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Greene County herald. (Leakesville, Miss.) 1898-current, October 06, 1898, Image 1

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn87065327/1898-10-06/ed-1/seq-1/

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Greene County herald.
itt ■ - ■ .. .■■■■ -_.i- . -■ ..- ■ ■■■ -- . '■ ■' 1
If you could thluk, if yoti could speak,
I wonder how your voice would souiidl
And what opinion you would hold
Of those who idly crowd nroundl
Why nro your oyos, with passivo gazo,
Fixed on us ns wo laugh or weep.
As though you seemed to stand aloof
And mystio solf-communlon keep?
Can'nll wo say, and all wo do,
And all wo are or might hnvo boon,
Bo naught to you, ns though we wero
Unknown, unenred for, and unseen?
’Tis ages sinoe the artist’s brush
Upon a snowy ennvas drew
Your fontures; then revored and loved,
Now only known by nntno to few.
It may bo ages since you left
To entor on your ondless tranco;
But day by day wo love to build
Around your faco some fresh romance.
—H. N. SI., in Chambers’s Journal.
^ By Joseph Pereival Pollard. O
HE line that di
vides Texas
from a presum
ably yet more
furnace-like re
gion was on this
day loss evident
than usual. The
air seemed visi
bly shrivelling
in the excess of
heat, and the
sun hung above
tho parched
earth like a per
petual menace.
Granito Mountain glistened in the
glare with its thousand ruddy points
sparkling liko fireflies. Around the
base of the mountain the long canvas
covered sheds gave the appearance of
a huge yellow snake eoiled up and at
rest. In the sheds where they were
hewing and fashioning the stones that
were to grace tho walls of the State
House, the heat was even more fenr
>- r ful. Tanned and leathery as were the
skins of the State’s prisoners working
there, they yet gavo vent to an occa
sional sigh; breath came with diffi
culty, and exhaustion was everywhere
evident. But, since they knew that
this day must come to an end at last,
find since escape was, even in attompt,
Sheer f»lly, the convicts continued to
ply their hammers and chisels without
Ceasing. For they knew themseves
j , to pe mere incidents in the building
* <#f the great capitol that was to outlive
them and the memory of thmn.
V There were many among those con
i'1* riots, indeei to whom this work of
f' '•* Cutting granite at Granito Mountain
.. A1 —Was in the nature of an immense relict!
from a far greater evil—the Swamps. !
In all the history of oonvict labor there
ir nothing more horrible than that j
chapter in which tho names of those !
American conviots who have died in
the swamps are ^corded. These places
I have all the lo .“tioss of the Siberian
steppes, and are plague spots besides.
Consequently, when a number of con
victs were transferred from the swamps
to Granito Mountain, there to be taught
granito-cutting, these men came gradu
ally to consider themselves as having
been lifted from a hell to a heaven,
and to behave gratefully as a recom
pense. The guards who paced up and
rlnirn of ownvt* nrvin t f 4l< n ninil.1 a .. A
invisible horizon were rarely obliged
to bring their Winchester into actual
use; attempts at escape were few and
far between—firstly, beoause the lot
of these oonvicts was indubitably the
happiest in the gift of the a» -te f
T»ir»s, and secondly ’'ecanse C t*-r
mation if the country near C . o
Mountain was especially unfa’ < :e
to success in eluding the rifles oi the
outposts. It was almost possible to
. stand at any point on the mountain
itself and sec every outlet of the camp
Bat onco. When it did happen that the
sound of the chisels striking the granite
was interrupted by the sharper
"whang" of Winchesters, the question
usually uppermost in the mind was not
"Did he escape?” but “Did they kill
him, or only wing him?" Any attempts
ut escape were mostly the result of a
sort of frenzy that convicts are victims
to; it in a state of mind much akin to
the temporary insanity that juries find
so convenient a Jabel for suicides,
i When, therefore, the hot stillness
of that place was broken on this day
by the quiok crackling of several Win
chesters, the granite-cutters merely
listened a moment, sighed, and bent
down again to the veined blocks of
stono before them. In the guard
house the guards wild were not on
outpost duty smiled at each other.
' \ Ono of them said shortly—
] "It’s always on these very hot
\duys," and the others nodded.
\Out on the western ridge of the
.. . k’^t red mountain, John- Temple, the
^ wlraso Winchester had spoken,'
• \'A‘- ovor the body of a con
. " i ,,luy prostrate, a gray spot on
11b,‘\«J cf rock over which a
9 Bt-***of bipod yqs trickling.
Another guard approached presently,
and they carried the would-be fugitive
down into a sort of ravine, where the
sun could not penetrate nnd where
thcro was both coolness and shade.
Thou they sent for the doctor, who
came riding up after n little while, and
pronounced the man wounded to
“He may live an hour," he said.
The wounded man opened two
weary eyes; his right hand fumbled
down against tho rough sail-cloth
upon which he lay, striving to grasp
it, to clench it so that ho could steady
"Bring the sergeant," ho gasped;
then his head dropped, nnd he seemed
to sink into restfulness. When he
opened his eyes again, tho sergeant
was standing wnitiug nt his side. It
was very still there, in that shadowy
place; death was already writing his
signs upon the faoe of the prostrate
convict, nnd tho awe of him was upon
the'faoes of all.
“Maybe,” began the convict, look
ing at tho sergeant, “yon remember
what I’m in for, r.ud maybe you don’t.
Any way I’ve got to tell you, so’s I
can mako cloar the whole of it. It’s
weak in me, I reckon, and there ain’t
no real call for me to tell it, but I’m a
coward; I don’t want to lenvo thib
world under the cloud I’ve lived in.
“I reckon all you know me by now
is my number; but beforo I was sent
up my name was Wainwright. |I used
to live up in Lampasas; keptageneral
store there, nnd was getting on fairly
well for a young fellow. They were a
pretty rough lot, the people who trad
ed at my placo—cowboys, and poor
farmers. But I manngod to keep out
of tronblo and was laying a little some
tmng Dy, overy year. i was caving up
until I had enough so's I could ask
Mary Horton, the postmaster’s daugh
ter, to marry me, which I hoped was
going to be soon. This was fifteen
years ago—fifteen years ago. Mary’d
told me sho was willing, and we were
as good as engaged, only I’d never
thought it quite fair to have her bind
herself until I was quite sure I could
provide for her.
“And then Mary set eyes on a young
cowboy of tho name of Farnly one day,
—and sho never was the same to me
afterwards. I thought I’d ent my
heart out, to see how sho was all glow
ing with love for him; for he was a
reckless sort, and I don’t think he'd
make her a good mau. You see, I
loved Mary; if sho was going to be
happier with farnly, I wasn't going
to stand in the way. It would hurt,
I knew that; but if she wanted it that
“Well, ono day, another cowboy
from tho some ranch that Farnly was
punching for rode into town, and
started to .drinking. He went over to
the postoffice and called Mary Horton
out to the door. Farnly was in my
store, just opposite tho postoffiee, at
the time, and we could see everything
plainly. ‘So yoo’re the girl,' began
the cowboy, leaning heavily against
the frame of the door. Then he tried
to kiss her; she flung out her hand at
his face, and he. laughing druukenly,
was beginning to press forwr. :d, hi n
thero was a shot and the ma’ ’) He
died in five minutes.
“That shot was tlrod from my tore
The jury and the evldeno. • glared
that it was I who fired the shi' hut
killed that man. Aud that’s why Ih.
here. Blit I’m going too fast. Be
fore the smoke cleared away and out
of the room that Farnly and I were
standing in, I looked at tho pistol—it
was still smoking—and then at Farn
ly. ‘It’s me she loves, ’ I said. The
same thing was in both our minus.
He shook his head. ‘Look at this,’
and he handed me a note. It was in
Mary’s hand; what else it said I don’t
know, but at the last she declared she
loved him, and that she would break
off with me. For a moment or twp I
felt like killing Farnly, I reckon; then
I took the hot pistol and held it so
until they came and found me. All
the evidence went to show that it was
I,“driven on by jealousy, who fired
tne shot that killed tho cowboy. But
is was not I. In was Farnlf. If she
had not loved him—if she liad not de
termined npon sharing his life, what
would it all have mattered to me?
They might havo found tho smoking
pistol in his hand for all I cared. But
I loved her—do you understand that?
—I loved her. She loved him; if she
knew that he was a murderer, it would
almost kill her. As for me, she no
longer cared for me; my fate would
only grieve her] for a space; I was
nothing in her life now. And so—I
took the blame.”
The feverish utterance ceased sud
denly, and the dying man closed his
eyes slowly. In tho distance you
could hear the whistles of the fore
men, the dull echoes of blasting, and
the tiukje of chisels. The doctor
looked away from the pallet for an in
stant; his eyes wandered up towards
where the sun was now visible over
the edge of the ravine; when he with
drew them, they were slightly moist;
the sun had probably been too strong.
^ k‘*Tliat,” went on the convict, open
ing his eyes again, and staring at tho
guard with u horrible smile on his
gray lips, “was fifteen years ago.
Well, siuoo then—I have been here,
and in the swamps. It is hard, isn't
it, to be a prisoner—hopelessly—for
so long—when you are innocent? Bnt
rather than spoil her happiness I
would have died, She must believe
in her husband—always to tho end.
And so—I oould never speak. Only
now, only now, when it can do no
harm—and because it feels easier to
pass out without the stain than with
it. It is only that you may remember
that convict sixty-nine was innooent.
I won’t say anything about what I’ve
endured. I’d do it again, gladly. I
hope he made her happy. And now
yon must promise—you must promise
me— a dying man, that you will Bay
nothing of what I have told you; that
you will regard it as sacred, and that
there will ;be no raking among the
ashes of fifteen years ago. Promise
mo that, gentlemen, promise me, or
—I—cannot—die—in—peace. ”
His dim eyes wandered from face to
face, imploringly, and yet with some
thing of command in them.
Tho sergeant looked at the doctor,
and both their eyes shone.
“It’s against the law,” said the ser
geant putting out his hand and laying
it on the doctor’s shonldor, “but for a
man like that, I'd—doctor, if I omit
this from the records-”
“I’ll do the same,” said tho doctor
swiftly. The he spurted at the guard,
“And if you say a word-”
“I’ll be hanged first,” was the fierce
reply. Then there-was a sileuoe, un
til the dying mau spoke again, very
slowly and with an effort.
“I suppose you wonder why I—
tried to escape. Well, it was a mad
ness, I think. I can't explain it my
self. But I was out there with the
blasting outfit to-day, when suddenly
I looked up ond saw tho figure of a
woman against the skyline, on the
slope of the granite mountain. She
had on a big suubonnet, and to me,
in my sudden madness, she was the
image of Mary Horton as I used to
watch her coming from tho district
schoomonse in the long ago. I reckon
it was really oue of the guards’ wives;
but I didn’t think of that then. I
saw that iigure, and—all of a sudden
—everything gave way in me—all but
tho longing for her. I forgot the
years—the place, everything. There
was Mary—out there on tho moun
tain; if I could reach her and tell
her how miserable I was; if I could
but kiss her once; but once speak to
her- And then, I started forward
madly, running at full speed, in a
kind of frenzy—and—now—I—am—
He noticed the anguish on tho
guard’s face, and went on, looking
up smilingly at him
“Oh, you did your duty, you know.
How "were you to know the madness
that was in me? For it must have
been a—madness. Yes, surely, it
must have been. And so, you have
all promised me that you—will say
nothing? Ah, thank you, thank you.
It makes it so much easier for me, if
I can think that she will nevor know.
It—might —worry—her ’’
His breath went from him in a gen
tle sigh, and tho eyes dosed. The
dootor stepped forward, and put his
head down towards the man's heart.
It had ceased to beat.
“Dead!” he said briefly.
A tear glistened on the guard’s
leathery cheek.
“He was white,” he said thickly,
“clear through.” Then ho put his hand
to his cheek and wiped away a tear.
“When an army soldier dies-”
he went on, looking at tho sergeant.
“Yes,” said the sergoaut, “go on;
he deserves it.”
Over in the guard-station they list
ened to the shots and looked up
“What’s that?” asked a lately ar
rived guard.
“A conviot has escaped!” was the
Out of debt out of danger.
Slander is the revenge of a coward,
and dissimilation his defense.
Life is too short to he wasted in
petty worries, hatred and vexation.
Chance opportunities make us known
to othe and still more to ourselves.
He is youug enough who has health,
and he is rich enough who has no
The only failure a man ought to
fear is failure in cleaving to the pur
pose he sees to he best.
Self-knowledge is that acquaintance
with ourselves which shows ns what
we are, and what we ought to be.
A false report does not last long,
and the life one leads is always the
best apology of that which one has
Oreat efforts come of industry and
perseverauoe; for audacity doth almost
hind and mate the weaker sort of
The moral courage that will face
obloquy iu a good cause is much a
rarer gift than the bodily valor that
will confront death in a bad one.
Was Not an Ordinary Ua§e.
A Wisconsin sweetheart named Hall
has caused the arrest of a Miss Short
for assaulting him with intent to de
prive him of his hair and eyes. The
local justioe will fix the penalty, but
the case should go before the Inter
state Commerce Commission, ns it
deals directly with the “Short-Hall
claws.”—Denver (Col.) Times.
Cant on Uniforms.
Many of the cast-off uniforms of
English soldiers are exported to Africa j
for trading purposes syltfo the Kjjgrs. I
Henri TYnnaut so Shocked by the Scene*
lie Witnessed at Solferino That He
Formed a Corps to Work In the ('huso
of Hu man ItSome Interesting Fnct*,
The history of llio Red Cross so
ciety is hut little known iu the United
Stntes. Our peace-loving people have
been for so many years freo from the
terror of war which has continually
confronted European nations that we
became supremely indifferent to the
emergency that at some time might
arise, wheu we should be called upon
to.take enro of the sailors and Holdiers
wounded in the defence of our coun
It is nearly forty years since M.
Henri Dunant.a native of the republic
of Switzerland, witnossod the battle
of Solferino, and was a horrified ob
server of the unnecessary suffering of
the wounded from lack of enre. Be
ing grently impressed by tbo sight ho
published a little book called “Sou
venir de Solferino,” and pointed out
the urgent necessity of forming a corps
of surgeons and nurses who could
work iu the cause of humanity, re
gardless of nationality, and who might
be protected by a flag of neutrality,
and he permitted to serve on the field
of battle and aid the wounded. This
little volume appealed to all who read
it, and the outcome was a convention
held at lieneva, Switzerland, m Au
gust, 1854, by representatives from
sixteen of the great nations of the
world, who then signod a compact of
stiict neutrality that assured, under
certain specified regulations, a com
plete protection to the members of the
association when caring for the
wounded on the field of buttlo. The
flag of Switzerland is heraldically de
scribed as “on a field gules, a cross
argent,” and the society adopted it
out of compliment to its birthplaoe,
only reversing the colors. Today the
insignia of tho International com
mittee is the red cross on a white
field, and is the only military hospital
flag in the civilized world which pro
tects all persons from molestation who
work under it or rightfully wear th-j
emblem when performing their ser
vice. The insignia is jealously
guarded, nnd the brassards and arm
lets, that are sewed on the sleeve
when issued in time of war, are
marked with private devices, so chat
both armies may be protected from
spies, and that none but those en
gaged in the work of helping the
wounded shall be “immune.”
M. Gustav Moynier, president of
the Society of Publio Utility, was
elected and still remains president of
the international committee of the
Red Cross, the headquarters of which
are at Geneva. Sixty-two nations
have signed the compact. In 1882,
Miss Clara Barton, who had already
distinguished herself by her services
as a nurse during the civil war, was
delegated by the president of the
Unit ed States to represent her country
at a congress of the Red Cross oom
mittee, and she was made a member
of the international board of managers
— 1_iU. TT_ : _ .1 Cll.u.
signed the international treaty. It
was at Miss Barton’s suggestion that
a line of work was adopted by the in
ternational committee, eo that each
nation might pursue an occupation in
time of piece that would qualify it to
be of sei vice in an emergency, there
by keeping, its national Red Cross
Mat ion in ru active state of organ
ization. At was determined that the
study of discloses, methods of treat
ment, more * -Menially without the
use of a1, and the
educe » anu should
bo pir . an the formal m. * the
constitution of the American Nation*;
Red Cross association a still wider
range of activities was adopted. It
was hoped that we should have no
wars, but calamities and disasters
were always to be apprehended, and
the organization determined to pro
vide aid for such emergencies. Other
nations, seeing the usefulness of what
has been called tlio “American amend
ment” are following onr example and
adding the amendment to their con
stitutions. During the past seventeen
years the American Red Cross has
given aid to sufferers in fifteen dis
asters or famines, the Russians, Ar
menians and Cubans being those who
have received aid outside of our own
Notwithstanding the fact that MBs
Barton advocated starting hospitals
during peace, no such work has been
done in America, with the exception
of one institution which Miss Barton
installed and opened in the city of
New York in 1891. It was founded
by Miss Bettina Hofker—now the wife
of Dr. A.Monae Lesser—a graduate of
the Mount Binai training school for
nurses, the daughter of a general of
the Prussian army, aud whose mother
and aunts had sorved as assistant
nurses during the Frauco-Prussiau
The life of a professional nurse is
one of coustnnt self-sacrifice, but at
lenst she feels that she is lieiug re
warded for her service <,aud that when
no longer able to coutiuue bur work,
sbe lias been able to lay aside a small
sum, which will be sufficient to sup
port lier for the rest of her life. But
while trained mu ses in general receive
a fair compensation for tlioir services,
the sisters of the Rod Cross get until
ing wlmtovor. With the danger of a
war before us. noble professional j
nursesliave conic forward by hundreds, I
and offered their ••• rvices for Rod I
Cross work. They fully com." .,, j
the magnitude and ini; ortance of the
work that they will ha called upon to
perform, and undertake it quite aware
that they aro giving gratuitous ser
But what shall bo said of the un
professional women who, without
training or skill, offer themselves as
assistants to the Red Cross? ft would
sepia folly to accept tlioir sorvicos.and
yet the officers of the society bane
their opinion on the experience gained
in the Frnueo-Prnssian war, when the
princesses of Prussia and women of all
degree offered their services to the
Red Cross, and proved of inestimable
The trained nursos will have life
and death in their hands, but the un
trained assistants will have no less re
sponsibility, for while upon ono will
the care of the sick devolve, on the
other the protection of the healthy
will fall, and in a hostile country,with
uuncclimated porsons, the task will ho
neither easy nor light. A great bat
tle has been fought; the “Red Cross”
is called for; hearers begin to carry
in the wounded. The country is de
vastated, smoking ruins show where
tho homes of the inhabitants once
stood; there is no shelter, there are
no provisions; the wounded famish for
a sip of water, which would poison
them if served from the polluted
stroams about them. The surgeons
and nurses are bending ever the
wounded, tendering professional aid.
The unprofessional worker is now
nlert and calls to her aid her house
wife's training, and looks after the
comforts and wants of an emergency
household. While the trained nurses
have been providing themselves with
bandages, lint, etc., the assistant has
been loading a small cart with bread,
boiled water, tea, coffee, eto., and she
hurriedly follows the ambulance corps.
A sheet thrown over *ho branch of a
tree makes a sheltci, fires are lighted,
food is prepared, and theaesistaut fol
lows the nurses and doctors, feeds tbo
wounded, and gives a woman’s gentle
aid to ibe soldier. As nurses Tucrd
doctors turn exhausted fiom their 1
fatiguing tasks, the improvised tent
offers the shelter and food provided by
the assistant.
It is for this kind of work that the
unprofessional women are offering
Biff Bird-Eating Frogs.
A species of bird-eating frogs in
fests the swamps around Susquehanna,
Penn. These huge croakers have also
proved destructive to young chickens.
Recently a farmer named Wainwright
of Herrick had his attention called to
the bird-eating propensity of this
species of frog by the. cries of a small
bird in a nearby swamp. Thinking it
had been seized by a snake, he has
tened to the spot, and saw a beautiful
red and green bird in the mouth of a
large, greenish frog. Only the bird’s
head was visiblo, and its cries becom
ing fainter, the frog was killed and
the bird released. Its feathers were
all wet and slimy, and for some days
it could be distinguished iu the garden
by its ruffled plumage.
Since then others of the same spe
/iioq nf frn<r hnvA mi spvpi jiI orrAsiniiR.
been killed with young chickens half
swallowed, and once a duckling was
rescued from the same fate.
The frogs make a chuckling sound
■o nearly like that of a hen calling her
chickens for food that whole broods
have been deceived and have rushed
toward the swamp, where they sup
posed the hen to be. The frogs are
wary, and it is difficult to find them
except by the squeaks of distress
fiom their victims.—New York Press.
Inti -n Sighted.
It is a dt.*..,, -viction,dat
ing from our boyhood’s re'aJb j of
Fenimore Cooper,Mayue Eeid,Gustav
Aimard, and othor authors who famili
arized us with the red man, tout the
noble savage had a keenness of vision
such as no pale-face could ever
reach. And now comes Dr. ltanke of
Munich, who has been submitting the
eye-sight of several Indian braves to
scientific examination, to npset this
theory. He comes to the conclusion
that the alleged keenness of vision of
the redskin is a sheer delusion. They
see no further and no more distinctly
tbau does the avorage citizen of Lon
don’or Berlin. But they possess the
advantage of having been trained from
infancy to observe with concentrated
attention the objects around them,and
to draw deductions rapidly from this
survey for the purposes of war or the
chase. Dr. Banke says that with
similar life-long practice almost every
Kuropean could acqnire the same
faculty.—London Chronicle.
Where Mahogany Comes From.
Mahogany, the wood of a tree known
to naturalists by the name of Swei
teuia Mahogaui, is found principally
on the coast of Honduras, and around
the buy of Campeaohy. Cuba and
gan Domingo also yield mahogany,
which is of a finer quality than that
fouud in the first mentioned lo
calities. The former is usually called
bay wood, while the name of Bpauish
wood is applied to the latter,
N»« 1 drilling ^"nturo of Downing There
Principal Keliance—rfta His Finish
and lleliflTfd the (lovernmenl 1m '
initting .Suicide—Chief Wilkie's Exploits
The secret service of the govern
nent during the war lias been em
iloyed mostly in discovering and
thwarting the efforts of Spain to get
nformation and gain certain ends in
;his country by means of secret agents,
rhat the secret service has been suc
lessful has been attested by Lieuten
ant Carranza,-formerly of the Spanish
legation in Washington and the head
of the Spanish spy system in this
country. In his published letter set
ting forth his hopes, plans and experi
ences ho referred to the work of the
secret service thus :
“The Americans are showing tho
most extraordinary vigilance. They
have captured my two best men.”
And he might have added : “In a mo
ment one of thoir men will come into
this room, take this letter, send it to
John Wilkie, chief of the secret ser
vice of America, who will thereby be
informed officially, as if I were to
confess to him myself, all that I have
done and all that I hope to do.”
An illustration of how the secret
service doeB its work was given by
Chief Wilkie during a conversation
in his private office :
“Tho Downing case was taken up
by us and we disposed of him,” Chief
»» unit; UU^UU, 111 1033 lUUll out) WUtJtt..
I was warned that George Downing,
a former sailor on the cruiser Brook
lyn, had entered the Spanish spy ser
vice. Ho was located on arriving in
Toronto. When he went to pay his
first call to the attache of the Spanish
legation my man was within earshot
and heard every word that passed bo*
tween them. He heard all of the in
structions Downing received, and
when Downing left the room my man
met hi a as if by chance and asked for
a watch to light his to gar. He walkM
with him to the hotel office, got a
' look at him, followed him to his
. a ! h's assumed name, got
a ; • i. . : • • ...a iwriting from the
»r and later shadowed him to
the train,
“Then he teleg ... d m ‘Wat
Downing had left for SVasbington on
the 5 o’clock trail., sent m a full do
scription of him, and when the train
arrived here three of my boys spotted
him. They followed him to a board
ing house, where he left his grip. Then
they followed him about town and back
to h’s house. After an hour or so ho
came out and walked to the postoffice.
When he dropped n letter to his Span
ish employer in Toronto through the
postoflice receiver, the letter fell into
the hands of one of my operatives and
was brought at once to me, while the/'
other operatives followed Downing
hack to his boarding house. I opened
the letter and, upon reading it, com
municated with the war department,
whieh decided upon a military arrest.
Soldiers were sent for, and taking a
few operatives with me, we went to
Downing’s house. He was still there,
and we waited till the extinguished
lights told U3 he had gone to bed.
“Then we knocked at the frontdoor.
The mistress of the house thrust her
I. _ _ J A 1 ~ ,1 .1rt/»li tv /l/l
to let us in till I threatened to break
down her door. Then, very much
frightened, she admitted us. Leaving
the soldiers below, I took two of my
men, and bidding the landlady go be-y
fore, went up to his door. I bade the
landlady knock and tell Downing that
some friends from Chicago wauted to
see him. She oould leave the rest to
me. She did so. Downing bit at
once and we could hear him dressing.
The hall was dark, and we stood on
either side of the door. When'he
opened the door he was in the best pos
sible situation for capture had he been
disposed to put up a fight, for he was
in the art of putting on his coat and
had one arm ^hrongU. his sleeve and
the other only hi srh. so tlin
lie couldn’t have used either
tage. [grabbed him by the — .
explained our errand briefly
of fight, he wilted like on ic
Washington pavement in J mts
“Entoring his room, we ineg
effects, the cipher he was iei,
telegraphing to his Spanish 1
some destroyed correspoi
fact, everything necessary t u and
a perfect case. He never i ‘*09
from his collapse. He 11 »uth.
enough to see that it was il >’o. 2
him. We turned him o\M P m
soldiers, who took him to! , P ™
tary prison, and there, nftef jq ^ m
attack of melancholia, he | 30 a m
suicide by hanging.” j 116 a m
Chief Wilkie is under 40 J *0 a m
he was city editor of the Cl i jj! P m
nne. He left journalism b H ,,, * “J #
don and went from there 2 !0 a m
ret service. ? )5 a ui
Not long ago Secretary ^ P *>*
Wilkie to do a bit of specf P Jjj
him. The work required m m
ness. Wilkie performed (
quickly and satisfactorily, ‘ m
offered him the place he a , 111am
-------» ; "9 am
The longest fence in t[ . P m
wire-netting fence in Au^ u) p m
miles iong, its objectdoeiim iiwthw in_
rabbits from the cultivate
<0it‘ Miss.
i| Ala.

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