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EASTMAN TIMES.
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THE POOR WORKING MAN.
by henry t. stanton.
Ih there no secret place on the faee of the earth
Where charity dwelleth, where virtue hath birth 7
Where bosoms in mercy and kinduess wiUheave,
And the i>oor and the wretched shaft ask and re
ceive ; .
Is there no place on earth where a knock from the
poor
Will bring a kind angel to open the door?
All! search the wide world wherever you can,
There is no open door for a poor workingihan *
flo, look fn yon hall, where the chandelier’s light,
Drive*,off with its splendor the darkuess. of night;
Where the rich harering velvet, in shadowy fold,
Sweeps gracefully flown wi*h its trimming of gold,
And the mirropn of Skiver take up and renew,
In joug lighted vistas, the wildering view—
<io there ill your patches, and find, if you can,
A welcoming smile for a poor workiugmau !
00, look in your Church of the cloud-reaching spire,
Which gives back to the sun his same look of red
lire;
W I or'rt lie arches and eolmmM within,
And the walls seefn as pure as a soul without sin ;
fro down the long aisle—see the rich and the great
In the pride and the pomp of lluyr worldly estate—
Walk down in your patches, and find, if you can,
One who opens a pew t" a poor workingman !
fro look to yon judge in his dark flowing gown,
tv ith the scales wherein law weighs eipiity down.
Where he frowns on the weak, and smiles on the
strong.
And punishes riglib while he jiyitilios wrong;
Where jurors t4oirltf>*on the Ritileliave laid,
t'o render a verdict they’ve already made—
fro there, in the court-room, and iiud, if you can,
Any law for the cause of a poor workingman !
fro, look in tho banks, where Mammon has told
TTis hundred of thousands of silver aud gold;
Where safe from the binds of the starving aud poor,
Lies pile upon pile of the glittering ore;
Walk up to the counter -all! there you may stay,
Till your limbs grow old and your hair turns gray,
And you’ll find at the banks n<> one of tho clan
With money to leud to a poor workiugmau !
Then go to yoiir hoveljio raven lias fed
'file wife who has -subAred Mo* long for her bread;
Kneel down to her pallet., aud kiss the death frost
From the lips of tho angel your poverty lost;
Then turn in your agony upward to God,
And bless while it. smites you, the chastening rod;
And-you’ll find at the Cud of your life’s little span,
There’s a welcome above for a poor Workingman !
LOST OR WON AT WIMBLETON.
“ I shall look out for you at Wimble
tpn.”
Those were his last words as he put
her into her carriage after tho Nor
wood's pleasant dance; words that had
dwelt in her memory moro than she
would care, perhaps, to acknowledge.
And it ivas witli undisguised pleasure
that she now turned to answer his eager
greeting.
Very pretty slio looked in her dainty
dress and ribbons; and so Ralph Leices
ter thought when he met the earnest
glance of her gray eyes uplifted to his.
He felt as though he could then and
there have pledged himself her life
long slave, instead of prosing on about
the heat and the shooting, and a thou
sand othor commonplaces, which go to
make up an ordinary conversation. As
it was, I think his gaze was sufficiently
expressive, and that Margaret Done ap
preciated its silent eloquence quite as
mueh as she would have done moro out
spoken admiration.
They had met for tho first time at a
pie-nic some two years before, and then
not seen each other again till the dance
I have referred to; but each held a
lively remembrance of the pleasant day
spent together, and had been glad to
renew their acquaintance. Now they
seemed quite like old friends, and more
than one remark was made during the
day on the attention Leicester was pay
ing tP that pretty Miss Dene ; while the
men wondered, as they will do some
times, what tho latter found in her com
panion so attractive. Handsome young
exquisites looked down upon him from
the superiority of their good looks and
greater number of inches, and said that,
“by Jove she’d a funny taste !” reflect
ing, perhaps, on her apparent blindness
to their perfections, and evident liking
for tho “ugly little barrister.” Ugly
ho was ; but in spite of his plain face
and somewhat short stature there was
talent and power in his strongly marked
featuros, and an indescribable freshness
and vigor about his character which
Margaret Dene at once recognized and
admired.
. No luncheon party could bo merrier
than that which-gathered fn the tent of
Charlie Dene, captain of the rifles.
ITis own spirits was overflowing, aud his
guests seemed to have caught the infec
tion of his gayety.
“Who knows whotlier the report is
true that Clara Rivers has gone off with
Tom Lightfootof tho Engineers?” asked
somebody.
“I do,” answered Charlie. “Old
Rivers told me about it himself this
morning. Ha’s furious, and says they
shall neither of them ever touch a
penny of his money. By the bye,
Travers,” ho added, turning round sud
denly upon a conceited, foolish-looking
young man at his side, “ we ought to
condole with you, I fancy; wore you
not rat her sweet in that quarter ?”
“Not at all,” answered Travers, try
ing vainly to look unconcerned. “I—
aw—we wero only amusing ourselves.”
“ Oh, I see,” said a voice from the end
of the table; “attention without inten
tion, as somebody has detailing flirting.
Very kind of you though, old fellow, to
let her use yon as a blind. Or perhaps
she despaired of your ever coming to
the point, audit’s pique after all, that
has led her into this marriage ?”
Such a roar of laughter followed this
sally that Charlie called for order, and
begged to know the cause of it.
“Did you never hear that story?"
said Bob Lambert, fixing his merciless
eyes on poor Travers, who was becom
ing more and more uncomfortable
under this chaff. “One evening, the
lovely Clara threw over our friend here
for a waltz with troistemps Charlie, and
when he called her to order for her
faithlessness she only laughed. Trav
ers could not understand t-uch indiffer
ence, until at last the happy thought
occurred to him that he had himself
danced three times with a certain young
lady in blue. ‘I know why you did it,’
he said, inspired with this new idea;
‘it was pique.’ ‘Pique? Mr. Travers,’
replied Flora ; and they said her face
was quite sublime in its innocence; ‘I
don’t know the word ; what does it
mean ?' By tho bye, I never heard your
answer,” he added, across the table, to
the unhappy youth; “ rather difficult to
find one, was it not ?”
“How charming ! Quite a situation.”
chimed in another voice, with such an
exact imitation of Travers’s speech and
manner, that Charlie, in his character of
host, began to feel things had gone far
enough ; and to turn the tide of conver
sation he broke it with a question on his
cousin Margaret’s long tete-a-tete with
Ralph Leicester.
“ Who do you think 1 saw to-day,
Meg? Your old friend, Cecil Collins;
I
i
h
I
fir fefiwu §mmi
By E. S. BUKTON.
VOLUME I.
he made most particular inquiries after
you.”
“Do you know Collins?” said Ralph,
looking up.
For a moment Margaret hesitated, and
her companion’s quick eye detected the
strange expression which flitted across
her countenance ; but she recovered her
self-possession almost immediately as
she answered;
“ We were near neighbors and great
friends as children, but I have not seen
him now for several years.”
“Ah,” said Charlie, “you would
scarcely know him again; he is hand
some still, but a mere wreck of his
former self. He’s not forgotten how to
shoot, though ;; by George, his scores
are something already, Leicester, for
I’ve backed you for the que n’s prize
against all the ladies I know : Froment’s
whole stock couldn’t clear mo if you
lost.”
“ Take my advice and hedge at once,
then,” answered Ralph, laughing; then
lowering his voice he added :
“ Miss Dene, will you wish mo suc
cess ?”
“ With all my heart, Mr. Leicester.”
“I think I shall succeed, then,” he
said, in his odd, cool way. “Do you
know I can understand now how tho=e
old knights used to perform such prod
igies of valor, inspired by their fair la
dy’s scarf as a talisman? May I be
equally favored ?” and he laid a mean
ing hand on the rose at her side.
“I fear the days of chivalry are over,”
answered Margaret; but as slio did not
attempt to repossess herself of the
flower, I think she was quite willing
he should prove its talismatic powers.
“Not at all, fair lady; and when I
bring the trophy of victory to lay at
your feet, I shall expect the reward of
my prowess.”
Margaret looked up, not quite know
ing how to take this speech, but, if she
read any serious meaning in his eyes,
tho light laugh and low bow which ac
companied the words seemed meant to
pass them oft’ as a jest.
“ Leicester,” broke in Charlie again,
“did you say you knew Cecil Collins?”
“Wo were at Oxford together for a
short time,” answered Ralph ; “he came
up there about six months before I left
—in time to do me a service I hope I
shall never forget. He saved my life,”
he added, in answer to Margaret’s
quick look of inquiry. “I was attacked
by a mad dog one day, a huge creature,
when I had nothing but a slight cane in
my hand ; aud it would have been all
up with me, then and there, had not
Collins, a mere youth freshly arrived at
college, been passing at that moment.
He rushed forward just as tho brute’s
teoth were about to grab my arm, and,
seizing its collar dragged it off’, holding
it back by main force till somebody
from behind came up and gave it the
coup de grace. He is a brave fellow,
whatever are his faults, aud has made
mo liia debtor to no small amount.”
“Poor Cecil!” sighed Margaret to
herself ; but Ralph caught the words,
and a pang of jealousy came over him
as ho thought that thereby lmug a tale.
Perhaps it was as well he could not
see the vision which rose before his
companion’s eyes just then ; the vision
of a quaint old parsonage garden, with
a boy and girl standing there among
the roses and saying good-by—to more,
ah, how much more, than they them
selves knew!—he to go forth into the
world and, fall from his high re
solves and noble ambitions into the
downward path, too fearfully easy to
travel along ; aud she to remain in her
quiet home and dream of an impossi
ble future. None knew what to her
had been the awakening from those
dreams when the first faint rumor,
which she strove to disbelieve, readied
her, and then when later she knew be
yond a doubt that the idol she wor
shiped was of clay, all unfit for the
shrine she had found it.
Hers was a self-contained nature ;
the wound had bled sorely, but no one
guessed its presence—only her . family
were wont to remark, “How quiet Mar
garet has become !” It was now com
pletely healed, how completely she has
not realized till these last few days,
though the scar was still left, and would
not bear handling too roughly.
Perhaps all of this will account for
the fact of Margaret Dene being yet
unmarried at the advanced age of five
and-twepty; a fact which her friends
were never tired of wondering at.
Beforo many minutes my heroine’s
thoughts were recalled to the present
by the general breaking-up of the par
ty, and somehow the an revoir whis
pered in her ear by earnest tones made
her quite forget to revert again to such
sad retrospections.
* * * * * * *
“Who’s won?” shouted a chorus of
voices as, two days later, Charlie saun
tered into his mother’s drawing-room.
“ Please Charlie, do tell us quickly who
won?”
“Who won what? Do boa little
quiet, girls; it’s far too hot to exert
one’s-self this weather. How d’ye do,
Margaret? I never saw you anything
but cool in all my life; wish I could
say ditto for myself and catching up
a fan, the young man threw himself in
to an easy-chair with a great affectation
of feeling overcome.
“ Come, Chrales, don’t be such a
tease ! Who got the queen’s prize ! We
are all dying to know. ’
“ Much good may the knowing do you
then,” said Charlie. “Cecil Collins
has got it."
“Cecil Collins !” and Margaret’s voice
this time joined the others. “ Why,
you said Mr. Leicester was sure of it.”
“I never said anything of the kind;
aud besides, if I did, I don’t pretend to
the pope’s infallibility.” After which
Charlie tried the effects of the veranda
and cigar on his ruffled feelings.
So the rose did not answer after all,
thought Margaret, as she walked to the
window to ask what score Mr. Leicester
had made.
“Leicester never shot at all,” was
Charlie’s gruff response.
“ Never shot at all! Why not ?”
“ That’s just what nobody knows.
The fellows are saying it looks awfully
fishy; and Travers, who can always
kick a man when lie’s down, liiuts that
he’s got into some trouble or other, as
those wonderfully clever men are sure
to do ; but that's mere jealousy, because
Travers is such a fool himself. Ha !
there’s Phillips and dinner; I always
look upon the two as synonymous.
EASTMAN, DODGE CO., GEORGIA, AVEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1873.
Come along, Meg, let’s try to forget
about shooting for a while, or it will de
cidedly affect my brain after all I have
heard of it, to-dav.”
If Charlie’s brain wero not affected,
somebody’s else appetite was ; the song
she had been practicing, that afternoon,
would keep recurring to Margaret’s
memory, with its refrain of Shakspeare’s
verse :
“Then sigli no more, ladies; ladies, sigh no more;
Men were doceivers ever ;
One foot on sea and one on 6hore,
To one thing constaut never.”
* * * # * * *
“ Have you a dance to spare me, Miss
Deuc ?”
“I fear not, Mr. Leicester;” and,
without glancing at her programme,
Margaret turned toward her companion
to continue the conversation Ralph had
broken ip upon, nor did she look round,
again tuTsirfe Knew Me Mad left tier side.
It was their first meeting since that
luncheon party at Wimbledon, now
more than a month ago, when Ralph
Leicester had been foolish enough to
talk a great deal of nonsense, which she
had been still more foolish in believing,
so Margaret said to herself. She did
not in the least credit all the disagreea
ble things people were saying about
him; but he had shown pretty plainly,
by his silence all this time, his perfect
indifference to her good opinion, and
she determined on that point to meet
him more than half way.
She had j ust arrived at this conclu
sion when Cecil Collins came forward to
claim her for the waltz then commenc
ing ; and as she walked down the room
on his arm, not a lew turned to gaze at
the handsome eouple and wonder who
they were ; a wonder easily satisfied,
for Cecil, at least, was becoming well
known. Not only had he won tho
queen’s prize, which in itself made him
a sufficiently marked man, but with that
prize he had come into the heirship of
a large fortune.
His uncle, a rich and eccentric old
bachelor, who was wont to describe him
self as “the best shot of his day, sir,”
and who considered that quite descrip
tion enough of any man, was so delight
ed to fiud his scapegrace nephew turn
ing out a distinguished marksman that
ho wrote to him, promising not only to
pay his debts, but to make anew will
in his favor, if only that nephew suc
ceeded in carrying off the prize of the
year. A strange excuse, through which
the truth showed somewhat pathetically,
for making one last effort to reclaim the
prodigal; that so, if it were possible,
this only son of his dead brother might
still be found worthy to fill his place,
when that place should have become va
cant ; instead of the old home and well
filled coffers passing into the hands of
strangers.
The dance over, Margaret and Cecil
strolled through the open window into
the moonlit garden beyond, glad to ex
change the heated atmosphere of the
ball-room for the cool night air. Did
tlieir thoughts wauder back to that oth
er garden they had stood together in,
long ago, ere sin and sorrow came to
overshadow their young lives? Per
haps so, for both were unusually silent;
and it was not till they had paced the
whole length of the terrace that Cecil
roused himself to say that which he had
brought his companion out there for
the express purpose of telling her.
“ Margaret,” he said, “Ralph Leices
ter is a friend of yours, is he not ?”
“An acquaintance would be the more
correct term.”
“ Why so ? I have heard your names
coupled together more than once; yet
ju t now I myself saw you refuse to
dance with him. Are you offended, like
all the rest of the world, because he
threw up the shooting at Wimbleton?
or, perhaps, because he did so without
telling you the reason ?”
Margaret’s only answer was a sugges
tion to go in; the night air felt chilly,
she thought.
“Not yet, Margaret; not till I have
told you what is weighing on my con
science, if, indeed, such a thing, is still
left me,” said Cecil, with rather a bit
ter laugh, “People are saying that
Ralph Leicester has promised to win
the queen’s prize for your sake, aud that
you have thrown him over for giving it
up. How far that may be true, I feel I
have no right to ask, but as I, and I
alone, can tell you his real reason for
not shooting, I suppose he would rather
lose even you than confess it himself,
you must listen to me a few minutes
while Ido so. Long ago I was fortunate
enough to save his life in an encounter
with a mad dog. I had almost forgot
ten the circumstance, but it seemed that
Leicester retained a very vivid remem
brance of it; and when, the day before
tho prize was to be shot for, my uncle’s
strange intentions came to his knowl
edge—how,- I do not know, as I had
tried my best to keep the world ignor
ant of the stake for which I had played
—and he found that thus something
more tliku life, reputation and the means
of once more facing the world, were
within my reach if only I could be suc
cessful—he generously determined no
act of his should diminish my chance ;
and by quietly withdrawing from the
shooting, paid back his debt to me mul
tiplied a thousand times. The prize is
mine, Margaret, and with it the new
life that has opened upon me; but I
need hardly tell you how I shall count
it all too dearly bought if Leicester's
future happiness has been sacrificed to
its payment.”
Half an hour later, as Ralph Leices
ter was standing moodily in the door
way, his meditations were broken in
upon by a dance-programme falling at his
feet, as some waltzsrs flew past him.
He stooped to pick it up, not at all
knowing who was its owner, and ab
sently ran his eye down the list of
names inscribed therein. His indiffer
ence vanished, however, when, toward
the end he came to his own, written in
a remarkably clear hand. It was odd,
lie thought, decidedly odd ; as, with
one exception, he had asked no one to
dance with him that evening. He was
just beginning to wonder who the scribe
could be, when a voice said at his side :
“ I think you have picked up my pro
gramme, Mr. Leicester !” and turning
round he met the soft glance of a pair
of gray eyes, which, this time, were
not averted from his gaze.
Now, perhaps, it would only have been
shewing proper pride to have repelled
such advances from a young lady who
had decidedly snubbed him at the com-
In God we Tniat,
mencement of the evening, but, if so,
Ralph Leicester proved himself lamen
tably wanting in such pride at that mo
ment, though, as a rule, meekness was
not counted among llis virtues. His
face softeued marvelously as he returned
the programme, and there was an earnest
ness in his voice which Margaret’s ear
was quick to discow r, though he only
said : .
“ No. 23 is our dance, I believe ?”
“If you still care to claim it,” she
answered, blushiug, and tho next mo
ment her impatient partner had once
more whirled her off into the dance.
If he still cared to claim it! Ay,
did he not ? That, and a great deal more
besides, as Margaret found wlicu she
once again paced the terrace, with Ralph
Leicester as her companion ; and that
such claim had been accepted. Cecil was
iHit,slow -to when he watched
their return to the ball-room after -more
than an hour’s. absence.
“ There goes for my first attempt in
the good line,” said he, looking after
them somewhat ruefully, “and a pre
cious hard one I’ve found it, too ; but
as the French have it, ( Ce n'est. que le
premier pan qui coute aud the next
step may be easier. God knows my
folly has taught me a bitter lesson ; I
will try what the other thing can do for
me now.”
And lie did try, setting his face right
manfully to the battle. Who can doubt
of his success? Verily, there had been
more at stake, that summer’s day at
Wimbledon, than the world in its phi
losophy could guess.
Our Future Wealth.
That our country is eventually to
take the lead of all the world in wealth,
must be plain to any one who fairly
estimates of her as yet undeveloped re
sources.
Since steam has been applied to com
merce and manufactures, the produc
tive coal fields of Great Br.tiau have
been her chief sourco of strength.
These coal-fields have been worked for
a great number of years, and many of
them show symptoms of exhaustion.
They are, moreover, insignificant in
extent, as compared with what this
country possesses. The aggregate area
of the coal fields of Great Britain and
Ireland is, at most, but 12,000 square
miles, while that of the United States
is at least 190,000 square miles. The
coal area of Canada, mostly in Nova
Scotia, is put dowu at 18 square miles.
If the quantity of coal iu each given
acre be about the same, then Nova
Scotia is richer in coal than Great
Britain ever was, and the United States
is more than sixteen times as rich. In
fact, according to elaborate estimates
made by Prof. Rogers, the whole of
Europe contains but one-twelfth the
quantity of coal which exists in this
couutry. The present available quan
tity in the British Islands is estimated
at 190,000 millions of tons, while that of
France and Belgium is set down at 95,-
000 millions.
Coal aud iron go together. One is,
as it were, a factor to the other ; without
iron, coal would lose a large portion of
its value ; without coal iron ore would
be comparatively worthless. Though
unlike they are still nearly related in
their range of uses. The iron engine is
rendered serviceable through the power
which coal supplies, and the iron horse
aud iron ship are propelled through the
force which it develops.
The rich distribution of iron ores in
close proximity to all our gieat coal
measures is a prophetic indication of
our future wealth. All history shows
that wealth and population gravitate
toward centres enriched by the valued
presence of coal and iron. No other
country is as well supplied as the United
States in these twin agencies of wealth,
power, and population, consequently no
other country will be as wealthy, as
populous, and as powerful.
Our largest coal field is that known
as the “Great Appalachian.” Passing
through Western Virginia, Eastern Ken
tucky, aud Eastern Tennessee, it ter
minates in Alabama, vihero it makes its
nearest approach to gulf and ocean
waters. As yet this great field is com
paratively untouched ; but it is now
attracting attention, aud several blast
furnaces for the production of iron
have already been established, not only
on tho line of the Chesapeake and Ohio
railroad, but iu Alabama, toward the
field’s most southern extremity.
When the south is supolied with
transportation facilities equal to those
now existing in Pennsylvania, the coal
aud iron trade of Alabama will be a
power in this southern land, greatly
exceeding that which the coal and iron
of the Keystone state are to-day in the
land of Penn. The field is in every
respect an inviting one. With a genial,
healthy climate, a generous soil, and
unparalleled facilities for the produc
tion of iron and other valuable minerals,
Alabama must soon command the atten
tion slie deserves. New Birminghams
aud Sheffields will soou spring up with
in her borders, and new Manchesters,
also, for she has all the raw material at
command which has built up England’s
great textile city.
The Literature of Our Home Railroads.
Along the line of Massachusetts rail
roads, one thing is remarkable—the
character of books which the train boy
brings you. Trashy novels and pam
phlet biographies of celebrated crimi
nals flung rudely in your lap ? No !he
comes to you with Virgil, Tacitus,
Shakspeare, Milton, “Liffith Lank,”
Herbert Spencer, “St. Twel’mo,” John
Stuart Mill—good solid reading. And
he converses with you about the books,
and tells you who wrote them. And I
have not a doubt that by traveling over
the Boston and Albany, and New Haven
aud Northampton railroads for fonr or
five years, aud reading the Springfield
Republican continually, a man will pick
up about as much information as he
could at college, and might eventually
be able to answer all the questions that
sociably inclined old ladies on the back
seat may ask him. Lest my statement
as to the character of books perused on
the railroads of this state may be doubt
ed, I wish now to affirm that, glancing
over the shoulder of a young man sit
ting in front of me, in the' hope that he
might have a guide-book that I could
get a chance to borrow, I found that he
was whiling away the time with “Ciesar,
i fiber Secundus.” — John Raul , in New
York Iribune.
THE BUTCHERY IN uUBA.
Details of the Sea Race-Sps'iii h Re
joicings—The Kxecutious.
from New York Times Havana Letter.
The news of the Virginias having
fallen into the hands of the Spaniards
was received here on the morning of the
Ith. By the Peninsulars it was hailed
with the utmost demonstrative joy, and
the Cubans received it with the greatest
consternation. At once it was all over
the town. The papers printed special
supplements, giving the telegram as re
ceived by the commander general of the
navy, and the streets were hung from
end to end with the national colors.
IIOW THE CAPTURE WAS EFFECTED.
On the afternoon of the 31st the Tor
nado corvette, while cruising near the
Aserradero, sighted a steamer whose
appearance looked suspicious, and at
2:30 the chase commenced, <he Tornado
going at the rate of thirteen or fourteen
knots an hour, and gaining steadily on
the flying steamer. Night came on, but
the moon shed her light over the waters
and made the forms of both vessels dis
tinctly visible. The chase lasted until
ten at night, and by this time the Vir
ginius was within cannon shot of the
Tornado. The corvette then fired a gun
as a summons for surrender, but no
notice was taken. Three or four others
followed, and the capture was complete,
boing effected within a very short dis
tance of the Jamaica ooat‘ Tho com
mander of the Tornado gives it at
twenty miles.
SPEECH OF VARONA WHEN CAPTURED.
Not the slightest resistance was
offered by those on board the Virginius;
all were made prisoners, and brought
on board the Tornado. The Spaniards
say that when Barnabe Varona came on
board he expressed a desire to speak
with the Spanish commander, and his
request having been granted, spoke as
follows: “I congratulate you ou the
capture which you have just made, and
the importance of which you can not
well appreciate in this moment. You
are not aware of the materials which we
were bringing, nor do you know the
effect which they would have produced
had they been spread through the is! aud.
The capture of the steamer Virgin s
may quite well put an end to the insur
rection.”
TIIE SPANIARDS WILD WITH JOY.
Duri' g the chase the Virginius was
engaged in throwing everything over
board that could help to lighten the
vessel, and hams, tallow, an I petroleum
were used for the furnaces in the vain
endeavor to escape. This has reduced the
value of the prize to the steamer aud
prisoners. The Tornado, with her prize
in tow, arrived at Santiago de Cuba
about 5 p. m. on the Ist, and the excite
ment when the capture became known
may be imagined. People scarcely
knew what to do, perhaps from the ab
solute want of practice in receiving
such trophies. Steamers with steam up
blew their whistles, ai,<i rung bells, and
several crews cheered. At intervals,
the Spanish vessels in the harbor hoisted
more flags, as fast as they could hunt
them up. The chief demonstration was
made by the Don Juan de Austria, a
sort of cross between a gun-boat and a
bathing machine, and remarkable for its
extreme antiquity. This noble vessel
fired five guns, no doubt to celebrate
the capture and its own retirement into
private life until the next expedition.
The Virginius was brought in with the
Spanish flag flying, the American flag,
which had been hoisted during the
chase, being twisted about the taffrail.
On the return to Santiago, it was found
that she was mailing so much water that
it was necessary to run her on shore.
THE TRIAL OF THE PRISONERS.
The prisoners’ trial as p'rates was
commenced in court-martial on the
morning of the 2nd, and by the time
the news of the capture reached us in
Havana the fate of four was decided.
THE CONSUL NOT ALLOWED TO INTERFERE.
The American consul was not allowed
to interfere in any way. A telegram to
his colleague in Jamaica, asking about
the nationality of the Virginius, was
not allowed to pass by the government.
The four executed are the only members
of the ill-fated expedition who have
been identified so far. Ninety are said
to be Cubans, and twelve foreigners—
the rest of the 165 being supposed to
compose the crew. The crew, it is re
ported, will be brought round to Ha
vana. and it appears probable, as two
Spanish men-of-war have been dis
patched to Santiago—one from here,
and the other from Batabario.
CONTINUOUS CELEBRATIONS.
From the afternoon of the day on
which the news of the capture arrived
in Havana, serenades to the captain gen
eral, the general of marine, and other
dignitaries, have been the order of the
day, and even up till uow, when I write,
the palace and principal streets are dec
orated with flags. It is not known yet
whether Santa Rosa formed one of the
expedition, for, although his name does
not appear in the list, which has been
published, it is possible that he may
have been, but under an assumed name.
LANDING OF THE CREW OF THE VIRGINIUS.
Yesterday afternoon the whole of the
members of the Virginius expedition
were brought on shore. Forces from
the men-of-war guarded tliem to the
shore, and, aided by volunteers, con
ducted them to ihe prison. The pris
oners walked four in a row and with
their arms tied, mostly all in their shirt
sleeves, and had generally a dirty ap
pearance. Nearly all walked firmly,
with their heads up, and with a reckless
look on their faces. Many were smil
ing ; none appeared much affected by
their situation. Bembeta was landed
by himself about half an hour after.
He also had his arms tied, and was es
corted by four marines, a corporal, and
an officer. He marched firmly up the
street to the jail. The wharf and
neighborhood were crowded by a curi
ous throng, a noticeable feature being
a large comparsa of negroes, with their
flags flying and drams beating.
THE LAST HOURS OF CAPT. FRY.
On Friday afternoon, the 7th inst.,
thirty-seven of the crew of the Virginius
were brought on shore and taken to the
prison, to remain there until their exe
cution, which was ordered for that after
noon. Capt. Fry, a noble-looking old
man, fully a head taller than the rest of
the crew, when he met his men on the
$ 2 00 per Annum.
NUMBER 44.
wharf, previous to the march to the
prison, sainted them all. The salute
was returned with affection. At 4:45
Capt. Fry and thirty-six men and offi
cers, were publicly shot, despite the
protest of all competent foreign author
ities. The marines were seven minutes
killing the wretched prisoners. It
seemed as if they would never finish.
At last the sailors marched off and the
troops file l past the long row of corpses.
Then the dead carts were hurried up
and loaded indiscriminately with the
mangled remains. The American vice
consul did all that could have been
done. Indeed, it was threatened that
his exequatur would be withdrawn for
his exertions in behalf of the prisoners.
In an interview with Gen. Burriel, that
officer yelled at him and otherwise
treated him disrespectfully. The Brit
ish consul also made an ineffectual pro
test against the executions. It is re
ported that sixteen of the victims were
British subjects.
A British Prediction of the Future
of American Iron.
Notwithstanding the efforts of our
British exchanges to convince themselves
and their readers that the importation
of American iron into England is im
possible, the very idea of such a thing
seems to be a nightmaro of horror to
them. They cannot let the Hiihjaot I
oTon i\jL a week. Says Iron, in
its last issue :
“The tall talk of last week on the
importation of American iron into Liv
erpool has been supplemented by asser
tions that the mills of Pittsburg, Pa.,
are rolling boiler plates for Ireland, and
that a large consumer in South Stafford
shire has lately concluded a contract
with a Pennsylvania rolling mill for
3,000 tons finished iron. Although
mauy of the reports now flying about
will be found destitute of foundation,
there is little doubt that the Americans
have succeeded in elbowing us out of
the Canadian market, and that, both Au
stralian and South American purchas
ers of hardware are attracted by the
beautifully finished American work,
which, although dearer, is infinitely
more saleable than ours. Great and
well founded apprehensions are enter
tained that the development of the im
mense mineral resources of Virginia
will seriously affect, if not entirely ex
tinguish, our iron trade with America,”
How nmch or little of truth there
may be in the statements above made
concerrning American steel boiler plates
and finished iron for British consump
tion, we are not prepared to say. We
have heard the stories, and are, conse
quently, disposed to receive them cum
grano salts ; but Iron is right in what
it has to say about our growing trade
with Canada, Australia and South Amer
ica, and is probably not far astray in its
predictions as to the ultimate benefits
which will follow the development of
the vast coal and iron resources of the
Virginias. The probable rapidity of
this development may be estimated
from the fact that seven ore beds, sev
enteen coal mines and twelve furnaces
are now in operation on or near the line
of the Chesapeake and Ohio railroad.
Kentucky, Tennessee and Alabama are
also developing their iron resources,
and in a few years the south will con
tribute largely to the iron production
of the country. When that time comes
we shall not only have no use for Brit
ish iron, but we may have some of our
own make to spare for such of our
neighbors as may want it.
Cassagnac, the Editor Bully of Paris.
To have been a decided opponent of
the late imperial regime is to have had
the bitter enmity, the constant abuse,
the unmitigated insults of Monsieur
Paul de Cassagnac heaped upon one,
and in several cases these onslaughts of
the fiery editor have led to meetings,
generally resulting in the wounding of
Cassagnac’s antagonists. Still young
and very vigorous, he is at least six
feet, very broad and muscular. Mon
sieur de Cassagnac, by daily practice,
lias attained such skill at fencing that
it is next to impossible to touch him.
Almost invariably the first offense is
given by de Cassagnac. He makes it a
boast that his abuse is never stinted,
and when in consequence he is chal
lenged, he selects small swords as the
weapons for an encounter. He is safe
in doing so, as but few men can compete
with him, and those who make the en
deavor generally receive a thrust for
their pains. Monsieur Paul is a very
conspicuous personage in the street.
He is very tall and broad-shouldered,
and he wears a very large and peculiar
looking hat, which he cocks over upon
his left ear. So much does he incline
his hat that sometimes one wonders that
it does not fall off. Monsieur Cassag
nac walks in a bold, defiant manner,
and carries a huge walking-stick, which
he, from time to time, swings ominous
ly from side to side, as though just
preparing to smasli the head of some
imaginary foe, and I have noticed that
at such times the passers-by do not fail
to point him out very admiringly. As
for the ladies, they admire Monsieur de
Cassagnac very openly. He is so large,
so dark, his eyes are so black and so
bright, and he is so very notorious, you
know.— Courier-Journal.
Didn't Suit Her. —’Twas a shawl the
girl wanted. Now the polite merchant
prides himself upon his good taste, and,
having a large stock of shawls, thinks
that where he fails to suit, it is useless
for any one else to try. He selected a
shawl and ai ranged it in the manner
now worn, having some trouble in get
ting it to lay down in front just to his
notion. Ho succeeded, however, and,
stepping back a few paces, asked how
that suited. “Humph,” replied the
girl, “I wouldn’t be found dead in the
woods with that shawl on.” The shawl
was restored to the box by his affable
clerk. ‘
—lf many professing Christians should
speak out the things they really feel,
instead of the smooth prayers which
they do pray, they would say when
they go home at night, “O Lord, I
met a poor wretch of yours to-day—a
miserable, unwashed brat—and I gave
him sixpence, and I have been sorry for
it ever since.”
—A company has been organized in
San Francisco, with a capital of $500,-
000, for the manufacture of jute bags
and twine.
EASTMAN TIMES.
RATES OF ADVERTISING:
■ ■ - - -I ■
stack. la Bm. Bm. 11 m.
One square $4 00 $ 7 £2
Two squares. 638 12 1)0 f1?
Four squares 976 19 0° t on
One-fourth 001. 11 60 23 50 {B4 00 48 00
One-half col 30 00 83 60 i56 00 80 00
One oolumn 35 00 j6OOOA SO 00 130 00
Advertisements inserted at the rate of $1.50 per
square for the first insertion, and 75 cents for eacn
subsequent one. Ten lines or less constitute a
square. .
Professional cards, $16.00 ppr annum, for six
months, SIO.OO, In advance.
GLEANINGS AND GOSSIP.
—Several negro families are prepar
ing to emigrate from East Tennessee to
Liberia.
—A stock company is said to have
been formed at Griffin, Ga., for the
manufacture of coffee from persimmon
seeds.
—One female clerk in the treasury
department can count 9,000 notes in an
hour, and has counted 4,000 in twenty
minutes.
—George Law at forty-five worked as
a day-laborer on the docks of New York.
He is now worth about $10,000,000 law
ful money.
—Death is as near to the young as
the old. Here is all the difference ;
death stands behind the young man’s
back, and before the old man’s face.
—There lias been a break in the em
bankment of the Mississippi river, just
below St. Louis, and the inhabitants
were obliged to confiscate a Chicago
man’s boots to plug it up with.
—A western genius has an idea which
is an idea. He rroposes to arrange
church seats on pivots so the devout
may more conveniently examine the
toilets of those in the back seats.
—The sun is now working about ten
hours per day, but proposes a gradual
iioiion rvr OXX
weeks, in order to help the gas compa
ny, and also the dealers in kerosene and
tallow candles.
—A happy misquotation by a young
lady, whose gentleman caller staid too
late, caused a speedy good-by. The
clock struck twelve, and she remarked :
“Now is the witching hour of night,
when people yawn.”
—Says the Detroit Free Press : A
New Hampshire man was struck on the
head with an axe and made an idiot for
life, and yet the man who struck him
was fined only $65. It doesn’t damage
a New Hampshire man much to make a
fool of him.
“ You needn’t come qu Saturday
night, or any other night,” was the
soothing remark, written in delicate
female characters on a postal-card which
winged its way through the Leaven
worth postoffice, the other day.
—The whole number of Modocs sent
to the island in South Platte river, near
fort McPherson, Neb., is one hundred
and fifty-seven, the most noticeable of
whom is Miss Mary Jack, who is eigh
teen, and handsome and has long, wavy
hair, and a pair of black eyes that snap
awfully when anything is said about her
late father.
—An old, rough clergyman once took
for his text that passage of the Psalms,
“ I said in my haste all men are liars.”
Looking up apparently as if he saw the
psalmist standing before him, he said :
*** You said it in your haste, David, did
you ? Well, if you had been here, you
might have said it after mature reflec
tion.”
A poet who writes with a metallic
luster in a Texas paper, sings:
“ There sat one day in splendor,
A maiden young and fair;
With beautiful soft blue eyes,
And gold and silver hair.
Now, this fair young maiden
Had a mission to perform
Upon this terrestal globe.”
The maiden’s “mission” was specie
payment. We know it by her hair—
“ gold and silver.”
—The little things which you may do
for those about you will fall! back upon
your heart as the summer dews fall up
on the vineyards. What if it is nothing
more than a kind word to a school-boy
crying in the street; it dries his tears",
and the aching heart grows glad again.
Who knows what cloud of darkness one
kind word may dispel.
—Dr. Dio Lewis now tells “our
girls” that if they want to learn to walk
well they should “ walk an hour a day,
with a weight—say a bag o:f beans—
upon their heads.” A few days ago the
doctor advised ladies to eat beans to
improve their complexion. We begin
to suspect that he belongs to a bean
“ring,” and is trying to bull the bean
market.
—Joaquin Miller, in his “Life Among
the Modocs,” says: “When I die I
shall take this book in my hand, and
hold it up in the day of judgment.” As
the book in question has been univer
sally damned already on both sides of
the ocean, Joaquin had better try to
part company with it on judgment day
if be has any judgment himself.
—The New York Tribune gallantly
remarks: “ There are those who be
lieve there is a providence which watches
over drunkards, which sustains their
tottering steps on slippery places, and
which softens the paving stones for
them when they fall. It would some
times appear that a similar care has or
dered that whenever an especially mean
and selfish scamp is driven into mar
riage, a woman of more than usually
angelic character is provided for him.
And the more the scamp is developed
in him, the more the angel blooms forth
in her.”
Letter from General Ryan.
The following letter has been received
by Gen. Geo. W. Cook, an intimate
friend of Gen. Ryan’s:
BuußDEiiii Haul, Kingston. Jamai
ca, Oct. 23,1873. —To mg dear George :
In one hour we leave for Cuba. This
is quite unexpected, as we didn’t expect
to go until to-morrow, and I have just re
turned from the country. We arrived
on the 13th inst.; had a storm on the 7th ;
all provisions washed overboard, and
deck swept fore and aft. Capt. Harris
and the purser were badly injured.
The captain pronounced it the most se
vere hnrricane he ever saw. For a few
hours I thought we would all enjoy the
novelty of a bath in mid-ocean.
Since our arrival we have had a splen
did time, feast after feast, ball after
ball. The first ball was given in honor
of Gen. Verona and myself. All the
fashion and wealth of the place were pre
sent. The governor general Condova
and Judge Tichbum gave others, and
gay ones they were. The place is filled
with beautiful women and gay and
splendid fellows, generous to a fault and
liberal as princes. I must say that I
never received such attention. I regret
that want of time will prevent me giving
you a detailed account of my adventures.
I am fat as a bull and gay as a lark, and
leave this place with many regrets.
Very truly, etc. W. A. C. Ryan.