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was, I got to look upon Mary as a sort of
sister, and lien had no cause for jealousy,
although there were plenty of evil
tongues to put him up to it.
The contract was nearly up, when a
lightning-conductor upon one of the high
est chimneys sprang and the owner of the
works offered our master the job.
“It’s just the sort of the thing for you,
Ilarry,” said Mr. M , when he told
us of it.
1 accepted it off-hand, and then
lien stepped up and said he’d volunteer
to be the second man, two being required.
“All right,” said the master, “you are
the steadiest-headed fellows I have. The
price is a good one, and every penny of it
shall he divided between you. We’ll not
fix a day for the work, but take the first
calm morning, and get it done quietly.”
So it was that, some four or five
mornings after, wc found ourselves all
ready for the start. The kite by which
the line attached to the block was to be
scut over the chimney, was flown, and
diil its work well; the rope which was to
haul up the cradle was ready, and step
ping in, Ben and I began the ascent.
There had been very 7 few people about
when we went into the yard, but as we
got higher, I saw that the news had
spread, and that the streets where filling
with sight-seers.
“There’s plenty of star-gazers, Ben,’, I
said, waving my cap to them, “I dare
say they’d like to see us come down with
a run.”
“Cannot you keep quiet?” answered
Ben, speaking in a strange tone, and
turning to look; I saw he was deadly
pale, and sat in the bottom of the cradle,
huddled up together, with his eyes fast
shut.
“You’re not frightened, old chap?” I
asked.
“What’s that to you?”
“Oh, nothing; only we are getting up
pretty quickly, and you'd have a better
head for work if you'd get gradually used
to the height.”
He said nothing, and never moved.
Then looking up, 1 saw we were close to
the top —a few yards more, and we
would he there; yet those who were
turning the windlass were winding with
uuabated speed. A sudden chill ran
through my blood, and set my flesh
creeping. They had miscalculated the
distance, and with the force they were
winding at, the rope must, inevitably
break when the cradle came in contact
with the block. There was no time to
attempt a signal, only an instant, to point
out the danger to Ben, and then to get
hold of the rope, and by going hand
over hand, reach the coping before the
cradle came up. This was done quicker
than I can tell you, Ben following.
The cradle came on; then as I
anticipated, the rope gave a shrill,
pinging sound, like a rifle-ball passing
through the air, and snapped. Down
went the cradle, and there we were left,
nearly three hundred feet in the air, with
nothing to rest upon but a coping bareley
eighteen inches wide.
Ben shrieked out that he was a dead
man, and cried—
“ Tell me where I can kneel, Harry;
show me where I can pray to Almighty
God, for I cannot die ttiis way!”
“Hush! lad,” I said, “don’t lose heart,
God can hear you just as well sittiug as
kneeling; and if you try to get up you’ll
tumble, to a moral certainty, Think of
Mary, man, and keep up.”
But he only shook and swayed more
and more, groaning and crying out that
he was lost; and I could see that if he did
not mind he would overbalance.
“Get hold of the rod,” 1 said, thinking
that even sprung as it was, the touch of
it would give him courage.
“Where is it, boy?” he said hoarsely;
and then looking into his face, which was
turned to me, I saw that his eyes were
drawn together, squinting and bloodshot,
and knew that the fright had driven him
blind. So pushing myself to him I placed
my arms around his waist, and worked
round to the rod, which I put in his hand;
and then I looked below, to sec whether
they were trying to help us; but there
was no signs.
The yard was full of people, all
running hither and thither; and, as I
afterwards knew, all in the greatest
consternation; the cradle having fallen ou
one of the overseers of the work, killing
him on the spot, and so occuyping the
attention of those near, that we unfor
tunates were for the time forgotten. I
was straining my eyes, in hope of seeing
some effort made to help us, when I was
startled by a horrible yell, and brought
to a sense of anew danger, for looking
round I saw Ben champing with his teeth,
and foaming at the mouth, and
gesticulating in an unearthly way. Fear
had not only blinded him, but crazed his
brain.
Scarcely had I time to comprehend
this, when he began edging his way
toward me; and every hair on my head
seemed to stand on end, as I moved away,
keeping as far off as I could, and scarcely
daring to breathe, lest he should hear
me, for see me he could not—that was
my only consolation. Once—twice—
thrice—he followed me round the mouth
of that horrible chimney; then, no doubt,
thinking I had fallen over, he gave up
the search, and began trying to get on
to his feet.
What cculd I now do to save his life?
To touch him was certain death to myself
as well as to him, for he would inevitably
seize me, and wc should both go over to
together. To let him stand was to
witness his equally certain destruction.
I thought of poor Mary, and thought
that if he fell she might get to care for
me. The devil put that thought into my
mind, I suppose; but, thank God, there
was a stronger than Satan near, and at
the risk of my life, I roarod out—
“ Sit still, or you will fall, Ben Lord!”
lie crouched down and held on with
clenched teeth, shivering and shaking.
In after-days he told me that he thought
that it was my spirit sent to warm and
save him.
“Sit still,” I repeated from time to time
watching with aching eyes and brain for
some sign of aid. Each minute seemed
to be an hour. My lips grew dry, my
tongue literally clave to my mouth, and
the perspiration running down blinded
me. At last—at last—hope came.
The crowd began to gather in the yard,
people were running in from distant
lanes, and a sea of faces were turned
upward; then someone who had got a
speaking trumpted shouted, “Keep heart,
boys: we’ll save you!” A few minutes
more and the kite began to fly; higher
and higher it comes; on and on. How I
watched the white-winged messenger,
comparing it in my heart to an augel;
and surely, as an angel was it permitted
to come to us poor sinners hanging on to
the verge of eternity.
Up it came, nearer and nearer, guided
by the skilful flier. The slack rope
crossed the chimney, and wc were saved.
I could not shout hurrah, even had I
dared; but in every beat of my heart, was
a thanksgiving to the God I had never
truly known till that hour, and whose
merciful providence I can never doubt
again.
The block was fixed, the cradle came
up again, and Ben obcyiug my order, got
in. 1 followed; but no sooner did I
touch him than he began trying to get
out. I got hold of him, and taking it in
his head that I was attempting to throw
him over, he struggled and fought like the
madman he was—grappling, tearing witli
his teeth, shouting and shrickng, and
praying all the way down, while the
cradle strained and cracked, swinging to
and fro like the pendulum of a clock.
As we came near the ground I could
hear the roar of voices, and an occasional
cheer; then suddenly ail was silent, for
they heard Ben’s cries; and when the
cradle touched the ground, scarcely a
man dare look in. The first who did,
saw a horrible sight, for, exhausted by
the struggle and excitement, so soon as
the cradle stopped I had fainted, and Ben,
feeling my hands relax, had fastened his
teeth into my ueek!
No wonder the men fell back with
blanched faces; they saw that Ben was
crazed; but they thought that he had
killed me, for as they said he was actually
worrying me like a dog. At last the
master got to us, and pulled Ben off’me.
I soon came round, but it was a long
time before he got well, poor fellow; and
when he did come out of the asylum, he
was never fit for his old trade again.
I gave up the trade, too, soon after,
finding that 1 got queer in the head when
1 tried to face height. So, you see, that
morning’s work changed two men’s lives.
The language of’ nature and experience
demonstrates that whoever would enjoy
the pleasures of food, the beauties of
landscape, the joy* of companionship,
the riches of literature, or the honors of
station and renown, must preserve their
health. The effect of foul, injurious
food, entering the stomach, is to derange
the digestive organs, and produce head
ache, loss of appetite, unrefreshing sleep,
low spirits, feverish burnings, etc., which
are the symptoms of that horrid disease,
Dyspepsia, which assumes a thousand
shapes, and points toward a miserable
life and premature decay. Plantation
Bitters will prevent, overcome and coun
teract all of these effects. 1 hey act with
unerring power, and arc taken with the
pleasure of a beverage.
Magnolia Water.— Superior to the
best imported German Cologne, and sold
at half the price.
The Dundee Courier says: “We un
derstand that an Elder in one of the
largest congregations in town, connected
with the Established Church, has gone
over to the Church of Rome.” M iso
man that.
Min® m fsi i©fm
Highway for Freedom.
BY 3. C MAN GAN.
‘•My suffering country shall be freed,
And shine with tenfold glory !”
So spake the gallant Winkelreld,
Renowned in German story.
“No tyrant, even of kingly grade,
Shall cross or darken my way l”
Out flashed his blade, and so he made
For Freedom’s course a highway!
We want a man like this, with power
To rouse the world by one word;
We want a cfcief to meet the hour,
Ami march the masses onward.
But chief or none, through blood and fire,
My Fatherland, lies thy way!
The men must fight who dare desire
For Freedom’s course a highway !
Alas! I can but idly gaze
Around in grief and wonder;
The People's will alone can raise
The People’s shout of thunder.
Too long, my friends, you faint for fear,
In secret crypt and by-way;
At last be Men! Stand forth and clear
For Freedom’s course a highway !
You iuterseet wood, lea, and lawn,
With roads for monster wagons
Wherein you speed like lightning, drawn
By fiery iron dragons.
So do! Such work is good, no doubt:
But why not seek some nigh way
For Mind as well ? Path also out
For Freedom’s course a highway !
Yes ! up! and let your weapons be
Sharp steel and self-reliance!
Why waste your burning energy
In void and vain defiance,
And phrases fierce and fugitive ?
’Tis deeds, not words, that I weigh—
Your swords aud gnus alone can give
To Freedom’s course a highway.
From Packard’s Monthly, January.
THE FLIGHT AND CAPTURE OF JEF
FERSON DAVIS.
BY EDWARD A. POLLARD.
While Grant and Lee thundered be
fore Petersburg, Jefferson Davis fled
from Richmond, without a word of public
explanation, with none of that benediction
or encouragement which a great leader
is expected to impart to his people in such
a catastrophe—escaping with the igno
miny of an obscure, mean fugitive, if not
positively in the character of a deserter.
Some explanation has been offered of his
singular neglect on this occasion of those
whom, in his day of power, he was ac
customed, after the affectation of a fond
and paternal ruler, to call “his people,”
in the statement that the Government at
Richmond had no expectation of Lee’s
disaster, and was thus painfully hurried in
its evacuation of the capital.
The statement is untrue, and the ex
cuse is unavailing. The writer well
knows, what has not heretofore been im
parted to public curiosity, that Jefferson
Davis had, many weeks before Lee’s ca
tastrophe, made the most careful and ex
acting preparations for his escape. The
matter had been fully consulted with his
Cabinet, in profound secresy; anil it had
beeu agreed that, to secure the escape of
the President and his principal officers,
the Shenandoah should be ordered to
cruise off the coast of Florida, to take
the distinguished fugitives on board, who
had selected the coast for their exit from
the Confederacy, and their extrication
from its falling fortuues. These orders
had been sent to the Confederate cruiser
many days before Lee’s lines were broken.
It was calculated that the President’s
party might make an easy and deliberate
escape in the way agreed upon, as the
communications with the Florida coast
were then scarcely doubtful, and once on
the Shenandoah, a fast sailer, the most
valuable remnant of the Confederate
navy, they might soon obtain an asylum
on a foreign shore. Other preparations
were made for the flight; all the papers
of the Government were revised, and
marked for destruction, abandonment or
preservation, according to their eoutents;
and even Mr. Davis’ private baggage
was put in order for transportation. Os
course the public knew nothing of these
preparations, and it did not even suspect
them. Mr. Daniel, of the Richmond
Examiner, had repeatedly said, with
bitterness, that whatever the event
of the war, whatever its misfortune,
Mr. Davis would be certain to provide
for his personal safety, above that of all
others; and indeed this journal had sug
gested that, for this mean reason, the
President had invariably blanched at any
retaliation upon the enemy involving the
penalty of death. But many people re
sented this thought of the Examiner;
they persisted in believing that President
Davis would stand witli the army when
the Confederate Hag was lowered, and
accept a common lot with them and the
people; and they called to mind his heroic
words, spoken to the troops in \ irginia
in 1861, at the beginning of the war:
“ When the last line of bayonets is levelled
1 will be with you.”
By the way, it is remarkable that so
little has been obtained, by the capture
or discovery of documents, of the secret
history of the Confederacy. True, there
have been collected at Washington some
documentary relics, under the title of
“ Rebel Archives;” and the pretentious
construction of a Bureau to take care of
them, and certain foolish provisions against
the access to them of public curiosity,
have given the idea of some value and
mystery attached to them. But they are
historically worthless, scarcely anything
more than the official platitudes, dry and
barren amplifications of stories which
have been told a hundred times in the
newspapers. There was captured in
Richmond only the refuse of the Con
federate archives. It is a curious and
romantic fact, not generally known,
that the bulk of the valuable papers of
the Confederate Government, including
the correspondence of Jefferson Davis,
exists to-day in concealment; that many
days before the fall of Richmond there
was a careful select ion of important pa
pers, especially those in the office of the
President, and letters which involved
confidences in the North and in Europe,
and that these were secretly conveyed out
of Richmond, and deposited in a place
where they remain concealed to this
time, and will probably not be unearthed
in this generation. Where is this re
pository of the secrets of the Confederate
Government the writer is not prepared to
say. Indeed, he has never been able to
obtain other than very general informa
tion of the present pk.ee of these papers,
and even as to the limits of the locality
he was bound by obligations of private
confidence, which it is impossible to vio
la c Yet the world may know, and it is
at least some historical satisfaction, that
the most valuable papers of the Southern
Confederacy, including the correspon
dence of Jefferson Davis, reported to have
been held with important parties in the
North aud in Europe, and which might
yet involve the personal safety of some
of them, and possibly found prosecutions,
did not perish in the catastrophe of Rich
mond ; that, they are yet preserved in a
manner and place to defy discovery, and
secure against loss and mutilation—dedi
cated, perhaps, to the curiosity of a distant
generation.*
After having safely bestowed his im
portant papers, and by this measure con
sulted to some degree his personal safety,
it might be supposed that Mr. Davis
would be prepared to leave Richmond
with some appearance of self possession
and dignity. But after all the provisions
for his flight, the signal for it was so
sudden aud dramatic—announced to him
in the shape of Lee’s dread telegram,
while he sat in St. Paul’s Church, with
the sunshine of a calm aud beautiful day
pulsing through the windows—as to have
some effect of surprise at least, breaking
down his equanimity, and reducing him
to that condition of fluster and tremu
lousness with which the weak man re
ceives the news of misfortune, no matter
how long he has vaguely expected it,
and practised against the moment of its
announcement.
He nervously prepared at his house his
private baggage, assisted by Mrs. Davis,
and he never ventured in the streets
until, under cover of the night, he got
unobserved on the train that was to con
vey him from Richmond. He did not forget
the gold in the Treasury; that, amount
ing to less than forty thousand dollars, it
had been proposed some days before, in
Congress, to distribute as largesses to the
discontented soldiers; but Mr. Davis had
insisted upon reserving it for exigencies,
and it was now secured iu his baggage,
lie did forget his sword. That, a costly
present from some of his admirers in
England, had been sent to tlie Richmond
Armory 7 for some repairs; it was aban
doned to the fire there. The last seen of
this relic of the Southern Confederacy,
was a twisted and gnarled stem of
steel, on private exhibition in a lager
beer saloon in Richmond, garnished
with a certificate that it was what re
mained of Jeff Davis’ sword, and that
the curiosity might be purchased for
*The writer sincerely regrets that he cannot more
amply satisfy curiosity as to these concealed papers of
the Southern Confederacy, lie can only assure the
reader of three tacts : that they still exist; that there
are living persons who know of their concealment,
aud that they contain important evidences of the secret
history ot Mr. Davis’ Government. He has repeated
ly sought access to them out of historical curiosity,
but he has beeu invariably met with the explanation
that, while this indulgence might be allowed him, for
such legitimate purpose, it would be unsafe, for pri
vate reasons, and the information ii published might
be diverted to serious consequences to persons of
importance yet living, and within the jurisdiction of
the Government. It has beeu impossible to surmount
this objection, and there is no doubt that many of
these papers do really involve discoveries of some cu
rious negotiations in the war, the parties to which
might astound the public. During the war it was
well known, in some circles of confidence in Rich
mond, that Mr. Davis entertained a large secret cor
respondence in the North; that he had sources of
comfort, information and advice there; aud indeed it
would have been strange, considering the volume of
disaffection in the North—a remarkable peculiarity of
the late war—if it had not found some expression in
secret negotiations, or some sort of surreptitious com
munication with the Confederate authorities. Os the
extent of such correspondence the popular imagina
tion has probably fallen short. As an instance of the
volume of “disloyalty’’ and venality iu the North, the
writer may mention the case of a single secret docu
ment which he was once permitted to see in Rich
mond, wherein certain parties offered to assist the
Confederacy, by supplying its Western armies for a
whole year from the granaries and magazines of the
North. Such important letters anil other secret pa
pers were kept in what was called “the Presidential
Archives.” These, we repeat, still exist, were pre
served from the wreck and fire of Richmond, ami at
this moment are under the seal of a personal confi
dence with Mr. Davis; while the Federal authorities,
congratulating themselves that they seized the archives
of-the-Southern Confederacy, had only captured waste
paper.
two hundred dollars. Whether the re
tailer of lager has yet disposed of his trea
sure, we do not know.
lie Davis was accompanied at the
stage of his flight by his family, some 0 |
his personal staff and three members 0 f
his Cabinet; Gen. Breckinridge, Secre
tary of War; Mr. Benjamin, Secretary
of State, and Mr. Reagan, Postmaster
General. The party journeyed without
accident or venture to Danville, siftinj?
mostly iu moody silence, as the train
shrieked through the night that a few
miles further was being torn by explo
sions, through whose fitful chasms ofliidg
Lee’s army marched as to impenetrable
darkness. Arrived at Danville, Mr. I) a .
vis issued a proclamation ; out of pl ace
there, inaccessible to the army, and which
would have been much more fitly made
before he had abandoned the post of dan
ger iu Richmond. But the exaltation »f
spirits he obtained after having passed
the boundary of danger, aud got on the
side of supposed personal safety, did not
long survive. In a few days afterward
came the news of Lee’s surrender: and
the President and his party again sadly
turned their faces to the South; Geii
Breckenridge being despatched to Gen.
Johnston’s lines only to bring back to
the party on their route the sorrowful
news of bis surrender, and to increase
the dismay of their flight.
Mr. Davis was the first to rally from
this dismay. When he and his compan
ions lmd left Richmond it was in the be
lief that Lee could avoid surrender but a
few days longer, and with the iutention,
as we have already said, of making their
way to the Florida coast and embarking
there for a foreign land In the medi
tations of his journey, however, through
North Carolina, the fugitive President
appears to have conceived the alterna
tive of venturing to the southwest,
within reach of the forces of Taylor and
Forrest, in the hope of reviving the
fortunes of the Confederacy within a
limited territory. He suggested the
alternative to Gen. Breckinridge, as they
travelled together, after the news of
Johnston’s surrender, but received only
an evasive reply; the latter not sharing
his hopes, but unwilling to mortify
them by a candid declaration of opinion.
Mr. Davis was remarkable for a san
guine terperament, but it was that which
we observe in weak characters, “hoping
against hope,” fickle, flaring, extrava
gant rather than that practical energy
which renews itselt on disaster and
conquers fortune. The vision he had
conjured up of a limited Confederacy
around the mouth of the Mississippi
might have looked plausible upon paper,
but it was totally defective in omitting
the moral condition of the South. The
unhappy President had not yet per
ceived that he had lost the faculty of
inspiration, that the Southern people
were in despair, and that, wherever he
might go, he would find their counte
nances averted, their hopes abandoned,
and their thoughts already committed
to submission. But he was to realize
very 7 shortly how morally deserted aid
practically helpless he was. His first
discovery of it was at Abbeville, South
Carolina, where occurred one of the
most pathetic scenes in history, over
which the tenderness and charity of
some of the actors have been disposed
to draw the curtain committing its sor
rows to secresy.
Mr. Davis reached Abbeville on the
first of May. So far he had been ac
companied by the fragments of five bri
gades, amounting in number to less
than one thousand men, aud reorganized
into two battalions, at th<’ front and m
rear of the long train which signalled his
I flight and foolishly obstructed his efiort
|at escape. There were already pciniu;
I evidences of the demoralization ot tir
escort, and the story told almost at every
mile, by stragglers from Johnston’s com
mand, was not calculated to inspire them,
j At Abbeville Mr. Davis resolved upon
' a council of war. It was composed c>i
the five brigade commanders, and Gem
Braxton Bragg (for the year past the
“military adviser’’ of the President.) m
| admitted to this last scene of the did b -
| rations of the Lost Cause.
Iu the council Mr. Davis spoke vim
! more than his accustomed facility mm
i earnestness, inspired by hope, but vmm
! out volubility or extravagance. j*. 1
j made a statement of surpassing plausU ao
| ty. The South he deelaied was sudmmi
from a panic; it yet had resources to cm.
tirme the war; it was for those wno lC
mained with arms in their hands to a'.m
an example to reanimate others; “
j an act of devotion, besides being tie 111,1
j sublime thing in history, might yet sau
| the country', and erect again its dmffim
I resolution. ‘lt is but necessary,
I * that the brave men yet with me, u
I renew their determination to j
1 the war; they will be a nucleus tor rap-;
I reinforcements, and will raise tm ‘ "! v
of reaninmtion for the wuom
No one of the council answered him