De Queen bee. [volume], September 24, 1897, Image 3

About De Queen bee. [volume] (De Queen, Ark.) 1897-current

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DE QUEEN BEE.
EVANS li WINFORD*, Pr«pri«tors.
DE QUEEN, - . . ARKANSAS.
AT BEDTIME.
Peepin* o'er the baluatera,
At bedtime’i, witching hour,
There comes from upper regions
Voice* of magic power:
“Good night, mamma; good night, papa;
Good night to everybody:
With pleasant dreams to all of you,
Good night to Nid, Nid, Noddy."
But Nid, Nld, Noddy answersnot,
Only pa and ma and Sue,
Who wait and list with beating hearts,
And know just what to do;
The mother drops her knitting work,
And hurries up the stairs,
In time to see some little knees
Bended low for prayers.
••Goa bless mamma, papa and Joe,
Bees, May, Tom. Sue and Kitty;
Grandpa and grandma, old and gray,
And nervous, more’s the pity;
Our teachers and our playmates, too;
The cook who gives us food,
Johnny who comes from marketing
With things to eat so good.
••God bless them all” Is touchingly
Breathed on the evening air,
Whose upraised eyesand folded hand*
Tell of our bedtime prayer;
When down to sleep "I lay me
And go to the land of Nod,
If 1 mever here come back again,
May I have a home with God."
—Clara W. Bryan, in Good Housekeeping.
GfIFTftINGLOSE
BY CAPTAIN CIIAHLF.N KING.
(Copyright, 18SM, by J. B. Lippincott Co.]
Xlll.— Continued.
"You could, easily, but )ou don’t want
to, or you would have given me my cup
long ago.”
“Ohl” and the jaunty kepi went
spinning into the darkness of t he night,
and the little lady stamped in fury at
ber own blunder. “Take your cap, and
go”
"We-il,” said Lambert, with provok
ing coolness, “if I'm to follow niy cap
it hasn’t gone towards camp at all. It
seems excuse me if 1 come buck fora
light it seems to have dropped close to
that old arlror of yours among the rose
bushes, where you sit in the summer
moonlit evenings. Suppose we leave it
as an excuse for me to drop around
next time you go there."
But now she seized a candle and went
bounding down the steps. A moment's
w*arch among the bushes, and she found
it —also him, for he calmly followed.
"There’s your cap," she said, “and
yawnduh's the gate!"
He looked up in affected pain and
astonishment.
"Why. Miss Katesie! — I supposed you
were simply acting on my suggestion,
and w< were going to have such a lovely
time at the bower. That's why I fol
lowed.”
"Oh, Ah should like to tay-uh your
tongue out. You know Ah hate the
verv ground you stand on —
The gloom in his face gave way in
stantly to radiant joy. “You do?—
really?” he cried. “Oh, I never hoped
for that! I thought, you loved every
inch of this ugly old state and that I
never could coax you to leave it. Do
voy really hate it so?"
I Hut iiAw. fairly beside herself with
vexation, the girl had turned and fled,
ber little feet seeming to fly ’ip the
worn ol<l steps that groaned and creaked
under any other touch. He stood gaz
ing after her a moment, the teasing,
merry smile still hovering about his
lips, then picked up the cap she had
burled to earth, and walked blithely
uw ay.
Not. ten yards from the gate came
Corp. Cunningham on the run. Capt.
Ciosc desired to see the lieutenant at
once. A negro stood by the campfire
in front of Close’s tent, trembling from
either fear or excitement or both, his
protruding eyes fixed on the form of
old Rasmus, w ho was eagerly jabbering
to the company commander.
“Do you know anything ’bout this,
lieutenant?” asked Close. “These
darkies say there’s been a big row over
towards Vernon, and that Walton
Scroggs is among the killed.”
XIV,
The first Christmas a young fellow
spends in the army is one he is apt to
remember. What he did in years be
fore, or of what nature were the festivi
ties in those that followed, may, it.
course of time, become but vague and
shadowy pictures before the mind s
eye. After something like 20 years of
service as a commissioned officer Mr.
Lambert was heard to say that never,
even when a homesick plebe at West
Point, had he passed so forlorn a
Christmastide as that which immedi
ately succeeded his graduation.
The rain was beating down In Sullen
shower upon the bare and dripping
woods and sodden fields; the roads
were deep in mud; camp, of which he
was once more commander, was wet
and cold and cheerless; in the a4joining
tent lay his sejiior officer groaning on
a bed of pain, hands and face blistered
and bandaged, hair and eyebrows gone
while over across the way a pile o
scorched and blackened timbers, a
couple of brick chimneys, and the stone
foundations, were fill that were left <•
Walton. Hull.
The story brought la of the big row
, >ernou, though exaggerated, had
been sufficiently confirmed in the
course of an hour or so that wintry
evening of Lambert’s last visit to the
homestead, to Warrant his being or
dered thither with half the company
to support the civil authorities in re
storing peace.” Close reported the
situation by telegraph to department
headquarters, and the action taken by
him, his dispatch reaching the general
commanding the next day an hour or
so after that official had been ordered
from Washington to semi full particu
lars of the disturbance in his bailiwick,
for the federal officials in the south and
the partisans of both sides of the po
litical questions at issue had worked
the night wires for all they were worth,
and the early morning papers were
lurid with details of the tragic out
break.
It was midnight when Lambert
started on his march with two excited
deputy marshals for guides. Five miles
out they met some horsemen convoying
an old carriage containing Walton
Scroggs, seriously wounded, and a doc
tor. With the escort Lambert held
brief parley, also with the wounded
man, who, though weak, was full of
pluck and spirits; his sole anxiety
seemed to be on the score of his wife
and the shock the news would cause
her. The account given the young offi
cer of the circumstances leading up to
the facts differed radically from that
with which he and his commander had
thus far l>een favored. This was to be
expected, as up to this point their sole
in iormants were either negroes or a
couple of vv hites of the Parmelee stamp.
In the north, as a rule, the affair ap
peared to haw been a wanton and un
provoked attack by Walton Scroggs and
his friends upon some negroes who had
been instrumental in securing his ar
rest-nothing short, in fact, of a red
handed act of vengeance, as was evi
dent, from the fact that immediately on
his release he and his party, armed to
the teeth, had ridden over to Vernon,
instead of going home, and without
warning or apparent warrant had be
gun the indiscriminate shooting down
of certain unpopular whites and their
luckless negro supporters.
In the south, except imong certain
journals published in the interest of
the "radical" republican party, the oth
er side of the story was promptly cir
culated. "('apt. Scroggs and a friend,
endeavoring to reach home by a cir
cuitous route so as to avoid trouble after
his release from jail, where he had
been incarcerated several weeks on
baseless, trumped-up changes, viere set
upon in the streets of Vernon by a
blackguardly pack of loafers, insulted,
abused and assaulted, and finally com
pelled in self-defense to draw their re
volvers, not, however, until they had
been fired upon. One odd circumstance
connected with these perennial shooting
scrapes in those days was the fact that
in footing up the score it was always
found that five negroes to one white was
alvout the proportion of casualties. This
may have been due to the fact that the
ratio of black to white in every scrim
mage was about five to one. or else that
the Caucasian, being cooler and long
skilled in the use of arms, was more
effective in close combat. At all events,
when impartially investigated it was
found that this Vernon difficulty dif
fered from its fellows in no particular
except one—that it “had no political
significance whatever.” Walton’s
friends, rejoicing with him in his re
lease from durance vile, did so after the
fashion of the day, and more or less bad
whisky was consumed before the stage
reached Vernon —where more friends
were met, more treats exchanged, and
where, as the devil of mischief would
have it, he happened into the bar of
the old tavern just at the moment when
two or three others, all white, were hap
pening out. One of these wks an old
time admirer of Esther Walton, a man
with whom Scroggs had been nt outs
for years. There was a jostle—uninten
tional—a sneer in the careless apology
and a rankling word or two. Peace
makers drew the principals apart. In
deed, Walton was too happy to continue
his journey home and Estherwards to
care to quarrel. But his rivals heart
and brain wen* burning, and more
liquor made matters worse. The horses
were being brought around from the
stable with the troop of vagrant ne
groes loafing after, when, despite the
efforts of his friends, the half-drunken
man came lurching out of a neighboring
saloon and with savage oaths rushed
at Walton, "demanding satisfaction.”
Weapons were drawn and shots ex
changed on the instant, and one of the
scattered molt of negroes fell dead with
a, bullet through his heart, while fora
moment Walton, with smoking pistol,
stood alone, looking down at his as
sailant writhing on the sidewalk.
Friends rushed in, carried one man into
the drug store and crowded Walton in
to the tavern bar. It was "fair fight.
He had drawn only in self-defense. His
assailant was to blame, and there was
no man to suggest arrest. But he stood
there pale and unnerved now, covered
with sorrow at the disaster to the man,
who, even though no friend, was popu
lar, well and widely known, and, ac
cording to the somewhat accessible
standard of the state and day, "a per
fect gentleman.” It was characteristic
of the time and place that nobody pres
ent happened tothinkof the dead negro.
Among these poor people Walton
Scroggs was, perhaps deservedly un
popular. The other man, open-handed,
generous, easy-going, had won not a
little of their unreasoning yet enthusi
astic regard. It was while Seroggu,
with two advisers, was seated, sad and
trembling, in a little room of the tavern
awaiting the result of the doctor’s ex
amination of his fainting foe that a
citizen came rushing in. "Scroggs,
you’ll have, to get out of this —quick.
There was a meeting of that old Grant
and Colfax club going on up the street,
and the niggers have rushed in and told
’em you killed Pete Jackson. The
whole gang of ’em are coming.”
Coming? They were already there.
With furious yells and vengeful threats
a surging crowd of negroes came tear
ing along the village street, stopping
only a moment to verify the death of
their friend, and —too late now for ex
planation or denial—they swarmed
madly into the office, demanding Vial
ton's body. The battle was on in an in
stant, a battle for life, a 60 seconds’ war
of races, white against black, as it hud
to lie, since none would listen to reason,
and superior nerve and aim told. Pis
tols and the office were emptied about
the same moment, but five more darkies
had gone to join Pete Jackson at the
mercy seat, and the proprietor of the
Southern Star had died like the soldier
he was, defending the life of his guest.
Scroggs himself, seriously wounded,
was borne away on the dark Tugaloo
road, and far and wide the affrighted
negroes were scurrying over the coun
try, carrying tidings ot riot as they ran.
It was all a miserable blunder, but
the end was not yet. Lambert and his
detachment took station at Vernon,
whence the negroes had fled in terror,
and di warring was at an end. Such
were his orders, and he had no choice;
yet it would have been wiser counsel
to recall him and his party within 24
hours. They could have done better
service nearer home. How it happened
none could ever surely say. Among
the whites it remained for years an
article of faith that desperate and de
termined negroes had followed Walton
Scroggsto his refuge and there wreaked
vengeance for the blood of their fellows.
Among the negroes it has never been
looked on as other than a direct mani
festation of divine wrath upon their
enemies and persecutors. How the
house could have so suddenly burst into
flame everyone could theorize and no
one explain; but at three o'clock in the
morning the few men remaining with
('apt. ('lose in camp were startled fiom
their * deep by the report of the sentry’s
musket and the yell of “Fire!” and,
springing from their tents, were
greeted by the sound of crackling wood
work and screams for aid and the sight
of Walton Hall one glare of flame.
Some men got there quicker than
others- none were slow —but even the
With his precious burden.
foremost of the soldiers were appalled
and bewildered by what they saw ami
heard— Katherine Walton and the quad
roon maid Elinor wringing their hands
and imploring them to save the bid
ridden mother, while Esther was mak
ing vain effort to drag a helpless form
through the blazing hallway. It was at
this juncture that Close came laboring
up the path, lie was slow, heavy, had
a longer distance to run, and was pant
ing hard, but he burst through the
squad already scrambling up the steps,
sprang through the fire-flashing portal,
and with the strength of an ox heaved
Walton, groaning, upon his shoulders,
tumbled him out into the arms of his
men, then turned on gasping Esther.
“Where’s your mother's room?" Al
most fainting, she could only lean upon
the pillar for support and point
through the vista of smoke and flame.
Close leaped like a tiger, with Cun
ningham and Murphy at his back. An
instant, and these latter reappeared,
blind, staggering, their faces hidden
in their hands, and burst out into the
open ai »•. stumbling heedlessly down the
steps. A groan went up from the men;
their captain was gone. In vain Burns
and Mcßride strove to rush in to the
rescue. Mortal man could not stand
such heat. And then, in the midst of
the wild wailing of the terrified and
helpless women, came from around the
north side of the house an exultant
cheer. Those men who had had sense
enough to strive to reach the side win
dows were rewarded by the sudden
thrusting open of the shutters and the
appearance of the well-known burly
form of their captain with some
blanket-shrouded shape in his arms.
The flames leaped forth from that very
casement but a second aft*? Close and
hit precious burden were lowered to
the wotk below.
And this was the story of u brave
man’s deed be heard from every lip,
said Lambert, later, ax he hastened
back on receipt of the newa; and this
was the re.«q)onse made by the brave
man himself, when his lieutenant bent
over his senior’s seared and bandaged
face next day and tendered his soldierly
congratulations. Turning slowly over
on his side, Close pointed to the wreck
of a pair of uniform trousers, scorched
and burned in a dozen places and ir
retrievably ruined.
"Look,” said he, mournfully. “Them
was my best pants.”
Then it was found that not only had
the strange old fellow lost his hair and
beard, and not a little of the cuticle of
his face and hands, as well as those
patched but precious "best punts,” but
that his eyesight was threatened. The
good old doctor who had for sc many
years attended the Waltons, and who
had come at once to renew his ministra
tions under the humble roof in town
that was their temporary refuge, lis
tened to the story of Close’s heroism
with quickened pulse and kindled eye.
He and Mr. Barton Potts, who had
hastened buck from Quitman, came out
to camp to aee and thank the piostratc
soldier, Potts being ceremonious in his
expression of gratitude and admiration
and most earnest in bis apology for
what he had said and thought of Close
in the past. The doctor stayed longer
by the silent sufferer’s cot, carefully
studying his face as far as it could be
teen. Professional etiquette prevented
his saying anything that might be a
reflection on the treatment and practice
of the “contract surgeon,” yet it was
plain to Lambert, and to Potts, too,
that he was disturbed. Close, however,
seemed to think less of his own plight
than of that of the Waltons, who, ex
cept the little patch of fields about the
ruined homestead, had lost everything
they owned in the world, and who were
now in sore anxiety and distress. The
terrible shock and exposure had been
too much for one so fragile as the lady
mother, and Mrs. Walton was sinking
fast, Walton Scroggs, too, was in des
perate case, though soothed by the
knowledge that all the row at Vernon
—that is, the human cause of it all—
was already out of danger. Close begged
the doctor for full particulars not only
as to how they were but how they ex
pected "to git along through the win
ter,” and at last said he wished to speak
to him alone, whereat Potts and Lam
bert, wondering, left the tent.
It was long before the doctor came
forth, and when he did he called the
young officer aside, a quiver in his voice
and a queer moisture about his spec
tacles. “Have you no expert on the
eye and the ear in the army?” he asked.
"The captain should have the benefit
of the best advice without delay.”
Lambert said he would report the
matter at once to department head
quarters, and, while they were still talk
ing, two men came riding out from
town —"old man Potts,” beyond all
doubt, and with him Lambert’s rail
way friend, the conductor, and these
gentlemen, 100, had come to “surren
der.” Close could have had his fill of
triumph and adulation that dull De
cember evening, had he been so minded
and the doctor more complaisant; but
that practitioner said that, while he
was not in charge of the ease, he would
strenuously advise against further dis
turbance of the patient. When at last
they were all gone and Lambert could
address himself to the little packet of
mail stacked up on the office desk, he was
rejoicing to think how the good in his
queer comrade was winning due recog
nition at last. "He’s a rough diamond,”
he said to himself, “but brave as a lion
and true as steel!”
And then as he opened the first letter
from department headquarters, ad
dressed to Brevet Capt. J. P. Close,
First Lieutenant, —teenth infantry.
Lambert’s face paled and his eyes di
lated. It was a brief, curt official note,
directing Capt. Close to turn over the
command of his company and post and
report in arrest to the colonel of his regi
ment at New Orleans, for trial. “Ac
knowledge receipt by telegraph.”
What a Christmas greeting!
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
Affected the Verdict.
“You see, gentlemen," said the coun
sel for the defendant, complacently—it
was a compensation case —“I have got
the plaintiff into a very nice dilemma.
If he went there, seeing that the place
was dangerous, there was contributory
negligence, and, as his lordship will
tell you. lie can’t recover. If he did
not see it w’as dangerous, neither could
my client have seen it, and there was
no negligence on his part. In either
case lam entitled to your verdict.” The
jury retired. "Well, gentlemen,” said
the foreman, "I think we must give him
£300.” All agreed except a stout, rud
dj gent lemon in the corner, who cried,
hoarsely: "Give him another 50, gem
men, for getting into the dilemma."
Verdict accordingly.—London House
hold Words.
It’a Often So.
“I tell you it takes a burglary to
make a man rich.”
“You mean |>oor, don’t you?"
"No; 1 mean rich.”
“In what way?”
"Well, 1 have been reading about the
value of the goods stolen from Singer’s
house, and I find that he has lost more
than he ever had.”— Chicago Post.
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL
l*toraatto«*l Leeeaa tor tratoasbaa
IW. lM>T*R«vtow.
[Arranged from Peloubet’s No toe.]
GOLDEN TEXT.-Let your light eoeblaa
before men, that they may eee yourgoeS
works, and glorify your Father wIMob
ts in Heaven.-Malt. 5: 14.
Second Missionary Journey. A. EL
60 to 54. Four years.
The start from Antioch, where that
first Gentile church was founded in
D 40-41, Thence the first foreign
missionaries were sent forth. A. D. 4Aj
Paul and Barnabas disagree about
taking John Mark, and separate. Pauli
and Silas leave Antioch, A. D. 51.
Revisiting the Churches. The mla>l
■ionaries revisit the churches which:
Paul and Barnabas founded during;
their first missionary tour (A. D. 45-
48), but reversing the order, they g*
by land through Cilicia, across th*
Taurus mountains, and reach Derbo
first; then Lystra. where a lame ma*
was healed; where Paul had been re<
garded as a god; where he was stoueA
almost to death, and where he found
Timothy; Antioch of Pisidia, whenc*
he was expelled; leonium, where they
tried to stone Paul; through Phrygia,
and Galatia to Troas, on the shore off
the Aegean sea. Recall the stories off
Homer and Virgil concerning thia re
gion; Paul’s vision of the man of Mac
edonia.
FIRST ENTRANCE OF GOSPEL INTO!
EUROPE.
Philippi. The first church in Eu
rope, faithful and generous and lov
ing. The scene of the great battle be
tween Brutus and Pompey. Luke be
gins his work here, having joined Paul 1
ut Troas, Conversion of Lydia. Heal
ing of demoniac slave! girl. A mob.
Paul and Silas in prison. Songs in th*
night. Miraculous release. Conver
sion of the jailer.
Epistles. One epistle was writtea/
to the Philippians A. D. 62, from hl*
prison iu Rome. II Corinthians wa*
written at Philippi, on a later visit. A.
D. 58.
Thessalonica. Preaching in the syn
agogue. A mob. Expelled from th*
city. Paul supported himself by tent
inaking. Help from Philippi.
Epistles. Two epistles were writ
ten to this church, A. D. 52, 53. Th*
first of those which Paul wrote w*
possess.
Berea. These more noble, because
they searched' the Scriptures.
PAUL’S WORK IN GREECE.
Athene. Driven from Berea, Pant
goes to Aithene. The city, in respect
to art and literature. Paul’s address t*
the Athenian philosophers ot Mars HilL
Corinth. A year and six months. A
large church, with many difficult ele
ments in it. Works at tent-making.
Has, for fellow-workers, Silas, Tim
othy, Aquila and Priscilla. Paul be
fore Gallio.
Epistles. Two epistles to th*
Corinthians, A. D. 57, from Ephesus.
A. D. 58, from Philippi. Romans and
Galatians were written, at Corinth, A.
D. 58, on a later visit.
Return home via Cenchrea, Ephesus,
Cesarea, Jerusalem (fourth visit), tw
Antioch of Syria.
THIRD MISSIONARY JOURNEY.
From Antioch, ending in Jerusalem*
four years, A. D. 54-58. The start from
Antioch, after remaining a few month*.
Revisits the churches. Galatia and
Phrygia.
implies us. Three years, A. D. 54-57-
A very important church. Paul re
mains here longer than at any other
place. New baptism of the Holy Ghost.
Defeat of Jewish exorcists. Preaching
first in the synagogue, then in tbe lec
ture room of Tyrannus.
Power of the Gospel shown (1) by
the burning of the books of Ephesian
magic. (2) By its effect in lessening l
the trade in silver shrines of Dian*.
The mob and uproar excited by Demet
rius compelled Paul to leave.
Epistles. One letter was w’ritten to
the Ephesians, A. D. 62, from his prison
in Rome. At Ephesus was written I
Corinthians, A. .D. 57. The Epistles of
St. John were probably written *A
Ephesus. The Gospel of John w«*
probably written at Ephesus.
Revisiting, strengthening and ex
tending the churches. Nine or tea
months beginning early in the sum
mer of A. D. 57, when Paul was driven
from Ephesus.
Macedonia. From Ephesus Paul
went to Macedonia and visited th*
churches he had founded.
Illyricum. Paul went forth into the
unevangelized regions, northwest of
Macedonia, as far as Illyricum, which,
eached to the borders of Italy (Rom.
15:19; 2 Cor. 10:16).
Corinth. Here Paul spent three
months.
Homeward journey. From Corinth
Paul went northward through Mace
donia to Philippi, where Luke, joined
him. To Troas, thence down the coast
to Miletus, w here he met the Ephesian
elders, thence to Tyre, Cesarea and
Jerusalem.
PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS.
1. The duty and value of the mis
sionary work.
2. God often lets men drive us from
one place of work, because He has an
other place for us where we can do
more work.
3. It is good to look at the picture
of such a man as Paul, and from hi*
faithfulness, earnestness, energy, full
ness of the Jesus Christ and His Gos
pel, and the results of his labors,
breathe in new life and love iu the serv
ice of God.