such panics as the present recur every fifteen or twenty years. To say they are 1 are necessary accompaniment of civili| zation is foolishness. There never was ! an evil that man by his intellect and i conscience could not find a remedy for. I REV. ML R. HICK'S S"APRIL FORECASTS. April will open with temperature reacting into warmer, and during 1st to 3rd, secondary storms will pass from west to east. The cool to cold weather following the last storms in March, will not cive awav to the reactionary change to warmer and storms in extreme eastern parts of the country until about April 2nd and 3rd, at least that much time being required for storm conditions to develop and travel from the poiuts of their beginning in the west. It will be wise to anticipate hail with any well defined storm from this j time to the end of April. Very warm days will usher in each regular storm period, and sudden cold is apt to bring up the rear of every general disturbance. From the 5th to the 9th falls a j storm period, with the new moon at an : eclipse node on the 5th. By that date a warm wave of marked intensity will show itself in western parts?the barometer will be low and falling, and I storms of rain and hail, with snow fol- I lowing in the north, will start on their I eastward career. It will be prudent to | count on general and severe disturbances from the 5th to 9th, and to expect cold, with frost and light freezing j as the storm area works eastward of i intermediate points. In extreme east, i don't expect at the beginning of the ! period the conditions prevailing in the I west, and at or before the end of the period, in the extreme west, expect | just the reverse of conditions existing i at the beginning of the period. Inter- j mediate sections, therefore, will get : their storms and changes during cen- | tral parts of the period. This law of j storm movement is not yet understood i by the masses as it should be, and it is j the business of ignorant, or envious and mercenary critics to prevent its being j understood. On and touching the 12th | and 13th, thermometers and barometers I will swing back to storm readings, heavy showers, with hail, thunder and 1 wind will strike all sections in their march to the Atlantic. The opposition of the planet Saturn on the 11th, if the supposition of many worthy investi- j gators be true, will add much energy and violence to all disturbances during j the first half of April, and especially | during the perturbations from about I 11th to 14th. Very cold weather, with . frosts, will succeed the disturbances. The 17th to 21st will constitute the next regular period. The crisis of the disturbances will be reached from 18th. to night of the 20th, the full moon on ! the 19th having a tendency to centralize distributing forces on that date. The showery conditions, usually existing all through April, will take on new power and organize into storms of great extent and energy at this period, as well as all the dates of central disturbances. Very cool nights, with frost generally, may be expected between the storms of this period and the reactionary changes and storms due centrally on the 24th and 25th. Another cool dash?severe enough to bring frost in the north?will follow storms about these dates. The month will end with a growing warm wave and with storms advancing from the western extremes of the country. Without useless foreboding and dread we may reasonably expect tornadic storms in many places during the storm periods in April. Those who j have made preparations for such visitations, and who have learned that they j never come to any section without i ample time and plain indications, can I j afford to live in quiet and ease, so far j j as the tornado is concerned. They are i { ready to recognize the first breath of I | the destroying monster, and at the i critical moment to step aside into a ' sure refuge. The times of greatest i earthquake probability will be about the new moon on the 5th and the full | moon on the 19th. Before the end of j April, the season will be well opened, with a propitious outlook for all who I have their agricultural interests well in | hand, and who are planning for early j crops. TRIE LOVE IX GREENLAND. How Marriage and Courtnliip are Drought About in the Far North. Since the Danish missionaries have gained the confidence of the natives of Greenland, marriages in the far North are celebrated by the representatives of the church. In a recent issue of the Dantish papers one of the missionaries give the following account of the way of courtship and marriage are brought about. The man calls on the missionary and says, "I wish to take unto myself a wife.'' "Whom ?" asks the missionary. The man gives her name. "Have you spoken with her?" As a rule the answer is in the negative, and the missionary asks the | reason. "Because," comes the reply, "it is ; ' so difficult. You must speak to her." The missionary then calls the young woman to him, and says, "I think it is ! lime that you marry." "But," she replies, "I don't wish to j j marry." "That is a pity," adds the mission-" J ary, "as I have a husband for you." "Who is he?" asked the maiden. The missionary names the candidate for her love. , "But he is not worth anything. I j will not have him." "However," suggests the missionary, ! "he is a good fellow, and attends to i his house. He throws a good harpoon, ! and he loves you." The Greenland beauty listens utten- ! lively, but again declares that she will ! not accept the man as her husband. "Very well," goes on the missionary, ! "I do not wish to force you. I shall j easily find another wife for so good a fellow." The missionary then remains silent ' as though lie looked upon the incident j i as closed. But in a few minuteS she whispers, "But if you wish it?" "No," answered the pastor, "only if you wish it. I do not wish to over I persuade you." Another sigh follows, and the pustor expresses a sigh of regret that she cannot except the man. "Pastor," she then breaks out, "I fear he is not worthy." "But did he not kill two whales last summer while the others killed none? ] "Yes, yes ; I will." "God bless you both," answered the i pastor, and joins the two in marriage. | i B&T Walking-sticks are to a great ex- : tent imported into England from abroad. The number received from ' - ?-!? u?., ! oilier con nines n-m-m-a iifuiij u > u million annually, with a combined value of ?2.r),000 or so. Commoner sticks, as those of beech, ash, thorn and hazel, are to u great extent, grown in that country. In Gloucestershire, j for instance, many acres are devoted ! to no other purpose than the raising of wood for tlie walking-stick market. . A peculiar branch of this business is the importation of overgrown cabbage j stalks from the Channel islands, where j cabbages are' regularly trained with a 1 view to being transformed into walking j sticks by a process of stripping off each leaf as it appears, and finally i drying and hardening the stems. HOW THE APOSTLES DIED. An Intfri'Ktlnj; Summary of Fact* ami Tradition**. A religious exchange gathers from I history and tradition the following 1 statement concerning the mode and manner in which the apostles died : Andrew was crucified at Patne, in Achaia, on a cross of peculiar shape (X) hence St. Andrew's Cross. Barnabas was preaching in a synagogue in Salamis, when a party of enraged Jews dragged him forth, stoned hiin to death, and burned his mangled ! body. Bartholomew is said to have suffered crucifixion at Albanopolis in Armenia. James was beheaded by order of King Herod Agrippa, and became the j first martyr among the apostles. Clement, of Alexander, relates that tlie j accuser of James, on the way to the place of execution, stung by remorse, confessed faith and asked to he forgiven. James gave him an affectionate kiss, and said to him : "Peace he with thee." He was beheaded with James. James the Less was thrown from a high pinnacle of the temple and then assaulted with stones; he was finally killed by a blow from a club. John, full of days and honor, died a natural death. One of the beautiful stories told of him is that when he was too old to preach he was accustomed to say to the congregation the characteristic words: "Little children love one unother," and when asked why lie always repeated this sentence only, lie replied : "Because it is the commandment of the Lord, and enough is done if this one command he obeyed." Judas, in a frenzy of despair, hanged himself. The rope breaking he was dashed to pieces on the rock. Aceldama, where he committed suicide, is still shown on the southern slope of the valley of Hinnora, near Jerusalem. The money for which he had betrayed "innocent blood" was used to purchase a burial place for the poor. Luke, the author of Acts, was hanged in Greece. Mark, according to Kitto, died in Alexandria in the reign of Nero. The story of Matthew's martyrdom in Ethiopia is said to be legendary. Kitto claims that he did not suffer martyrdom. Paul, according to ancient tradition, died by the ?sword in Rome at the command of Nero, and the place of his execution is still pointed out a little distance from the city. He himself alludes to his martyrdom in these noble words: "I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight. I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; henceforth, there is laid up for ine a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day ; and not only me, hut unto all of them also that love hi s appearing." 2 Tim. i v i G?8. Peter, so Origen tells us, suffered martyrdom in Rome under the terrible Neronian persecution. Deeming himself unworthy to meet death as did his Master, he was, at his own request, crucified with his head downward. Philip preached in Phrygia, and met his death by being hanged at Hierapolis. Thomas also suffered death by martyrdom, either in Persia or India. A RAVENOUS SHARK. One of the oldest sea captains who visit New York is a German who years ago left his fatherland to take service in one of the English vessels plying between London and the East Indies. In conversation a few days ago he gave an account of his "most exciting expeperience." "A great shark," said he, "had fol lowed us?our vessel was not very large?for live days, on one of my early voyages. It was impossible to satisfy his ravenous hunger, and he swallowed almost everything that we threw overboard. We tried in vain to capture the shark, and almost decided to give up the attempt. Then, unhappily my cabin-boy died, and we, of course, made preparations to bury him, as sailors wish to be buried, in the depth of the sea. We watched closely for the shark on the morning of the funeral, naturally not wishing him to make a meal of the ship's little favorite. We had not seen him for an hour or more, and believed the time favorable for the burial. But we had heen deceived. The body, loaded with cannon balls to carry it to the bottom of the sea, had just touched the water, when the great shark opened its mighty jaws and swallowed it. The sailors who had lowered the body were almost drawn overboard by the forceful pull of the shark. "This angered the seamen beyond endurance, and they swore that they would kill the creature. They prepared a bomb, which was made to explode under the water in a certain time, inclosed it in a cowhide, and threw it to the shark when he again appeared near the ship. The cowhide quickly disappeared. As a rule the shark, after getting something in its mouth, swam away from the vessel a considerable distance, in order to eat the morsel. We, of course, expected it to do the same thing this time, as the ship might be endangered by the coming explosion. But, to the terror of all of us, the shark remained in close proximity to the vessel. One of the sailors suggested that the bite was not large enough to inconvenience the monster, and proposed that we make a larger package for his stomach. It was done as quickly as possible. "One of the seamen got a sack which was tilled with old rags and other useless things, and threw them into the water. The jaws opened, but he could not get the stuff down his throat easily, so he swam away, to the great delight of all on board. But the time had come for the explosion, and we waited with quick-beating hearts for it, praying that he would keep away from the ship. We could see the fish start below the surface, when a dull > i 1 .1. ? sound was neuru, uits wwius jmiicu and flew into the air. The shark was divided into pieces, and our danger was past. I shall never forget our terror while the shark remained near us with that bomb in his belly." A HISTORIC Ul'lLL There is now, or was until very recently, in the city of Buffalo, N. V., in possession of one of the heirs of exPresident Fillmore, a quill over three feet long and as largo around as a man's thumb. This quill is a curiosity from its size and because of its history. When the great and brilliant Henry Clay first-proved his right to be considered one of our country's foremost men, Herr Driesbach, a famous lion-tamer, presented to him this quill. He had plucked it for a special purpose from the wing of an enormous condor captured by himself on the Andes. The purpose was explained by the condition, which was that Mr. Clay should make a pen of it and write with it his inaugural message when he became president of the United States. If he fails to be elected the quill was to remain in his hands uncut "until a constitutional president wrote a constitutional message for all the States," u form of putting the case which was well understood by the Whigs of that time. Twenty-eight years passed away, but Mr. Clay's opportunity to make that condor's quill into a pen did not come. During the time he I was twice a candidate for the prcsi. dcncy, and was twice defeated. Four years after his death a friend received the quill lroin a relative ot 31r. Clay, with instructions to present it to Millard Filmore, of Buffalo, who was a candidate for the presidency. Mr. Filmore had already served nearly three years as president by accession i after l lie death of Zachary Taylor. . As he had been a strong partisan of : Mr. Clay, the friends of the ''(treat | Commoner"' hoped to see him elected. , Mr. Fillmore was, however, defeated, I and the great condor's feather remained uncut. lie kept it as a sacred relic of Henry Clay. When, in the years that followed, any allusion was made to it, he would shake his head ominously and call it "the i fatal quill." So far as it was connected with the decline of a great political party, there was a propriety in so naming that singular keepsake?the fallen feather of a wing that had once soared over the Andes. When Mr. (Jreely was first nominated for the presidency, Mr. Filmore was advised to forward him "the fatal quill," hut he declined i to do so, and the ancient Whig pen, , which has waited for more than a half j century to write "a constitutional raes' sage for all the States," remains still t mm twin President Lincoln's pen, with which he signed the emancipation of American slaves, is historically interesting for what it did. Herr Driesbuch's pen never became a presidential pen. It is historically interesting for what it was meant to do, and poetically interesting from its origin?in the grand pinion of : a bird that builds its nest above the clouds.?Lexington, Ivy., Dispatch. THE BANK OF'ENGLAND. Sketch of a Gigantic Monetary InHtltutlon. The Bank of England was founded i in 1094?the prime object being to assist the government by lending it funds. It was constituted as a joint stock company, with a capital of ?1,200,000, which was lent at 8 per cent, interest to the government of William and Mary?at that time in a state of embarrassment. Its charter has been renewed at various times, the last renewal having taken place in 1844. By the act of that year the bank was divided into two departments, the issue and the banking. In the issue department the sole business is to give out notes to the public. Before this time the government owed the bank ?11,015,100. This sum was declared to be a debt due to the issue department, itnd for the issues of notes to that amount no gold is held. The bank was allowed to issue additional notes on securities to a limit which in September, 1877, amounted to ?5,184,900, and this without holding gold. The total amount which may be thus issued is ?16,000,000. Notes above that sum can only be issued in exchange for gold. At the passage of the act of 1844 the limit of notes to be issued against the government debt was fixed at ?14,000, j 000. The addition of the ?1,750,000 is an extra issue, upon the profit of which ! the bank has to account to the govern| iuent, and also upon the ?14,000,000 ! of government debt securities, which j at 3 per cent, is ?420,000 yearly. But out of this the bank pays the government ?180,000 for its privileges. The bank also makes a profit of ?15,000 a year upon gold bullion and foreign coin. The amount of notes in the hands of the people Averages ?5,000,000. In its banking department the j Bank of England differs from all oth; crs in having the management of the | public debt and paying the dividends i on it. For the management of this I debt it receives about ?249,000 a year, i against which there are set charges | amounting to ?124,000. . The present capital of the bank is ! ?14,553,000. The public deposits vary from ?3,500,000 to ?20,000,000, and the j private deposits from ?20,000,000 to j ?30,000,000. General Early as a Warrior.? ' Early was strongly opposed to seces| sion in 18G0, and was particularly in! dignant at the thirst of South Carolina j for trouble with the North. After the : war began, he had in his brigade a 1 South Carolina regiment, and it was noticed that he always put it in the , most ticklish' places under lire. DuI ring one of the battles before Richmond his brigade was ordered to the j front, and he made the South Carolina fellows head the column, shoutiug at j the top of his voice as they passed him : "Yes, I'll send you to the front, and 'I'll keep you there, too ! You got us into this fix, and, damn you, now 1 you've got to get us out of it!" "After the war, however, Early was i as bitter a speciman of unreconstruct, ed rebel as the firiest of South Carolinians. He went abroad to live for i cAmntlma ii'mfn kn/?l* t A <1 v O\\f OU(UCllUI^? U11U H I Ubu UUV.IV VV U U York newspaper, a blunt denial of a i published report that he had applied for a pardon. "I have neither made nor authorized , such application," said he, "and would : not accept a pardon fromthe president of the United States if gratuitously : tendered me without conditions or restrictions of any kind. I have not given a parole or incurred any obligal tiou to the authorities of the United i States, and I utterly disclaim all allegiance to or dependence upon thegovi ernnient of that country, because I am ; not willing to submit to the foreign i yoke imposed upon it."?Kate Field's Washington. _ Cheese Rich.?Nations which use little or no money must make something else their standard of riches. In patriarchal times wealth was estimated by the number of sheep and cattle. Among the Indians a man is quoted "worth" so many ponies ; among the Laps so many reindeer; among the Africans so many wives, etc. In Yalios, Switzerland, a man's rich! es are estimated according to the nurnj her of cheeses he owns. By a "cheese : rich" man is meant one as wealthy as i Croesus. ! Said one Yalois boy to a companion : "My father is a "cheese rich man." "How many cheeses has be ?" said the other. "Oh, at least so many, for we have just made a lot." j "Nonsense!" said the other, smiling I contemptuously ; "my father has that i number the year round, and some of ours are a hundred years old." When a child is burn it is the custom i to make a cheese, leaving it untouched . during its lifetime, cutting it lirst at I _ n . 1 lis luncrai ieasi. ?. A Gkntlkman.?In telling what I10 ) thought a gentleman should be, Cardinal Newton once ujote: "lie has his eyes on all his company. He is tender toward the bashful, gentle toward the distant and merciful toward the absurd. In his conversation the gentleman will remember to whom he is speaking, have thought for all the company, and avoid allusions that would give pain to any of them, steering away also from topics that irritate. When he does a favor to another (and he docs many) the gentleman will somehow make it appear that he is receiving the benefit instead of conferring it. He is never mean or little in !??_ iltcnnlnc Mhrnnvnr Ito (tlinu'a that. 111.1 -.w. .v., ?....., lie has an intellect far above the average in the fact that he never mistakes personalities and sharp sayings for arguments. Most of mankind do. When grief, illness or losses come to him, he submits to pain because it is i inevitable. Bereavemenllie takes with heroic philosophy because it is irreparable. He goes to death without a rauri inur because it is destiny.