Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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\ I McCORMICK MESSENGER. McCORMICK. S. C.. THFTRSDAY. DECEMBER 7, 1939 HOUSEHOLD QUESTIONS Sandwich Filler.—Peanut butter mixed with a little cream is a good filling for white or graham cracker sandwiches for children. • • • White Silks.—To keep white silk stockirtgs, blouses, etc., from turn ing yellow in laundering, use a little alcohoL in the rinse water. • * • White, Tender Chicken Meat.— If a chicken is well rubbed inside and out with a cut lemon before being cooked it will mate the meat white, juicy and tender. • • • Slow Up Baking.—If the oven is very hot put a piece of waxed paper under the casserole cover. This will prevent the contents of the casserole baking too quickly. • • • To Hasten Cooking.—When us ing a double boiler the food will cook more quickly if the water in the outer vessel is salted in the proportion of a fouRh of a cup of salt to one quart of water. • • * Mixing Flour and Lard.—Don’t rub lard into flour with your hands when making pastry. Use a silver fork, which divides and mixes very quickly. This is easier than chop ping lard in and saves using a chopping tray. Hanging Window Curtains.— When hanging short window cur tains it will be found an excellent plan to invest in small staples.' These driven into woodwork or' wall, hold rods firmly in place. If tapes are used, they may be, drawn through the staples and fixed so firmly that there is no' chance of the “droop” which so often spoils v the effect of other- vise attractive curtains. iUICK UOTES Sentinel Features HUMANITY’S HOPE M Our nation is made up of myriad* ©f people of all creeds, all religions, all races, all tongues. Our form of govern ment is the last hope of humanity. Our democracy must survive. It has sur vived. It does not have to be made to work because it has worked.”—U. S. Sen ator H. Styles Bridges. 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(giMOROLINEl PETROLEUM JELLY 17 Hold to Right Hold by the right, you double your might.—R. Browning. f £ £ . fijdluum, 000 EU LIQUID-TABLETS , / SALVE-NOSE DROPS, ftLAt . • *. . k c* , Four Score-Years Have Passed Since John Brown Died on the Scaffold But His Renown "Goes Marching On” By ELMO SCOTT WATSON (Heleased by Western Newspaper Union.) F OR four score years the body of John Brown has lain “moldering in its grave” but his fame ‘‘goes marching on.” The fires of the Civil war have long since died down but the song which once fanned its flames is still being sung by a generation of Americans to whom the story of this “martyr” (or “fanatic”) is but a dimly-re membered legend. They can, however, obtain a little clearer picture of what manner of man he was and why he was instrumental in setting millions of Ameri cans at each other’s throats if they read a book published recently by the Kansas Maga zine Publishing company of Manhattan, Kan. Last year Kirke Mechem, secretary of the Kansas State Historical society wrote a play about John Brown. It won the 1938 Maxwell Anderson Award of Stanford university. It was published as a book on Octo ber 16 of this year—the anni versary of John Brown’s fa mous raid on Harper’s Ferry. As December 2, 1939, ap-. proaches, it is appropriate to turn to the last two pages of this book and read there ACT THREE Scene III SCENE: A hill overlooking a val ley, December 2, 1859. At first dark, ^ it slowly becomes lighter until the figures of Kagi and Oliver are visible, although indefinite. (Note: John Henry Kagl, Brown’s chief lieutenant, and his youngest son, Oliver, were killed during the fighting at Harper’s Ferry.) Oliver—Kagi! I see the scaffold. Kagi—Yes, Oliver. Oliver—But we are dead! Kagi—Yes. Oliver—But why are we so dim? Kagi—Because our spirits were dim. Oliver—Spirits? Ghosts, Kagi? Kagi—Not heavenly ghosts or spirits, Oliver. But now we live within the minds of men. You are the Oliver the world remembers. And I am Kagi, living as a spirit In men’s remembrance. Oliver—Then as the world re members us we live! Kagi—Not by our earthly bodies, Oliver. No, for most strangely, in the same degree That men renounce their bod ies do their spirits Seem to have earthly life. Oliver—As we renounced ours, then we live? Kagi—Yes; somewhat dimly. Our renunciation Was a little under protest. ’Oliver—All the great spirits have renounced themselves. Kagi—If not renounced, tran scended, Oliver. Oliver—Kagi! They’re on the gal lows ! Kagi—Yes, so they are. Oliver—Kagi, Kagi! They’re hanging him! Kagi—Yes, Oliver, they think they’re hanging him. They have a scaffold and they have his body. Yes, now — They hang him! Now, John Brown is dead! That fierce and passionate body, there it hangs! They’ve strung him up between the earth and Heaven! John Brown is dead! Now cut his body down. Now, bury him. You cannot bury him! He stands colossal on the blood stained sod! He springs a hundred-fold— Oliver—Kagi! Look! Rising from the scaffold! All white and shining! Kagi—That is his spirit, Oliver! Oliver—What’s that? (There is a sound of a distant can non, then another.) Kagi—A cannon in the distance. Oliver—He’s moving! Someone is with him. Soldiers! Kagi—They’re coming. Millions. Millions. Following him. (As the lights fade from Kagi and Oliver, John Brown in a white light moves across the background, the heivli and shoulders of Union and THE EXECUTION OF JOHN BROWN NEAR CHARLESTOWN, VA. (From an illustration in Leslie’s Weekly, Dec. 17, 1859.) Confederate soldiers crossing and re crossing, and the music of “John Brown's Body" accompanying them. Brown's voice, pronouncing the names of the battles when the soldiers ap pear, slowly fades as the music in creases in volume.) Brown—Manassas. Shiloh. Get tysburg. Vicksburg. Chickamau- ga. Lookout Mountain. Wil derness— CURTAIN Thus the poet-dramatist’s version of the historic event which took place on that De cember day 80 years ago. For the version of an eye witness,, turn now to the July, 1921, issue of the Ohio Ar chaeological and Historical Quarterly and in it read “John Brown at Harper’s Ferry and Charlestown — A Lecture by S. K. Donovan.” In 1859 Donovan, who later became editor of the Colum bus (Ohio) Times and a con tributor to the Cincinnati En quirer, was a reporter for the Baltimore (Md.) Daily Ex change. He was the first newspaper correspondent on the ground after John Brown’s raid on Harper s Ferry be gan. He interviewed Brown John Brown at the time of his death. after his capture, accom panied the “angry man of God” and his fellow raiders when they were moved to Charlestown and was present when Brown was placed on trial for his life. Here is Don ovan’s account of the execu tion of John Brown: The air on the second day of December was crisp and sharp, such as we have in this latitude in early December when the weather is fine. Early in the morning there were fleecy clouds shrouding the sun, but by 10 o’clock these had dissipated and the sun shown brightly. John Brown dressed for the ex ecution when he rose from bed. About nine o’clock, bedizened with laces and cords and span gles, General Taliaferro, com mandant of the 3,000 Virginia uni formed militia, called at John Brown’s cell. The old hero was engaged in writing. As he looked up and recognized the general he said: “What is the hour of execu tion?” ’ “Eleven o’clock,” replied the general. “I will have finished my corre spondence before that hour,” he replied as he resumed his pen. Taliaferro stood for a moment and then turned on his heels and left the jail. He did not awe the old raider by his imposing pres ence and attitude. At 11 o’clock a furniture wagon, with two horses attached, was drawn up in front of the jail. John Brown with Sheriff Campbell on one side and Jailer Avis on the other stepped from the jail. Un aided Captain Brown got into the wagon and took a seat on a box which contained his coffin. Jailer Avis sat at his side. On the driv er’s seat sat George W. Sadler, Massachusetts man, resident of Charlestown, who thought it nec essary that he should drive John Brown to his death, that he might attest his loyalty to southern in stitutions. The Charlestown ca dets, under command of Capt. W. W. Gallagher, formed around the wagon, and preceded by military and followed by military the line of march was taken up to the field of execution just beyond the town limits and to the south of it. As Captain Brown filled his lungs with the crisp air he said to Mr. Sadler, “What a delicious atmosphere. It is very invigorat ing.” “Yes,” replied Mr. Sadler. They reached a little knoll from which the open country could be seen. “Why, Mr. Sadler, you have a lovely country surrounding you. I had no idea it was so lovely.” “Yes,” replied Mr. Sadler. Then the old man’s eye caught the Blue Ridge mountains. “Is the Blue Ridge always as beautiful as it is this morning?” he asked. “Yes,” replied Mr. Sadler, “al ways so on bright days. Captain Brown, you are more cheerful than I.” “Oh! yes, I should be.” And thus he proceeded to his death. Reaching the field, he got from the wagon unaided and started for the steps of the scaffold. Of all the scenes in a life which has not been uneventful, that scene at the scaffold is most indelibly impressed upon my mind. To night, as on that cool December morning nearly a generation ago, it stands distinctly before me. I see him as he places his foot on the first step. No bravado, but a calm mien and exquisite poise, step after step he takes, as though he were ascending the stairs in a gentleman friend’s home to a chamber in which he was to rest. Reaching the top, he steps forward on the trap, glances at the thousands of sol diers by whom he is surrounded and turns to Jailer Avis with, “Where are your citizens?” “Citizens are not allowed to be present,” the jailer replies. “That is a great mistake—a grave mistake. Your citizens should have -witnessed this scene.” He throws his head back and looks at the rope which dangles above him. Then his eyes catch the Blue Ridge and he turns al most around grasping its beauti- 1 ful sweep up the valley. A touch on his shoulder calls his atten tion, and, as he faces, the sheriff whispers to him. The old man reaches up and removes his old black felt hat, Ikying it at his feet; then runs his fingers through his hair, and then his arms are pinioned, his limbs are bound, the rope is adjusted and the white cap is drawn over his face. < Then an order is given to the military and it commences to maneuver. Charging and retreat ing, flying off at the flank and falling back on the center; 10 minutes are occupied in this bar barian behavior, and all the while the old man stands on the death trap without a tremor. Jailer Avis becomes impatient and says to Captain Brown, “Aren’t you getting tired, Cap tain?” “No, but I do not see the neces sity for keeping me waiting so long.” The military settle. The sher iff approaches the old man and touches his hand with a hand kerchief with the remark: “Drop this when you are ready.” “Oh, no! I do not need that. 1 am always ready.” In a few seconds the trap is sprung and in 15 minutes John Brown’s soul is with his God. Equally interesting is an other eye-witness account. This is contained in a letter written on the day of the exe cution by an officer, on duty with the Virginia Military In stitute cadets, to his wife in Lexington, Va. It was printed many years later—in the Jan uary 31, 1934, issue of the Lexington Gazette. It says in part: By 10 o’clock all was arrayed. The general effect was most im posing, and at the same time pic turesque. The cadets were im mediately in the rear of the gal lows, with a howitzer on the right and on the left, a little be hind so as to sweep the field. The whole enclosure was lined by cavalry troops, posted as sen tinels, with their officers continu ally dashing around the enclo sure. Outside this enclosure were other companies acting as ran gers and scouts. Shortly after 11 o’clock the prisoner was taken from the jail and the funeral cortege was put in motion. First came three com panies—then the criminal’s wag on, drawn by two large white horses. John Brown was seated on his coffin, accompanied by the sheriff and two other per sons. The wagon drove to the foot of the gallows, and Brown descended with alacrity, and without assistance, and ascended the steep steps to the platform. His demeanor was intrepid, with out being braggart. He made no speech, whether he desired tc make one or not, I do not know. His manner was free from trepi dation, but'his countenance was not without concern, and it seemed to me to have a little cast of wildness. ’ He stood upon the scaffold but a short time, giving brief adieus to those about him, when he was properly pin ioned, and the white cap drawn over his face, the noose adjusted John Brown in 1855. and attached to the hook above, and he was moved blindfold a few steps forward. It was curi ous to note how the instincts of nature operated to make him careful in putting out his feet, as if he were afraid he would walk off the platform. The man who stood unblenched on the brinkvof eternity was afraid of falling a few feet to the ground! He was now all ready. The sheriff asked him if he should give him a private signal, before the fatal moment. He replied in a voice which seemed to be un naturally natural—so composed was its tone and so distinct its articulation—that “it did not matter to him, if only they would not keep him too long waiting.” He was kept waiting, however. The troops that had formed his escort had to be put into their proper positions, and while this was going on he stood for 10 or 15 minutes blindfolded, the rope around his neck, and his feet on the treacherous platform, expect ing instantly the fatal act. But he stood for this comparatively long time upright as a soldier in position, and motionless. I was close to him, and watched him narrowly, to see if I could see any sign of shrinking or trem bling in his person. Once I thought I saw his knees trem ble, but it was only the wind blowing his loose trousers. His firmness was subjected to still further trial by hearing Colonel Smith announce to thd sheriff, “We are all ready, Mr. Camp bell.” The sheriff did not hear, or did not comprehend, and in a louder tone the announcement was made. But the culprit still stood steady, till the sheriff, de scending the flight of steps, with a well-directed blow of a sharp hatchet, severed the rope that held up the trap-door, which in stantly sank sheer beneath him, and he fell about three feet. And the man of strong and bloody hand, of fierce passions, of iron will, of wonderful vicissitudes— the terrible partisan of Kansas— the capturer of the United States arsenal at Harper’s Ferry—the would-be Cataline of the South— the demi-god of the Abolitionists —the man execrated and lauded —damned and prayed for—the man who in his motives, his means, his plans, and his suc cesses must ever be a wonder, a puzzle, and a mystery—Johr Brown was hanging between eaven and earth. CLASSIFIED DEPARTMENT BABY CHICKS BABY CHICKS (Mixed HmvIm) No tf, Cripples! No Culls! We guarantee ^ Live Delivery! We pay postage. ATLAS CHICK CO., St. Louie, Mo. )p*r 100 p’tpald Strange Facts I 1200 Years on Poem Thumbers Certified Blonds for Ladies The Hindu epic poem, the “Ma- habharata,” was started in 500 B. C., and not finished for 1,200 years, which is probably the long est period ever devoted to the composition of a single piece of secular literature. 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