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* * s lewis m. grist, proprietor, j Jnticpcnknt Jiamiltt ^tcbispapcr: .for fjjt |)romofjoii of the .political, Social, Agricultural anh Commercial interests of tjje jsostj). TERMS--$2.50-A TEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 27. YORKVILLE, S. P., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 2Q, 1881. , JSTO. 42. ?Itc JFtmu Idler. 64 WHO KILLED JONES' DOG?" Justice is a very necessary element of society?as necessary as milk is said to be in a large family of small children. But justice is not very useful, unless its instruments are both honest and vigiluut. There are all sorts of instruments of justice, from that ponderous aflair called the Supreme Court of the United States, down to the little wheel of a magistrate, that whirls and buzzes in a country township ; and, after all, they are all but parts of one ponderous machine that grinds out, day and night, all over this mighty republic, law and order for the People ; at any rate, that is the theory, and has been ever since the Revolution, back of which the memory of man is not legally permitted to run, and, of course, does not run. Out West, somewhere, one of these little courts attempted to settle the questiou ? "Who killed Jones' dog ?" The "settlement" where Jones s dog was born, and lived, and finally died, was a very sparse settlement, made up of all sorts of peo- j pie?hardy pioneers?who were troubled with but few local iucideuts ; but these few became the more important for that very reason. Jones' dog was just as much of a fixture there, as Jones' boy. Everybody kuew Jones' dog, and the dog'knew everybody in return. Jones' dog might have died in a thousand places without creating a spasm iu society, but Jones' dog could not die a violent death in Buzzard town, without shaking ; the whole community from centre to circum-1 fereuce. But so it was. Tho dog was found, one j morning, with a bullet through his head, "clean gone," and the question arose, "Who killed Jones' dog ?" Quimbly said Fog did it; Fog charged it upon Quimbly. Bumper declared Hobbs | was the rascal, and Hobbs put it at the door j of some other neighbor ; indeed, all Buzzardtown had an opinion upon the subject, and expressed it, too, and it was not long before the people?men, women, and children? had rubbed up each other's ears to blood heat, and war finally broke out, hot and furious, all over Buzzardtowu, and even extended into the suburbs. One man, however, preserved a most dignified silence on the subject. He was the magistrate before whom the question might come, and finally did come. When the dog question was alluded to, incidentally, before him, he pushed his hands deep into his breeches pockets, and looked wise, for he was a magistrate, and why should he not ? And he gave the people to understand that his opiuion, if it ever was given, would be given on the "bench," where such questions must be finally decided. Squire Bumbleton, was, in some respects, a very remarkable man. He was a justice of the peace, and of course capable of deciding the questiou,"Who killed Jones'dog?" He had many shining qualifications for the office which he held. He had a stoicism "beyond all Grecian?ay, all Roman fame." He would sit all day in the presence of a couple of pettifoggers, and permit them to fire into him their "arguments," alternating to take breath, pass through two or three side^ 1' 4~ ~ O U n ??r? r\ f* oKllCQ llim. UglllS, lilfcU 11 icuauuouiu ouulc v/i ...... , self and reserve the case at last for decision, with his temper unruffled, and his judgment j unimpaired. Bumbleton, in fact, was in possession of those two great elements that are indispen- j sable in a Western justice?silence and la- i ziness. He never gave an opinion in public, | or privately, "that was an opinion." His j ay was a grunt, aud his no was a grunt; but] he was a very great man all over Buzzard-1 town, for that very reason. Bumbleton's grunt weighed a ton?particularly wheu he gave it emphasis by a scratch of the head. The church at Buzzardtown, however, was first convulsed with the question, "Who killed Jones' dog?" A dozen or more of its members were suspected, and they (the dozen) suspected each other, aud more charges j were made. Tripes said Trimlet did it? i Triralet knew it was Tripes ; Granderson was j willing to swear it "onto" Jodson over a stack j of Bibles as high as his head. Jodson j wouldn't say Granderson 'zactly killed the j dog, but he would kill a dog, and lie faster j than the old Eclipse could run. Stokes rather i guess'd Whedon's boy did it, but didn't know nothin' 'bout it. Whedon's boy denied it, and said "Stokes was mad at him, 'cause he thought he tied his pigs' tails to- | gether." Old Aunt Farwell (who knew ev- j erything all over the settlement) said, "her | mind was just as well settled on the point of j - ' - A oa oko Ka/1 qopH i WHO KllltJU Llint CIC UUg, do 11 on v. tiuu | the shootin' did ; but she warn't goin' to say j nothin' 'bout it." Clark said "the dog corn- ! mitted suicide." Jones declared to Clark j "that he was a liar," and the great question | still was, "Who killed Jones' dog ?" The church sat twelve mortal days over i Jones' dog, day and night. It showed what ] kind of a dog Jones' dog was ; how, when i and where it was born ; its habits, character, j and propensities?very much after all, like j other dogs. All the hostility that had ever j been exhibited, by word or deed, against j Jones, was brought out in strong relief and, | what was worse, before the rneetin' closed, i instead of there being only one issue?"Who j killed Jones' dog ?"?side issues innumerable had sprung up, mostly questions of ve- j racity which had grown out of the examina-1 tion, and now Buzzardtown was in a tempest i of fury, and its people were ready to tear each j other's ejes out. Mrs. Culpepper, a sharp-nosed, weazenfaced ! woman of fifty, waged war against Mrs. 1 * / _ i_ j ? i i fikes, a sozzie or a oouy, uecause rurs. * uvea declared in church-meetin' that she wouldn't b'lieve nothiu' any of the Cnlpeppers said 'bout nobody?from old Culpepper, through the old woman Culpepper, and clean down to the little Culpeppers. She wouldn't b'lieve a word from no Culpepper, not no i bow?'bout Jones' dog?nor nothin." (Mrs. j Pikes hail a hatred against Mrs. Culpepper, j because Mrs. Culpepper's boy, Jabez, told ; Mrs. Pikes' bov, Ichabod, that his mother; was "small potatoes," and Mrs. Pikes said, "she know'd Mrs. Culpepper set her boy up i to it.") Mrs. Culpepper fired up, and pro- i claimed to all Buzzardtown, that "she never seed a Pike that was anybody?they were the laziest, slip shod-est, sbilly shally-est set j on the airth, she did b'lieve. Old Pikes! warn't nobody ; his wife, Sal Pikes, waru't nobody, and the little Pikes were as near as i two peas like 'em ; they'd all lie, that she j know'd ; aud she guess'd they'd?wal, she wouldn't say it right out?but she guess'd they'd?she s'posed there warn't no use keepin' in?she thought it, and she might as well let it come?she guess'd they'd?t'was a tough thing to say?she guess'd they'd steal?there, you've got it." And so Mrs. Pikes and Mrs. Culpepper rubbed up each other's ears, and fired hot shot into each other's camp, and the Pikes hoys and the Culpepper boys picked each other's sides, for a month or more, and all about?"Who ki!I'd Jones' dog?'' Mrs. Kinter had said in church-meeting that?"one night?she couldn't tell when? but 'fore Jones' dog died 'I any rate?one HnflHannMnMBBHaHBi night she seed a man?with a gun?going 'long?the road?on his shoulder?the man? ! gun?-going 'long?one night?by Jones' ! house?and she heer'd a bark?and a fire of j the gun, and she did not see no more?and j she s'posed she must tell all she know'd? and she would, if she died for't; and she j b'lieved that man was Dobbins?and she allers would b'lieve it. If a thousand men ! swore it warn't." Dobbins declared that it was a lie on the ; spot. Whereupon Mrs. Kinter left the meetj ing with a very red face, and war opened be| tween the Kinters and Dobinses immediately j and furiously, and, as their farms joiued, it ; resulted in a border-fight. Kinter sent home Dobbins' harrow, and | shovel, and trace chain, and demanded his ! ox yoke, hammer, and an old bag, all of which j he said he wanted "straight." Mrs. Kinter hurried after her flat-iron and caudle-moulds, j aud wanted Mrs. Dobbins to "send back that | drawin' of tea as quick as time would let her, ; and she advised Susannah Arabella Mary Dobbins, to bring home that 'ere book she got of her Eliza Victoria, heavens knows how I long ago; and she hoped she shouldn't hear of a Dobbins agin the longest day she lived." Dobbins told Kinter "he must move his fence on the line?and he could have jest twenty-four hot *s to think on't?he had furnished him with a place for his fence about as long as he should?if he didn't, Squire Bumbleton would be 'arter him with hot blocks, and he'd law him as long as he could see a printer for forty miles rouud !" Kinter advised Dobbins "to crack his whip?and make his best jumps?and do his very all thunderest?and if he couldn't stand it as long as he could?why he'd come down, and surrender?that was all." So Dobbins did crack his whip?and did make his best jumps?and forthwith brought an action of trespass against Kinter in the "high court," laying his damages at one thousand dollars, although the fee simple of the land in dispute was not worth five?and the "dance was fairly opened," between the Kinters and the Dobbinses. Dobbins threw down the fence some fifty times during the pendency of the suit, because he meant to be boss on his own land, if the d?1 stood at the door!" and ' Kinter put it up as often, "because he know'd the line ; and his fie; ce was hus fence, and should stand thar as long as there- was a Kinter I above ground that could peep; and if he j died, he'd will his property to some one 'pon j condition that he'd keep up that 'ere fence!" I Kinter's hogs and sheep came home with j their tails chopped off, and Dobbins' came home with theirs chopped off a little higher up. Kinter's horses died suddenly, with strong j symptoms of poison, and Dobbins' horses died suddenly, with like symptoms. Kinter's stack of wheat was burned, aud Dobbins' went off by combustion soon after. Kinter's young timber was girdled, and Dobbins' was girdled too. Kiuter, in fact, lost one half of his live stock, and Dobbins lost as much. The very dogs?the Kiuter dogs and the Dobbins dogs?had caught the spirit of war that raged nrmmd them. and prowled as thev passed each other?and all about what happened in that church-meeting?and yet the question was unsettled, "Who killed Jones' dog?" Kites, one of the worthy soldiers in the Buzzardtown fight, made a descent upon Jim Sniffer, another worthy soldier, because Sniffer said (so Aunt Farwell told him) that "he (Sniffer) shouldn't be 'tall 'sprised if Kites kill'd that 'ere dog his self." Whereupon, Kites sued Sniffer before Squire Bumbleton "to recover that 'ere little balance of thirtyone cents that Sniffer owed him on that 'ere note agin him?and, also, whereupon Sniffer, in defence, plead a set off, "three dinners that Kites had eaten at his table"?by iuvitation, to be sure, at the same time?but, then, as Sniffer said, 'la' is la', and if Kites wanted to go in for the last copper, he'd find him on hand and doin' about as airly in the morning as the next man !" At last Jones concluded he had found his mau?the villain who had killed hi9 dog? and he owed it to the peace of the community, as well as himself, to prosecute before Squire Bumbletou, and thus settle the vexed question. It was quite clear that Buzzardtown would blow itself all to pieces, like a bomb-shell, unless something definite was done. The evidence upon which he relied was circumstantial?more in circumstances, in fact than in proof?but Jones thought it would do to stare upon, particularly as he had concluded to offer a reward of ten dollars to any mau, woman or child, who would furnish conclusive evidence of the fact?the person so furnishing the evidence to be released from all suits and actions of every nature arising out of the transaction. This reward and release was afterwards reduced to writing, and publicly circulated all over Buzzardtown, and, finally, filed with Squire Bumbleton, with the ten dollars, for the benfit of whom "it might concern." This man was Hoscraft?Jo Hoscraft? between whom and Jones a feud long existed, as bitter as between the Egyptians and Israelites. Jones knew that Hoscraft "must? have?kill'd?that?'ere dog !" aud Jones declared this with great emphasis. He had no ! legal proof against Hoscraft?but, "then, of; course, Hoscraft killed the dog?nobody else : could have killed his dog. and, therefore, he ! employed Mike Briar, a Buzzardtown petti- j fogger, to bring the suit against Hoscraft be- i fore Squire Bumbleton ; and suit was accor- j diogly brought, Jones pledgiug himself to I carry it to the Supreme Court of the United i States?but "he'd nail him if it cost twenty j farms!" Mike Briar was a character?he was a cri- j er, a pettifogger, a horse-trader, politician, i general counsellor, &c\, &c.?a kind of I walking omnium gatherum. His dress was ! full of the man?his clothes seemed to have j caught a part of his soul?and had become i electrified from sparks through his body, j His hat rim turned up in front, and ran off; behind like a roof?his eyes shot up on a line with his hat rim, and when he walked his | whole body seemed to be pushing after Ids : eyes, as if he was in danger of going out of his suspenders. He moved and spoke by j jerks, and was as busy all over the settlement, I day and night, as the old fellow is said to be i in a thunder storm. We have already spoken of Squire Bum- j bleton, of his qualities, and the weight of his j grunt. But the Squire was very stubborn on ' the "bench," withal, and was never known to i be moved from his position. Reasons he ; never gave. His decisions were brevity it- j self?as for instance, "motion's squush'd!" j "thatare's rul'd down !" "'jection ain't good !" j j "won't hear that proof!" "'taint legal!" "that's ; all stuff!" hut lie never was known to cut short an argunteut, if it was opened upon j him fur the fiftieth time, during which he j slept and smoked by turns. The great Buzzardtown law suit, at last, [ came off. It did seem as if Jones' dog : was about to have justice done hint. The day i was dedicated, by man, woman and child, to I the occasion, and Squire Bumbleton's office was packed, inside and out, long before the j hour had arrived. The Jones men and the 1 Hoscraft men were on the ground, "cocked aud prim'd," to use there own language. Several side fights occurred, as a kind of preliminary exercise to the action in prospect, between different faetionists, about matters in controversy and not in controversy. One | very serious one upon the point: whether the ! ball entered the near side or off side of the dog's head ? which was forever unsettled, as the ball had passed through the dog's head. A number of persoual issues were up afqesh, that were supposed to be dead and buried. Brown knocked over Bentley, because Bentley told Brown, three yeara before, that he lied. True, they had both forgotten it, until the dog war had aroused it with interest. Clark told Nappin his boy was a thief; Nappin kicked Clark ; and Switzler, Clark's friend, and a member of the same faction, kicked Nappin because Nappin kicked Clark ; I and Snooks, Nappiu's friend, "laid out" Switz; ler, to "prevent a general row," he said? loudly calling for a peace officer all the tlma naoaa ImWOVPr hpincr t.llft VeTV laSt thing Snooks wanted. Mike Briar's declaration, filed before Squire Burableton, was a very threatening and fearful instrument. It bristled all over. It set forth, among other things, that Hoscraft, "by iostergation of the devil (Mike's orthography was his own), and agin the peace and dignity of tho people, and with malis foretho't with a gun, pistle, 'nife, club, stick, stone, or some other dangerous thing, shot, cut, knocked, smashed, or in some other way, killed Jones' dog, to Jones' damage of one hundred dollars." Mike had picked this -all out from precedents of indictments and declarations, so as to make it strong, as he said. He had ten counts, but the whole were substantially the same ; but Mike wanted his papers "lawyer-like." "Old Dot and go-one" put in the plea. This was a name the defendant's attorney had acquired in Buzzardtown. He was a woodenlegged man?a superanuated justice, who was somewhat in years, and he had taken to the "bar." He practiced at all the "bars" in the country?before the landlords and the justices?and was equally able at either. Mike Briar called up the suit and opened the case, and put Tabitha Tweedle on the stand. She was a woman of about fifty years of age, raw-boned, took snuff incessantly, and evidently had a story to tell. "Know Jones ?" inquired Mike. "Yees," answered Tabitha. "Hoscraft?" "Yees." "The dog ?" "Yees." "Well, what do you know about the dog?" "Object to that!" exclaimed attorney for defendant ; "the dog ain't no party here." After a long argument, Bumbleton decided that the dog was a "kinder party" to the suit. "Wal," continued Tabitha, "you want to know all 'bout Jones, and Hoscruft, and that 'ere dog. To begin, then : Mrs. Jones and old Mrs. Brown?Mrs. Jones, you know, was a Curtis 'fore she got married ; old Sim Curtis' darter?lived down on the Mohawk ; ! 1 1 iL. I that is, i\lrs. Jones uvea aowu ou me iuohawk ; the darter was born iu Buzzardtown; let me see, she must be twenty-five years old, enymost?and as I was saying, Mrs. Jones and old Mrs. Brown?pshaw ! Mrs. Jones is ruor'n twenty-five years old ; what am I thinking 'bout, she's thirty, sartin; 'cause my 'Liza and she's 'bout, of an age, and my 'Liza is?is?is?Mr. Tweedle! Mr. Tweedie! how old is our 'Liza," inquired the witness, and the old lady rose from her seat and peered through the crowd for Mr. Tweedle. A voice came struggling through the mass of people, but no Tweedle was seen?"Dun know!" "Don't?know?how?old?our 'Liza is! Dear me !" and Mrs. Tweedle sat down. "Mrs. Tweedle," exclaimed Mike, "what do you know about that dog ?" "Jest coming to that," exclaimed Mrs. Tweedle. "Don't be iu such a pesky hurry; let a woman breathe, won't ye ? Mrs. Jones and old Mrs. Brown " "Don't say Jones an Brown agin," snapped out Mike. "Talk about that doy." Mrs. Tweedle said, "she should tell the truth, and talk about Jones, or Mrs. Jones, and all the Joneses, if she wanted to. As I was sayiug," continued the witness Briar told the witness to "stop ?" Squire Bumbleton said she might "go on." "As I whs saying?Mrs. Jones ami Mrs. | Brown?that is. Wal, now, thar; you've jest put me out, and I don't know nothing where I was. I wish the dog was in Ballyhak. (Here she took snuff violently.) Wal at any rate," said she, rallying, "the dog is dead, that's a fact; and Mrs. Quipes told me , that Cinda Clark told her " "No hearsay evidence here!" cried old Dot-and-go-one. "No hearsay ! no hear-say evidence !" repeated Mrs. Tweedle?"can't tell what you've heerd; 'taiu't la', ha ! then I guess you can j do your own swearin', I shan't. I didn't see j no dog killed." And Mrs. Tweedle took j another pinch of snuff, blew a significant blast ; from her nose, and left the stand, muttering to | herself, "Can't tell what you've heer'd !" "Hurrah for old Mrs. Tweedle!" cried two or three of the Jones pary, as she retired under flying colors. Squire Bumbleton started up from a doze, filled his pipe afresh during the excitement, gave a grunt, shifted his legs, and leaning back, tranquilly blew out long jets of smoke from the right corner of his mouth. Joe Racket was the next witness called. Joe was a "swift witness," in every sense of the word. He came driving through the multitude, and presenting himself before the magistrate, with his hat and overcoat on, raised his right hand and exclaimed: "Go ahead, squire!" "Name?" inquired Bumbleton. "Joseph W. Racket?VV. stands for Waters?Joseph Waters Racket?mother was a Waters?'iotig'd to York State Waters? Sch'harie Waters " "Tliat'll do," said the Squire. Joe was sworn, and before the oath was fully administered, he launched out like an arrow, without waiting for any questions, as follows: "Know Jones?know Hoscraft?live clus near one another?Jones young man, Hoscraft old?have seed the dog?part bull, part terrier?good for cows, had for sheep?Jones and Hoscraft quarrel'd 'bout geese?Hoscraft's geese came home picked?Hoscraft said Jones picked 'em?Jones said it was an infernal lie?was down to Hoscraft's tother night?said I to Hoscraft, said I, how do you and Jones make it now tm "Hold on /" exclaimed old Dot-and-go-one, in a voice of thunder. "No, he didn't," continued Racket?"didn't say nothing 'bout holdin' on?Hoscraft and Jones never did hold on?they were going it. Said he?that is, said Hoscraft?said he to me, 'after the old sort'?fire and tow all the "while, said I?'and there'll be more fire than tow by-aud-by,' said he?and that is all I know?got an ap/nntment down at Deersville at 2 o'clock?half past one now?witness fees a quarter'spose?Squire can credit that." 1 Whereupon Racket made a dive for the door; I but the defendant's attorney, who had become magnetized with wonder, having recovered, called him buck for cross-examination. Old Dut-and go-one might as well have attempted to cross examine a streak of lightning. Racket, in answer to his questions, only told the old 6tory over again, word for word ; and he was finally abandoned. Sim Peters came next. "What do you know about Jones'dog?" inquired Mike. "Don't know nothin' 'bout Jones' dog, nor nobody else's dog?never take notis to dogs? ain't no kind of a dog man, no how?if I it bad bin'a bos', now, I'd been at home?then I could er spread myself like an eagle?but dogs ! I ain't nothin' on that. Can't do you any good, Squire?no use." And Sim left the stand. Mrs. Culpepper was introduced. "She didn't know much about dogs, nuther ; but she guessed she knowed the Pikes, and if any of them critters was going to be j sworn on this 'ere trial?(Here old Pike j screamed out, 'take care old 'oman?have you : jugged up, fust thing you know. Better mind I your p's and q's.') Mrs. Culpepper rather tho't she knowed what she knowed ; and she should say it, too, if Beelzebub stood at the door. No Pike could scare her? she warn't afeard of a hull array of 'em, not she?so he could jist stop his yelling at her while she was a swearin': and she i . . . ? % ' T>M would say that if any one or them ere ntces were goin' to be sworn, she was on hand for 'em?loaded." Mike inquired what she knew about the dog. "Wal," said Mrs. C., "I didn't come for that, and can't swear 'bout the dog ! She was a 'Pike' witness; and if she was wanted, they would find her thar, every time." Many more witnesses were sworn, but they | did not throw any ray of light on the case. ; At last, a rough, knotty-looking specimen of humanity was called, known as Bill Weevil. His hands were in Ins breeches pockets, his mouth full of tobacco, his hair in confusion, and he occasionally hitched up his pantaloons that had worked down so far that his shirt had bulged out between them and his vest. After the reward of ten dollars had become public, Bill had managed to get his name on the subpoena as a witness; for he knew that he was the man to 'carry off the succors'?to use his language?when lie was first informed of the tempting bait set before him. Bill came on with a coufident swagger, was sworn, and took his seat, revolving his quid rapidly around his mouth. Mike Briar wanted to know if he knew anything about that dog. "I should?rather?think?I did," answered Weevil, slowly and deliberately, looking at the ceiliug, and stretching out his feet full, length. "Out with it," continued Mike. "Pie was shot," said Weevil. "Know'd that afore," said Mike. "Who shot him ?" Bill thought a moment. "Squire," said he, at last, "that is a sorter leadin' question? don't know 'bout anssverin'." " You're safe!" said Burableton ; "ten dollars reward, and a general release of all action against you." "Jest so," replied Bill. "Money on hand, Squire ?" "All on deposit, and gold at that." "Who?shot?the?dog ?" muttered Bill, slowly. "Jest let me see that'ere money, and that other what do you call it." Rnuire Bumbleton Dut the naner and the ~ J ?~ " " ~ t4 A money into the hands of the witness. "Who shot that dog?" muttered Bill again. "Yes," roared a do$en. "Out with it?tell or say you can't." "Wal," said Bill, "Ishot him !" The whole court-room was in an uproar in a moment?the Hoscraft faction screaming at the top of their lungs, the Joneses swearing, Mike Briar sitting half-paralyzed, old Dotand-go-one stamping with his wooden leg, and Squire Bumbleton grunting and scratching his head ; in the midst of which Bill Weevil "shot the pit," with his ten dollars and release of all actions. But it is a question to-day whether Bill Weevil shot Jones' dog or not. ^lisfcUantfous fUadrog. GUITEAU'S CONFESSION. His Story of President Garfield's Assassination. The New York Herald of Thursday, contained seven closely printed columns of what purports to be an autobiography of Guiteau, the assassin of President Garfield, as dictated by him to a stenographer, the narrative being condensed, it is alleged, to one-third of the actual amount of matter as taken down, in a series of interviews, from Guiteau's own lips. His story of the assassination, or, as he prefers to style it, "the removal of the President," is one of the most cold blooded accounts of a j dreadful crime that has ever been put on pa-! per. "My idea, simply stated," he remarks, "was to remove, as easily as possible, Mr. Jame3 A. Garfield, a quiet and good-natured citizen of Ohio, who temporarily occupied the position of President of the United States, and substitute in his place Mr. Chester A. Arthur, of New York, a distinguished and highly estimable gentleman. Mr. Garfield, I intended to quietly remove to paradise (which is a great improvement on this world), while Mr. Arthur saved the republic." And he adds: "Not a soul in the universe knew of my purpose to remove the President. If it has failed I shall never attempt it again. My motive was purely political and patriotic, and I acted under Divine pressure. It was the same kind of pressure that led Abraham to sacrifice his sou Isaac." All that part of his uarrative relating to his genealogy, his sojourn with the Oneida Company, his shiftless life in Chicago and New York, hi3 law studies and subsequent practice, his joining several churches in sucj cession, his career as a religious lecturer, and ' finally as a politician, we pass over as being I already generally known to the public. The profound interest of his confession centres i about his motives for assassinating the Presi| dent, and the series of attempts he made to j accomplish his purpose prior to firing the fatal shot. After giving an accouut of his ap| plication for either the Austriau mission or ; the Paris consulship, and the little satisfaction ; he obtained either from President Garfield or ; Secretary .Blaine, in respect to these appointments, he asserts that the rebuffs he met with | "had not the slightest influence on him either ; one way or another in reterence to his removi ing the President." He came, he said, to the j bloody determination pending the answer to his request for the Paris consulship, and for several weeks after being denied an interview : with the President he did not press his application either to him or Mr. Blaine. In the meantime, according to his story, he was ! brooding over the quarrel that had broken i out between the Stalwarts and the Half breeds ; in consequence of the resignation by Mr. j Coukliug of his seat in the Senate. At this ; point we follow closely the narrative. TIIIS CONCEPTION OF TIIE CRIME. "My conception of the idea of removing the President was this: Mr. Conkling rei signed Monday, May 16, 1881. On the folI lowing Wednesday I was in bed. I thiuk I j retired about 8 o'clock. I felt depressed and ! perplexed on account of the political situai tion, and I retired much earlier than usual, j I felt wearied in mind and body, and was in I my bed about 9 o'clock, and was thinking i over the political situation, when the idea flashed through ray brain that if the President was out of the way everything would go better. At first this was a mere impression. It startled rae, but the next morning it came to rae with renewed force, and I began to read the papers with ray eye on the possibility that the President would bave to go, and the more I read the more I saw the complication of public affairs, the more was I impressed with the necessity of removing him. This thing continued for about two weeks. I kept reading the papers and kept being impressed, and the idea kept bearing and bearing down upon me that the only way to unite the two factions of the Republican party and save the republic from going into the hands of the Rebels and Democrats was to quietly remove the President. "Two weeks after I conceived the idea ray mind was thoroughly settled on the intention to remove the President. I then prepared myself. I sent to Boston for a copy of my book, "The Truth," and I spent ^a week in preparing that. I cut out a paragraph and a line and a word here and there and added one or two new chapters, put some new ideas in it, and greatly improved it. I knew that it would probably have a large sale, on account of the uotoriety that the act of removing the President would trive rae. and " " # ~ * a " " o ? I wished the book to go out to the public in proper shape. That was oue preparation for it. Another preparation was to think the matter all out in detail and to buy a revolver and to prepare myself for executing the idea. This required some two or three weeks, and I gave my entire time and mind in preparing myself to execute the conception of removing the President. I never mentioned the conception to a living soul. I did most of my thinking in the park and on the street, and I used to go the Arlington and theRiggs House daily to read the papers. "After I had made up my mind to remove him, the idea when I should remove him pressed me, and I was somewhat confused on that. I knew that it would not do to go the White House and attempt it, because there were too many of his employees about, and I looked about for several days to try and get a good chance at him, and oue Sunday (the Sunday before he went to Long Branch) I went to his church in the morning. It is a small frame building, and I stood thereat the door a moment. I was a little late ; the services had progressed about one-third. I noticed the President sitting near'an open window, about three feet from the ground, and I thought to myself, 'that would be a good chance to get him.' I intended to shoot him through the back of the head and let the ball pass through the ceiling,- in order that no one else should be injured ; and there could not possibly be a better place to removo a man than at his devotions. I had my revolver in my possession when I first went to the church, having purchased it about ten days before the President's going to Long Branch. This was the Sunday prior to his leaving for Long Branch on Saturday. During that whole week I read the papers carefully. I thought it all over in detail. I thought just what people would talk, and thought ?what a tremendous excitement it would create, and I kept thinking about it all the week. I made up my mind that the next Sunday I would certainly shoot him if he was in church and I got a good chance at him. Thursday of the same week I noticed in the papers that he was going to Long Branch, and on the fol lowing Saturday lie did go to the .branch ior Mrs. Garfield's health. I went to the depot all prepared to remove hira. I had the revolver with me. I had all my papers nicely prepared. I spoke to a man about a carriage to take me, as I told him, over near the Congressional Cemetery. He said that he would take me for ?2, and seemed to be a very clever fellow and glad to get the job. I got to the depot about 9 o'clock, and waited there until the President's White House carriage drove up." He did not kill him at that time, he says, "because he did not have theheait to fire while Mrs. Garfield was with him, clinging tenderly to his arm." Learning that the President was to return on the following Monday, Guiteau went again to the depot to watch for him, but when the President reached there so many people were about him that the time did not seem opportune. All that week, however, he says he watched for him and tried at various times to get a shot at him, but did not succeed. How he dogged hira everywhere, day by day, is minutely told. Finally he heard from the papers that the President was going to Long Branch on Friday, and we give at this point his own narrative of what befell : "I took my breakfast," he said "at the Riggs House about 8 o'clock. I ate well and felt well in body and mind. I went into Lafayette Square and sat there some little time after breakfast, waiting for 9 o'clock to come, and then I went to the depot, and I got there about ten minutes after 9. I rode there from the park in a 'bob-tailed' car. 1 left the car, walked up to a bootblack, got my boots blacked, and inquired for a man named John Taylor, whom, two weeks before, I had spoken to about taking me out toward Congressional Cemetery. They told me that T? vlnr'n rmrriiifre was not there, and there - ?j - ~ - - -o- ' were three or four hack men there who were very anxious to serve me, and finally I noticed a colored man, and I asked him, 'What will you lake me out to the Congressional Cemetery for?' He says, 'Well, I will take you out "there for 82.' 'All right,' said I, 'if I want to use you I will let you know.' At that moment these two hackmeu were pressing me to get my business and I said to them, 'Keep quiet; you are too fast on this,' and I told this colored man privately that if I wanted his services I would let him know in few minutes. I then went into the depot and took my private papers which I intended for the press, (including a revised edition of my book, 'The Truth, a Companion to the Bible,') and stepping into the news stand asked the young mun in charge if I could leave those papers with him for a few moments, and he said 'Certuinly;' and he took : them and placed them up against the wall on top of some other papers. This was about j twenty minutes after 9, and I went into the I ladies' waiting room and I looked around ; ! saw there were quite a good many people | there in the depot and carriages outside, but j I did not see the President's carriage. I ex; amiued my revolver to see that it was all j right, and took off the paper that I had wrap: ped around it, to keep the moisture off. I ! wuited five or six minutes longer, sat down i on a seat in the ladies' room, and very soon 1 the President drove up. He was in cora! pany with a gentleman who, I understand, was Mr. Blaine, and I am satisfied that he ! was Mr. Blaine, although I did not recog| nize him. This gentleman looked very old, and he had a peculiar kind of headgear on, ; that I did not recognize as that of Mr. Blaine, i I am satisfied that it was Mr. Blaine, now , that my attention has been especially called | to it, because it was the same gentleman that i I saw with the President the night before, ! and I know positively that that gentleman I was Mr. Blaine. The President and this j gentleman drove up in a plain single seated I carriage, with one horse. This gentleman, I think, was driving. It" was a single carriage?a single seated top-buggy. The President seemed to be in a very earnest and private conversation with this gentleman, who i evidently was Mr. Blaine, although at the time I did not recognize him as Mr. Blaine. They sat in the carriage I should say some two minutes; they had not completed their conversation when they reached the depot, i and during the interview of two minutes they finished their conversation. During this time they were engaged in very earnest and private conversation, as I have said. The President got out on the pavement side and Mr. Blaine on the other side. They entered the ladies' room; I stood there watching the President and they passed by me. Before they reached the depot I had been promenading up and down the ladies' room between the ticket office door and the news st^nd door, a space of some ten or twelve feet. I walked up and down there I should say two or three times, working myself up, as I knew the hour was at hand. The President and Mr. Blaine came into the ladies' room and walked right by me; they did not notice me, as there were quite a number of ladies and children in the room. * 1 /? i* 1 . "There was quite a large crowa 01 ucaet purchasers at the gentlemen's ticket office in the adjoining room ; the depot seemed to be quite full of people. There was quite a crowd and commotion around, and the President was in the act of passing from the ladies' room to the main entrance through the door. I should say he was about four or five feet from the door nearest the ticket office, in the act of passing through the door to get through the depot to the cars. He was about three or four feet from the door. I stood five or six feet behind him, right in the middle of the room, and as he was in the act of walking away from me I pulled out the revolver and fired. He straightened up and threw his head back, and seemed to be perfectly bewildered. He did not eeem to know what struck him ; he did not drop ; I thereupon pulled again. He dropped his head, seemed to reel, and fell over. I do not know where the first shot hit; I aimed at the hollow of his back ; I did not aim for any particular place, but I knew if I got those two bullets in his back he would certainly go. I was in a diagonal direction from the President, to the north-west, and supposed both shots struck." What followed after this has been so often told that it is not necessary to repeat it. ARRAIGNMENT OP THE PRISONER. Guiteau was araigned on Tuesday of last week. He was conveyed to the court in the iron clad wagon used to carry specie to the United States treasury, and was guarded by a platoon of soldiers. No witnesses for the defence were summoned, as the prisoner pleads insolvency and under the law, in such cases the Government summons and pays the expenses of all witnesses within one hundred miles of the court. Although the prisoner has been formally arraigned, it is not probable that the trial will begin for several days. Mr. Scoville, Guiteau's counsel, visited him at the jail on the day before his arraignment, and after consultation with him had decided to ask Mr. R. T. Merrick to aid him in the conduct of the defence. Should Merrick accept he would be given entire charge, with leave to call in additional counsel if he saw fit. "WITNESSES FOR THE DEFENCE. ?*ai? j-vrt a ntr ntnnn f a oonil fq tt 1 f _ xiavc j\ju laacu atij oi^po tu ?i*w~ nesses, Mr. Scoville?" asked the correspondent. "Not yet. I have not means to defray the expense of bringing witnesses to Washington, and, as the government is compelled by law to bring witnesses for the prisoner living within one hundred miles of the court house, I shall exercise that right, as Guiteau cannot afford to pay them. It is provided that witnesses beyond that distance can give their deposition, and I can undertake that task without being compelled to expend a very large sum of money. I have no money to pay for counsel, but will ask the Court to assign the gentleman to the case that Guiteau asks for. While talking with him Monday, I suggested the name of Colonel Robert G. Ingersoll as his lawyer. The prisoner's eyes dropped, and he said: 'That would array the whole Christian world against me, for they would say that I had to get an infidel to defeud me. No he won't do. I want Mr. Merrick."' COURSE OF THE DEFENCE. "Suppose Mr. Merrick should be unable to assist you, what then ?" "I would conduct the case according to the best of my ability. I would put Guiteau on the stand as the first witness for tbe defence, and let the Court and jury judge by his ac, lions aud conversation whether or not he is insane. Let any body of experts or professional men hear him talk and there would be but one opinion on the question of insanity." "Thus far what steps have you taken ?" "I have secured several letters written by him in 1859 and 1860 which will show the j state of his mind at that time. He joined the Oneida Community in 1860, and I have now a letter written by him during the summer of that year showing his inclination on religious matters. He has constantly gone astray on the subject of religion, and it is to this cause that I ascribe his trouble to day. To-day I received a package of letters from my wife which she and I had received from Guiteau at different times, and I shall use them in evidence." "How does the prisoner receive your counsel ?" j "He is very obstinate, and I have to yield to him when he requests me to do anything in his case. It is useless to attempt to argue with him, for he makes up his mind to a thing and sticks to it." STATEMENT OF THE ASSASSIN. "Tr ? > : ? I "XiatJ XltJ glVCIJ ^UU txuj jjapcio VI otaic* I ments since you have visited him ?" j "Yes, yesterday, before I left him, Ire gave j me the following statement: "a statement." j "I have been terribly villified by the press and it has made some people bitter and im| pulsive against me, but time will righten that. , I expect to issue a book shortly, wherein I ; shall show the President's wrecking the Repub1 lican party last spring by the unwise use of : patronage which would have resulted in anothj er war and that the Lord inspired me to remove him to keep the Republican party intact and j save the nation another heart-rending and des| dating war. The breach last spring in the ; Republican party was widening week by | week and I foresaw a civil war. My inspira; tion was to remove the President and close i the breach at once before it got so wide that j nothing but a civil war could close it. The | Divine pressure on me to remove the PresiI wnaan enormous that I had to do it. even if I bad beeu shot dead the next moment, and the Lord took special pains to confirm my act by the gradual way He allowed the President to depart. This case should be : judged by the condition of politics in May and June, when I conceived the idea of re! moving the President, and not by the feeling ' now. The President's removal has saved the j nation another war and the people will recogl nize this fact as soon as they recover their heads. "Charles Gciteau." "United States Jail, Washington, D. C., Oct. 6, 1881." ANOTHER PAPER. Mr. Scoville continued : "There is another i paper that I have in my possession, which the prisoner dictated to me yesterday. You i remember that it has been stated that the day ' of the shooting, a few minutes before the act was committed, Guiteau handed a package to the news agent at the depot and requested him to keep it a few minutes. After his arrest the package was taken possession of by District Attorney Corkhill. In ppeaking to Guiteau about it he said be remembered perfectly well what the package contained, and at his dictation I wrote the following, which he assured me was correct: "'Washington, D. C., June 16,1881. " *To the American People: " 'I conceived the idea of removing the Pres'lent about four weeks ago. I conceived the idea myself and kept it to myself. Not a soul in the universe knew of my purpose to remove the President. It was my own conception and execution. I read the papers carefully for and against the administration, and gradually the conviction settled on me that the President's removal was a political necessity because be proved a traitor to the. men that made him and thereby imperilled the Republic, At the last presidential election the Republican party carried every Northern State. To-day, owing to the misconduct of the President and his Secretary of State, they could not carry one. They certainly could not carry New York, which is the pivotal State. Ingratitude is the basest of crimes. That the President, under the manipulations of his Secretary of State, has been guilty of the basest ingratitude to the stalwarts admits of no denial. The express purpose of the President has been to crush Gen. Grant and Senator Conkling and thereby prepare the way for his nomination in 1884. In the President's madness he has wrecked the once grand old Republican party and for this he dies. The men that saved the Republican party must govern it and not tbe men who sought its life. I have no illwill toward the President. This is not murder ; it is a political necessity ; it will make my friend Arthur President and save tbe Republic. Grant, during tbe war, sacrificed thousands of lives to save tbe Republic. I have sacrificed only one. I shot the President as I would a rebel if I saw him pulling down the American flag. I leave my justification to God and the American people. Charles Guiteau.' " addition to the letter. "Two days later, Guiteau made the following addition to the letter: " 'Washington, D. C., June 18, 1881. " 'I intended to remove the President this morning and went to the Baltimore depot, -1 t _!iL If but be came into me aepot wno uiru. vrarfield leaning on bis arm, and I concluded to remove him when he was alone. It will be no worse for Mrs. Garfield, dear soul, to part from her husband in this way than by natural death. He is liable to go at any time, anyway.' Charles Guiteau.' " "Another postscript read as follows : " 'Washington, D. C., June 20, 1881. " 'The President's nomination was an act of God. The President's election was an act of God. The President's removal was an act of God. I am clear in my purpose to remove the President. Two objects will be accomplished. It will unite the Republican party and save the Republic, and it will create a large demand for my book, 'The Truth.' This book was written to save souls and not for money, and the Lord wants .to save souls by circulating this book.' I Charles Guiteau.'" GUITEAU's CONDITION. "My idea," said Mr. Scoville, in publishing j these statements, "is to let the Deople see and judge for themselves as to the condition of Guiteau. Heretofore it has been telegraphed all over the country that Guiteau had made certain statements to the officers at the jail, but nothing that emanated directly from him was permitted to get out. I do not intend to deceive him, when he gives me a document of any kind for a person ; be he high or low, I shall deliver it if possible." A Washington dispatch of the 12th says that Mr. Scoville, in reply to questions asked him, stated that he had not yet received any answer from Gen. Butler as to whether he would act as counsel for defense, that the statement already published as to Mr. Merrick expressing a willingness to argue the question of jurisdiction (if raised) is correct; that he has been advised by distinguished lawyers all over the country, including sev eral judges, to raise every question and make every poiDt that can properly be made on behalf of his client; that such is also the express instruction of Guiteau, and that he (Scoville) has no apprehension of personal violence being offered to the prisoner on his way to or from or in court. It is stated that the District Judges have also expressed their desire that all legitimate and proper questions in the case shall be raised and fully argued. What is an Inch of Rain ??An inch of rain is that quantity which, falling upon a level surface and not absorbed or allowed to run off, stands one inch in depth.^ The amount of water falling upon an acre of ground when the rainfall is one inch would astonish any one who has given no thought to the subject. On each square foot of surface there would be 144 cubic inches, and on one acre, which contains 43,560 square feet, | there would be 6,272,640 cubic inches, which, 1 reduced to imperial gallons, each containg 10 i poundit avoirdupois, would be 22,623 gali ions, weighing 226,230 pounds, something ! more than 113 tons to the acre. The annual | average rainfall in this locality approximates 50 inches, consequently each acre receives about 5.655J tons weight of water in a year. This amount of water would require 265 freight cars to carry it. If one had to water ! a 640 acre farm at this rate, it would require ! figures like those of the distance to the near! est fixed star.?Augusta News. I The Czae's Daily Peril.?Advices from l St. Petersburg state that the roost comprehenI sive measures have been taken for the safety i of the Annitchkoff Palace, the Czar's favorj ite St. Petersburg residence. A subterranean j passage has been constructed all around the palace, which can be patrolled by sentinels I and immediately placed under water. The j Czar is negotiating for the purchase of various houses surrounding the palace. Twenty pupils of the Constantine Military School have been arrested. Many Nihilist proclamations were found on them. The Russian authorities, in view of the fact, are adopting the severest measures. Markets and fairs are prohibited wherever there is the least suspicion that the Nihilists intend to use Buch | gatherings for their own purposes. j t&7* On the edge of a small river in the county of Cavan, in Ireland, there is a stone with the following strange inscription, no doubt intended for the information of strangers traveling that way: "N. B. When this stone is out of sight, it is not safe to ford the river." But this is still surpassed by the famous post erected a few years since, by (the surveyors of the Kent roads, in England : "This is the bridle-path to Feversham ; if you can't read this you had better keep the maiu road."