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VOL. 23. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THTJBSDAY, NOVEMBEB 29, 1877. NO. 48.
(Nginal faetrg.
For the Yorkville Enquirer.
THE CONFLICT.
BY WHO.
Around all mortals here there's trouble,
And great sorrows often swell the breast,
Till all on earth seems but a bubble,
Toss'd on a mad sea that cannot rest;
And like life here a fleeting vapor,
That awhile appears and then is gone,
Where death, the fearless mighty reaper,
Is ever singing his harvest home.
Few do more than touch the shores of time,
Ere they from them take their departure,
To a far worse or better clime
In the never-ending hereafterAll
hoping that the future holds in store
Something better than they found in life,
As we toil on, hoping evermore, j
Thro' the wildest, bitterest storms of strife.
The earth hears but little else than chimes,
Solemn chants and funeral dirges,
At all seasons and in all its climes;
Yet life from all this din emerges?
Eternal life?when storms have battered
The body down to its native dust,
Aud back again its dust been scattered
To th' elements that contained it first.
Then, away beyond the fadeless blue,
And beyond where human sight is lost
In mist and vapors of every hue,
Just where the river of death is crossed,
There will mortals to immortals rise,
And hail their friends who have gone before,
And rejoice with them above the skies,
Or weep, groan and howl with fiends below.
The virtuous dead shall all arise,
And will flourish in immortal youth,
Though the infidel this fact denies,
Still it will forever stand the truth.
The soul, like the body, here in time
May be tried and suffer much and long,
And fall by death ; but 'twill rise sublime,
And triumph o'er every foe and wrong.
The mind, the soul, the immortal spirit
When free from death, sorrow, sin and pain
Shall oome where God himself is present
And there in glory forever reign.
Nor will it ever dim or darkel
Though sun, moon and stars all fade away,
But brighter will it ever sparkle
Round the great white Throne in endless day.
Yes, heaven and earth may pass awayWorldly
pleasures, honors, wealth and fameAll
may perish; but there's no decay
To the soul, either in joy or pain.
Then why should souls immortal grovel;
Or act foolishly, indiscreet or rash?
Men should be men, tho' in a hovel,
" Nor e'er barter off" their souls for trash.
Why let the devil downward lead us,
Till we're robed in nery names,
And on dry dust and ashes feed us,
Until we're fettered fast in chains?
'Tis madness to be thus led away,
In anguish and sorrow to abide,
Where, through teeming darkness not one ray
Of pale, glimmering light shall ever glide.
No; rather we will look above us,
And strive with God to become allied,
Where lov'd ones, who have gone before us,
Are waiting for us on th' other side?
A shining, bright and glorious convoy
Who holds us ever in full survey,
And all of them their powers employ
To bring us victory every day.
Hard are the conflicts we wage on earth
With the world, the flesh and the devil,
Yet the prize is of transcendent worth?
ftnmortal bliss, or endless evil.
Hence the angels who nover o er us
And the howling tiends from hell below,
Are striving ever to damn or bless us
In heaven above, or endless woe.
Oh ! why will mortals then go reeling,
Heedless and headlong upon their way,
From the paths of heaven's revealing,
Like eagles hastening to their prey?
No; let each heart now nerve for conflict,
And labor till we o'ercome all foes,
10*-- And we are called up to inherit
Heaven, eternal life and sweet repose!
ftorg ieWet.
A RIDE FOR LIFE.
A Story of the Far West.
For several years past, I have been engaged
in huvin? horses iu the United States, and
? J - 0
disposing of them among the wealthy Mexicans
in the vicinity of Mendova and Santa
Rosa. The route passed over in my journeys
was infested with robbers on almost every
mile ; and, if one wanted to save his money
and his life, he bad to be ever on the alert,
and possessed of the utmost caution. A drover
is not often molested with his drove ; for
they know that his pockets are empty, and
there is nothing to be gained, unless indeed
some large band take a fancy to some of your
stock ; and then they are more apt to stampede
them than to conspire for the death of
their owners. When you return laden with
the dollars of the rich purchasers, then it is
that a man must look oat for his life.
At the time the adventure that I am about
to relate, befell me, I had been very successful
with my drove, and was on my way back
in company with my partners, and three other
? - ? > 1 *- ....
men, wnotn we nau euij>iuveu iu am uo uu
our passage from the States; and we were
glad of their company on our return, as they
were all stout fellows, and could be depended
upon in any emergency.
Some thirty miles this side of Santa Rosa,
the road we were pursuing, on our return, lay
through a wild inountaioous region, that had
the reputation, this score of years, of being
one of the most dangerous routes in the eastern
portion of Mexico; with scarcely an inhabitant,
dark forests of heavy timber, save in
places where 6res had raged over large districts,
backed by lofty mountains that raised j
their jagged summits above the tree-tops, and J
- - -> r ^.iklo I
Olieil limes aiUUg UUC Ul lUC nui? puooiuio
roads. Taken all in all, & better place for
murder and pillage could not be found.
It was about ten o'clock in the forenoon
that we left the wretched little village on the
western hill of the mountains, and struck into
the most dangerous part of our journey. Thirty-five
miles over a terrible road would bring
us to San Migel, where we hoped to be before j
the darkness became too dense for us to see ;
our way.
I had never passed this way before, and, !
upon inquiry of the innkeeper, he had told us j
that we could do the distance with ease ; but.:
before half a dozen miles had been passed over,
we knew that he had deceived us. He bad
told us that the three first miles would be bad, !
* -i ^ I.J : 1
aua mai men il wuum Iiupruve uuin luc i
highest point in the route was gained ; but, |
instead of doing so, every mile grew worse and '
worse, until, at last, all our horses could do |
was to pick their way along at a slow walk. :
However, we kept our spirits up by the ex-:
pectation of something better ahead; but in
this we were doomed to disappointment.
A dozen miles, and the miserable path, that!
had been denominated a road, became almost 1
impassable for our steeds, who began to show
signs of exhaustion ; and, to add to the uncom-;
fortableness of our situation, dense clouds, ,
that all the morning had hung upon the mountains,
expanded themselves over the sky, and !
soon the rain began to pour down in torrents.
BeoeAth the branches of a huge tree that
stood by the roadside, we halted for consultation.
What was to be done? To proceed
seemed next to impossible in the thick dark- j
ness that even was now gathering in ; while to
remain where we were was hazardous in the
extreme, from the cause I have mentioned, j
To be sure, there were five of us, expert in the '
use of fire arras; but what would that be, when ;
taken unawares in the night time in such a 1
place, when it was well known to us that the
bands that infested the country often numbered
twenty, thirty, and sometimes forty under
one leader ?
The ugly question came up for us to decide;
should we go on, and run the risk of straying :
from the right track in the darkness, or should j
we stay, and run the risk of receiving a visit j
from our unwelcome and doubtless near neigh- i
bore? After discussing the matter, we deci- j
ded to stay where we were until daylight, j
We would camp for the night; and that, too,
ou the very spot where we were then.
?. .1 t*
A wild-looking spot it was, in sootn, ior a ;
i camp. On each side of the path was a dense
i forest, seemiugly impenetrable to man or
I beast; so much so, that we had to tether our
horses, in the road, to the trees on either side.
The mountains frowning down upon us, and
| the black forest, full of uutold dangers, on
either hand, all conspired to make the place
as wild and gloomy as it were possible for any
place to be. It makes me shudder, even now,
with all of you about me, when I think of
our situation that night; and then I almost
wished that the heavy bag of gold that was
slung at my belt, and which seemed to weigh
me down as I had never known it to do before,
was back among the treasures from which
it had been gathered.
We had plenty of food with us; and, after
making a hearty supper, we, having previously
constructed a shelter, turned in, ail save
myself. I preferred to keep the first watch,
for I knew if I laid down it would be impossible
for me to sleep. A presentiment of danger
that I could not get rid of hung over me,
and entirely precluded all thoughts of repose.
An hour passed, and I heard nothing but the
patter of the rain drops, and the wind sighing
among the branches of the trees, save indeed,
now and then, the startling cry of some
wild animal, far in the depths of the forest
But these we cared not for. Brutes are oftentimes
better friends than men.
Half an hour more, and my hour was up;
but I did not call the one that was to succeed
me. I never was more wide-awake in my
life, and felt not the need of rest.
Suddenly I was startled by a dismal sound,
and I listened intently. Again I heard it
awav hack on the road over which we had I
come, and I was all attentiou. Again the
sound fell on my ear, aud this time there
could be no mistake. It was the tramp of a
score of horses picking their way aloDg the
road at as swift a pace as it was possible for
them .o pursue, and at no great distance
away.
I woke up my companions, and told them
what I had heard. That the approaching
horsemen were banditti tbat infested the
mountains, there could be but little doubt;
and that their number was treble that of
our own, there was still less doubt, we judged
by the sound that every moment grew nearer.
But one resource was left for us: and that,
flight in the darkness. A minute more, and
each man was by his horse. Another, and
the bridles were arranged, and we were upon |
their backs. By this time the approaching
horsemen were close upon us?so close that
their voices could be plainly heard as they
urged their horses.
Just as we were about to move forward, a
voice exclaimed, in Mexican jargon, "But I
tell you they are not far off. It is impossible
for them to have kept on in the darkness, after
I had done all I could to mislead them."
* I recognized the voice in a moment. It
was that of the inn-keeper, who had told us
of the way, in the village we had left.
This was enough. There was no mistaking
who we had to deal with now; and I plunged
the spurs into my horse, and, giving him the
reins, led the way at a break-neck pace in the
darkness. A loud shout came from behind,
proclaiming that our presence was known,
and our motive discovered ; and the next moment
a shower of balls went whizzing past,
on either side, and above our heads. We
were unhurt, and went on. Ours was a ride
for life that night.
Onward we went, with the rain pouring |
down in torrents, and the darkness so dense
that we could not see a hand before our faces,
leaning forward with our heads close to the
necks of our horses to avoid the long limbs
of the trees that hung over the road ; and on
came the blood-thirsty crew behind us, eager ,
for our money and our lives.
That was indeed a terrible ride; such a
one as I hope never again to have Every
moment I expected that my horse would
stumble in the rough path, and throw me upon
the rocks whose sharp edges lined every
foot of the way, which was now rising considerably,
and every step forward told upon
the wind of our horses. But there was nothing
to do but to go on ; for behind came the
demons, sometimes gaining us, so that a
shower of bullets would fly past us.
T nnt Konn ri/linrr fnr ai\ orPPftf. ft flfftlfp
I thick I could not have kept my seat; but
to fail now was death. A man will do much
when his life is at stake, and I thought a broken
neck could be no worse than the cold
steel of the Mexicans.
Forsome minutes a dull roar had been |
sounding in our ears, and I knew we were j
approaching one of those mountain streams
that are so numerous in Mexico, and which
?.rA nasspd hv a frail bridge, oftentimes a i
I ? ? o ,
great distance above the water, and which
have to be crossed with the utmoBt caution
by horsemen. One of these was before ub,
and here, with a sudden thought, I determined
that the race should end.
I reined in my horse, and my companions
passed over before me. The frail structure
trembled like a thing of life, and I did not
know but that it would go down into the roaring
torrents, so far below, before I had reached
the other side. But it bore me safe across; i
and no sooner did my horse's hoofB strike the 1
rocks, than I spraug down, and, with the aid |
of one of the men whom I called to ray assistance,
I moved one of iho supports of the
bridge a little way; but with all our force we
could not throw it in the gulf below. I called
to the others for aid; but before they could
reach me, the foremost of our pursuers dashed
on the bridge. I shouted for him to turn
back, but my cry was not heeded. Auother
followed, and another; and then, with a
crash, and a cry of mortal terror, the mass
fell into the roaring torrent beneath, and our i
~ i;r? T..OO nitor 1 tlini'B nf nilP fr?p? that. I
I IUC IUI |I1C nod UVVI ) mr'KV t.f Vw.
remained alive being on the other side, where
they could not harm us.
THE VOLUNTEER COUNSEL.
John Taylor was licensed, when a youth i
of twenty-one, to practice at the bar. He !
was poor, but well educated, aud possessed j
extraordinary genius. He married a beauty j
who afterwards deserted him for another.
Ou the ninth of August, 1841, the Court
House at Clarksville, Texas, was crowded to
oveiflowing. An exciting case was to be
tried. George Hopkius, a wealthy planter,
offered a gross insult to Mary Allison, the
young and beautiful wife of his overseer.
The husband threatened to chastise him for i
the outrage, when Hopkins went to Allison's I
house and shot him in the door. The mur- *
derer was arrested and bailed to answer the '
charge. The occurrence produced great ex- j
citement, and Mr. Hopkius, in order to turn i
the tide of popular iudiguation, had circula- ;
ted reports about her character, aud she sued j
him for slander. Both suits were pending? I
for murder and for slander.
The interest became deeper, when it was j
known that Ashley and Pike, of Arkansas,
and S. S. Prentiss, of New Orleans, by enormous
fees, had beeu retained to defend Hopkins.
Hopkins was acquitted. The Texas law
yers were overwhelmed by their opponents.
It was a fight of dwarfs against giants.
The slander suit was ready for trial, and
the throng of spectators grew in number, as
in excitement. Public opinion was setting
in for Hopkins; his money procured witnesses
who served his powerful advocates.
When the slauder case came up, it was left
without an attorney?all had withdrawn.
"Have you no counsel?" inquired Judge
Mills, kindly, of the plaintiff. "No, sir; they
have all deserted me, and I am too poor to
employ any more," replied the beautiful
Mary, bursting into tears. "In such a case,
will not some chivalrous member of the profession
volunteer?" said the Judge, glancing
around the bar. The thirty odd lawyers were
silent. "I will, your honor," said a voice j
from the crowd behind the bar. Jtiis ciotnes
looked so shabby that the court hesitated to
let the case proceed upon his management.
"Has your name been entered on the rolls of
the State ?" demanded the Judge. "It is immaterial,"
answered the stranger; his thin,
bloodless lips curling up with a sneer. "Here
is my license from the highest tribunal in
America," and he handed the judge a broad
parchment. The trial went on. He suffered
the witnesses to tell their owe story, and allowed
the defense to lead off. Ashley spoke
first, followed by Pike and Prentiss. The
latter brought down the house in cheers, in
which the jury joined.
It was now the stranger's turn. He rose
before the bar, not behind it, and so near the
wondering jury that he Could touch the foreman
with his long bony finger. He proceeded
to tear to pieces the arguments of Ashley,
which melted away at his touch like frost before
a sunbeam. Every one looked surprised.
Anon he came to the dazzling wit of the poetlawyer,
Pike. Then the curl of his lip grew
sharper, his smooth face began to kindle up,
his eyes to open, dim and dreary no longer,
but vivid as lightning, red as fire globes and
glaring as twin meteors. The whole soul was
in his eyes ; the full heart streamed out of
his face. Then, without any allusions to
Prentiss, he turned short round on the perjured
witnesses of Hopkins, tore their testimony
into shreds, and hurled into their faces
such terrible invectives that all trembled
like aspens, and two of them fled from the
courthouse. The excitement of the crowd
was becoming tremendous. Their united lifesoul
seemed to hang upon the burning tongue
of the stranger, and he inspired them with
the power of passion. He seemed to have
stolen nature's long hidden secret of attraction.
But his greatest triumph was to come.
His eyes began to glance at the assassin
Hopkins, as his lean, taper fingers assumed
the same direction. He enclosed the wretch
within a wall of strong evidence and impregf
/m +rtr? /iff oil Knrvn nf m.
uauic aiguiucub| Luiiiug uu an uuj/v v? ww
cape. He dug beneath the murderer's feet
ditches of dilemmas, and held up the slanderer
to the scorn and contempt of the populace.
Having thus girt him about with a
circle of fire, he stripped himself to the work
of massacre.
Oh ! then it was a vision both glorious and
dreadful to behold the orator. His actions,
too, became as impetuous as the motions of
an oak iu a hurricane. His voice became a
trumpet filled with whirlpools, deafeuing the
ears with crashes of power, and yet intermingled
all the while with a sweet undersong
of sweetest cadence. His forehead glowed
like a heated furnace, his countenance was
haggard like that of a maniac, and ever and
anon he dung bis long, bony arms on high, as
if grasping after a thunderbolt.
He drew a picture of murder in such appalliug
colors that, in comparison, hell itself might
look beautiful; he painted the slanderer so
black that the sun seemed dark at noonday
when shining on such a mouster. And then,
fixing both portraits on the shriuking Hopkins,
fastened them there forever. The agitation
of the audience amounted almost to
madness
i j j _ j r i_
All at once tne speaxer aescenuen irura m?
lofty height. His voice wailed out to che
murdered dead, and living?the beautiful
Mary, more beautiful every moment as her
tears flowed faster and faster?till men wept
and sobbed like children.
He closed by a strong exhortation to the
jury, and through them to the bystanders;
the panel, after they should bring a verdict
for the plaintiff, not to offer violence to the
defendant, however richly he might deserve
it?in other words, not to lynch the villain,
but to leave his punishment to God. This
was the most artful trick of all, and was calculated
to insure vengeance.
The jury rendered a verdict of fifty thousand
dollars, and the night afterwards Hup
kins was taken out of his bed by the lynchers
and beaten almost to death. As the court
adinurned. the straneer said: "John Taylor
will preach here at early candle light."
He did preach,and the house was crowded.
We have listened to Clay, Webster and
Beecher, but never heard anything in the
form of sublime words even approximating
to the eloquence of John Taylor; massive as
a mountain and rushing as a cataract of fire.
A WIFE'S WONDERFUL ECONOMY.
We had been out to the graveyard to bury
Mrs. Pigeon, and we were riding home in the
carriage with the bereaved widower. While
he sopped bis eyes with his handkerchief, he
told us about her:
"In one aspect I never saw her equal. She
was a manager. I've knowed that woman
that's lying out there in the tomb, to take an
old pair of trousers and cut them up for the
boys. She'd make a splendid suit of clothes
for both of them out of them old pants, get
out stuff enough for a coat for the baby and a
cap for Johnny, and have some left over for
a rag carpet, besides making handkerchiefs
of the pockets and a bustle fur herself out of
tho ruhor limners dive. her an old ffarment.
O'-' ?
aud it was as good as a goldmine. Why
she'd take a worn out sock and make a brand
new overcoat out of it, I believe. She had a
turn for that kind of economy. There's oue
of my shirts that I bought in 1847, still going
about making itself useful as window curtains
aud pantalettes, and plenty of other things.
Only last July our gridiron give out, and she
took it apart, and in two hours it was rigged
on the side of the house as a splendid light-1
ning rod, all except what she had made into
a noker and an ice-pick. Ingenious ? Why,
she kept our family ip buttons and whistles
out of the ham bones she saved, and she made
fifteen princely chicken coops from her old '
hoopskirts, and a pig pen out of her usedmp
corset bones. She never wasted a solitary j
thing. Let a cat die around our house, and .
the first thing you knew Mary Jane'd have a !
muff and a sot of furs, and I'd begin to find
mince pies on the dinner table, "he'd stuff a i
feather bed with the feathers that she got off!
one little hit of a rooster, and she'd even utilize
the roaches in the kitchen, so they'd run
the churn?had a machine she invented for
the purpose. I've seen her cook potato parings
bo's you'd think they were canvass back
ducks ; aud she had a way of doctoring up
shavings so that the pig'd eat 'em and grow
fat on 'em. I believe that woman eould build
a four story hotel if you'd a given her a uln-1
gle pine board, or a steamboat out of a Wash j
boiler, and the very last thiug she said to me i
was to hury her in the garden so's she'd be
useful down below there, helping to 6hove up
the cabbages. I'll never see her like again.'
I don't believe he will either.?Philadelphia
Bulletin.
?
teg" Swinging is said by the the doctors to be
a good exercise for health, but many a poor
wretch bas come to his death by it.
IHisceUatteeus fading. |
A LAY SERMON.
BEFORE I SPEAK, I AM MASTER OF THE WORDAFTER
I SPEAK, IT 18 THE MASTER OF ME.
It is a solemn thought that every spoken
word is as undying as the soul of man, destined
to live after it has apparently passed away,
and pregnant with a meaning which cannot
be fully known uutil time shall give it a final
definition. Words are so prodigally cast
abroad that we have learned to believe that
they fall as heedlessly to the ground. Yet in
some awful moment, like ghosts from forgotten
graves, they confrout, with a new significance,
him, who, with perhaps no purpose, sent them
on their shadowy mission. The Bible tells us
that, "of every idle word man shall utter, he
shall give an account." Man scarcely believes?dares
not believe?that the record of
his foolish, hasty utterances is yet to be
i Uf k; Wh at mrtra inprprlihlp I '
Ul UUgil 1/ UOIUIO UIUJI ?f UMH IUWAV
than the assertion that these idle words, which
have no meaning beyond the trifling interest
of the moment, should be treasured up and
counted against us? And yet it is not the
Master who will reckon them. Man himself
will be bis own judge, when, in these idle
words, changed beyond recognition by the
full development of the original seed, he will
recognize the harvest he sowed. If the sins
of the fathers are visited on the generations
unborn, (and seeing the transmission of hereditary
taints and stigmas, we cannot question
it,) it is but just that the sins of these children
of airshould be attributed to those who gave
them birth.
The importance of words is not to be exaggerated.
Their iufluence for good or ill is incalculable.
Through them life is shaped into
beauty or distorted from its original design.
Words which are pure and holy, grow with
our growth into the unutterable thoughts
which find expression in noble deeds. Those
which are base and untrue, transform man
into, their own image. A chance word has
restrained man from evil. Another, as acci- 1
dental, has marked innocence with an indelible
stain. There are loving words, whose mel- 1
ody time nor death can silence. There are
bitter words which darken all life, and pursue 1
speaker and hearer beyond the tomb. Per- '
haps each one, looking back on his own ca- !
reer, may recall seme casual word, which 1
quickened into life the germ, whose newly '
awakened power was to bear good fruit. A I
passing word has created a prejudice, under- 1
mined an opinion apparently fixed, or has *
given a new bent to life. The idle words on
winch the formation of character hangs, are 1
too slight to be computed. A child filled 1
with moral precepts during its early years, 1
and then nlaced where no ODen violation of (
these procepts is beheld, but where a covert 1
smile or sly word follows any allusion to them, speedily
becomes either a hypocrite or an unblushing
sceptic concerning righteousness. If
idle words are not responsible for the change,
to what else is it to be attributed? Certainly,
not to malicious design. Place, on the other
side, a child, ignorant of all principle, in a
sphere where principle alone is the motive of
action, and insensibly to himself, unless he is
already a hopeless reprobate, he acquires the
tone of his surroundings. Seeing these things,
how dare we speak unadvisedly with our lips?
"By thy words thou shalt be justified, and, by
thy words thou shalt be condemned." All
our heed less, impatient, cruel, thankless, unholy
words are hourly accumulating. We
recklessly multiply them, forgettiug that their
life begins only when we cast them off, and
that their work is yet to be proved.
Custom only can deaden the heart to certain
inaccuracies of speech prevalent in society.
For a season or two the young "debutante"
may shrink from the forms of prevarication
made necessary by a due observance
of the laws of civility. But as the years go r
Kv wnrda whinh wara once a suhiect of Con
scientious scruple, lose their obuoxiousness. '
Regarded as a mere formula, they are uttered
with a surprising fluency, and those of a more l(
daring nature are readily adopted. The polite
falsehood, the weak censure, the poor f
scandal which once alarmed the virgin soul, .
become its daily requirements in stronger and
ever increasing doses. The harm wrought by c
idle words is forgotten. Only the need of *
fitting them to present emergencies is reraem- ?
bered. "Guard well our thoughts; our
thoughts are heard in heaven." How, then, r
must our words, which echo so far on earth, v
thunder through the blessed calm above! j
How the angels must veil their faces and sorrowfully
shrink from the storm of unceasing
words to which those who are said to be "a
little less than the angels," dedicate their di- .
vine gift of speech I Every moment it is in
our power to bridge over the chasm which lies *
between earth and heaven, by dropping one c
kind word in the abyss. Every moment we D
can wideu the distance between hell and heav- 8
en by withholding the harsh word or unjust "
censure which forms the downward link. We F
know the potency of words. Most of us have ^
felt their sting. But when they rise tumult- *
uously to the lips, who pauses to weigh them ? Jj
As we have suffered through their cruel force, "
bo let others learn their strength. The hard- 1
omnnp nrimpoq is st.roncrlv advocated bv those ?
fc S" ? ? O'J >
whose seosibilities have been blunted by the J
discipline. a
Some persons think that in order to be
agreeable, they must pour forth a stream of t
words, no matter what their interest or worth ^
may be. "Conversational powers," they are u
fond of styling this infirmity. It is general- h
ly a subject of intense self-gratification with t
those who fail to perceive that the most fas- r
cinating are not the most loquacious; but t
those whose rare, well chosen words reveal I
kind hearts and cultivated minds. One great (
advantage of taciturnity is that it is always a
attributed to profound merit. The disadvan- ?
tage of speech is that it generally dispels the a
illusion. The man who can hold his tongue a
moo Qiinr>naafiil 117 nratenH t.n nnv Hecrrpp nf er- C
uditiou. * The proof of a fool is that he can- t
not stand the test. "Mediocrity talks; Genius 1
observes." The great talker is necessarily, d
at some times and to many people, a still w
greater bore. Somebody, constrained to be I
an involuntary auditor, will write hira down v
an ass to the melody of his own unflagging 6
voice. The fluency of which one is enamour- s
ed repels another. The sensitive know the 8
truth of the old adage, "Silence never yet was t
regretted, while speech almost invariably is." a
While a germ of conscience remains, the re- b
collection of some foolish speech and idle a
words must cause a feeling of shame or a v
pang of regret. A wise man said that he a
never went into company without feeling less r
like a man when he came out. What should |
we feel if our lives were not given to idle ; d
words, and our seusibilities were not deadened j t
by worse than idle conversations ? | r
The chains we forge for ourselves would be j a
unendurable, if imposed as a condition of t
being. To hasty utterances and to unpre- g
meditated words, the most deplorable errors q
of life are to be traced. Trifling in them- s
selves, their full force is seen in the cloud that h
blots out the fairest promise. With the gra- q
vest interests at stake, silence often seems im- a
possible to preserve, Some expression must a
be given to the impulsive thought, or we fear i
to lose the reputation of possessing wit and t
vivacity. There is no heed to the suggestion a
that the person to whom the word is spoken t
is quite as likely to Beek the same relief of v
speech. The word is spoken by which we s
are committed to consequences not to be foreseen.
Afterward, we rage against fate, for- 1
getting how far the shaping of our lives de- f
pends on the words which we speak. To a c
certain degree, we are the arbiters of our own
destiny. If words have the power to make
life, happiness and character, man has the
greater power to give or to deny them utterance.
"Before I speak, I am master of the
word. After I speak, it is the master of me."
GENERAL FORREST'S PECULIARITIES.
Forrest's funeral was an impressive one,
and, strangely enough, there was only one
Confederate uniform in the procession, and
that was worn by the occupant of the hearse.
"While,"says a correspondent, "the old soldiers
and Confederate officers of Memphis
fairly worshipped him, he was unpopular
with a large portion of the community,
who feared and disliked him about evenly
for his ferocity and reckless temper." The cor
respondent adds that he came of a terrible
family, his six brothers all being fighting
men, and one of them, Bill, a desperado; the
only man of whom the Genera! ever was
afraid. Forrest was one of the greatest slave
dealers of the South, and it is Baid that he
was kind to his negroes, that he never separated
members of a family, and that he always
told his slaves to go out in the city and
chooBe their own masters. There is no instance
of any slave taking advantage of the
permission to run away. There were some
planters in the vicinty of Memphis to whom
he would not sell slaves at all, because they
had the reputation of being cruel masters.
As a soldier, his arbitrary ways and impatience
of control were always involving him
in trouble with his superiors. He ruled his
men so that they feared him more than they
did the enemy, and yet confided in him as
though he were incapable of an error or
a fault. The war ruined him, and he set to
work rebuilding his fortunes. He bought
an island plantation on the Mississippi, below
Memphis, and contracted with the city
for the labor of all her petty criminals at ten
cents per day per prisoner. He put up buildings
and made the island a reformatory, and
managing the plantation with his demoniac
energy, was on the way to another fortune
.l. _! it. :.i a
woen toe raaiaria ox Hie laiauu atuiu^ucic
struck him down.
Age did not make his temper any milder
thau it had been, for the correspondent tells
bow he ordered a suit of clothes from a Memphis
tailor, and after letting them lie in the
shop till they were moth-eaten, cursed the
bailor most vehemently for a swindler, and
pulled out a pistol, roaring out his intention
sf shooting the dealer like a rat. But he
lid not shoot ; and next day, in cooler mood,
went round to the tailor and made him an
ipology so thorough and humble, that it was
tlmost painful to listen to. Forrest was in
many desperate encounters, one of the most 1
iesperate being his fight with Gould, a lieu- 1
*nant whom he had charged with cowardice. 1
A.a the General was sitting, unarmed and (
wirling a small penknife in his hand, Gould 1
xpproached him with a loaded pistol in his ^
socket, and giving him the lie, pulled the |
;rigger. The hammer caught in the lining 1
)f Gould's pocket, when Forrest grabbed him {
?ith nnn hanH and nneninor his knife with *
lis teeth, literally disemboweled his antagon- '
st ere he could do more than slightly wound j
he General with another discharge of the 1
)istol.
Forrest never acknowledged himself to lave
been placed "in a bad fix," except once,
jreueral Chalmers and a merchant in Mem)his,
named J. C. Davis, had some small dis- <
igreement, which inspired Chalmers with a t
trong desire to "go and see him." On the i
vay, Chalmers met Gen. Forrest and asked <
he General to go there along with him. I
Forrest went, ignorant of the real state of af- i
airs. Scarcely had the two Generals ar- i
ived at the head of the stairs leading to Da- f
us' business office, when the door was sud- a
leuly flung open and Davis knocked Chalners
from the top of the stairs to the bottom, t
rhe next instant he presented a heavy revol- c
rer at Forrest's head, exclaiming, "And ^
his is what I've got for you?two Confeder- t
ite Generals coming to whip one man 1" ?
'Hold on ! hold ou, Mr. Davis 1" cried For- ]
est, "there's some mistake here! I didn't (
mow there was any trouble between you." t
le was glad to get away, and began to in- (
? ?i - x 4 c a.i? t. T n
|uire wnai Hon 01 a mau tuat o. \j. x^avie
vas. Folks told him that Davis was ooe of
he most quiet and peaceable men in town.
'Well, he may be peaceable," returned Forest,
"but he put me in the tightest place I
ras ever in in my life." Yet he never showd
any ill-will to Davis afterward, and evilently
admired his pluck.
THE YANDERBILT WILL CASE.
In New York last week, in his testimony
n the contest over the Vanderbilt will, Dr.
jindsey, the old Commodore's family phyaiian,
testified to bis physical injuries and ailaents.
He testified that the Commodore was
uffering from heart disease, from hernia, from
lemorrhoids, from chronic cystitis, from dyslepaia,
and from dropsy consequent upon the
ipurt rlispiiflfi! that on one occasion he was i
ery gravely injured in a railroad accident, g
laving the ends of several fractured ribs ^
iriveu like daggers into his lungs, and that i
he result of this hurt lasted so long that it a
aused him a severe pleuro pneumonia three c
ears later, and that he suffered from repeated
ttacka of fever and ague. t
Dr. Lindsey, during his testimony, related f
hat Mrs. Crawford, mother of Commodore
/anderbilt's second wife, had at oue time
irged the Commodore, in his presence, to see
is son Cornelius, who was then in the house;
he Commodore then said : "Doctor, you go p
ight down stairs aud tell him to go out of g
his house, and not to come here again while 1
am living or after I am dead; now Mrs. a
Jrawford, you go down with the Doctor and n
ee that be delivers the message j" the two ?
?ent down stairs, but Cornelius had gone c
man Pammn/lAtia no on ?1A snooAn fnn Ki'a I q
Tfaj | tuc uuuituuuujo gdVU uu i??ouu ivt mo ?
ction, merely saying that he did not want c
Jornelius in the house; the occasion referred b
o was iu the month of July or August, 1876. o
?he Commodore said to the Doctor: "Had I g
led in 1833 or 1836, or even 1854, the world c
wouldn't know that 1 ever lived ; but I think a
have been spared to accomplish a great f
rork which will remain, and I think 1 have t
ixed it so that it cannot be destroyed by the h
lock market. If I had given my daughters r
>3,000,000 or $a,0QQ,QQQ apiece, the first thing v
hey would do would be to put William out a
nd Torrance in. The next thing they would s
ie quarreling among themselves, and their t
tock would be thrown on the market until it v
rould not be worth 40. I have secured Can- c
da Southern so that nobody can injure the b
oad." _ v
Dr. Lindsey further testified: "Mr. Van- t
lerbilt was less influenced by men around him t
han any man I ever knew. If he was iuter- t
1 M I ? - 1 IJ i
upteu wnne relating anyming, ne wouia stop i
,nd never Bay another word. I have observed c
hat all his life he never would take a Bug- r
;efltion from anybody. If anybody asked 1
[uestions while he was talking, he would Btop i
hort and say no more on that subject. He o
lad rarely heard him give a direct answer to a f
[uestion. Witness admitted that he had heard 1
bout Mrs. Vanderbilt being in a lunatic c
sylum in }846." The Doctor was next asked t
1" he had not told Dr. Swayzy and Mr. Perry c
hat be had often cautioned the Commodore c
gainst riding out with lewd women, and that c
he practice would get him into trouble. The s
vitness denied having ever made any such as- i
ertione. . 1
It was widely rumored in New York, on [
Thursday evening, that another and a satis- a
actory compromise of the Vanderbilt will 1
omplications had been arranged. What the t
basis of the settlement was nobody ventured
even to conjecture, but the rumor met with
considerable credence among acquaintances
of the late Commodore and his children, from
the fact that the objection of the family to the
unveiling of the Commodore's secret history
was well known. A gentleman, who is supposed
to be in a position to speak authoritatively,
said to a reporter of the New York
Sun: "The rumor has no foundation in fact.
If a compromise was proposed I would hear of
it at once. Not only have I not heard of a
compromise, but I am morally certain that
the opposing parties would not consent to
one." Judge Black, in answer to the question
whether there was any truth in the report
that there was a compromise, replied emphatically
: "Certainly not, sir; there is not
a word of truth in it; and, so far as I can see,
every indication points directly to the contrary."
iu? TT nn rxr T. Plinfnn Aannaol frtr Ml*
XUt J.JLUU I J * V1IUKVU) vvwuowa ?w?
Wm. H. Vanderbilt, said: "There is no compromise;
there will be no compromise. I
can't imagine how such a report arose. The
very idea is ridiculous. We would not give
$5?we would not give $1 to bring a compromise
about What the other side may want
to do, I don't know."
A life-long friend of the late Commodore
said : "Ihave had a long talk with Wm. H.
Vanderbilt this very day. As a result of this
conference, I can say, with certainty, that he
cannot and will not compromise. The thing
has gone too far. The attacks on his character
and his father's memory must be repelled.
He has nothing more to fear. The worst that
can be has been done against him, and he
will lose nothing more if he fights it out, as
he intends to do, to the bitter end. Last Saturday
he said he would not compromise for
$50,000. To-day no sum would tempt him.
It is out of the question."
4- ? ?
PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND GENERAL LEE.
[Hon. A. B. Magradcr, in Philadelphia Weekly Time*.]
In 1868?several years after the war?a
senator id uongress naa tne temerity to maxe
the charge that General Lee had applied to
President Lincoln for the command of the
Federal army, destined to invade and subdue
the Southern States, and that, being refused,
from pique and resentment, he turned and offered
his sword in aid of the Southern cause,
and thus was raised to the chief command of
the rebel forces. On the instant, Mr. Rever- (
dy JobDson, of Maryland, himself a Union
man, denounced the statement as untrue, saying
that although he had not the authority of <
the accused to deny it, General Lee's lofty
character and unstained honor alone sufficed
to repel the charge. This furnished the occasion
for General Lee to give, through Mr.
Johnson, not alone the conclusive proof of ,
the incorrectness of the charge, but tne clear ;
evidence that he had himself declined, from "
a stern sense of duty and honor, the very pre- ,
ferment which he was falsely accused of cov- ,
sting. None can tell the extraordinary story ,
in better terms than General Lee, himself, as (
contained in the following modest and char- ,
icteristic letter addressed by him, at the time, ,
;o the Hon. Reverdy Johnson, who, not long j
sefure his death, avouched to the contributor j
ts entire authenticity: ,
Lexington, Va., February 25,1868. ]
TTnn Pever tin .Tnhnann United State* Senate.
Washington:
My Dear Sir : My attention has been <
sailed to the official report of the debate in i
he Senate of the United States of tbe 19th >
ustant, in which you did me the kindness to ]
loubt the correctness of tbe statement made i
)y the Hon. Simon Cameron, in regard to <
oyself. I desire that you may feel certain of <
ny conduct on the occasion referred to, so i
ar as my individual statement can make you <
10. 1
I never intimated to any one that I desired 1
he command of the United States army, nor 1
lid I ever have a conversation with but one j
jentleraan (Mr. Francis Preston Blair) on '
he subject, which was at his invitation and, 1
is I understood, at the instance of President '
Lincoln. After listening to his remarks, I j
lecliued the offer he made me to take com- '
nand of the army that was to be brought in- 1
o tbe field, stating as candidly and cour- 1
eously as 1 could, thattbough opposed to se- 1
session and deprecating war, I couid take no f
jart in an invasion of the Southern States.
I went directly from the interview with
Mr. Blair to the office of General Scott, and 1
old him of the proposition that hud been 1
nade to me and ray decision. Upon reflec- 1
ion after returning to my home, I concluded *
hat I ought no longer to retain the commiB- J
ion I held in the United States army, and
>n the second morning thereafter I forwarded (
ny resignation to General Scott. 1
At the time I hoped that peace would have 1
seen preserved, and that some way would r
save been found to save the country from the c
:alamities of war, and then I had no other [
ntention than to pass the remainder of my
ife as a private citizen. Two days afterward, J
ipon the invitation of the Governor of Vir- ;
;iuia, I repaired to Richmond, found the con*
mention then in session had passed the ordi- ?
lance withdrawing the State from the Union, 1
ind accepted the commission of commander s
if its forces which was tendered me.
These are the simple facts of the case, and ?
bey show that Mr. Cameron has been misin- c
ormed. Your obedient servant, .
R. E. Lee. c
;
MILITARY EDUCATION. l}
It was no doubt formerly true that the ex* v
lenience of actual war was necessary to make 0
;ood soldiers, In battles, when short range u
Ire-arms were U9ed and in which the sabre 0
,nd bayonet played an important part, each f
nan naturally shrank from the personal con* G
licts which the use of such arms rendered ne- ^
essary. Experience in the use of their arms p
,nd familiarity with such conflicts, were a ne*
essity before men could, with any certainty,
ie brought to face them. But the invention c
f breech-loading and long-range arms and e
;eneral education, have brought about a
hange. Personal conflicts on the hattle-field r
e ?J u .
re dow 01 rare occurrence, aim enuu ouiuici i
eels confident that, understanding the use of jj
he modern weapon with which he is armed, 8
ie is the equal of any opponent he may be ?
equired to meet. The consciousness of power fc
rhich this individual self-reliance causes in 8
n army, needs no explanation. Recent Pros- c
ian history affords an admirable example a
hat it is wise in time of peace to prepare for
?ar, and that the best soldiers can be made
>f citizens who have never, perhaps, heard a t
lostile shot. It teaches us, also, that by a j
rise system of legislation, this preparation can 0
ie had without the slightest interfence with t
he business interests of the country, and that f
he citizen is made a better citizen by being g
aught the military duties he owes to his 0
ountry. A belief formerly existed that a
nilitary organization was dangerous to our v
iberties ; but that such a belief has any real- ]
ty now can scarcely be credited. The army Q
if the United States is in reality its volunteer a
orce, composed of its own citizens, and to beieve
that such an army can become dangeriub
to its country, is simply to believe that i,
he citizens composing it are no longer worthy jif
the right of suffrage and incapable of exer- 0
:iaing the right with either patriotism or fi- r
lelity. Ifthe institutions of the United States fc
ire ever changed, so that our libertv is dimin
p '? - tt
shed or destroyed, such change will be
>rought about by the corrupt suffrages of our f
>eople, and this corruption will not be due to 8
my military organization which may have t
>een adopted, or previous military instruction t
hey may have received.?Galaxy. 8
COLONELS WANTED.
"What Georgia needs/' says the Atlanta
Corutitution, "is more Colonels." That paper
proceeds in this way:
We want it distinctly understood before we
proceed any further, that we are a friend to
t^e Colonel?that is to say, that we are a
friend to the Colonel if he isn't a military
Colonel. A military Colonel has no right to
the title. He may have earned it in the war,
right in front of the cannon's mouth, but more
peaceful days have dawned upon us, and now
we have the insurance Colonel, the sewing machine
Colonel, the dry goods Colonel, the commission
Colonel, the grocery Colonel, the
newspaper Colonel, and the lawyer Colonel.
You may pick your Colonel from any pile
you ehoose, and we'll stand up promptly
and say we admire him. There is no honor
in the title, and we take pleasure in bestowing
it upon a friend and foe alike. To be a man
and not to be a Colonel (unless, indeed, you
were not promoted during the war) is something
preposterous. We can conceive of no
Bach mi8fortane as that which prevents a man
from becoming a Colonel in nis owp. right.
There ia no law on the statute book against it,
and if there were, it would be a dead letter.
Every county, every community and every
family, would cry out against the injustice of
an enactment depriving them of their usual
quota of Colonels. For our part we think
that there ought to be a law passed conferring
the title of Colonel upon every male child
over twelve years of age, without regard to
color or previous condition. In that case all
men would be Colonels, and all the women
would be Colonelesses. Here is the true line
of progress. While Colonels are in fashion,
let us make the most of them. Let us utilize
them as it were, for the purpose of advancing
civilization. It is idle for men who have no
titles, to sneer at those who have. What would
Georgia do without her 100,000 Colonels ?
Without its Colonels, what a weak and vapid
body the legislature would be. Ah 1 no; let
us cling to our Colonels. Instead of weeding
them out, let us endeavor to nurture those we
have, and invite others through the medium
of immigration agents.
? ?
Transient Troubles.?Most of us have
had troubles all our lives, and each day has
brought all the evil that we wished to endure.
But if we were asked to recount the sorrows
of our lives, how many could we remember ?
How many that are six months old should we
think worthy to be remembered or mentioned ?
To day's troubles look large, but a week hence
they will be forgotten and buried out of sight.
"if you woata Keep a dook, ana every aay
pat down the things that worry yoa, and see
what becomes of them, it would be a benefit
to yon. You allow a thing to annoy yoa,
just as you allow a fly to settle on yoo and
plague you; and you lose your temper (or
rather get it; for when men are surcharged
with temper, they are said to have lost it);
and you justify yourselves for being thrown
oflf your balance by causes which you do not
trace out But if you would see what it was
that threw you off your balance before breakFast,
and put it down in a little book, and follow
it out, and ascertain what becomes of it
you would see what a fool you were in the
natter."
Kindness to Animaia?Van Amburgh
nould handle his lions and tigers with impunity.
No animal will fail to respond to kindness
and uniform good treatment. And especially
will the noble horse respect and conide
in and faithfully serve a master who
ieals gently and kindly with him. We have
-??"??1 ?A Ail 1W /Maria n maiiA
;uiooivoo ui&cu a o|/uji^u iuui^au uiaio
vhich bad been rudely bandied and became
sntirely unmanageable through harsh treatnent,
and, by appealing to her intelligence
ind respecting her needs,in three weeks' time
nade her entirely safe and reliable for wife
ind children, and all who would treat her
sindly and handle her gently; and we hare,
ifter five years, seen the same mare resume
ler old viciouB habits when again under the
rontrol of one who resorted to arbitrary or
>rutal treatment Always appeal to the bet;er
instinct of the horse, the ox, or cow, as
veil as the dog and other domestic animals,
md they will never become vicious or unmanigeable.?Semi
Tropical.
Industrial Secrets?A century ago inventors
concealed their discoveries. Worknen
were put upon oath never to reveal the
jrocess used by their employers. Artisans
going out were searched, visitors were rigor>usly
excluded, and false operations blinded
he workmen themselves. The Dresden por;elain
was produced for two centuries by a
irocess so secret that neither the bribery of
)rinces nor the garrulity of operators ever repealed
it. The manufacture of tinware was
liscovered in Holland, and guarded from
)ublicity with the utmost vigilance for neary
fifty years. The English tried in vain to
liscover the secret, until James Sherman, a
? .1 ? i
Jornwb miner, crossed tne unannei, learnea
he method and brought it home. The secret
if manufacturing cast steel was also stealthly
obtained, and is now within the reach of
ill artisans.
Men Without Occupation.?The man
who has nothing to do, is the most miserable
if beings. No matter how much wealth a
nan possesses, he can be neither contented
lor happy, without occupation. We were
>orn to labor, and the world is our vineyard.
Ye can find a field of usefulness almost anywhere.
In occupations we forget our cares,
or worldly trials, and our sorrows. It keeps
is from constantly worrying and brooding
ver what is inevitable. If we have enough
or ourselves, we can labor for the good of
there; and such a task is one of the most
lelightful duties a worthy and good man can
lossibly engage in.
4-^-4 ?
We Can if We Will.?Men say they
annot afford books, and sometimes do not
ven Day for a newspaper. Id that case it
loea them little good ; they feel so mean while
eading them. But men can afford what
hey really choose. If all the money speDt
a self-indulgence, in hnrtfnl indulgence, was
pent in books or papers for self-improvement,
re should see a change. Men would grow
landsome, and women too. The soul would
hine out through the eyes. We were not
aeant to be mere animals. Let us have books
,nd read them, and sermons and heed them.
The art of forgetting is a blessed art, but
he art of overlooking is quite as important.
^nd if we should take time to write down the
rigin, progress, and outcome of a few of our
roubles, it would make us so ashamed of the
uss we make over them, that we should be
;lad to drop such things and bury them at
nee in eternal forgetfu loess.
Life is too short to be worn out in petty
worries, frettings, hatreds and vexations,
jet us banish all these, and think on whatsover
things are pure, and lovely, and gentle,
,nd of good report.
19" The other day a New York policeman
q making out a charge against an arrested
tarty, wrote: "The prisoner set upon me disorderly,
and called me an ass, and a precious
uffian, and an idiot, all of which I certify to
>e true."
86?" Some one observes that there is a diference
between a woman's smile and a man's
mile. There is?a wide difference, someimes.
A woman's "smile" is seldom stronger
ban soda-water, while the man's "smile" it
eldom weaker than whiskey and water.