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ISSUED SEMI-WEEKL^ l. h. qbist'S SONS, Publisher.. } % ^amili; gtrcspptr: <|or (hi; promotion of the jjjolitital, Social, Agricultural, and Commeiiiial Interests of the gtoplt. {TEK*wo^0coi"^'c^Vs*NCE' ESTABLISHED 1855. ~ YOEKVILLE, S. P., FRIDAY, OCTOBER Q, 1903. JSTO. 79? The Case Against Stanton Brooke By WILSON BROWNING Copyright, 1903, bu American Press Association WINSTED was seated on I I the low railing of the veranmjesM da, leaning against one of the BQflBji pillars. Mr. Hall^pccupied a large straw chair of a very comfortable design. The time was early evening. "May I smoke, Marie?" asked the young man. "When I am nervous I really find tobacco almost necessary." "When you are nervous!" echoed the girl, with a laugh. "I don't believe that 1 ?? Kn/tr PhflP you nave u ua > c w jum ley." "Oh, yes, I have," said Hall, in his characteristic slow, steady tone. "I'm full of them. You don't know me." "I've known you evffr since I was born," she replied. "You are one of my earliest recollections. I distinctly remember being afraid of you in my cradle." "At that early age," said he, "a girl cannot be expected to distinguish between her friends and her enemies? between those who would protect and those who would harm her. But you are eighteen years old now and should know a great deal more than you did then." "It may be so," said she. "Yet somehow I'm afraid of you this evening. I feel as If you were going to say something disagreeable." "A woman's intuition Is certainly remarkable," said Hall. "I am going to say something disagreeable?very disagreeable tndeed. And that's what makes me so nervous." It was evident that Hall meant what he said, and yet the side of the house exhibited as much perturbation as he did. He lighted his cigar slowly, extinguished the match with great care and leaned back in the chair with the air of one who Is at peace with himself and all the world. Miss Winsted got up from the railing and then sat down again. She leaned far out, looking up the street as if she hoped to see some one. and at last she said suddenly: *'*TT * 1 * ?U?4. 14- }>> eu, Vjcanej, wuui 10 m "I want to say something about Mr. Brooke," responded Hall. "If it's really very disagreeable," said Marie, "don't you think you'd better say it when he is present?" "I will repeat it when he is present," replied the young man calmly, "but I will tell you first if you'll permit me." "Charley Hall," said the girl, "I never know what to do with you. If you were any other man, I shouldn't hesitate a moment. I should simply tell you to mind your own business. But there's a dire, deadly Insistence in you. You possess the attributes of fate. I always feel as if it were useless to try to stop you." "It is in this instance," he replied, "quite useless. As for my business, you are my business. I would drop any other in a moment to take up the smallest task that might be of service to you. That's true, isn't it?" "I wish it weren't," she replied. "You do worry me so!" "I'm sorry," said he earnestly, and with the faintest intonation of bitterness. "It is undoubtedly very unfortunate that I should happen to be in love with you, but I am and always have been, and"? "You must not talk like that!" she exclaimed. "I am engaged"? "To a man whom you know nothing about," he Interrupted. "Six months ago Stanton Brooke came here to be division superintendent' of the railroad. There is not a soul in this city who had ever heard of him before. He came from somewhere In New England." "From Boston," said the girl hastily. "My mother and I know all about him. Of ennrse be has told us everything. Really, there's very little to know. He has been an orphan from his childhood. He got an education somehow. Worked his way through college and has been at work ever since. I don't think you ought to say anything which would tend to make me unhappy. I shan't believe it, whatever It is. but it may torment me." "The first time my eyes lighted on Stanton Brooke," said Hall deliberately, "I knew that he was a man who believed that it was a natural law that every girl he met should fall In love with him." "You can't make me jealous," said Marie. "I know Stautou Brooke better than you do." "Do you know where he was last evening?" demanded Hall. "Certainly." she replied. "He was detained at the otiiee." "He was not at the office after half past 7 o'clock." said Hall. "1 know, because 1 was there myself until midnight." "Really, I can't hear another word," said Marie. "This is the same old Incomprehensible scene that has occurred so often between us. It is the miracle of my life that I permit you to talk to me of your love and to dissuade me from trusting the one man in all the world whom I desire to trust with all my heart. It is your immovable persistence"? "I am determined to save you from a terrible mistake." said Hall. "I believe I'd rather make it," exclaimed the girl, "than be saved in a way that kills my self respect. Thank heaven." she added fervently, "here is Mr. Brooke." Hall rose slowly from his chair as Brooke came striding up the walk that led from the gate. He was a tall young man, rather slender, but with good breadth in the chest and shoulders. His manner was brisk and decided, and he spoke rapidly with a clear tone very agreeable to the ear. Marie gave both her hands to him as he 'greeted her cheerfully, and then he freed oiie of them to extend it toward Hall, who 8< emed not to see it, though 1 there was p snty of light. "I have Just been telling Miss Winsted that yo* were not at the office last evening," said Hall. Brooke, who was stooping a little as if about to say something to Marie, suddenly straightened himself. "Well, that's true enough," said he. "What of it?" "Nothing at all," said Marie hastily, before Hall could reply. It might have been possible to form the opinion that Brooke was distinctly pieaseti uy mis reum ik. "At half past 7 o'clock," said Hall, who had subsided into the big chair again and looked exceptionally placid, "you left the office and went down to Bissell's." Bissell was the florist of the city. There was no one else of any consequence in the business. "To Bissell's?" said Marie, with a rapid, questioning glance. It was very clear in her mind that she had received no flowers on the previous evening. "I beg you pardon," said Brooks. "I went to the station. You know Harry Brow er was sick and telephoned for some one to relieve him. There was no one to go except me." Brower was agent and operator at the railroad station, which was just across the street from Bissell's conservatory. "Didn't go to Bissell's, eh?" said Hall. "What are you driving at?" demanded Brooke. "I stopped half a minute to speak to Bissell himself, who was standing in the doorway." "I was aware of it," said Hall. "Then you went across to the station. Marie gave both her hands to him. You relieved Brower, and until 9 o'clock you were absolutely alone there. You didn't even have one of j the boys with you." "That's right." answered Brooke. "And it won't happen again. Nobody ought to be alone down there. But there was such an awful deluge of rain, and the boys were drenched to the skin. Brower sent them both home." "It's quite a long way from the station to the theater, isn't it?" inquired Hall. A considerable interval of silence , followed this question. Brooke glanced uneasily from Hall to the girl, and then he seemed to study her for almost n minute intently. As Marie had no idea what Hall meant she could think of nothing to say. She was conscious of a vague terror. "Yes." said Brooke at last in a changed tone. "It's nearly the whole width of the town." "Too far to send flowers on such a night" said Hall, "especially when you haven't anybody to send." Brooke uttered a confused, unintelligible exclamation. It sounded like a jumble of several "swear words" of the politer sort. "Shortly after you went down to the station." said Hall, "I had occasion to call you up on the telephone. I took down the receiver and gave the number to central. Almost instantly I was surprised to hear your voice. I called 'Hello.' but you did not hear me. You were talking with some one else, and I was 'in' on the wire. You said. 'It is too far to send roses tonight, but I send my love?all my love.' Do I quote correctly?" Brooke did not reply. He was looking at Marie. The girl seemed dazed. "Of course this can't be true," she said, as if she were thinking aloud. Still Brooke said nothing. He took off his hat and put up his hand to his forehead. Then he dropped the hat into the chair in front of him. "I was considerably interested," said Hall. "It has long been my conviction that you were that sort of a man, Mr. Brooke, and 1 have hoped that Miss Winsted would find it out in time. Well, let me continue. I heard a girl's voice say, 'isn't that sweet?' and a few words more to the same effect, and then I was shut off. so that I heard no more, it became necessary, however, to know a little more, but I couldn't do much last evening. I learned that you had been talking with somebody at the theater, and that was all. "But I did better today," he continued. "I took an hour off this afternoon and went over to the theater to ask a few questions, but good fortune spared me most of my trouble. Some young women who belong to the company which is playing there this week were standing by the door, and as 1 came up I heard a voice that seemed surprisingly familiar. To cut my story short, It was the voice I had heard by telephone. I learned without difficulty that she was Miss Alice Austin?at least, that's her stage name?that she has just joined the company and that she comes from Boston." At tlie mention of the city Marie glanced nervously at Brooke. He was pale, and his lips were compressed. "In case you should deny that you were speaking to Miss Austin," Hall began; but Brooke interrupted him. "I don't deny it," said he. "Very well," said Hall. "What time did you leave the station last evening?" "Eleven o'clock," answered Brooke sharply. "Where did you go?" "Home." "I had been led to believe," said Hall calmly, "that you went over to the theater." "What you may have been led to believe," retorted Brooke, "is of the smallest possible consequence to me. What does Miss Winsted believe?" "This can all be explained," ex claimed Marie. "Perhaps Miss Austin is?is a relative"? She felt angry and absurd. She knew that she was not taking the proper attitude; that she ought to treat this story with utter scorn and disbelief. Yet Brooke had denied nothing, and Hall sat there with a look of complete confidence which disconcerted her. It was the man's peculiar gift that he could always exert this influence upon her when he tried. "Miss Austin is in no way related to me," said Brooke. " A .. ,1 Aim?uuu juu 9aiu inai IU uci i "There may have been more," said Hall. "That was all that I heard." "There was a little more," said Brooke, turning toward Marie. "But I cannot tell you what it was." "I dou't see how you could have anything to say to her that you can't tell me," said Marie. "I don't understand this matter in the least. At first I thought that it was all very absurd, and that a word from you would set it right. I was almost glad that Mr. Hall had put himself in this position. I did not wish to stop him until he had said enough to prohibit him from ever saying any more upon this subject to me. But you explain nothing, Stanton"? "Because I wish to be the explanation myself, the living explanation," he answered hurriedly and with deep earnestness. "Chance, luck, can do what it pleases. It can pile up endless evidence upon any subject Coincidence can convict any man of any offense whatever unless be himself is the sufficient answer to the accusation. Unless you can begin by trusting me, Marie, we sha'l never be happy. I am glad the opportunity has arisen, so that we may know just what we are to each other." "In the ordinary speech of men," said Hall, "this sort of thing is called a bluff. I beg your pardon, Marie, but I really could not see you fall into a trap so plain." Brooke was standing behind a heavy chair. He gripped the back of It bard, as if lie needed it for purposes of rer,4?+ s ii a int. "I think you ought to tell all," said the girl, trembling. "1 can't," replied Brooke with a peculiar smile, "it would be against the law. Please, please, believe in me!" He extended his hand toward her imploringly, and suddenly she clasped It in both of hers and let Brooke draw her toward him. He put an arm across her shoulders and looked triumphantly at his accuser. Hall was slowly rising from his chair. He had begun to do so when he heard the words "against the law." His face was pale and rigid. "The part of my message which I can't tell you, Marie," said Brooke, "is a name?merely a name. This eavesdropper overheard all the rest" "A name?" echoed the girl. "Yes, a man's name." was the reply. Hall by this time was standing in front of Brooke, upon whose shoulder he laid his right hand roughly, staring Into his face. Brooke met the glance squarely, and it was the other who flinched first. Hall's hand dropped. He turned away without a word and walked somewhat unsteadily down the steps and out of the yard. "He knows the truth now," said Brooke. "Foe a man who was so foolish in the beginning and so blind he showed a remarkably quick perception at the last." "I don't know the truth," said Marie, "and I don't ever want to know it unless you care to tell me." "My dear little girl." said he, bending down, "this actress, who, I have no doubt, is a most estimable young woman, made her first appearance with the company last evening, and probably she was very nervous about it and reuuired all the encouragement she could possibly have. So a fellow In the east who loves her sent a telegram to cheer her up. Mr. Hall correctly repeated It to you. He did not hear the signature, and 1 couldn't give you that, because, as I have said, It Is against the law to reveal such a matter. I replaced the telegraph operator at the station. I was alone when the message came. I wanted Miss Austin to have it in time, because it was a very nice message and a good cure for stage fright, as I should suppose. So I telephoned to the theater and disclosed the facts, and when Miss Austin came to the other end of the wire I repeated the words of the man in the east. Let us hope that he loves her as much as I love you, Marie, and that he will never lose her confidence nor deserve to lose it. Also," he added, smiling, "I humbly pray the same blessing for myself, and I will try to deserve it." An Enookraging Sign.?Two retired tradesmen, residing in the country, were discussing matters generally, when one asked: "How is your son doing in the city?" "Oh, he doesn't say much about his business, he's got a lot of friends!" "That's very encouraging," remarked the other, "for it shows that he hasn't had to borrow money yet!"?Pearson's Weekly. So important is the Pasteurizing of milk deemed in Russia that the imperial minister of agriculture has announced an international competitive show of apparatus for that purpose in St. Petersburg next spring. gtlisccllanwus gteading. SOME SIDELIGHTS. Remarkable Coincidences In Connection With the Tillman Trial. When the case of the State vs. Jas. H. Tillman was called in the Lexington court Monday there was a line-up of attorneys on each side who with the presiding Judge and general surroundings combined some features that when aggregated are interesting to the careful student or observer of dally events. The case is a local one in some respects everywhere in the state and the news from there is ab sorbing local Interest ana nearly every town and locality of the state Is in some way interested in the trial. There are many coincident features connected with the case. For instance: J. T. Sloan, a witness in the case, F. B. Gary, the judge, and Cole L. Blease, an attorney for the defense, were all candidates at the last election to succeed the prisoner as lieutenant governor. Thurmond, who will conduct the prosecution, was for several years the law partner of the prisoner. He has ever been the warm supporter of the prisoner in politics and they are yet intimate friends. Solicitor Thurmond only a few years ago, and while he was solicitor, stood trial for killing a man in Edgefield. He came clear and held to his office. Jim Tillman defended him. There will be some politics in the trial as there always is In such cases. W. H. Sharpe, state senator from Lexington, and one of Tillman's attorneys' is a candidate to succeed Thurmond as solicitor. He was a candidate for comptroller general last year. George R. Rembert, another of Tillman's attorneys, and E. L. Asblll, a state attorney, are both ( said to have eyes on Thurmond's Job, and will probably enter the race for solicitor at the next election. ( Ex-Attornev General Bellinger, a s leading counsel for the State, was a t candidate at the last election for congress from the district comprising j Edgefield and Aiken. He was opposed c and defeated by about a dozen votes j by George W. Croft, Tillman's law f partner and the leading attorney for ? the defense. The campaign between Croft and Bellinger developed consid- ^ erable personal feeling which may be f carried into this trial. t One attorney on each side will have j had a personal experience as defen- t dant in a murder trial; Solicitor Thur- ? mond on the prosecution and George ^ Johnstone on the defense. Both of j them have faced the bar of Justice e with their lives at stake and both came clear. E. L. Asbill, counsel for the r State, was- shot" st^^ral years ago, and j for several months he hung between j J J Urt/1 n norcnnol OT. A lire ana aeaui. nc wa.u a. >? j perience at the other end of the gun, s and may be able to do more than othwise because of it. The defendant's father once stood trial for murder at Edgefield, not far from where the son is now arraigned. To those who say that even if Tillman is acquitted he will have met his death politically, need but to review the history of Geo. D. Tillman. He came clear and entered upon a long and eventful career. But he was ever afterwards haunted by the face of the man he had slain, and was led to say that the conscious fact of having taken the life of a human being was sufficient punishment for the cruelest of murders. He was punished throughout his life, and he ever afterwards took care of the dead man's widow and children. The last murder trial of any note that occurred at Lexington was probably the most noted one preceding the one now in progress, and it occurred under somewhat similar conditions. It was that of Bob Jones, the Edgefield farmer, who one afternoon in a rage took the lives of his wife's grandfather and two of her uncles. The trial took place about fifteen years ago. Repeated efforts had been "made to try Jones at Edgefield, each effort resulting in a mistrial. Finally the case was removed to Lexington and Jones was found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to twenty-one years In the penitentiary. He was torn from his young wife (who with all her family had stuck to him despite the fact of his killing her relatives) and children and was hurried away to prison where he yet remains, though his wife and two of his children have uin,.a riiofi Thp little town of Lexiner ton was flooded by visitors at that trial j as it is at this and the little court i house would not near hold the many onlookers. Judge Wm. T. Gary, now of Augusta, a relative of the judge now presiding in the Tillman case, was the leading counsel In defense of Jones. The trial occurred about fifteen or sixteen years ago, and from then until now no such crowds have ever been in Lexington as are there at this time. T. C. Sturkie of Lexington is probably the youngest lawyer interested. He is for the State. He has been at the bar but three years and was a member of the firm of Muller & Sturkie, but Muller died only a few days ago. Geo. Tillman Graham of Lexington, attorney for Tillman, is another young attorney interested. Wm. Elliott, Jr., son of ex-Congressman Elliott and a cousin of Editor Gonzales, the deceased, is another young attorney who will assist in the prosecution. Altogether these peculiar features make the trial the most interesting that ever occurred in this state and. with the possible exception of the Woolfolk trial in Georgia, the most interesting that ever occurred in the south.?Anderson Daily Mall. Tamed, so to Speak.?At the hearing of the application for bail for J. H. Tillman, an affidavit of O. D. Black was submitted as follows: "I am a flagman between Columbia, S. C., and Jacksonville, Fla. I was formerly on the run between Augusta md Columbia. At the time Hon. Jas. H. Tillman was coming to Columbia :o count the ballots about three weeks Defore the shooting of N. G. Gonzales. [ was flagman between Columbia and Augusta and heard the said James H. rillman say, in the smoking car, that le was going to whip or kill said N. 3. Gonzales. "Along in November I was at the Albion hotel in Augusta, with said J. i. Tillman, and then I saw a blueiteel magazine pistol. Said J. H. rillman intimated that that was the vlo+/\1 with ti'Vi intonriprf to kill <1. G. Gonzales. I said: 'Don't kill llm, whip his.' 'By God, I am going o kill him,' said Tillman, pulling the )istol referred to out of his pocket >ook." Black Is now In an Augusta hospital. The defense's attorneys agreed to adult the above affidavit as evidence at he trial, however, If the prosecution vould admit another affidavit, signed >y Black, subsequent to the above. The agreement was made. In his second affidavit Black flatly ontradlcts the statements of the first, vhlch he said was written by William Elliott, Sr.. and signed by him wlthlut his understanding it. He now says Tillman told him he >ought the magazine pistol as a curiisity, and that he felt he ought to vhip Gonzales for attacking him unustly. He says the conversation was so ong ago he cannot remember it exact y, but Is certain Tillman did not hreaten to kill Gonzales, but would inly act if forced to.?Lexington corespondence. STRIPPED BY A THUNDERBOLT. Conductor Bruer Survives Lightning on a Pike's Peak Train. A blinding flash, a loud and sudden rack of thunder, a sensation as 01 lome one striking you In the face, and hen darkness and unconsciousness! That Is how it feels to be struck by Ightning. It Is the way Art Bruer, a :onductor for the Manitou and Pike's 'eak road, who had'^W clothing torn rom his body by ligl5J$fttg last week, lescribes the sensation. Although Bruer's clothing was torn o shreds, his conductor's cap removed rom the head, the fleece lining of his inderwear set on flre, and a blue streak >urned across his chest from shoulder 0 shoulder, he recovered consciousness 1 few minutes later and was able to >ring his train from the summit of 3ike's Peak to the Cog Road station tt Manitou. There are no tailor shops or handne-down stores on the peak, and 3ruer borrowed a Navajo Indian blancet from the curio shop there and perormed his duties as conductor while irrayed like an Indian chief. When t was learned by the passengers that le was only slightly burned by the >olt, they made him the butt of a num>er of good-natured Jokes regarding his mpromptu uniform. Bruer has re :overed from tne snocK or me uguiling. He was compelled to lay off duty or several days, while recovering and iow the only Inconvenience he suffers s the light pain from the blue streak eft on his body by the electric fluid. The Incident was one of the most pe:uliar freaks of lightning on record, t has been known to perform strange intics, but never before has it strip)ed a man completely of his outer ,'lothing, tossed his hat Into the air, eft an indelible stamp on his body, endered him unconscious for a few ninutes, and then left him almost unlurt, with no burns except a long thin ine of blue on his chest, and set Are o the fleece lining of the underwear vithout burning or scorching any other irticles of his wearing apparel. Those persons who were fortunate enough to ie passengers on the Cog road that lay saw something which has never >efore been heard of, and which, in all jrobability, will never be seen again, [t was simply miraculous. Bruer believes that he was born ucky. In the present instance this ,vas better than to have been born ich. The chances for a man's life beng spared in such a case are so small is to be almost infinitesimal. At the :ime he was struck by the lightning he vas standing on the steps of the coach, Kdding the brass railing with both lands, preparing to give the signal for he train to start on its journey down he peak. The passengers were all tboard, and everything was In readiless for the downward start. Suddenly there was a blinding flash ind a deafening crash of thunder. A flue streak of forked lightning shot icross the peak on its way from one floud to another. En route it encounered the form of Bruer, and his body 'ormed the circuit which shot the bolt nto the top of Pike's Peak. After the jassengers had recovered from their nomentary fright they saw the Insen tible form of Bruer lying on thy jround. They hastened to him to pick him up, is they supposed, dead, when, to their itter astonishment, he sat upright and ooked bewilderlngly about him. T-; injuiries he replied that he was not hurt, 'only stunned," but one man discovered that his fleece underwear was jurning. The fire was extinguished ind the Navajo blanket borrowed. The ?lothing which had been torn by the ilectricity was picked up and brought :o Manitou. It is said that lightning is much less langerous on lofty mountains than on :he plains, and this may have had a jreat deal to do with the marvelous ;scape of Bruer. At the same time he vas struck, Superintendent W. J. Per y of the Kansas City, Springfield and Clinton railroad was with a party of ,'riends on Crystal mountain, near Florence. They distinctly saw the lash, and an instant later were slightly stunned by another bolt. None of the party was injured.?Colorado Springs 3azette. EMMET TO HIS JUDGES. Words of the Great Irish Patriot Still Vindicate His Memory. Robert Emmet was born in Cork, in 1780, and was an ardent friend of Irish Independence. At the age of twenty-three he placed himself at the head of a party of insurgents in Dublin, who killed the chief Justice, Lord Kiiwaraen, oerore tney were aispersea by the military. Emmet was subsequently taken prisoner, having lost his opportunity to escape from the country by Imprudently returning to Dublin to bid adieu to the daughter of the famous barrister, Curran. He was tried before Lord Norbury, convicted of high treason, and executed the next day. In reply to the usual question asked of the prisoners after the verdict had been rendered in such cases, Emmet made an eloquent and impassioned speech, vindicating his course, of which more than one half Is given in the following extract?omission being made of those portions in which he exculpates himself from the charge of being an emissary of France. Lord Norbury, the chief justice, frequently interrupted Emmet during his speech, and many passages are directed in renlv to the ludsre's remarks. For exam pie, the appeal to the throne of heaven la a reply to the lord Justice's Interruption with: "The weak and wicked enthusiast who feel as you feel are unequal to the accomplishment of their wild designs." And again, the appeal to the spirits of the Illustrious dead was In reply to: "Your principles are treasonable and subversive of all government: your language Is unbecoming a person in your situation. Your father, Dr. Emmet, would never have countenanced such sentiments.") My Lords?What have I to say why sentence of death should not be pronounced on me, according to law? I have nothing to say that can alter your predetermination, nor that It will become me to say with any view to the mitigation of that sentence which you are here to pronounce and I must abide by. But I have that to say which interests me more than life, and which you have labored to destroy. I have much to say why my reputation should be rescued from the load of false accusation and calumny which has been heaped upon it. Were I only to suffer death, after being adjudged guilty by "your" tribunal, I should bow in silence and meet the fate that awaits me without a murmur: but the sentence of the law which delivers my body to the executioner will, through ministry of the law, labor, in its own vindication, to consign my character to obloquy: for there must be guilt somewhere? whether in the sentence of the court, or in the catastrophe, posterity must determine The man dies, but his memory lives. That mine may not perish?that it may live In the respect of my countrymen?I seize upon this opportunity to vindicate myself from some of the charges alleged against me. When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly port; when my shade shall have joined the bands of those karnoo wVlrt VlQVP ShPf! their blood, on the scaffold and in the field, In the defence of their country and virtue; this is my hope^-I wish that my memory and name may animate those who survive me, while I look down with complacency on the destruction of that perfidious government which upholds Its domination by blasphemy of the Most high, which displays its powers over man as over beasts of the forest, which sets man against his brother, and lifts his hand, in the name of God. against the throat of his fellow who believes or doubts a little more or less than the government standard?a government which is steeled by barbarity to the cries of the orphans and the tears of the widows which Its cruelty has made. I swear by the throne of heaven, before which I must shortly appear?by the blood of the murdered patriots who have gone before me?that my conduct has been through all this peril and all my purposes, governed only by the convictions which I have uttered, and no other view than that of the emancipation of my country from the superinhuman oppression under which she has so long and too patiently travailed; and that I confidently and assuredly hope, wild and chimerical as it may appear, that there Is still union and strength in Ireland to accomplish this nobKe enterprise. My country was my Idol. To it I sacrificed every selfish, every endearing sentiment, and for it I offer up my life! I acted as an Irishman, determined on delivering my country from the yoke of a foreign and unrelenting tyranny and from the more galling yoke of a domestic faction, Its joint partner and perpetrator in the patricide, whose reward is the ignominy of existing with an exterior of splendor and a consciousness of depravity. It was the wish of my heart to extricate my country from this doubly riveted despotism. I wished to place her Independence beyond the reach of any power on earth. I wished to exalt her to that proud station in the world which providence had fitted her to fill. I have been charged with that Importance in the efforts to emancipate my country, as to be considered the 'keystone" of the combination of Irishmen, or as your lordship expressed it, "the life and blood of the conspiracy." You do me honor overmuch. You have given to the subaltern all the credit of a superior. There are men engaged in this "conspiracy" who are men not only s.uperior to me, but even to your own conceptions of yourself, my Lord?men before the splendor of whose genius and virtues I should bow with respectful deference, and who would think themselves dishonored to be called your friends. Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with dishonor; let no man taint my memory by believing I that I could have engaged in any cause but that of my country's liberty and independence, or that I could have become the pliant minion of power in the oppression or the miseries of my countrymen. I would not have submitted to a foreign oppressor for the same reason that I would resist the domestic tyrant; in the dignity of freedom I would have fought upon the threshold of my country, and her enemies should enter only by passing over my lifeless corpse. Am I, who lived but for my country, and who have subjected myself to the vengeance of the Jealous and wrathful oppressor, and to the bondage of the grave, only to give to my countrymen their rights and my country her rights?am I to be loaded with calumny, and not to be suffered to resent or repel it? No! God forbid! T# llliiof Haiio ^oq XL IIIC opu lio Ul IliC IliUOU 1VUO UOW? participate in the concerns and cares of those who are dear to them in this transitory life, 0! dear and venerated shade of my departed father, look down with scrutiny on the conduct of your suffering son, and see if I have even for a moment deviated from those principles of morality and patriotism which it was your care to instil into my youthful mind and for an adherence to which I am now to offer my life. My Lords, you are all Impatient for the sacrifice. The blood which you seek is not concealed by the artificial terrors which surrounds your victim; it circulates warmly and unruffled through the channels which God created for the noble purposes, but which you are bent to destroy, for purposes so grievous that they cry to Heaven. Be ye patient: I have but a few words more to say. I am going to my silent grave; my lamp of life is nearly extinguished; my race is run; the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom. I have but one request to make at my departure from this world?it is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph; for, as no one who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them and me repose In obscurity and peace and my tomb remain unlnscrlbed until other times and other men can 1o justice to my character. tVhen my country 9hall take her place among the nations of the earth then and not till then, let my epitaph be written. I have done.?Macon Telegraph. DEATH ON THE HILL-TOP. The Danger Point In Life 8eems to Be Between Fifty and 3ixty Year*. We do not refer to the physical death of one when he has reached the summit of life's hill?say, between the ages of forty-five and fifty. We refer to that death which fs spiritually accomplished when after a man has reached the hilltop of the years he loses his grip on God and manhood. One of the saddest facts which we can contemplate is that the period of greatest danger to men is between the ages of forty-flve and sixty. The late Judge Fuller of Relelgh, has said: "The saddest incidents that have come under my observation In a long practice have been the moral lapses of old men. I have been called upon to defend several men of advanced years who lived perfectly correct and blameless lives for fifty or sixty years and then yielded to temptation, threw away the reputation of a life-time, and soilen a character that was hitherto unlmpeached. I believe that men who have passea tne ney-aay 01 youm axe more apt to yield to temptation unless their character Is well formed than young men who have all their lives before them." Rev. W. P. Whaley, In a most thoughtful article, gives In the Nashville Christian Advocate some facts which make the hilltop of life so dangerous: 1. The physical basis of courage hope, and enthusiasm gives way at this period. Thousands give way Intellectually and marally about the time their physical vitality begins to fall. 2. Leack of watchfulness over those weaknesses which have been covered and controlled during the more robust years. There comes a time when without superior spiritual force sin can neither be hidden nor managed. 3. The coming to the u^ad line when Interest declines through hopes abandoned and goals reached. When this Is the case, Intellectual and moral growth must cease. 4. Business success. Wealth seems to give license to do wrong. 5. Loss of wealth. 6. Loss of commanding position. 7. Cessation of labor. To stop work is for many men to invite death, physical and spiritual. A review of these facts as applied so sadly to life around us will surely serve to impress us all with the fact that for every successful life there must be a strong spiritual foundation. We must be upheld by the strong arms of God Himself. When- the weak supports of life give way, as they are most apt to do when we reach the hill top, the seeming ruins will only settle down on the eternal foundations.? Raleigh, N. C., Christian Advocate. Mark Twain's Jokex?Here is a story told by the Rochester Herald in which the distinguished Bishop Doane of Albany and Mark Twain are the principals: Bishop Doane was at one time the rector of an Episcopal church In Hartford, and the services at this church Mark Twain would occasionally attend. Twain one Sunday playeo. a joke upon the rector. "Dr. Doane," he said at the end of the service, "I enjoyed your sermon this morning. I welcomed it like an old friend. I have, you know, a book at home containing every word of it." "You have not," said Dr. Doane. "I have so," said the humorist. "Well, send that boob to me. I'd like to see it." "I'll send it," Twain replied. And he sent the next morning an unabridged dictionary to the rector.?New York Tribune.