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(\ F f \ ' ’^'^'j '* vPhH ; 'ii '^ : " ' ~~~~i r .TaTt. ./-CU OjUzkf) ■ —■■■■, - —i . . ■— v. " M„|,. I in - - ■———— I«r»'»1»%»j J ■"—■***'"*" ~ llir *V* 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.