THE SUMTER WATCHMAN, Established April, 1850. kBe Just and Fear not-Let ali the Ends thou Aims't at, be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's " THE TRUE SOUTHRON, Established June, r9l$ Consolidated Aug. 2, 1881.1 SUMTER, S. C., WEDNESDAY. FEBRUARY 19, 1890. New Series-Vol. IX, lie. 28, C|t S?aftjjman iv? j?od|)roii Published 679T7 Wednesday, BT N. Gr. OSTEEN, SUMTER, S. C. TERMS : Two Dollars per annum-in advance. ?DVBRTI8KXKNTS. One Square, first insertion.$1 00 Ever? subsequent insertion. 50 Contracts for three mouths, or longer will be made at reduced rates. All com uunications which subserve private interests will be charged for as advertisements. Obituaries and tributes of respect will be charged fer. POWDER Absolutely Pure? This powder never varies. A marvel of parity, strength and wholesomeness. More economical thao the ordinary kin?s, and can? not be sold ia competition with the multitude of low test, short weight, alum or phosphate Kwders. Sold only in cans. ROYAL BAK G POWDER CO., 106 Wall-st., N. Y. CATARRH Ely's Cream Balm degases the Kasai Passages. Al? lays Inflammation- Heals tho Sores. Bestares the Senses of Taste, Smell find Hearing. A particle Sc applied into each nostril ?ad ie agreeable. Price 5Qr. at Druggist* or by , ELY BROTHERS^6 Warren St.,New York. THE SIMONES NATIONAL BANK, OP SUMTER. STATE, CITY AND COUNTY DEPOSI? TORY, SUMTER, S. C. Paid np Capital.$75,000 00 Surplus Fond. 7,500 (F* Transacts a General Banking Business. Careful attention given to collections. SAVINGS DEPARTMENT. Deposits of $1 and upwards received. In? terest allowed at the rate of 4 per cent, per annum. Payable quarterly, on first days of January, April, July and October. R. M. WALLACE, Vice President. W. Arno* PBUfSLE. J su, Aug. T Cashier. ie BM w mm SUMTER, S C. CITY AND COUNTY DEPOSITORY. Transacts a general Banking business. Also bee A Savings Bank Department Deposits of $1.00 and upwards received. Interest calculated at the rate of 4 per cent, per annum, payable quarterly. W. F. B. HAYNSWORTH, A. WHITE, JR., President. Cashier. Aug 21._ TAX RETURNS FOR 1889-90. RETURNS of Personal Property, Polls and Real Estate will be received at the following times and places : On Tuesday, January 7th, at Tin? dall^ Store. On Wednesday, January 8ih, at K. I. Manning's, On Thursday, January 9th, Wedge? field. On Friday, January 10th, at Gor? don's Mill. Oo Monday, January 13th, at John? ston's Store. On Taesday, January 14th, at Shi? loh. On Wednesday, January 15th, at Lynchburg. On Thursday, January 16th, at Mag? nolia. On Friday, January 17th, at Mayes ville. On Monday, January 20th, at Cor? bett's Store. Oa Tuesday and Wednesday Janu? ary 2l8t and 22ad, at Bisbopviile. On Tbarsday, January 23rd, at Man? ille. Oo Friday, January 24th, at Spring Hill. On Saturday, January 25th at Me? chantes vi lie. On Monday, January 27th, at State burg. On Tuesday, January 2Sth, at H a good. Oo Wednesday, January 29tb, at Re m bert's. On Tbcraday, January 30th, at Scarborough's Store. And Attbe Auditor's Office in Sumter on all other days from January Ut to Feb. 20th, j inclusive. As this is the jeer for returning Beal Estate, Tax -payers are requested to make ' full returns of all Real Estate owned on 1st January, 1890, sad notices of any transfers. ? W. R. DELGAR, Dec. 4-Feb 20. Auditor Sumter Co. ' By E EIDEB EAGGA2D. Author of "Colonel Qxtaritch, V. C.," "Mr. Meeson'* WilL? "A Tale of Three Lions," "Allan Quatermain," "She," "Jess," etc. SYNOPSIS OF THE STORY. This story is supposed to be founded upon a manuscript found in the papers of Allan Quater main, which were given to the author as literary executor. lu it Quatennain tells the story of his marriage. CHAPTER I.-Descri!)os Allan's first meeting, wha and Quatermain, with the child, made their escape. CHAPTER VL WAS not slow tc take Indaba-zini bf s hint About a hundred and fifty yards to the left of tlie laagei was a little dell where I had hid? den my horse, to? gether with one belonging to the Boers, and my saddleand bridle Thither we went. I carrying the swooning Tota in my arms. To our joy we found the horses safe, for the Zulus had not seen them. Now, of course, they were our only means of locomotion, for the oxen had been sent away, and even had they been there we could not have found time to inspan them. I laid Tota down, caught my horse, undid his knee halter and saddled up As I was doing so a tnought struck me. and I told Indaba-zimbi to run to the laager and see if he could find my double barreled gun and some powder and shot, for I had only my elephant "roer" and a few charges of powder and ball with roe. He went, and whi'e he was away, poor little Tota came to herself and began to cry, till she saw my face. "Ah, I have had such a bad dream," she said, in Dutch; "I dreamed that the black Kaffirs were going to kill me. Where is my papa?" I winced at the question. " Your pap* has gone on a journey, dear," I said, "and left me to look after you. We shall lind' him one day. You don't mind going with Heer A 'Ian, do you?" 44No," she said, a little doubtfully, and began to cry again. Presently she re? membered that she was thirsty, and asked for water. I led her to the river and she drank. "Why is my hand red, Heer Allan?" she asked, pointing to the smear of Bombyanes blood stained fingers. At that moment I felt very glad that I had killed Bombyane. "It is only paint, dear," I said: "see, we will wash it and your face." As I was doing this, Indaba-zimbi re? turned. The guns were all gone; he said tho Zulus had taken them and the powder. But he had found some things and brought them in a sack. There was a thick blanket, about twenty pounds weight of biltong or sun dried meat, a few double handfuls of 6hip s biscuits, two water bottles, a tin pannikin, some matches and sundries. "And now, Macumazahn," he said, "we had best be going, for those Unitet was are coming back. I ?aw one of them on the brow of the rise." That was enough for me. I lifted little Tota on to the bow of my saddle, climbed into it nnd rode off, holding her in front of me. IuJaha-zimbi slipped a rein into the mouth of the best of the Boer horses, threw tho sack of sundries on to its back and mounted also, holding the elephant gun in his hand. We went eight or nine hundred yards in silence till we were ^uite out of range of sight from the wag? ons, which were in a hollow. Then I pulled up, with such a feeling of thank? fulness in my heart as cannot be told in words; for now I knew that, mounted a3 we were, those black demons could never catch us But where were we to steer for? I put the question to Indaba-zimbi, asking him if he thought that we had batter trv and follow the oxen that we had sent away with the Kaffirs and wo? men on the preceding night He shook hi3 head. "The Cmtetwas will go after the oxen presently." he ??nswered, "and we have seen enoo^L of thom." "Quite enough," I answered with en? thusiasm; "I never want to see another; but where are we to go? Here we are with one gun and a little girl in the vast and lonely veldt. Which way shall we turn?" "Our faces were towards the north be? fore we met the Zulus," answered indaba zimbi; "let us still keep them towards the north. Ride on, Macumazahn; to? night when we off-saddle 1 will look into the matter." So all that long afternoon we rode on, following the course of the river. From the nature of the ground we could only go slowly, but before sunset I had the satisfaction of knowing that there must be at least twenty-five miles between ua j and those accursed Zulus. Little Tota slept most of the way, the mot iori of the j horse was easy, and she was worn out. I At last the sunset came, and we off saddled in a dell by the river. There ! was not much to eat, but 1 soaked some i biscuit in water for Tota, and Indaba- j zimbi and I made a scanty meal off bil- | tong. When we had done I took off : Totas frock, wrapped her up in the j blanket near the fire we had made and j lit a pipe. I sat there by the side of the orphaned child, and from my hearl thanked Providence for saving her life and mine from the slaughter of that day. What a horrible experience it had been! It seemed like a nightmare tc look back upon. And yet it was sobei fact, one among those many tragedies which dotted the paths of the emigrant Boers with the bones of men, women and children. These horrors are almost forgotten now; people li ring in Natal, for instance, can scarcely realize that some forty years ago 600 white people, many of them women and children, were thus massacred by the impis at Dingaan. But it was so, and tho name of the district, Weenen, or the Place of Weeping, will commemorate them for? ever. Then I fell to reflecting on the ex? traordinary adroitness old Indaba-zimbi had shown tn saving my life. It ap? peared that he himself had lived among the Umtetwa Zulus in his earlier man? hood, and was a noted rain doctor and witch finder. But when TChaka. Din? gaan s brother, ordered a general massa? cre of the witch finders he had fled south and so saved his life. When he heard, therefore, that the regiment was an Um? tetwa. regiment, which, leaving their wives and children, luid broken away from Zululand to escape the cruelties of Dingaan, he, under pretense of spying on them, took the bold course of going straight up to the chief, Sususa, and ad? dressing him as his brother, which he was. The chief knew him at once, and so did the soldiers, for his fame was still great among them. Then he told him his cock and bull story about my being a white spirit, whose presence in the laager would render it invincible, and with the object of saving ray life in the slaughter which he knew must ensue, agreed to charm me out of the laager and deliver me into their keeping. How the plan worked has already been told; it was a risky one; still; but for it my troubles would have been done with these many dava So I lay and thought with a heart full of gratitude, and as I did so saw old In daba-zimbi sitiing by the fire and going through some mysterious performances with bones, which he produced from his bag, and ashes mixed with water. I spoke to him and asked what he was about He replied that he was tracing out the route that we should follow. I felt inclined to answer "bosh," but re? membering the very remarkable in? stances which he had given of his prowess in occult matters, I held my tongue, and taking little Tota into my arms, worn out with toil and danger and emotion, went to sleep. I woke just as the dawn was beginning to flame across the sky tn sheets of prim? rose and of gold, or rather it was little Tota who woke me by kissing me as siie lay between sleep and waking, and call? ing me ..Papa." It wrung my heart to hear her. I got up, washed and dressed the child a3 best I could, and then we breakfasted as we had supped, on biltong and biscuit. Tota asked for milk, but I had none to give her. Then we caught the horses, and I saddled mine, "Well, Indaba-zimbi," 1 said, "now what path do your bones point to?** "Straight north," he said. "The jour? ney will be hard, but in four days we shall come to the kraal of a white man, an Englishman, not a Boer. His kraal is in a beautiful place, and there is a great peak behind it where there are many baboons." I looked at him. "This is all nonsense, Indaba-zimbi," I said. "Whoever heard of an Englishman building a house in these wilds, and how do you know any? thing about it? I think that we had better strike east towards Port Natal/ "As you like, Macumazahn," he an? swered, "but it will take us three months' journey to get to Port Natal, if we ever get there, and the child will die on the road. Say, Macumazahn, have my words come true heretofore, or have they not? Did I not tell you not to hunt the ele? phants on horseback? Did I not tell you to take one wagon with you instead of two, as it is better to lose one than two?" "You told me all these things," I an? swered. "And so I tell you now to ride north, ??acuniazahn, for there you will find great happiness-yes, and great sorrow. But no man should run away from hap? piness because of sorrow. As you will, as you will!" Again I looked at him. In his divina? tions I did not believe, but yet I came to the conclusion that he was speakin? wha* he knew to IH? the truth. It struck me as possible that he might have heard of some white man living like a hermit in the wilds, but preferring to keep up his prophetic character would not say so. "Very well, Indaba-zimbi," I said; "let us ride north." Shortly after we started, the river we had followed hitherto turned off in a j westerly direction, so we left it. All j that day we rode across rolling uplands, \ and alout an hour before sunset halted j at a little stream which ran down from a range of hills in front of us. By this time I was heartily tired of the biltong, so taking my elephant rifle-for I had nothing else-I left Tota with Indaba zimbi. and started to see if I could shoot I something. Oddly enough we had seen no game all the day, nor did we see any ! on the subsequent days. For some mysterious reason they had tempo- j rarily left the district. I crossed the ! little streamlet in order to enter ' the belt of thorns which grew upon the hillside beyond, for there 1 hoped to find buck. As I did so I was rather disturbed to see the spoor of two lions in the soft, sandy edge of a pool. Breathing a hope that they might not j still be in the neighborhood, I went on ! into th?4 !>elt of scattered thorns. For a j long while I hunted about without seeing I anything, except one (linker huck, which bounded olf with a crash from the other j side of a stone without giving nie a chance. At length, justas it grew dusk, ? I spied a Pet ie buck, a graceful little creature, scarcely bigger than a large ? hare, standing on a stone, alxmt forty j yards from me. Under ordinary cir? cumstances I should never have dreamed of firing at such a thing, especially with an elephant gun, but we were hungry. So I sat down with my back against a rock, and aimed steadily at its head. I did this because if I struck it in tiie l>odv j the three-ounce ball would have knocked j it to bits. At last I jmlled thc trigger, the gun went '>tf wit ii thc report <>f a small cannon.and th?' buck disappeared. , I ran tt with more anxiety than j I should have felt in an ordinary way j overa koodoo or an eland. Tomydelight there the little creature lay-the huge ! bullet had decapitated it. Considering ; all the circumstances.] do not think I I have often made a better shot than this, but if any one doubts, let him try his hand at a rabbit's head fifty yards away , with an elephant gun and a three-ounce j ball. I picked up the petie in triumph and ? returned to the camp. There we skinned him and toasted him over the fire, lie i just made a good meal for us, keeping j the hind legs for breakfast. There was no moon that night, and i it chanced that when I suddenly remec bered about the lion spoor, and suggest* that we had better tie up the horses qui CiOse to us, we could not find theu though we knew that they were graziii within fifty yards. This being so, v could only make up the fire and take ot chance. Shortly afterwards I went 1 6leep with little Tota in my arms. Su< den ly ? was awakened by hearing th J peculiarly painful sound, the scream < a horse, quite close to the fire, whic was still burning brightly. Next secon there came a noise of galloping hoof and before I could even rise my poe horse appeared in the ring of iireligh As in a flash of lightning, I saw his sta: ing eyes and wide stretched nostrils, an the broken rein with which he had bee knee haltered flying in the air. Also saw something else, for on his back wa a great dark form with glowing eye: and from the form came a growlin sound. It was a lion. The horse dashed on. He gal?ope right through the fire, for which he ha run in his terror, fortunately, howevei without treading on us. and vanishe into the night. We heard his hoofs for hundred yards or more, then there wa silence, broken now and again by distan growls. As may be imagined, we di not sleep any more that night, but waite anxiously till two hours later the daw] broke. As soon as there was sufficient ligh we rose, and, leaving Tota still asleep crept cautiously in the direction in whicl the horse had vanished. When we ha< gone fifty yards or so, we made out it remains lying on the veldt, and caugh sight of two great cat like forms slinking away in the gray light. To go any further was useless; w< knew ail about it know, and we turnee to look for the other horse. But our cu] of misfortune was not yet full; it wa nowhere to be found. Soon we cami upon its spoor, and then we saw wha had happened. Terrified by the sigh and smell of the lions, it had with a des perate effort also burst the rein witl which it had been knee haltered, anc galloped far away. For now we wen left alone in these vast solitudes withoul a horse to carry us, and with a child wh( was not old enough to walk for more than a little way at a time. Well, it was no use giving in, so with a few words we went back to our camp where I found Tota crying because she had woke to find herself alone, and ate ? little food. Then we prepared to start. First we divided such articlesaswe mus? take with us into two equal parts, reject lng everything that we could possibly dc without. Then, by an afterthought, we filled our water bottles, though at the time I was rather against doing so, because of the extra weight. But Indaba-zinibi overruled me in the matter, fortunately for all three of us. I settled to look after Tota for the first march, and gave the elephant gun to Indaba-zimbi. At length all was ready, and we set out on foot. By the help of occasional lifts over rough places, Tota managed to walk up the slope on the hillside where I had shot the Petie buck. At length we reached it, and, looking at the country beyond, I gave an exclamation of dismay. To say that it was desert would be saying too much; it was more like the Barroo in the Cape-a vast sandy waste, stud? ded here and there with low Bhrubs and scattered rocks. But it was a great ex? panse of desolate land, stretching as far as the eye could reach, and U>rdered far away by a line of purplo hills, in the center of which a great solitary peak soared high into the air. "Indaba-zimbi," I said, "we can never cross this if we take six days." "As you will, Macumazahn," he an? swered; "but I tell you that there"-and he pointed to the peak-"there the white man lives. Turn which way you like, but if you turn you will perish." I reflected for a moment. Our case was, humanly speaking, almost hopeless. It mattered little which way we went. We were alone, almost without food, w ith no means of transport and a child to carry. As well perish in the sandy waste as on the rolling veldt or among the trees of the hillside. Providence alone could save us, and we must trust to providence. "Come on," I said, lifting Tota on to my back, for she was already tired. "All roads lead to rest" How am I to describe the misery of me next four days? How ara I to tell how we stumbled on through that awful desert, almos i without food, and quite without water, for there were no streams, and we saw no springs? We soon found how the case was, and saved almost all the water in our littles for the child. To look back on it is like a nightmare. I can scarcely bear to dwell on it. Day after day, by turns carrying the child through the heavy sand; night after night lying down in the scrub, chewing the loaves, and licking such dew as there was from the scanty grass! Not a spring, not a pool, not a head of game! It was the third night; we were nearly mad with thirst. Tota was in a comatose condition. Indaba-zimbi still had a lit? tle water in his bottle-perhaps a wine glassful. We moistened her lips and our blackened tongues with it. Then we gave the rest to the child. It revived her. Slie awoke from her swoon to sink into sleep. See, the dawn was breaking. The hills were not more than eight miles or so away now. and they were green. There must be water lhere. "Come," I said. Indaba-zimbi lifted Tota into the kind of sling that we had made out of the blanket in which to carry her on our backs, and we staggered on for an hour through the sand. She woke crying for water, and alas! we had none to give her; our tongues were hanging from our lips; we could scarcely speak. Wc rested awhile, and Tota mercifully swooned away. Then Indaba-zimbi took her. Though he was so thin, the old man's strength was wonderful. Another hour; the slope of the great peak could not be more than two miles away now. A couple of hundred yards off gn-w a large baobale tret*. Could we reach its shade? We had done half the distance when Indaba-zimbi fell from ex? haustion. We were now so weak that neither of us could lift the child on to mir backs. We each took one of her ? hands and dragged her along the road, j Fifty yards-they seemed to Ix? fifty | miles. Ah, til.? uv was reached at hist; com pared with the heal outside, ti ic sha? li' j of its dorise foliage seemed like thc dusk i and cool of a vault. 1 remember think- j ing that it was a good place to die in. ! Then I remember no more. I wok?* with a feeding as though the i blessed rain were falling on my faccand i head. Slowly, and wi; h great difficulty, I opened my eyes, the?? shut them again, having s< -MI a vision. For a space I lay j thus, while the rain continued to fall; 1 ! sa w now that I must be asleep, or off my ; head with thirst or fever. If 1 were not ; oiT my head, how came I to imagine that.-i lovely dark eyed girl was bending , o\cr me, sprinkling water on my face? A white girl, too, hot a Ivafilr won However, tho dream went on. "Hendrika." said a voice in Engl the sweetest voice that I had ever he; somehow it reminded me of wind w pering in the trees at night. "? drika, I fear ho dies; there is a flaal brandy in my saddle bag; get it." "Ah! ah!" grunted a harsh voie* answer; "let him die, Miss Stella, will bring you bad luck-let him di say. I felt a movement of air above as though the woman of my vision tur swiftly, and once again I opened eyes. She had risen, this dream worn Now I saw that she was tall and gn fui as a reed. She was angry, too; dark eyes flashed, and she pointed \* her hand at a female who stood bel her, dressed in nondescript kind clothes, such as might be worn by eit a man or a woman. The woman i young, of white blood, very short, w bowed legs and enormous shoulders, face she was not bad looking, but brow receded, the chin and ears w prominent-in short, she reminded of nothing so much as a very handso monkey. She might have been the m ing link. The lady was pointing at her with 1 hand. "How dare youl" she said. "I you going to disobey me again? Hi you forgotten what I told you, Baby (baboon)?" "Ahl ah!" grunted the woman, w seemed literally to curl and shrivel beneath her anger. "Don't be anf with me, Miss Stella, because I ca bear lt I only said it because it v true. I will fetch the brandy." Then, dream or no dream, I determir to speak. "Not brandy," I gasped in English well as my swollen tongue would allo "give me water." "Ah, he lives!" cried the beautil girl, "and he talks English. See, 6 here is water in your own bottle; y were quite close to a spring on the otr side of the tree." I struggled toe afraid," said the lady again laughing gently. "Look, she is quite safe." I looked, and so she was. She had caught a bough as she fell, clung to it, and was now calmly dropping to an? other. Old Indaba-zimbi had also watched this performance with interest, but it did not seem to astonish him over much. "Baboon woman," he said, as though such people were common, and then turned his attention to soothing Tota, who was moaning for more water. Meanwhile Hendrika came down the tree with extraordinary rapidity, and swinging by one hand from a Ixnigh. dropped about ten feet to the ground. In another two minutes we were all three sucking the pulpy fruit. In an or? dinary way we should have found it tasteless enough; as it was I thought it the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. After three days spent without food or water, in thc desert, one is not particular. While we were still eating the fruit, the lady of my vision set her companion to work to partially flay tho oribo which her dogs had killed, and busied herself in making a fire of fallen boughs. As soon as it burned brightly she took strips of tho oribo flesh, toasted them, and gave them to us on leaves. We ate, and now we were allowed a lit? tle anon* water. After that she took lit? tle Tota to the spring and washed her, which she sadly needed, poor child! Next came our turn to wash, and oh, the joy of it! 1 came back to the tree, walking pain? fully indeed, but a changed man. Them sat the beautiful girl, with Tota on her knees. Slie was lulling her to sleep, and held up her finger to me enjoining si? lence. At last the child went off into .i sound, natural slumber-au example that I should have been glad to follow had it not been for* my burning curiosity Then I spoke: "May I ask what your name is?" said. "Stella," she answered. "Stella what?" I said. "Stella nothing," she answered, ll some pique. "Stella is my name; it i short and easy to remember, at any rate My father's name is Thomas, and we liv up there," and she pointed round th? base of the great peak. I looked at he astonished. "Have you lived there long? I asked. "Ever since I was seven years old We came there in a wagon. Before tha we came from England-from Oxford shire; I can show you the place on th< big map. It is called Garsingham." Again I thought I must be dreaming "Do you know, Miss Stella," I said, "i is very strange-so strange that it al most seems as though it could not tx true-but I also came from Garsingham In Oxfordshire, many years ago." She started up. "Are you an Eng lish gentleman?" she said. "Ah, I havt always longed to see an English gentle man. I have never seen an Englishman since we lived here-no white people al all, indeed, except a few wandering Boers. We live among black people and baboons-only I have read about them lots of books-poetry and novels. Bul tell me what is your name? Macuma zahn the black man called you, but you must have a white name, too." "My name is Allan Quatermain," 1 said. Her face turned quite white, her rosy lips parted, and she looked at me wildly with her beautiful dark eyes. "Do you know, it is very strange," she said, "but I have often heard that name. My father has told me how a little boy called Allen Quatermain once saved my life by putting out my dress when it was on fire-see (and she pointed to a faint red mark upon her neck), here ia the scar of the burn." "I remember it," I said. "You were dressed up as Father Christmas. It was I who put out th,? fire; my wrists were burnt in doing so." Then for a space we sat silent, looking at each other, while Stella slowly fanned herself with her wide felt hat, in which some white ostrich plumes were fixed. "This is God's doings," she said at last. "You saved my life when I was a little child; now I have saved yours and the little girl's. Is she your little daughter?" she added, quickly. "No," I said; "I will tell you the tale presently." "Yes," she said, "you shall tell me as we go home. It is time to be starting home, it will take us three hours to get there. Hendrika, Hendrika, bring the horses here!" [TO SB CONTINUKD J [For the Watchman and Southron.] The Negro Problem. Mach that is worthless, a little that is sensible and a great deal that is nau? seous, on the above theme, has found its way into print of late. Tbe moan tain has beeu in great agony and the political accouchera have not yet suc? ceeded in bringing forth even a mouse. We take for granted that oar readers are familiar with everything that has been said to date ; it would be tedious and enle8s to recapitolate. Senator Butler thinks that $0,000,000 would suffice to deport 7,000,000 of indigent souls, to convey them across 4,000 miles of ocean, feeding them on the way, aod to give them a permanent settle? ment in strange aod hostile land. This is about 71 cents per capita (Miralie dictul) Senator Hampton thinks the scheme an excellent one, bat that more money is necessary, and bases his con? clusions on the assumed fact that two races of men cannot live together, on an equal status before the law, without conflict ; that separation or amalgama? tion are the only alternatives ; that the latter is not to be considered, as the whites and negroes will never coalesce ; and that the former is not only oar sole refuge from the sad dilemma, bat a great good, per se, promising peace and harmony to the South (now presumably in a state of pandemonium) and afford? ing us the happy opportunity (Glory, hallelujah !) of spreading the Gospel among the naked aboriginees of the Dark continent. Jupiter Tonans, from Kansas, thinks that the negro is right now domiciled where be can do the most good, but that he is not doing quite enough good at present; that the cares of State should be cast upon his sable shoulders ; that he should enact, expound and execute our laws, and thus vouchsafe to bis white neighbors the opportunity for that pious, philosophie meditation, attain? able only io the stilly shades of private life Seoator Reagan has not such a hungering and thirsting after missionary exploitation as our quandam Apostle of Home Rule; still he thinks that the matter ought to be acted upon with ref? erence, exclusively, to the convenre??e of the negro and bis brother across the water. One eminent statesman from Georgia says that we ought to send the ?tad negroes away aod keep the good ones at home. Auotber practitioner from the Northwest prescribes a domes? tic remedy for the suffering patient : we ought to colonize bim on a part of the Federal domain in the West (Query : Where is it?). I From more than one source we h^ar that no action at all ie called for io the premises ; that co-education will event ; ually merge bo'h races into one, by a j process of insouciance. It is remarkable that a simple and i patent fact, lying upon the very tbres ! hold of tbe inquiry should have escaped I the notice of all these people. And yet ! it is a fact of which every field-laborer and street-boy is cognizant, and which; if attended to .would have saved them i all their patriotic travail The fact is this : iVo negro problem in reality exists. The whole discussion reminds one of the trick played by Ben Franklin upon the French philosophers. He told the i distinguished Doctors of the Royal i Academy that he desired enlightenment ; < upon an occult subject. They replied I i that they were charmed. The wicked i fellow then propounded to them propo- i sition utterly unheard of and impossible 1 -gravely staring it, however, as a fact- I and demanded an explanation on seien- < tifie principles. The Frenchmen took | everything for granted, smiled loftily at i Franklin's verdancy, remarked that i what appeared paradoxical to bim Was i but a manifestation of Natore's Law, < aod proceeded to give him a very enter- I taining assortment of reasons for an i imaginary, impossible and non-existent fact. 1 I But while there ii now no negro ' i problem, each as is presupposed iu But ?er's colonization bill, nevertheless, ou Southern leaders are industriously help ing our "friends over the line" to create one. We are not surprised at Bil Chandler & Co. What is fun for th? boys is death to the frogs-and we ar< the frogs. But for our own represen? tatives in Congress to invite the aid o our inveterate foes from Kansas aoc Vermont in the management and adjust? ment of our local concerns, appears tc us as insane as for iEsop's earthen ves? sel to solicit the escort of the brazen pot, while plunging down thc stream to? gether. An imaginary danger freqaantly be? comes real and menacing, as soon as you get people to believe in its exist? ence. To illustrate : The people ol Sumter County are now at peace with themselves and the whole world. The quiet citizen seeks bis couch, without arms, undisturbed by any fear of the assassin's dagger, or the incendiary's torch. But let some alarmist invent a plausible story of conspiracy and get up a scare. At once, five hundred men, women and children call to mind occur? rences which appeared innocent at the time, but of which they now see the fearful significance. Now let a confla? gration take place, the ciuse of which oaonot be positively ascertained to have been accidental. The question is set? tled. The land is in a ferment. Patrols are put ont. People who never insured before apply for policies, which, per? haps the local agents refuse to issue. Nobody gets into bed without first peep? ing under it. And now some evil minded persons, who have long smoth? ered old grudges, take the necessary sae. Such a demon lives io every neighborhood. Ile can now wreak ven? geance on one man, by buming his boase, and on another by accusing bim of the deed. A little whib and blood begins to flow. There are massacres, lynchings, judicial investigations and perjuries. Finally, after much harm is lone, the common sense of the people asserts itself, and the whole romance diee as suddenly as it is born. The negro is now quietly and inof? fensively following the even tenor of bis way. Bat the agitators are moving Beaven and earth to convince him and is that he is dangerous. One repre? sents us as standing on a thin crust, with a volcano smoldering beneath oar feet. Another makes the negro a sword of Damocles, and hangs him by a hair Dver oar beads. A third makes him a viper, and pots him in our bosom to bite as. In the coarse of time all this will reach the negro. His present peaceful und contented state will give place to one of turbulence and unrest. From bearing continually that there is danger of his disrupting our political and social system, he will at length think that there exists some reason for his doing so ; that a resait feared by as, mast, ipso facto, be desirable to him ; and that he may be seduced into an attitude which will force us, at last, to treat bim as a "problem " Let the negro alone. Even D. H. Chamberlain said the other day to the Boston Reform Clab, "Let the negro alone, he is doing well in the South." Daniel's mouth is no prayer-book, but io this case there was no motive for de? ception. The dastardly malignants in the North, who have waged unremitting war upon the Sooth, from the day on which they crept forth from their bomb proofs, in the spring of '65, are not to be expected to let either us or the negro alone. They will continue, of course, to work the Southern negro for all he is worth, as a lever, to annoy and injure the Southern white man. AU the bun comb about good feeling, brotherhood, etc., is a delusion and a snare. Those people bate as. Your correspondent bas seen, in Kansas, illustrated story? books, the existence of which be could scarcely ba ve credited, except apon the evidence of his own senses. These books are used tu the Sabbath schools. Some of them are so vile that their Contents can only be hinted at, in these columns. They represent the Southern people especially the Missourians and Texans -as a race of epicures, traitors, cow? ards and despots, who cat things from which any well regulated person would turo away in disgust, who practice vices such as Were buried beneath the waters of the Dead Sea, and who sometimes marry their own sisters. Shriukiug along oar back-alleys, or hidden iu our iamp cellars, there are said to be found hideous and sickening monstrosities, surged by a frowning Providence be jause of the abominations of their fathers and mothers. The infants of j Kansas are taught those stories, with jomraents more or less extended, by : aard-faced, thin-lipped '.Marms," who ;eil them, through their peaked blue loses, that the books contain only half be truth. At such fountains as these. Mr. Ingalls, in all probability, drank ; ?fhen a boy. Nor is this deadly animosity confined o Kansas, it is common in some parts >f the North to accuse the Southern )eople of infecting populous cities with pel'.uw fever to tarn trade. And, listen o this : James A. Garfield, the Credit Mobilier bribe-taker, while speaking rom a balcony io Washington, in the ast days of '65, said to ai audience, principally blue coats, ''The ?ten who ?ave been engaged for four years tn ihoottng this government to death, ioght to be hung by thc neck, and heir women and their lands ought to be riven to their negroes, whose compul lory and unrequited labor, in violation >f all the laws of God, bas famished hem the means of treason." This itterancc wa? most cordially received. We say that if we are not dolts and lotards, we will not expect these people, >r their remote descendants, to let as, ?: the negro, alone, as long as they can nterfere to our hurt. Dut we ourselves, ortunately, have it iu our power to ! ieutralize the effects of their officious j >enevolence. We can omit to help bern stir thc negro up. Our papers i :an omit to publish their diatribes. Our j >eople can instruct their leaders, and j ise the omnipotent ballot-box, in hav ng those instructions respected. And f agitators come among us, as in "the lays of good stealing/' tar and feathers, he lash, and the rope will be found nost excellent conservators. There was once a negro problem, and he qucsiion was, whether thc negro j ?houlu be a slave or a ire ema e. 'fb? t -J-?. . - -B*? war solved that problem and happily left the negro free. This was followed? by a corollary, the question being that of race supremacy in the South. The* moment that extraneous force was with? drawn, this question settled itself, and left the whites supreme. Whenever* the Southern white and the Southern negro grow OJ mua Hy tired of each other,, there will be another problem ;: and it? will be solved, as the last was, with ex? clusive reference to the interests of the' whites. Power is irresponsive and* without conscience;- and tbs is espe? cially true when the power is Weilded by men of Anglo Saxon brood. The negro* has rights God gave (bern to him. Bu* God has made the Saxon a land-thief and? an) an-thief, from time immemorial, and? however gentle and indulgent he may be* ?n his individual intercourse witE the ne? gro, while conditions are harmonious4 and interests identical, yet, whenever" the races become irreconcilably antag? onistic, and one or the other mast give way, the negro will go. Siiould' he be banished to Africa, it will not be' to evangelize Africa, but to de-African? ize America. The chances are that fe' will be sent, neither to Africa nor to af Western Territory, but to the cfevii'. When this remote, and altogether im' probable event takes place, and you' talk to the Saxon of jtcsttce, he will? ans wer you back with expediency. Tell him that the negro has rights, and he" will say, ''Yes, that is so; but tho* question is, what are you going to do* about ?" But while we do not concede that? the presence and numerical superiority of the negro will ever be forrad, ra ffhe' absence of Federal pressure/ krcompat ible with the existing order of things ? we are yet willing to admit that it is impolitic and unwise to effect, by indi? rection, an end that is attainable by law? ful and regular methods^ and- thfe* brings us up to the suggestion which we* set out to make : Call a ecn-sthirtiouat convention ; amend our organic law ? enact a property qualification for suf' frage; decimate the Hydra-headed sov ereign ; submit to a corresponding* dimi? nution in our Federal representation. Do this and the bone of contention will be gone, Messrs. IogaUs and Chandler* will be left" nigh' and dry, and' We wil? have peace. More hereafter. -. ' - mw Centeimial of the Federal fa* dieiary; The celebration of this e*/en? oCcrJrrecf at New York cn- the 3li instant, and was* celebrated in a manner worthy of the* august tribunal whore advent occurred one hundred years ago. lt was an occa? sion which demanded a' Worthy celebra? tion, for amid all of the' changes and? vicissitudes through which ocr erotratry* has passed during this period, the Fed' eral Judiciary, especially the Supremer Court, bas maintained its dignity and sustained its reputation for incompar? able integrity, and its decisions have* reflected the highest credit on the ability of its members, and become the acron ra? tion of foreign judicatories. This Court? is emphatically the palladium of our lib-* erties, and she fathers built surely and wisely in their incorporation of rf and its' powers into the Constitution. Thcc*e? tennial deserved to have as its presiding officer es-Pr?sident Cleveland, who was4 peculiarly fcappy in bia address of wet come. Always crear rn expression* and happy in style, he even* excelled himself on this occa? sion. There is nothing finer in our po? litical literature than the following ? "In the creation of the world the earth" was without form and void and darkness? was upon the face of the deep until Gool said let there be fight and there was light. In the creation of the new na? tion, oar free institutions Were wrthoat form and symmetry of strength, ano* the darkness of hopelessness brooded over fhe aspirations of out people until a light in the temple of justice and law, gathered froo?r the divine fofmatfoff of light, illumined the work of the Father** of the Repudie.-"" The entire address hi fepiete' w?tn? pearls of thought and noble, patriotic* sentiments. He has the happy factflty* of always saying the right thing on al! such occasions, and is laying broader and deeper the foundation of his popu? larity. He is furthermore doiffg" so* without individual effort or self-seeking* He TS a icfty rrjao, and to day is more' prominently before the country thant any other Democrat, and although now' a private citizen,occupies infinitely * more influential place than the present figure head in the White House. So* far as iufiuencing public opinion on any subject ts concerned, no ex-President 6ince the days of Old Hickory has had the following be has, is more looked up to. or whose counsel will be more sought after when an exigency arises. Poor* Hayes may bc regarded ss 3 good judge' of improved breeds of chickens, and lit? tle Ben will be relegated also to some minor and uninSuential post when bis" term expires, but Cleveland bids fair not only to continue to influence his party and have his views thoughtfully considered by thc entire ountry, bot from the present outlook will return to* the White House in 189*2. This cen* teunial bas gf?en him a fitting oppor? tunity to add another ?esf to the wreath af his fame. ---^mm*~ -- A CHILD Kl LL I-; D', Another child killed by the ?se of qpi.tt??t ?iven m tho tonn of Soothing syrcp. Why mother's give their children ?;irh deadly noiso? is surprising when they can relieve the ch rid o{ tts peculiar troubles by using Acker's Raby Soother. It contains no Opium or Morphine* Sold by J. F. W. DeLoTuie. 16 The Pulptt and the Stage. Rev. F. M. Shrout. pastor United Brethren' Church. J?lue Mound, Kan.. 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