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VOL. 111.
From the Pldgefield, (S. C.) Advertiser.
After the Battle-
ATPOMATTOX, Dill APRIL 18G5.
Sad Appomattox ! Woo the day
That crowned thy hills with cohorts gray!
A phantom hosts still camps around
That fatal field, where hope went down.
No clash of arms, no roll of drums;
Each scowling 1 line was sternly dumb;
While flushed with triumph’s haughty
glow
Stood just in front, the Northern foe.
And slowly down between the two —
On this side “gray,” on that side
“blue,”—
A horseman rode, w hile overhead,
Like wdng of angel whitely spread,
A banner streamed. Each soldier knew,
And hard his choking breath he drew,
The “Stars and Bars” would never wave
Again above the dying brave.
When that sun’s first brigtening glance
Lay levelled low 7 , like crimsoned lance,
Those frowning lines, so still and gray,
Sent glinting back each quivering ray
From burnished arms, and pennons gay.
The South still held with desperate
grasp
The sword so hard to yield,
And still shook out, with dying clasp
Her banners o’er that field.
It was the last—that gallant charge,
Led by her bravest son,
Who recked not of the
With all but glory gone.
There rose above the clang of steel,
The shriek of shot and shell,
As if ten thousand fiends sent forth
A cry from deepest hell !
That hero’s hand, that led the charge,
With sword of living flame,
Touched the last gun, that Southron
fired,
In freedom’s sacred name.
And while its echoes still rang out
A nation's funeral cry!
That banner with its pearly folds
Came slowly passing by.
And when that flag of spotless white
First met that haughty chieftan’s sight,
To saddle bow he lowly bent,
And wildly to his grief gave vent.
There vanished from that woeful plain,
Like fevered visions from the brain,
The foe, with banners proudly crowned,
And where the “Stars and Bars” went
down.
While in their place, came crowding fast,
The phantoms of the glorious past,
The streams that had so redly dyed
From mount to sea, his country’s side:
1 he tears, that childless mothers shed;
The griefs, that bowed the whitened head;
The warrior hosts in battle slain
In ghastly squadrons came again,
And wheeling deep, in circles wide,
Fell into line on either side,
And looking o’er that phantom plain
His heart cried out —“Flow vain ! how
vain !’’
A soldier brave, in battle tried,
Bode ever near bis chieftan’s side,
Now in his dauntless crest and eye,
He read a purpose stern and high;
Be marked him as he proudly scanned
The cohorts deep on either hand;
1 hen, by the great Jehovah swore,
To yield him not, to mortal foe !
“Will follow me ?’’ That tone of pride
Bad often turned the battle’s tide;
In that sad hour it did but crave
From all that host, cue comrade brave.
The hero slowly raised his hand
And to the next he gave command;
The loosened rein he quickly drew, —
Waved to his men a last adieu—
Like arrow from the bended bow,
M hen drawn by marksman true,
F'ght onward did that horseman go,
I trough living ranks of “blue.”
His steed was fresh and strong of lirnfl,
-Bid gallantly he carried him,
Fiji far beh'ind, in shadows gray,
Hat field disastrous darkly lay.
Full many a charge that steed had made,
And b:rue him oft iu rapid raid;
But naught had e’er bis mettle tried
As that dread flight, o’er mountain side.
His rider tvell the danger knew,
Nor stayed his spur, nor rain he drew,
But like the wind’s resistless sweep
He passed o’er field and rugged steep,
And as the foeman still pursued,
lie* boldly stem’d the mountain flood;
Straight on he cut the foaming tide
With waving green on either side;
The watery pathway ne’er gave back
To foe man’s sight his flying track !
There hangs within a Southern hall
Untouched by tyrant hand,
Like sacred pictures on the wall,
A blood-stained battle brand.
That leader, who with soul of ire,
And dauntless eye of quenchless fire,
That phantom plain had swept,
Who, by the great Jehovah swore
To yield him not to mortal foe,
His oath has sternly kept.
From the Chambers’ Edinburg Journal.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
It was just such a night as the sailor
loves—a night to comparative peace, a
soft breeze, an easy sea, and the land an
indefinite number of miles on the weather
bow. Our vessel was as tidy a little
craft as any in the royal navy, and that
is no small boast either. Her name was
the May Bee, and may be she wasn’t a
saucy one : when we fought we always
won; and I think, too, had we run away,
we should have won the race also; at
any rate, in the chase, the slaver never
had the ghost of a chance that we drew
a bee-line upon. Our cruising ground
was the Indian Ocean, its length and
breadth, from the cold waves of the far
south to Aden in the sunny north.
Well, on the present occasion wc were
rather short of hands, and heads too, if
officers may be regarded as such ; for
three of our boats were away on particu
lar service ; and as our engineer was on
the sick list, the fires were out, sail set,
and an unusual quiet reigned throughout
the ship. It was past eleven o’clock, and
our commander had turned in. I could
hear him snoring through the bulkhead,
for his cabin was right abaft our little
ward-room, although in no way connected
therewith. My cabin was the only one
cf those off the wardroom at present oc
cupied, the only other officer on board—
saving the engineer—being the assistant
paymaster, whose cabin was outside in
the steerage. Into the further end of the
steerage led the companion-ladder, so that,
in cur passage to and from the ward
room to the deck, we had to cross it. I
was standing in my little box-like sanc
tum, preparing to go to bed, when the
noise of approaching footsteps in the
steerage attracted my attention. Im
agining that someone was sick, I hastily
threw on my coat, and emerged again
into the ward-room, just as Mr. Travers,
our assistant paymaster, entered by the
other door. He held right in front of
him. so as to be hidden from any one
behind, a drawn cutlass, which, from
signs and motions he made, I understand
he meant me to take charge of and con
ceal.. I quickly did so behind my cabin
curtain, and had scarcely accomplished
the task, when Mr. V\ heeler, the engineer,
stood in the doorway; and the assistant
paymaster, after pretending to borrow
a candle, bade me good-night, and re
tired.
Now, as I said before, Mr. Wheeler was
on the sick-list, and had been so for
weeks. IBs disease was one of the worst
forms of alcoholic mania; in other words,
a bad case of delirium tremens. From
one attack he had only recently recover
ed, being snatched from the very jaws
of death. IBs delusions had been many;
but principally lie had the idea that a
conspiracy was on foot, on board, having
A.UGXJSTA, GuA., AUGUST 20, 1870.
for its object the harassing of him, Mr.
Wheeler, in every way, and the final ab
duction of bis body, the binding of the
same, hands and feet, and the delivering
of it to the deep to afford food to the
sharks. He used to sit for hours in his
little mess-room, armed with a knife,
trembling like a new-born fawn at the
slightest noise. Every one, saving my
self, lie had deemed a foe. The drops of
water leaking through the scupper-holes
were water dashed upon him by the mali
ciousness of the boys; the curtain waving
gently to and fro with the ship’s motion,
was stirred by the hand of a hidden as
sassin. The captain himself, he had
averred, was preparing the hammock in
which his living body was to be sewed
before he was thrown overboard. Then
rows of pale beings had arranged them
selves on the opposite side of this room,
pointing and gibbering at him, and spout
iDg blood on him; the port opened, and
slimy serpents glided in and hid them
selves in the apartment or about his dress;
his legs would suddenly be clasped as in
a vice, and looking down, behold an alli
gator, with a strange, strange face,
crouched beneath the table, embracing
him in his horrid arms, blowing its fetid
breath in his face, and using fearful threats
of death and judgment. Bepeated blows
with the knife at length dispelled this
demon; and then myriads of terrible in
sects came trooping up over the table, and
covered the bulkheads all around; and
‘see,’ he cried to me, ‘didn’t I see them
on deck, springing up like jets of water,
and flowing away in streams, those white
thick worms!’ and now they are on him,
gnawiug his flesh, and eating his vitals.
‘Corruption ! corruption ! moribund !
moribund !’ he shouted and fell down in
one of the worst sort of fits I had ever
had the pain to witness. From this fit
he had glided imperceptibly into a state
of lethargy, from which, after many weary
days and nights of watching, I had seen
him awake, with pale face and glittering
eye, just as he now stood in the ward-room
before me.
‘What!’ said I, ‘not in bed yet, old
fellow V
‘Hush !’ he whispered; and by the
very look and gesture, I saw plainly that
the madness was on him again. ‘Hash!’
and as he spoke he pointed to the steer
age; ‘they are there, and—ugh!—it’s
all so dark and dreary. I could not lie
in my berth forward—they would kill
me; and Travers stole my cutlass, that I
might not defend myself.’
‘Come, said I, ‘my good fellow, never
mind them. IT] protect you, and fight
for you, if need be, to the last. Come
forward with me, and turn in to your
cot.’
‘Nay, nay,’ he whispered impetuously,
at the same time holding me back; ‘not
now, not now doctor; wait till the blessed
sun rises. In the dark I could not wres
tle with them, and it will be so very long
till morning. Will it burn ?’ he added,
pointed to the lamp in my cabin.
I nodded assurance; and then he plead
ed with such eloquence to be all. wed to
remain near the light, and to sleep before
my cabin-door, that I at last consented,
and spreading a mat and pillow for him,
bade him lie down. lie did so, and be
fore morning I had every reason to repent
of my kindness. lie then requested me
to place beside him a loaded revolver, or
at least a bayonet or cutlass, which, hav
ing do ambition for a madman to mount
guard on me, I peremptorily refused. An
hour slipped away, during which time he
lay‘quite peacefully on the mat, some
times closing his eyes, but only to imme
diately re-open them, and gaze furtively
and fearfully away out into the darkness
of the steerage, as if momentarily expect
ing the attack of an unseen foe.
All was by this time quiet, both fore
and aft, in the ship, fur it must have
been long past midnight. The tramp,
tramp of the quartermaster overhead had
stopped ; even tin* cockroaches, after a
supper of corks, biscuit, port wine and
blacking, had gone to roost, and the com
mander had ceased to snore, from which
I argued he had fallen into his second
and deepest sleep. So there wa«n t a
sound to be heard" except the creaking
of the rudder hinges, or a splash ot the
wavelets as they rippled past my cabin—
a sound that had so often wooed me to
sweetest, dreamless slumber, and seemed
even now inviting me to rest. Thinking
it my duty to remain on watch, however,
I had not turned iu, but sat on a chair
beside my little cot, writing letters home.
Presently, ‘Doctor,’ said my patient.
T thought you had been asleep,’ I an
swered. ‘What can Ido for you ?*’
‘Give me a prayer-book, there’s a good
fellow’, he said, ‘and I won’t disturb you
again.’
‘I would, Wheeler, if I had one,’ re
plied I, ‘but you know I’ve the misfor
tune to have been born Scotch and Pres
byterian ; but here is a Bible’, and I
handed him the book of books.
He took it, and thanked me, and I went
on with my writing. I was not so much
preoccupied, however, as not to perceive
that he thrice opened the book, read very
attentively, aud between each time he
prayed—silently, indeed, but so earnest
that the drops of perspiration stoods in
beads on bis pale brow. This brow of
his, too, was a very noble one; indeed,
he was, when well, not only a manly,
good-hearted fellow, but a wise and well
educated gentleman. Thinking that Ins
present frame of mind augured nothing
but good, and that there could not possi
bly be any danger to himself or me—
moreover, feeling tired, I closed my
portfolio, and without undressing, threw
myself on my bed, with the intention of
snatching a few hours’ repose, it not
sleep. I should here mention that I had,
only the day previous, purchased from
the ship’s stores a large clasp-knife, such
as sailors usually carry. This knife I
had left lying on my little table among
the books and other articles.
I could not have been long in bed till
[ fell asleep, the last thing I remember
being groans proceeding from the mat
in front of my door. lam a very light
sleeper, and used to have continual rows
with my servant for shaking me in the
morning, telling him that all he had to
do to waken me was to enter my cabin,
and wink once or twice. How long I
slept I candot say ; I believe it must have
been fully an hour; but when 1 did at
last oven my eyes, I never felt more wide
awake in all my life. I had not, so
far as I knew, been dreaming, vet I
awoke with a strange and indescribable
sensation of impending danger. It was
as though a ccld, cold shadow had fallen
; upon or passed over my brain and senses.
By the side of* my pillow stool Mr.
Wheeler, and my eyes opened directly
on his. I shall never forget the expres
sion on his face; it was not so much that
it was dark and terrible—it was the fur
tive listening expression on it that seem
ed so strange, almost like a cat about to
seize its prey. In his hand, half-raised,
he held my own clasp-knife, open!
Our eyes met, and for two seconds,
not more, I looked at him, and yet in
those two seconds the devil in him was
conquered. I have often had reason to
be thankful that my wife did not desert
me in time of danger, and this time rny
presence of mind saved me from an ugly
death. Had I ventured to spring up
with the intention of saving my myself,
he was a strong man, and undoubtedly
would soon have overpowered me. But
instead of this, I merely said, in as cool
and peevish a voice as I could command;
‘Pshaw ! Wheeler, man, don’t waken a
fellow. You’li get the volume in the
little book-case—Gond night. I’ve to
rise early ;’ and I closed my eyes, not,
however, before I had observed the dead
ly weapon quickly concealed behind his
back, and the foolish simpering smile of
the dipsomaniac succeeded the~stern, de
termined glance of the would-be assassin.
Tie! he!' laughed the madman; T
thought—he ! he ! Oh, here is the book.
Good-night; sound sleep.’
‘Yes,’ thought I, my buy, and a nice
sound sleep you were preparing for me.’
A feeliDg of anger at that moment took
possession of me, and I felt I almost hated
my unfortunate patient.
I had now very little inclination for
sleep; and after remaining quiet for a
few moments, I began to stimulate rest
lessness; then rubbing my eyes I sat up,
yawned, and said ; ‘Hang it, old Wheels,
couldn’t you have got the book yourself,
without rousing me ? I can’t sleep again
now; however, I may as well finish those
letters.’ With these remarks, I swung
myself to the deck, and reseated myself
to write. For some time I looked every
where, but iu vain, for the large clasp
knife with which I was to have been
made so intimately acquainted. At last
I perceived a little bit of its polished
blade peeping out from beneath the mat
on which Mr. Wheeler had once more
thrown himself. ‘So then,’ thought I,
‘I am a prisoner, and my jailer a mad
man. Pleasant consideration !’ There
was little chance of any one coming to
my aid. My only hope was, that one of
the men might be taken ill—apoplexy,
colic, or cholera-morbus, I did not mind
what, provided I should be sent for. I
was very much in the position of the
doctor in the old caricature, praying
Heaven to send a pestilence among the
people, ‘that thy servant may not die of
want.’ I knew too, that if I'roused his
anger or suspicion, by calling for assist
ance or trying to escape, I should be but
as a child in Ins hands, and lie would
assuredly kill me. ‘lf/ I thought, ‘I
could only gain possession of that unlaw
ful knife;’ which I now firmly believed I
had been fated to buy for n:y own execu
tion. Ilow soon, too, might he not, with
the sudden impulse common to such cases
spring up, and attack me ! It was quite
evident now that this Blue-reading and
earnest prayers bad been meant only as
preparation fur death. There was thus *a
method in his madness.’
All the strategy I could summon was
now directed to the gaining possession of
the knife. First, I asked him to accom
pany me to the steerage, where the dis
pensary was, for soms medicine I told
him I wanted.
He simply sneered, as much as to
say : ‘Do you think me so excessively
green V
; ‘You would be all the better of an
| opiate, anyhow/ I said. For a moment
he seemed to approve the plan.
‘Will you let me help myself to the
morphia, then V he asked ; adding to
prevent my suspicious, ‘you give so large
j a dose you know.’
; ‘Certainly, E said, my hope rising rapid
j !y ; ‘you shall help yourself.’
| He seemed to consider a moment, then
| concluded he would not budge ; and my
| hopes fell again to zero, all ihe more
quickly that for a few minutes after this
he was very restless, and his hand fre
quently disappeared below the mat,
where I knew he was fumbling with the
knife. At length, a happy thought cross
ed me, and acting thereon, I got up, laid
by my papers, and pretended to begin to
undress.
‘Oh, botheration/ said I, winding up
my watch; ‘it has stopped at one o’clock;
.just give a peep there, Wheeler, and see
what time it is.’
Now, in order to do this, he had to
get up and stand on a locker, close by,
as the clock was fastened to a beam over
head, and on a level with the upper
deck. The bait took. With one fright
ened look at the darkened -ward-room
around him, he mounted ; and, as quick
ly as I could, I bent down and clutched
the knife. Not a moment too soon, how
ever, ior he was down from his perch in
a twinkling, and at mo like a cata
mount. With a fearful imprecation, ho
sprang upon and seized me by the two
arms: he then dashed me backwards iuio
my cabin, and down against the chest of
No. 23.