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®k Siwcnnifli CTribintc.
Published bv the Tersmsa PablishiM? 00. 1
J. H. DEVEAUX. MAXiasM >
VOL. 111.
/
MM HOUSE GSES ME.'
A JOYOUS SCENE IN
COURT.
Judge Macdougall Discharges
the Southern Refugee.
How Georgia Would Have
Dropped the Case for S2OO
h-
Judge Macdougall’s rooms at Church
and Adelaide streets were crowded to .
suffocation to day to witness the final
scene in the Morse extradition case, j
There was the usual large attendance of
the colored friends of the prisoner, of
whom he has scores, and their interest in
his case and their sympathy for him have i
never flagged. Besides these, there were
. present Senator Macdonald and several
other prominent citizens ready with their
moral, and, if need be, financial help to '
see the prisoner through his troitde.
Rev. Messrs. Oliver and Johnson were [
there, and the little son of i J he prisoner
and Mrs. Morse. The greeting of the
three when Morse was brought in by the j
detective was very affectionate. The
prisoner himself was in hopeful mood,
and there seemed to be an air of happy i
anticipation about the party as if the day i
of jubilee had'come at last.
Mr. Badgerow is away attending a
meeting ol some social organization in
the South, so Mr. Carson appeared in his
stead. Messrs. Walter Read and W. G. j
Murdoch represented the prisoner, and ,
members of the bar thronged the space :
about the table.
“order!” cried mr. ravvvj.oß.
The constable and his monition at once j
■suppressed the buzz and hum of conver- !
sation while Judge Macdougall took his i
scat. “Are yon ready to go on with the
Morse case V'. he asked.
"Your Honor,” said Mr. Carson, “ow
ing to the unfortunate illness of Mr.
Weatherhorn, I am forced to ask a re
> nutnd for one week. I have a telegram
here from the Solicitor Genera! of Geor
gia, -stying that he thinks the detective '
will come to Canada next week. He is 1
not yet able to start.”
Mere Mr. Read said: “.Your Honor
will recollect that last week you made 1
the enlargement peremptory. I enter a
protest against further enlargement, and
say it is an injustice to my client to keep
him.confined any longer. Mr. Carson is :
a private prosecutor and the Crown is
not present. There is no affidavit, and .
no authority is given for any further re
mand. If all ma'ters are disclosed, your 1
Honor will see a state of facts that is not '
at all creditable to the prosecution. The
attempt to get the prisoner back to 1
Georgia is an obstinate endeavor of the
prosecution. We do not ask sympathy,
but justice. The court must '
stand by its judgment when it was stat
eel that the last remand should be per
emptory? 7
•T certainly did say,” responded the
judge, “that I would require strong evi
dence for further remand. I ten «ur- 11
prised that there is only a telegram here, i
with no affidavit. I told Mr. Badgerov,
* . that I would require an affidavit.”
Mr. Carson made the most of nothing
and strongly urged a further remand 1
using every available argument for that '
pur[>cse. But it was left for Mr. Read
to fire the last shot in this legal locker,
, and it was hot shot, too, shot that com- t
7 pletely routed the prosecution, ana virtu- j !
1 ally made morse a free man. I
B GEORGIA WILL FAY S2OO.
jL-.. “I am bound to say now, your Honor,” i j
Kpbegan Mr. Read, “that the state of Geor ,
gfia eame to us as counsel for Morse, and
K' offered to drop the prosecution if we
would pay S2OO. But my client is a pov
erty stricken man and has lost all his},
. , property. He is too poor to pay this mon- ,
?, f-y and, besides this, we are anxious that
the case shall be tried on its own merits ,
without the attachment of money consul - I
- t:t»tUn Nowlecaus we won’t pay, the
wants another remand.
Georgia has acted unrighteously and un
fairly, and 1 am satisfied that a British j
court will not countenance such action. I
There Is no reasonable excuse for a rt
f’ maud.”
- After the judge referred to W< ather-.
'corn’s bsence and his neglect to sign hi
deposition,and to secure the signature' of
the otter witnesses for the prosecution,
a | rocedure necessary under the Extradi
tipn Act, he said: "1 hive no evidence
to satisfy me that the man is ill. In the
fa e of Mr. Read's statement it is doubt
-• ful if Mr. Wiutherhorn will turn up
again. 1 announced in distinct terms
that I would require a strong case, and
nothing of the kind is offered.”
Mr, Carson—" Mr. Badgerow never.
mentioned the matter of an affidavit to
me."
Mr. Read—“No, he thought we would
pay Georgia.”
THE WORDS THAT SET HIM FREE.
After this colloquy there was absolute
silence in the room while Judge McDou
gall took his pen and wrote out his judg
ment. Indeed 'he silenoewvas intense in its
significancy, for everyone knew that he
was penning words that would almost
break hearts or fill them with joy and
gladness. Great beads of perspiration
stood out upon the forehead of Moive,
and that pained, agonizing look so often
seen, once more rested in the face of his
devoted wife. Then there was a pause
in the judge’s writing, and he looked up
and said:
“There is no evidence before me to
show that Weatherhorn’s illness prevents
him from travelling. No 'Case is made
out for a further remand.,"
Mr. Read—“l move for the discharge
of the prisoner.”
Mr. Carson —“He can’t be discharged
to-day.”
The Court—“ Why not?”
Mr. Carson-—“ Because your judgment
has been given that he shall be extradit
ed.”
The Court-“I have not signed any order
for extradition, and no depositions have
been signed. The law has not been com
plied with. The judgment, so far as it
went, was only conditional upon the
fulfilment of the extradition law."
Then the Judge read his decision:—
“There being no evidence before me to
warrant the belief' that the absence of
Mr. Weatherhorn is occasioned by
such illness as prevents his traveling, ami
it being stated by the counsel for the
prisoner that offers to drop the case
were made by the prosecution it their
costs were paid, I must hold that no case
has been made out to. warrant a further
remand. The prisoner must be dis
charged.”
“the day of jcbii.ee has come.”
The pent-up excitement of the colored
people when this announcement was
made at least found scope to exercise
itself, and no attempt whatever, was
made by the court officers to repress it.
Everybody jumped to his feet in a wild
endeavor to grasp the prisoner’s hand.
There were affectionate embraces, and
many a voice cried out “Thank God.! ’
“Bless the Master's mime!” “Glory lie
to him who set you free!’ And not
only this but many a dusky cheek was
stained with tears; old gray-headed men,
doubtless recalling the old slavery days,
bent their heads and wept; young men
cL'inl.ered over the seats to reach the tree
man. The British flag this day has been
made dearer than ever to the colored
people of Toronto, and the news will
soon travel to the fa? - South, and speak
in trumpet-tones of the liberty to be>en
joyed in her Majesty's Dominion.
The feelings of the prisoner himself
cannot be described. He was so
overcome that he could not speak a word.
With both hands extended and eyes full
of tears, but with a glad smile ligh'ing
up his face, he could only look the grat
itude he could not speak. In the midst
of all this Rev. Mr. Oliver’stepped for
ward and said to the judge:
‘ In behalf of Mr. Morse I want to
thank you for what you have done. His
heart is too full to speak for himself.”
“I have only done my duty,*' returned
the judge.
The white citzens then congratulated
Morse; nor were his counsel forgotten in
the jollification. Many compliments
were extended them for the able, persis
tent and judicious manner in which the
defence wag conducted.
With hearty laughter and repeated ex
pressions of congratulation the crowd
gathered about Morse, his wife and little
boy:, and in that happy circle he disap
peared —a free man.
Senator Macdonald has contributed
*IOO for the purpose of starting Morse
in btwint ss in this < ity. Other contribu
tions are being made for that purpose.
A jubilee meeting of the colored citi
zens of Toronto will be held next
Monday evening, at * o’clock, in the
church at the corner of Queen and Vic
toria streets.
Ballroom Politeness.
“Miss Kaektus,” said the young man
at the Arizona ball, casually resting his
hand on the butt end of his six-shooter,
“I believe the next waltz is mine, isn’t
it?”
“I think you are mistaken, Mr.
Roun lup." said another young man who
was standing by, as he pointed in a care
less, easy manner at Miss Ka -ktns card
with a l>owie knife eighteen inches long, ,
“my name is down for that waltz.”
“Tou are right Mr. Lariat,' re j. fined '
Mr. R undup, with his eyes on tie ght- |
terii g blade.— Chicago Tribune.
Customer (to burl»T>- See hero, ray ,
friend, you are shaving slices of my
face.
Barl>er—Ye», sir; but the slices are
very thin. '
SAVANNAH, GA.. SATURDAY. JULY It. ISSS
Memory’s Sepulchre.
A mound, a stone and violets,
A bird song in the air,
A child that gathers flowers and lets
The wind play with its hair;
A field of wheat across the hedge
Rippled by fairy hands,
A silver stream that downward runs
To cheer the lower lands.
No mound, no stone, no violets—
A blue sea overhead,
A sobbing wind that ne’re forgets
Its chanting for the dead;
Beneath the stars on summer qights
That deep, blue grave, how fair,
The while upon the shore the waves
Beat low, as if in prayer.
No mound, no stone, no violets,
No birds, no wave, no star,
. A spit where memory forgets
‘ What spring and summer are;
Deeper it lies than deep sea graves,
From land and sea apart,
A grave, so sad and desolate!
A grave within the heart!
i —[Clarence T. Unmy, in the Journalist.
A NOBLE WOMAN.
“I wonder if it idealizes her?’’
We stand beside the statue of the
famous woman, Margaret of New Or
leans, and, after the manner of strangers,
conjecture oa what we for the first time
I
see.
“Not at all,” a voice answers in the
soft Southern tongue. “It looks just
I like her.”
“Ah, thank you. You live here?”
“I was born here; this is my home.”
“You were hero during the war, and
yellow fever and everything?”
A nod answers each one of my young
I companion’s impetuous queries.
['} “How delightful!" concludes my
; I friend, but the lady shakes her head and
taps her fan lightly on the girl’s soft
’ cheek, and says, musingly: “It did
[ , not seem as if I would live through itj
but I have, and now comes one who
' calls my trials ‘delightful.’ How
cruel I”
“Ah, pardon. But I was thinking of
i how perfectly lovely it mfist be to live
in a city that has had such a history—it is
'so romantic. And can you tell us any
| thing about Margaret?”
“This little space—‘Margaret place,’
it is called—is a pleasant spot to rest
in.”
With this invitation, given more in
| looks than in words, we seated our
selves near our new acquaintance on the
settees ia tho little park. The perfume
of roses overhangs the city; wo forget
in its deliciousness the signs of decay
that in portions of that quaint old town
j impart a pensive melancholy to its
beauty.
“She was a working woman—a ser-
I vant here. When I first remember her
I was living near here, and she was tak
ing care of the cows in a stable that
stood almost oa the very spot where her
statu I stands now. Silo was working
then for the sisters of the asylum. She
• fed and milked their cows, and sold
j milk in a cart about the city. She was
a strange-looking person—remarkable in
I her appearance. 1 think now as I recill
i her she had a broad forehead, serious
eyes, a pleasant, broad smile, a rather
I short, stout figure. I do not suppose
she ever in her life wore any dress bet
ter than a Guinea blue calico; she always
wore heavy shoes and a black straw
bonnet trimmed with a neat band of
black over the top. From my residence
I could see her many times a day while
she was at her stable work or coming
tack and forth with her milk cans.
“What was her name? Her name was
Margaret Hauggery; she hud been mar
ried, an I at that time was a widow.
Her husband and little child died just
after she came to New Orleans; so we
learned after she became famous. She was
alone and poor in a strange country, and
went to work in the stables for a living.
Somehow, everybody liked Margaret;
her smile was sweet and her words
} shrewd. The children called her Mar-
I garet, and she knew their namemid an
swered their salutations along the street
as she drove by in the milk cart.
“After some years Margaret had
, raved enough to Luy a bit of ground
that had on it a small bakery. The
1 place was sold for a trifle, but now
Margaret was in royal trim; a land
, owner and a manufacturer; for she
opened the shop and began I read nnd
pie making for the neighbors. Presently
there was a large bakery built; soon
bread carts were running over the city
bearing the words, ‘Margaret’s Bakery.’
It became the fashion to buy at Mar
garet’s place. During war, pestilence
and disaster Mirgaret's fires were never
out, and the delicious rolls kept up
their weight and quality, no matter
what else in life failed. Then she be
gan running her free bread carts during
the fever panic. No one wont hungry
who was withii sound of her cart
wheels. From that time on no one need
go hungry ia New Orleans—those too
poor to buy were given a loaf fresh and
white as the best, and it was given
heartily, with a ‘God bring thee better
times.’ There was no di Unction in
Margaret’s favors. She gave to white
and Hack of nny church, or none. ‘Are
you hungry?’ that is nil that was nec
essary. 'Here is bread, take it with God’s
blessing! There have been in this city
dread days, which seemed as if God and
everybody had failed us but Margaret;
days when she almost literally fed the
city. During the yellow fever panic
Margaret began her noble work of tak
ing the children ftom the homes of
death and putting them into a house
under good care, supporting them her
self in every particular. Soon the one
asylum grew into many; the dozens of
her little charges wore numbered by
hundreds—an I at ths time of her death,
thousands. At the gate of every orphan
asylum in the city Margaret’s bread
cart, with its smoking rolls was seen
daily; at every charitable institution
whatsoever she took tho privilege of
giving her bread freely, and Margaret’s
name headed the list for every charity.
Our grand Charity Hospital, one of the
most famous in the world, was largely
the gift of Margaret. You must visit
that hospital. It will make you better
all your life for having seen it. Right
through the trees there, at the right, do
you see that magnificent building
with its four galleries run
ning around the first four
stories of the house? Its gate tells in
golden letters that this is a children’s
home, given by Margaret, where to the
end of time orphans will be cared for
and educated by her bequests. Many of
our cemeteries contain in form of hand
some tombs Margaret’s simple yet mu
nificent thoughtfulness, line you know,
all are burie' 1 above ground in crypts or
ovens of masonry, and when you visit
our cemeteries —as strangers always do,
for there are no burial places like those
in America—you will «eo some tombs,
(containing one, two or four dozen bodies
maybe) inscribed: ‘Given to the Little
Sisters of the Poor by Margaret.’ ‘The
Strangers’ Tomb, given by Margaret.
I suppo e Margaret spent more money
for the city than the richest man in
the history of the State; and of the
sympathy and discernment of tho needs
of thepior the half could never be told.
She spent nothing on herself. A clean,
blue calico, stout shoes, a black
straw bonnet, knitted jacket or
shoulder shawl, an iron bed-
stead in a room without even a rocking
chair and overlooking the bakeshop.
She had no time to enjoy luxuries, even
had she possessed them. As long as
there was a weeping child or a friend
less woman in the city what time had
she to fold her arms in a rocking chair?
While there w re unburied, ccffinless
forms, could she adorn her home of the
livi g? Also it happened that to the
end of life Margaret spent neither time;
c.re nor money on herself. She forgot
there was such a mortal as Margaret.
“And, when, one day, the news went
around that Margaret was dead, the
great city arose and put on mmrning;
the business houses were closed; all the
employments of the »city stood still.
The day of the burid thousands of her
little orphans followed her bier, as
mourners .every church sent delegations
of honor bearers; tho public school
children joined in the throng; the
hqßiscs were draped along the line of
inarch; al! the bells ir. th) city tolled;
civic and military joined hr tho proces-
(f 1.25 P'r Annnm; 715 ents for Bix Months;
J 60 cents Tl.rre Months; Single Copies
( 6 dents--In Advance.
sion with ecclesiastics; there never was
hero n funeral like Margaret’s.
“Afterward it was found that her pos
sessions had been so disposed that had
death come at any moment tho affairs Os
this life were well and intelligently
wound up. There were no personal
effects of value, but even her few gar
ments she lolt to tho poor, and with tho
proceeds of her wise investments her
charities nro royally endowed.
“This statue is the gift of the jity, to
show in this public way tho esteem in
which she is held. It is very like Mar
garet. The motherly figure, seated with
one arm encircling a standing child at
her side; the untrimmol dress, coarse
shoes, the little crochcttel shawl about
her shoulders are homely, but who
would change them for finer clothing?
Tho smooth hair, with its old-fashioned
French parting; the strong chin, tho
pleasant mouth, tho serious eyes—is
there not something fascinating in tho
contradictions of the face?
“Did you ever see such a head on a
woman’s shoulders? Massive, wonder
ful. That is tho bend of n statesman
and financier, while its mouth, with its
pleasant smile, telling of tho tact and
natural suavity of Mirgaret’s character,
proclaim tho elements of a born diplo
mat. Yet, look again at tho broad,
massive brow, and sco tho earnest, lov
ing eye that speaks of a true woman
hood; look once more at tho coarse gar
ments and you will see that poverty
added her load to the ordinary burden
of womanlioo I. while ignorance, be
reavement, affliction, loneliness join
hands with poverty against this soul.
But the massive brow conquered; the
untaught brain triumphed, and under
the leadership of tho sad, gentle eyes
1 gave to the suff ring what might, had
she been a mtn, born .in other circum-
1 stances, have been th : gain of nations
and tho glitter of the trappings of a di
pic mat.
“When I consider what Margaret did
for one city under meh desperate disad
vantages 1 wonder what rhe could
have done for the worl 1 if
all the environments had been
right. I was thinking of that as I
looked, in passing for the hundredth
time, nt the strong, fascinating face this
morning, when ymr quoition met my
ear.
“Yts, it looks like her, ami there will
never bo another ;n mnrblo like it to tho
end of time. She wn< a grand charac
ter —tender, strong, oii.inul, pitiful,
helpful, wise.”
“Lo, the Poor Indian.”
Colonel Dodge, the most reliable au
thority on tho wild Indians, in com
menting on their variotii dispositions,
makes use of thii most truthful descrip
tion: “Within the limits of the United
States tho Indian tri:c, though pre
senting a general similarity of character
vary in habit', manners, customs and
beliefs in so remarkable a degree that
no general description is applicable to
all, except that all are savage, all are
ssvindled, starved and imposed upon.”
—[Detroit Free Press.
When the Moon Is Getting Full.
A novel theory is gravely advanced
and earnestly insisted upon in police
circles. It is that tho moon influences
drunkenness as it docs the tides. They
say it has been remark-d for years that J
dru ikennens pr. vails to a greater extcnuß
from the first quarter to the full of tbJH
moon than at other times. In othW
word-, while the moon is getting jMr
the tipplers imitate its example.—fjjißtr
ford Times. .F*
He Was Fond of Huntiu?>
Sportsman: Are you fond
stranger?
“Yes, I am. Been hunts-g two
months.”
“What kind of gam''?
“Debtors. I have a against you
here that must be at once, or—”
The bill wasn’t collected. — [Lincoln
Journal.
—— '
Y u see the tumble * w.th “j>ucccss’
that is too d < ’* rl y bought is that yen
i have t& go M wili> J our '
soil biter you - I **'’® attained it.
NO. 39.