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WJEim M>AY, JUNES I 577
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(Whitten |,J Till; Kavasnaii Weeki.y News.]
MISGUIDED;
'a ntokv of the present time.*
ItV ANNE ADEIJA COX,
“ Oui of (lie Sunshine into the hhade."
CHAITKII XXX.
i!i 11 . i!y <lil I lament the death of ruy
rhil'i. •<1 take any interest in 1
the affair? fhieh h and so eng rented uiyj
mi'i l, i ii iti ■ i mvstdf wftre to n v t
u in f'i
thin i m. ( Mii old-time iuttaxsom -<
w;i rv • seemed drawn nearer
l" ■ 11l grave of our baby.
But il I which fell so heavily on
ins In irt only caused me to pause in
my do wnw ard career —did not change my
course. For several months I called no
meeting of our dub, hut after a while
the assignation wished to have a celebra
tion of some kind, and begged me to as
sist, in the preparations for it. I reluct
antly yielded to their entreaties, hut soon
liecamc as much immersed as ever in
Iplans for ameliorating the condition of
liny -ex. My head and heart were full
devices for l ighting imaginary wrongs,
Hr relieving imaginary wants- never
Hiisidering lor a moment that my duty
to tlio.se of my own household; that
nnc\-r. was enough of sorrow in my own
home to engage all my power of redress;
enough wants to he relieved to (ill my
jiands and heart. Mrs. Worth had be
come so inline that she could leave her
room but seldom, and I was absent from
home ho much that the waste and ex
travagance among the servants had made
sad inroads in our income. Reginald
thought it his duty to inform me how
matters stood, and asked me to look a
little more closely after the servants, hut
1 grow angry, as ( usually did when he
remonstrated with me in any manner,
and asked him why he did not marry an
Irish Biddy at once, if he only wanted
somebody to manage his domestic mat
ters.
“L am not willing to be chained at
home like a slave to prevent a little flour
from being wasted or to keep Norah
from using a few pounds more of sugar
in the month.”
“I made the request, Pauline,” said
Reginald, “for your own and your chil
dren's good. You can do as you
please.
1 continued to frequent the club-room,
and to busy myself with plans for
ameliorating the condition of those whose
happiness had never been entrusted to
my ko,e]nng, and to neglect those who
had been committed to my care. The
old coldness soon came back in Regi
nald’s manner, and the tenderness which
was renewed between us when our little
girl died was never again manifested.
His whole happiness seemed bound up
Lin his children; whenever he was at
Munite tlut Htfle hoys were hiij i‘iscpara
r.lc (Miiip'anions, ait', ho often earned
'tin ~i unit him in his rounds of visiting
patients. They wore manly, noble little
fellows, of whom any parent might have
been proud, hut my miserable fanati
cism blinded me to their true worth, un
til too late to enjoy it.
“Strange, wo never prize Iho ntuftic
* T.ll the H\veet voieeil birds have llown;
htratitfo, that wi nliould alight tho violet
Till tlio lovely flower is gone;
Htrange, tlmt Miimmt r akum and aunahino
N‘Vr Room ono-half so fair
Ah whan winter’s snowy pinions
Shako tho white down in tho air.”
My poor little children were sadly
neglected in those days of my blindness
aim folly. It they did not disturb me 1
seldom inquired where t hey were or what
they were doing. 1 lost, all love for
home and grew extravagantly fond of
i public debates, and of being in large
crowds, and mixing in great assemblies.
1 occasionally delivered lectures, and
joined in the discussion of the subject
which 1 considered so vital to the well
being of society. In the preparation of
these addresses L excluded ntyself eu-
Irircly from my family. How wretched
husband must have been iu those
clays! 1 low different was his life from
the dream-life he used to picture to me
in the happy time of our wooing ! The
recollection of mv sinful infatuation al
most drives me mad. But for kind
Mrs. Somers, my boys would have been
I lonely indeed, but she was very fond of
tWn, and, in their freedom from ma
raud restraint, they daily sought her
She was now a widow, and de-
to deeds of mercy, and
linsS f®w greater objects of com
ivT.S m . v uncared-for children.
Aitiiu Somers' health was so
tea 'h'v ■ dissipation that he sunk in
cur a . i I ,, . ju v a y e ™
mirseil died. His faithful wife
tad erowin U? as though lie
Kof Wessinis in
biness. Aaej'.^blightmgherhap
ler in his fi ' fello J7 ? lun
kings to its mv ft ;1 little child
1 lone her o*l 1 '"Uld not bear
Reept the ministv.u\„ Us ' }'
1 used to think her s\\\ v v ” ne *-‘hc.
self such a slave for Inn,. her
her so much misery, hut shc l < ; auS - et
finitely wiser than 1. She toft ft 1 *
hitter cup of sot row, but then. xv tUe
jmnorse miugled with it>
keeti pangs of disappotwtm'nn'f
’”1 H'east
PH court of justice:
pPlf tho judge iuul jury, aud herself
c prisoner at the bar, ever condemned.'
The heart of her husband, degrade': ‘
as ho was, safely trusted iu her, and, be-1
fore he died, he thanked her for her un
remitting devotion and tenderness
through all his sinlul. miserable life.
In my hours ot remorse for having
driven my noble husband forth au out
cast aud a wanderer. 1 often recall to
mind one conversation between Claude
aud his wife which Reginald reported to
me. Claude had been making unceas
ing demands ou her strength and pa
tience. and as she went uncomplainingly
from one task to another, lie seemed to
feel a paug of regret for his selfishness,
ami. takiiig her hand, as she smoothed
the pillows under his head, said :
< iussie, darling, you are an angel.’
‘Oh, no, Claude. lam a very frail
-mortal.
* Turning to Reginald, who was sitting
by his liedside, Claude said :
“Doctor, my wife's unassuming piety
- all that has'kept me from becoming
i an infidel. When I have been tempted
i to doubt the truth of religion. I thought
I of her patience and forbearance, and
ft felt, in my soul, that nothing but the re
| ligiou of Christ could enable her to bear
I my unkindness and neglect as she has
I done for so mam- long weary years. I
I have ofleub|Hkmiipted to doubt the
t o
fths
'' '" ’ Hd distrust the
, -
l iU:t ? t k
J. H. KMTILL, Publisher. I
8 Whitaker street, comer of Bay Lane, t
Gussic, if I had my life to live over
again I would be a better man, ex
claimed the poor invalid. I would
seek the favor of that God who ha.-, bus
tained and comforted you auiid the dark
ness and gloom of your blighted exist
ence. I would try to make you as hap
tiy as you deserve to be ; but it Ls too
late, too late! Can you forgive me,
<larlin,e. for having caused you so much
sorrow !’ ’
“Yes. my husband, I do forgive you
fully, freely. It is not too late to begin
anew life. God is much more willing
to forgive than 1 am. Seek his pardon,
and for the remainder of your life you
can be a lietter man, and I will be a hap
py woman.” . .
“W ould t'i heart n I could! but it is
too late to reform ; my life is a miserable
failure. You are the one bright spot in
my simple miserable, misspent life ; the
i.ne ti- that binds me to virtue and
purity and goodness.
Poor Claude, he lived several weeks
after this conversation, and expressed
creat contrition for his past sins. Let
us hope his sincere repentance and his
wife’- fervent prayers availed to pro
'•tffe his j i,t , • lull. \t least, we will tbr
... 'fWwn’A
• r 1 1 ■ * i ring hut repentant man.
‘‘VTli i ;a<lu the ho*rt? ’ti Ho alone,
Deoiiledty can try is;
He knows each chord, Its various tone.
Each spring its various bias.
Then at the a, tar, let’s he mute,
We never can adjust It.
What’s ihmi■ we partly may computo,
Hut know not what’s resitted."
< HAI'iKK AAAI.
About two years after the death of
my little daughter I received an invita
tion to address an association of women
in the city of New York, (my name
being thoroughly identified at that time
with the woman’s rights movement.)
I regarded the invitation as a great
honor, and spent much time in prepar
ing a lecture, which I hoped would
create considerable sensation wherever I
had an opportunity of delivering it. For
days together I shut myself up in the
library, and studied, and wrote, and re
vised, and polished, until the address
seemed to me a model of English com
position and an unanswerable argument
m lav or of the doctrine 1 advocated.
Other days I spent frequenting mantua
makers’ and milliners’ rooms, attending
to the demands of fashion, being deter
mined to win admiration by every means
in my power.
1 seldom saw my children ; they fre
quently asked permission to spend an
afternoon or a day with Mrs. Somers,
and as she often insisted on having them
with her, I readily consented, since I was
thus relieved of all anxiety concerning
them.
One evening the little boys were talk
ing over the pleasures of the day which
they had spent with Augusta, and I
overheard Paul say:
“Percy, don’t you wish aunt ’Gusta
was our mother?”
“Oh, no, Paul, for then we could not
have our own dear papa; but I wish
mother loved children as well as aunt
'Gusta does.”
“1 wish papa had married aunt’Gusta,
so she could be our mother; wouldn’t
it be jolly, Percy?”
“Wouldn’t it, though?”
“I wonder why God didn’t give us
to aunt Gusta, but let us keep our
same father? She loves children and
mother don’t.”
“Yes, and poor aunt ’Gusta ain’t got
no little boys.”
Pi "she "uid "have "Two little BoysT"
gpuidn’t they have a nice time —hearing
stories, looking at pictures, having pretty
play-houses, and all the nice things aunt.
Gusta knows how to make for chil
dren?”
“Oh, but, Paul, her little boys
wouldn’t have no good father to take
them to ride in his buggy, and to love
them like our papa loves us.”
“Don’t you think 1 love you?” asked
1, feeling somewhat mortified that my
children should think that I did not love
them.
“Yes, mam ; but not like papa and
aunt Gusta does,” said Paul.
“I love you a great deal better than
Mrs. Somers does, but I haven’t the
time to waste on you that she has. ”
“Poes she waste her time, mother?
She’s always busy. She sews all the
time she is tolling us stories, and she
waits on grandma McAlpiue so good,
and grandpa, too.”
“She’s been making flannel clothes
to-day, for Mrs. Norwood’s sick baby,”
said Percy.
“Yes, and she made some of the best
soup and sent it to Mr. Jones,” chimed
in Paul.
“ What Jones?” said I.
“The one that fell off the house last
Week. Aunt ’Gusta sends him some
thing to cat every day, because, she says,
lie ain’t got nobody to fix up good things
for him. ’ ’
“Any woman could do all she does;
your mother is engaged in a great work
for the good of a great many people.
You are too young to understand it now;
but when you are older, my little boys
will be glad that their mother did not
fritter away her time in such occupa
tions as any uneducated person could
perxbrm. Norah can tell you stories and
show you pictures.”
“Norah tells us scary tales about
ghosts and imps and giants; but she
can't tell sweet ,; ttle tales like those
aunt ’Gusta tells us. She tells us about
the beautiful world where God lives, and
the golden streets and the bright river;
and about the shining augels. ” said
Percy, his bright eyes growing brighter,
as he thought of the gtoiies which Mrs.
Somers had depicted so vividly to his
young imagination.
“When Norah tells us stories lam
afraid to go to bed at night, I jump
upright quick, arid cover up my head
to keep from seeing imps or ghosts.”
I said Paul; “but when aunt ’Gusta toils
\as stories, I feel like God was watch
ing over me, and I go right off to
\ sleet).’ !
bonder comes father; let’s run and
v u et hbu, Paul, and ask him to let us
\y\ °'V‘vo to the lot. ”
w u \, asked Dr. Varner for money
iuv j„ u “ c " to defray the expenses of
‘Tavrlin’l’ gave lC to me, but said :
out of Ynm. are taking the bread
ill afford to sn ren s mouths. I can
"When did' 0 so mu ck at this time,
stricken? B ett i e ° u become so poverty
you are not at once, that
“I must confel^h tome.”
ingly for the p Uri) “ ai 1 give grudg
be devoted.’’ ' lo it is to
V hat a difference a f. w
ried life makes in a luau '-' v cars mar
when you used to say V,, Member
prized your fortune until it emOo ? ever
to gratify my every wish \ and ou
are not ashamed to own that OVr you
grudgingly the small pittance
out now and then.- u ao ’e
‘‘The change is in you, Pauli ne a
long as you regarded vour marriage Vf T S
to love, honor and obey your husband 1
so kmg was it my highest pleasure
out ot my abundance, to indulge voui
womanly demands. But since 'y ou
choose to pursue a couise. not only at
variance with my wishes, but utterly
repu’sive to me, you cannot expect me.
cheerfn'fy, to contribute of my reduced
means to sustain >on in it. ’ ’
‘‘Depend upon it, I shall not call on
you for assistance much longer. lam
fully competent to make my own liviusr.
But until I choose to maintain myself I
have no scruples iu acceping your churl
ish bounty,” so saying, I left him. ami
we exchanged no other words until*
left for New York.
My children had become so much ae
customed to my absence that they re
garded my departure as a matter of
course; and I began to believe that
after all, my baby’s death was a “bless
ing in disguise,” as I could not have
been so free to travel about ou my great
mission if .-he had lived. But I did not
hesitate to leave my great rough boys,
as I tinned them, thinking their father
and Mrs. Worth could give them every
needed attention.
CHAPTER XXXII.
During my stay in New York I was
feted and flattered, and ray lecture was
puffed and lauded until I sincerely be
lieved that it was my duty to deliver it
as often tvs possible. I honestly believed
great good would result from the pro
mulgation of the truths it contained —so
I agreed to make a tour of the Northern
and Western States and deliver it at all
the most important points. There was
to be’ a mass-meeting of the strong
minded women in Boston, and I
went there and spent some time
in making speeches and attending
various public - meeting ’. T was
absent from home several weeks, and
when T re • '; r %
vaded the wholi~ lace. I wondered why
the little boys did not ran to meet me ;
why no one .seemed aware of my arri
val. As I w alked up the avenue I saw
a streamer of crape depending from the
door knob; and as I came nearer I saw
that the knocker was muffled. What
could it betoken! Was my husband,
from whom I had parted in anger, dead?
Was either of my boys dead ? It could
not be. Someone would have sum
moned me to their bedside. Perhaps
Mrs. W orth was the one whose death
was announced by that black streamer.
God grant no dearer one has been taken!
was my mental ejaculation as I pushed
open the door and walked in. The still
ness of the grave pervaded the rooms.
I saw no one until I readied the chil
dren’s room. On his little bed, wasted
by disease, and scorched with fever, lay
my second son —my dear little Percy.
By his side, laving his parched hands
and moistening his lips, was Augustus
Somers. On the other side of the bed
sat Reginald, the very embodiment of
grief. When I entered he raised his
eyes, but without making an effort to
approach me, said;
“Oh, Pauline! why did you not come,
when I kept dispatching for you ?”
“I received no dispatch.”
“Paul so craved to see you before he
died.”
I sunk down iu utter despair. One
boy dead, and tlie other very low !
Augusta came to my side, and sooth
ing me as she would have done a sorrow
ing child, said:
“Everything that could be done for
Paul’s comfort and relief was done. I
left home and staid with the darlings
night and day. Dear little Paul died in
my arms. ’ ’
“Yes,” groaned Reginald, “she has
been a mother to my abandoned chil
dren, whose sickness and death was
caused by the wilful neglect of their own
mother. ’ ’
“Don’t Doctor! don’t make that aw
ful charge in this hour! Perhaps the
children might have been sick it Mrs.
Varner had been at home. ’ ’
“The want of proper attention caused
their sickness and Paul’s death. I came
home after a hard day’s ride iu the rain,
and found both children wet to the skin.
Norah. silly creature, was getting herself
ready for a ball; and Mrs. Worth, oc
'Ciit-i oT-r suffering*,- paidfflff
attentio i to rin poor neglected children.
I doctored them vigorously; but relief
came too late —tlie cold bad taken such
fearful hold of their lungs that no rem
edy could eradicate it. ’ ’
He kept on like one whose wrath,
long pent up, suddenly finds vent in
words. Augusta silently withdrew, not
wishing to witness such a scene —and
Reginald, usually so reticent of his
wrongs and griefs, poured out a wild
torrent of accusation and distress. I
could say nothing in my defence; but
took my seat by my sleeping boy and
eagerly watched for his awicening.
Presently, he opened Ids eyes and said,
feebly, “Aunt Gusta, please give me
some water. ’ ’
I held the cup to his parched lips, but
he turned away and wailed,
“A : nt aunt Gus.a here ?’ ’
“I am here, my precious boy,” said I.
“I want aunt Gusta.”
She heard liis voice and hastened to
his side. A look of pleasure, such as
my presence had not produced, spread
over liis face as she approached him.
llow it wrung my heart to see another
thus preferred before me, by my own
child. But the anguish was my just
punishment for my sinful failure in duty.
“Don’t leave me, aunt Gusta!” said
the little sufferer, without giving me a
look of recognition, as his eyes rested
lovingly on the face of Mrs. Somers.
Oh, how anxiously I sought some sign of
affectionate remembrance from my dying
child ! how eagerly I watched for some
look of love in his glaziug eyes—those
eyes which followed every movement of
Augusta and rested so fondly on her, as
they were closing in death ! Fervently
did I pray the destroyer to spare this
last lamb, but he was inexorable. -A few
days after my return, as we were watch
ing by the bedside of the dying boy, be
suddenly awoke from what had seemed
the stupor of death, and gazed wistfully
around, as though looking for someone.
‘ 'What is it, my darling ?’ ’ asked Re
ginald. “do you wish anything?”
“Where is Paul?” said he, distinctly,
“I thought I. aw him just now.”
“Paul is in heaven, my son. You
were dreaming.”
“No, sir. lie was right here iu th’s
room. He c-ame for me. Oh! he
looked so bright and pretty! just like
the shining angels aunt Gusta used to
tell us about. He beckoned to me.
Papa, I guess he wants me with him up
in heaven.
“Oh. my precious cb’ld! cried Regi
na’d, “Father can’t give up lbs little
Percy—lr’s only boy! Oh, Heavenly
Father! spare me this blow !”
“Papa, I know Paul wants me; he
kept beckoning to me, and I must go
with him.”
Turning to Mrs. Somers, he said:
“I w :, l see Robbie, too, aunt Gusta.
He and Pan 1 , and I will meet you at the
sate —the gate made of the great big
pearl you used to te 11 us about—when
you come to the beautiful world.
“Mamma, there won’t be anybody to
make a noise and d : sturb you now; Paul
and 1 wifi both he out of your way.’
Then raising b : s pale little hauds. and
gazinsr intently upward at some object,
invisible to our eyes, he faintly mur
mured. ‘'l am coming, Paul! ’ c’osed his
beautiful eyes aud joined bis little
brother in the bright world, about which
he loved so dearly to eonverse.
My noble little Percy was another sac
rifice to the Moloch of fanaticism, at
whose shrine my first born had so re
cently been offered up.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
After the death of my children I
piungeu madly into the excitement of
dn rii®posed mission. I tried to
11 bought and recollection in new
remain en S a geinents, I could not
r t t aT’ , Vemorv was too busy
aW a f fm hearthstone. I was
my duty to the^ l °l ettier - forg °*
-Jone in his wreK^22 aved fatter ’ aU
would not\hftate‘to 1
the means necessary to him
my pride revolted at the SS? >' e j,
asxmg him foimooey'u^^
SAVANNAH, WEDNESDAY. JUNE 6. 1877.
voted to a purpose which was so repug
nant to him.
But m\‘ lectures did not bring me in
sufficient income to defray my expenses,
and I began to think of some profession
whereby I might obtain funds which
would enable me to pursue, unembar
rassed, my great life-work. The stage
seemed to be my only alternative. I
bad extraordinary dramatic talent, and
my sex debarred me from any other pro
fession.
I immediately’ entered into corres
pondence with the manager of one of
the theatres in New York city, and
while I was awaiting his decision. I re
turned home to make some necessary
preparations for my new life, should hi's
answer be favorable. I had written to
my husband at what time I expected to
reach Woodville, and he met me at the
train and accompanied me to our dwell
iMg—home it was no longer. He had
closed the doors during my absence and
dismissed the servants, and was board
ing with Norman McAlpine. now a staid
married man, devoted to his sweet, re
tiring Wife and his infant daughter, Au
gusta. the childish image, as well as the
petted darling, of her beautiful aunt.
When we were within our old room,
Reginald stood beio e, am?, -,v hlrprem-'
bling limbes and pallid cheeks, like a
man who executes a desperate resolve,
said;
“Pauline, this thing must cease. I
cannot afford to keep up this house for
the benefit of lazy, thieving servants;
and I canno. longer live alone in this
gloomy, childless, wifeless abode. If
you will come back and live with me as of
yore, you shall have my deepest, fond
est. truest love —you will be to me wife
and children, kindred and country. But
if you persist in your present roving life,
I have determined to leave this gloomy,
saddened home forever. I shall make
my way to the South, whose patriot
sons are struggling agamst such desper
ate odds, and join the ranks of the Con
federate army. The decision rests with
you. If you are resolved to continue
in your present course, I have nothing
to bind me to this spot, but will cast my
lot with the struggling heroes of the
Confederacy, and fall, 1 devoutly trust,
in her defence. But if y T ou will come
hack to my home and my arms, I
Will still be your devoted hus
band and lover.” Then giving
me a look full of the old time, passion
ate love, he cried, eagerly, “Do, come
back, my wife! Let this painful estrange
ment end. We cannot be happy apart,
and, oh, my darling, we can be so happy
together, despite all our past sorrows
and misery. Let your heart decide the
matter. Be again the delight of my life
and the brightness of my home. Will
you not, Pauline?”
I almost yielded to his pathetic ap
peal; but the memory of my late tri
umphs, the flattery and adulations so
lavishly bestowed ou me, and the anti
cipation of greater success in my new
urofession, turned the scale .against my
nusband’s pleading look and agonized
petition. I felt that I could not bear
the quiet and loneliness of ordinary life,
haunted, as mme would be, by the stings
of conscience and the ghosts of memory.
So I told my husband I was willing to
give him all the honor and obedience
due him, but I could not consent to set
tle down into the hum-drum existence
he would have me to lead.
“Why can we not,” said I, “live to
gether, as so many others do, each pur
suing happiness in our own way?”
expression died out of his
look cf mutturablc isoirow
took its place.
“You are determined, then, to con
tinue your present erratic life?”
‘ ‘My happiness depends upon it. Be
sides, I have almost concluded an en
gagement with the manager of one of
the theatres in New York, and will prob
ably spend the winter in that city.”
“Oh, Pauline, you cannot have be
come so infatuated ! Do pause and re
flect!”
“The matter rests with Mr. Carter. I
am already committed to him.”
H e tui’iied to the secretary, and draw
ing from one of its apartments a paper
placed it in my hands, saying:
“Here is a deed to this house and lot —
all the property I have left. Do with
it as you think best. If I fall in battle,
as I trust I may, keep one green spot in
your memory for him who so loved, alas !
who so loves you. Farewell, my mis
guided Pauline!”
Seizing me in liis arms, he pressed
passionate kisses on my brow, lips and
cheek, and was gone.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
I sat down in my now truly deserted
house and wept bitter tears at what I
regarded my cruel destiny.
But after the first flow of grief was
spent, a feeling of relief came over me.
My connection with the past was severed.
I was free to do as I cnose. I was al
ready becoming enraptured with the
thought of being an actress. I began
to long for the glitter and excitement of
stage life. I had been led to adopt the
profession, merely as a means of support,
while I advocated the cause of woman’s
lights. But, as dreams of tiiumph in
my new career floated through mv mind.
I-grew-.eager to enter upon at, I would
still do all hfiiiy'power to advance tin
cause so dear to my heart, but hoped
my successes in my new field of action
would enable me to do more valiant ser
vice in the old.
Mr. Carter acceded to_ the proposi
tion. and agreed to receive me in his
troupe. I sold the beautiful home, which
had been so dear to me, but which so
many sad recollections now darkened,
and removed to New York, that sea of
humanity, where one’s antecedents do
not come to the surface and where the
past is irrevocably buried beneath its
restless surges, I took rooms in one of
the large hotels, and entered at once
upon my new duties.
My first appearance was a complete
success. My position as a star performer
was assured from the beginning of my
career. My name on the play-niU was
sure to draw a crowded house. I was
the favorite of the play-going world.
Mr. Carter soon increased my salary—
the most valuable presents were show
ered upon me by my enthusiastic admi
rers. Diamond rings and jewelled
crosses, deftly hidden among the flowers
and leaves of exquisite bouquets, fell at
my feet. My bare appearance on the
stage was sufficient to produce' the wild
est enthusiasm. For a while I was
happy, extravagantly happy. The glare
and glitter of my new life, bewildered
my senses—the homage I received daz
zled my mind. Amid the gorgeous par
aphernalia and splendid pageantry
of an actress' life, remorse found
no lodgment, and memory no place.
The joyous present shut out all be
hind it.
Whenever I was alone. I was so much
engaged in studying my profession that
I has no time to reflect on the bitter
past. But as the months wore on,
memory would obtrude itself—sweet
childish faces would float before my vis
ion. little lisping tongues would wliisner
in the stillness of my chamber. The
glorious eyes of my forsaken husband
would iook pleadingly into mine, and his
plaintive, musical voice would echo in
the quiet evening, “Come back, Pauline,
come back! *
My lovely home would appear to my
saddened fancy in all its freshness and
beauty. Another home in the more dis
tant past was often imagined on merno
rv’s page —a dear, sunny,Southern home,
now, perhaji demolished or defaced by
the vandalJfrch of the invader,
My looked reprAchfully
into my paint-begrimed face; my sweet
mother gazed sadly on my tinsel-decked
garments; my brother’s dear features
frowned from the cages of the play-book.
I was conning. Other dear scenes often
occurred to recollection —the fair pano
rama of the Forest City passed before
my view, and brought to uf ud tlie sweet
joys of early plighted love.
The excitements of stage-life began to
pall, the monotonous routine grew wea
risome. Tlie continual agitation iu
which I lived and the constant strain on
my nerves, began to have a disastrous
effect upon my health. Despondency
too 1 - possession of my mind, and lassi
tude an 1 weariness of my body. I often
limed for rest and quiet when 1 was
compelled to go the house of mirth to
make merriment for others. At last I
grew sick. I could go no longer— and
then I realized how deeeitfa! is the fa
vor ot the multitude, how vain the ac
clamations of the populace. I could
hear the cheerful tones and joyous
laughter of the merry play-goers as they
passed my room to and from the thea
tre. No concern for the lonely occupant,
wl ’Aohad so often minister and to their
pliH re, disturbed their hiLrity, and I
knH . if I shcmLidiigiHfcjLof that
jrav throng woula uiroit i sTAi tor
me.”
The miseiy of that time is burnt into
my memory. -My thoughts went back
to the days when sickness was a luxury;
when my mother’s saft paint bathed my
aching brow, and her tender care pro
t Ided rare dainties for the gratification
of mv fitful appetite ; when my father's
lavish hand procured the indulgence of
every wayward fancy of his petted dar
ling. 1 remembered, with bitter i egret,
the loving ministrations and watchful
tenderness of my fond husband; and re
alized, when too late, that I had bar
tered the highest joys and holiest pleas
ures which bless a woman’s life, for a
bubble, whose hollowness mocked my
clutching grasp.
The woman whom I employed as a
nurse, was faithful atnl attentive, but the
sympathy, the tenderness, which makes
sicl .ess tolerable, were wanting. How
much more bitter is the feeling of de
peudance on one, who serves us for
money, than the sweet reliance on those
whose tender care proceeds from a heart
overflowing with love!
When I resumed my position in the
troupe, I was a sadder and a wiser wo
man—-but alas ! alas ! the wisdom so
dearly bought availed me nothing—its
only fruit was remorse. 1 often asked
myself what had I gained by the sacri
fice of so many blessings ? What hap
piness had my triumphs brought to my
lonely heart? Is it possible that after
all I may have been mistaken ! Doubts
concerning the wisdom of the sentiments
which I had cherished begau to creep
into my mind. I have acquired, mused
I, the reputation which once seemed so
desirable, but I am not as happy as when
I was less famous. lam fettered by no
conjugal or maternal ties, but I am far
less happy than I might have been as a
wife and a mother, rit leaving out the
the question of my own happiness—for
in my enthusiasm I was wi ling to sacri
fice that for the good of my sex—wou'd
women be happier if the doctrine of wo
man’s rights should prevail ? Judging
by my own heart, I was forfjd to confess
they would not —not even should they
obtain the boon I had advocated so ear
nestly, the right of .suffrage. I was
constrained to admit that woman cor’d
y.-aciit the country far less at tho ballot
■ljox than she could in the nursery and
iu-0"?:- 1 th< firnaiiie V dc-'-oted
niyself to the proper training of my two
wftble boys; if I had instilled into their
minds the love of country and the proper
principles of action, and had watched
over their health and guarded them from
exposure, and shielded them from the
pollution of the world, could I not have
wielded twice the influence in State and
country, that I could exert by my single
strength ?
How painful it is to have to admit tho
errors ot one’s life ! how sad to feel that
we have hugged a fatal delusion so
closely to our Hearts !
I c-cased to actvocate doctrines, tlie
truth of which I began so strenuously to
question. I determined to devote my
self entirely to my profession, since no
other road to ease and competence was
open to me, but my enthusiasm in it was
gone.
I have become renowned in the theat
rical world, have gained many laurels,
but how unsatisfying.
1 now know—when the knowledge
avails me naught—that the love of a
noble husband is a crown more ennobling
than all the laurels and bays the world
can confer on a woman ; and maternal
joys are sweeter than any pleasure which
springs from worldly fame.
My sorrow is all the more poignant
because I feel that my punishment is
deserved. I allow r ed to slip from my
grasp as worthless the greatest blessings
with which heaven crowns a woman’s
life, and although He has granted the
desire of my heart yet like the flesh of
the quails in the teeth of the murmur
ing Israelites, it has become disgusting
and loathsome.
CHAPTER XXXV.
. .One day, a young Southern girl of our
troupe, an orphan, who lm<jl gone on
the stage for a livelihood, crime into my
room equipped for a walk, j
“Mrs. Varner,” said she. “are you
not a Southerner ?” j
“Yes.”
“Well, I wish you would go with me
to carry a few supplies to some rick and
wounded Southern soldiers, on their way
to a prison hospital. They are quartered
in a large building, a few blocks off—and
the officer in charge has given perm i-sion
for them to receive any contributions of
food and clothing their friends may send
them. I have gathered a few articles of
clothing from the Southern) sympathi
zers in our company, and have procured
a few delicacies, and wiU be glad if you
will go wifi with me and assist in dis
tributing them.”
“I wi'l gladly, and will stop at Smith
A Allison’s shoe store, and order a sup
ply of shoes for the poor fellows.”
“That w.i" be so kind. I assure you
they need them sadly.”
M e soon reached the building where
the prisoners were quartered, and were
shocked at their pitiable condition. Bare
footed and batless; their grey uniform.-
in tatters, vermin-infested and blood
stained, they were a wretched-looking
set. But they were cheerful and hope"
fill, and their Southern chivalry mani
fested itself despite their -qualid ap
pearance, as they thanked us for the sup
plies we carried them
My sympathies were much aroused
for a youth, a mere boy, wh had lost his
left am. I stopped to • peak some
words of cheer to him as I passed, and
inquired to what command be belonged.
“Nelson’s brigade.”
“Have you ever seen Mrs Nelson?
I have heard she went with her hus
band to the army.' ’
“Yes, ma'am ; I have often seen Mrs.
Nelson. She sticks pretty close to the
general. She often rides by hi- side on
the march, and I tell you when a battle
is going on she stays where she can hear
from the field constantly. She's a pow
erful fine woman. I saw her one day
when we were all panic-struck, seize the
flag from the color-bearer ami rush be
fore the men, begging them to turn
back. They were ashamed for a woman
to show more courage than themselves,
so they turned back. / Mrs. Nelson said
she couldn't bear t A. sec the General’s
men running from Yankee;
Truly, thought I, * has made a
heroine of my gentle fricnA
"What State are you from ?” I asked
the poor boy.
"Georgia, madam. I live in Savan
nah. ”
"Ah? Aho is the Colonel of your
regiment?”
“Col. Young.”
"I don't know him. I visited Savan
nah once, and thought perhaps I might
have siime acquaintances iu your regi
ment.”
“Our Lieutenant Colonel was from Sa
vannah. too. He was the bravest man
in the army. He seemed to feel no
more fear in a battle than I do right now.
The boys used to tell him he was fool
hardy. but he said lie bore a charmed
life ; and it did look like it. for lie was
generally seen where the balls fell the
thickest. He led every forlorn hope
and volunteered for every dangerous
service. I saw him promoted on the
battle-field for gallantry. I tell you we
fellows raised a yell!" and the young
soldier s eyes sparkled and his pale face
flushed as lie spoke of the courage of his
beloved officer.
‘AY hat is the name of that gallant
Lieut, nant Colonel? asked I, seeing it
afforded the young rebel so much
“Where is he now?” gasped L
“Dead, ma’am. He was killed in our
last battle. I saw him fall from Ins
horse, and ran to him, but he was dead,
lie never moved alter that ball struck
him.”
"Surgeon! come here, quick! the
lady is going to faint!”
“Madam, let me assist you into the
fresh air. These ghastly wounds make
you sick, and the gentlemanly surgeon
bore mu out of the house, kuowiug no
more the cause if my sudden illness than
the wounded prisoner did. My young
lriend ran to my assistance, and, calling
a hack, bade the driver carry us to our
hotel.
i M hen I reached my room I declined
the kind oilers of assistance from my
companion, and, locking myself in, gave
way to my anguish and remorse.
Through the long hours of that misera
ble night I walked the floor in agony of
m nd. Oh ! how I reproached myself
for my neglect of my husband and my
unkindness to him. How heinous my
conduct appeared in that hour of woe !
How vividiy every harsh word I ever
spoke to Reginald came up to torture
me, as I thought of him iu liis bloody
grave, and remembered that my neglect
drove him to the field of battle', and to
death ! Ob, if I could have gone down
on my knees to my deeply-wronged hus
band and begged his forgiveness, my re
morse would have been less harrowing.
Rut he was gone! irrevocably gone! and
could never kno w how bitterly I had re
uented, bow sincerely I had longed for
nis favor again. The only link that
bound me to the past was severed. The
last hope was gone—for vague as it was,
there was ever in my heart the hope
that, in the future, I would some day
hear again the sweet voice of my Rex—
my king—saying, “Come back! my
wife! come back ! ’ and a sweet dream
of nestling, like a wearied dove in his
loving arms, and being folded to his
manly breast. But that dream is past,
The last faint glimmer of light which
illumined my darkened existence is ex
tinguished. That night of woe had no
morrow. And although I still continue
my mimicry of life for the delectation of
meny play-goers, and am still their pet
ted favorite; and although I bear the
sobriqimt Queen of Tragedy, I must
ever a liitseramc?, wlT3u;iiOcr, iuuuiv
woman,
“ Without one heart to beat with hers,
Without one hand, in tenderness
And sympathy, her hand to press;
A lone soul left dispassionate,
Without one link of love or hate;”
a disappointed, misguided, fanatic, long
ing for the repose of the grave, but
dreading the retributions of the here
after.
THE END.
► ♦ * ,
A Singular Burglary.— On Wednes
day morning last two stalwart women
rang the bell of Dr. S. B. Percy’s labora
tory on tho second floor o: No. 622 Sixth
avenue, New York. A servant girl an
swered the summons, and as soon as she
opened the door the women seized her,
threw a cloth or an apron over her head
to prevent her from raising an alaim,
and, throwing her down, tore strips off
her dress, with winch they tied and
gagged her. When she was secure
her captors ransacked the laboratory,
broke open a drawer in a desk, whore
they secured about seventy-five dollars,
and escaped undetected. The servant
remained half an hour unable to move or
raise an alarm until she was discovered
by one of Dr. Percy’s assistants.
The marauders are described as real
women by the servant, but there exis’s a
suspicion that anew scheme of robbery
has been organized by tw r nr more men
dressed in women’s ciotl - . Owing to
the suddenness of the attam the servant
girl was unable to describe the features
of the thieves.
A few evenings ago s strange affair oc
curred in Providence, R. I. A lady gave
a party, at which a young lady was j ar
ticnlarly noticeable. She was beautiful,
magnificently dressed, and very happy,
being just engaged to marry a distin
guished gentleman from New York, tike
wore an antique bracelet, a present from
her lover, which the latter said was an
heirloom of his family, brought over £r >m
Holland. A lady from New York, who
happened * be present, recognized it at
once as the bracelet of her aunt, which
had been taken from her in the lobby of
a metropolitan theatre. Bhe made are •
mark to that effect, the whole party got
excited, and every one witnessed The
despair of the bridegroom. The latter
was asked whether the bracelet did r.ot
enclose a picture. Yes, he said, that of
his sister. My cousin’s, was the anew er,
contained Miss Gary’s pieturo. The
bracelet was opened—there was Miss
Gary’s picture The groom was then not
to be found, and there was much bj m
paiby for the deceived lady.
Francisco G. Flore?, a prominent citi
zen of San Diego, Nueces county, Tex is,
and his son, Teharcio, were recently m ir
dered and robbed. The robbers were
eight in number, all Mexicans, They ob
tained seven hundred dollars in money.
The same party captured U. Latt, Presi
dent cf the Corpus Cbristi BDd Rio
Grande Railroad, Mr. Lewis and a drr-er
named Mays, robbed them of all the
money and jewelry on their persons end
stripped them of their ciothes. The
county cf Nuece3 is alarmed, and the
people are out hunting for the robbers.
The New York Tribune occasionally
sneers at the suggestion of Mr. Tilde As
nomination in 1880. Tnousands of Re
publicans in Pennsylvania express their
regret that thay did. not vote for him last
year, and thousands more promise that
they will vote fer him if they ever get an
opportunity. They would like to purge
themselves in this way of thi great fraud
upon the country in which they were im
plicated by the party leaders.— Har?’ -
burg Patriot {Dan. )
Peter B. Brigham, who died in Boston
last Thursday,'worth §2,000,000, made
the first of his fortune by keeping an
oyster saloon. He used to pass around
among his customers, asking; “Are
your oysters well cooked ?” and when he
was paid for them always said: “Thank
yon, sir; call again,” which courtesy may
partly account for the §2,000,000.
Suicide of a Seevant Gibl. —Veronica
Nill, aged thirty-five, a servant in tbs
employ of Louis Roessisr, a German 1 a
ker on Tenth avenue, New York, hung
herself on Saturday night in a closet on
the upper floor of tha house, ft is sup
posed that the woman, who had no friends
in this country, committed the act while
brooding over her sorrows.
HOW TWO WOMEN DIED.
Confession of n Terrible Dfeil Couiiuitteil
111 Arkaottn*.
[From the Little Rook Gazette, May 22.]
On Sunday the town of Benton, Saline
county, was in a state of high excitement
in consequence of the confession of crime
made by Tom Srauer, who was confined
in the Sabue county jail on a charge of
having killed his aunt, Mrs. Harriet
Staner, and Mrs. Taylor, cf that county,
on the 24th of lust January. Thomas
Staner said: “Some time last July I had
a dream that I had killed two or three
people and secured a large sum of money.
This dream followed me continually, and
I could not get rid of it. I knew my
Uncle Mack had considerable money in
his bouse, and on the January following,
when he was gone to L-ttle Rock, I went
to his house for the purpose of killing
Aunt Harriet and getting the money ; I
was working at Mrs. Gentry’s, not far
from Uncle Mack’s, and I went through
the woods rather quickly; found Aunt
Harriet at the wood-pile; Mrs. Taylor, a
neighbor, who lived about two hundred
yards distant, was also in the yard, either
boiling clothes or rendering out lard My
ounttoldme to go in,' I did. and
SP ft - *#%&**, wot
to FPlfu IV|llfc l vßlill Uir
some pig's foot nnd hogs' heads to make
souse Chop's bead cVese); Mrs. Taylor
oame in :d at down ; she was knitting;
the two women asked me if I was going
to marry the widow Gentry, where I was
workiLg, and asked me otli< r questions
pertaining to farm and neighborhood
matters; Mrs. Taylor got up, wont to the
table and commenced to help Aunt Har
riet ; I thought I would murder them ns
they stood, and pvt mg up the poker for
that , iv-p \ v.. kt. ■ toward them, hold
ing to. weapon beh >;d me. My heart
failed me, r ever, v i down again
without tnc.r obs iv-ng my actions or
suspecting my intentions. Aunt Harriet
then went out to the crib to get some
shucks to pack the souse iu. When the
came back Mrs. Taylor observed
a calf out down at her house, and
went down to put it up. When she
was gone I took the poker and without
saying a word walked up behind Aunt
Harriet and struck her with ail my power;
she fell and I repeated the blow; I thought
she was dead or I would have struck Iter
again; she only made a gurgling noise; I
took the keys from her pocket, secured
the money and then stepped out on the
gallery to look for Mrs. Taylor, when just
then she came in at the south door, and,
seeing Aunt Harriet on the floor, walked
up to hor and said; ‘La me. Tom,
what is the matter with Mrs. Staner? -
I answered I did not know, and walking
up iu front of her .struck her ou the hi ad
with the poker, hitting her again after,she
fell. I felt very bad when I saw them both
lying iu their blood dead, and would have
given anything iu the world to have
brought them to life; this was about 11
o’clock; I staid in the house maybe half
an hour; I hid the money where it was
found; I took out $25, which I gave my
lawyer, Major Lrtta; I had intended to
destroy the jewelry and keep the money.”
A MANIAC.
♦
A Terrible Scene o! Blood rit Spnlntzo in
Dalmatia.
Spalatzo, in the Austrian province of
Dalmatia, was a few weeks ago the scene
of a most extraordinary and terrible
tragedy. Opposite the parish church
lived a householder named Tomic who
becoming suddenly a prey to mad rage,
killed his wife and then his father, Who
had him. When
the police
i l:.rred- -air
entry, and taken commanding posi
tion with a musket and plenty of ammu
nition. They were, therefore, compelled
to turn back, and meanwhile Tomic put a
bullet through a young man who crossed
the street, and severely wounded a
woman. The police then drew a cordon
around the house, but Tomic s musket
commanded the space between the house,
the church, aud the top of the adjacent
streets, and no one dared cross the street
or approach the body of the young man.
At length a clergyman who had great in
fluence with Tomic bravely went forward
and implored him at least to give up to his
care his little child. The father’s answer
to this appeal was by throwing out her
limbs one by one ! Then he resumed his
fusilade. The authorities would not allow
the police to lire, inasmuch as they deem
ed the man bereft of reason. So the
only course was to continue the blockade.
All sorts of devices were suggested.
Some were for firing on Tomic with
stupefying cartridges, others for concen
trating the fire engine force on the house,
aud all this time the unhappy sexton of
the parish was sending up from the bell
tower a wail for food, he having gone to
ring the bell just before the tragedy be
gan, and his only mode of egress being
in front of the maniac’s window. Afior
the blockade had lasted two days and
Tomic showed no signs of giving in, it
vas resolved to keep up a perfect hail
storm of stones at all the windows of the
house while the door was forced. The
madman flew to the garret, where it was
no easy matter to disarm without killing
him. Altogether he had killed four and
wounded five persons.
Is She Bewitched A Young Girl’s
Supernatural uud Eludve Bedfel
low.
The good people among the hills of
Morris county, N. J., have found excite
ment in the case of a young girl said to
be “grievously vexed of the devil,” and
whose condition is as unaccountable as it
is deplorable. The girl, according to the
World's informant, fs a daughter of Elijah
Nichels, blacksmith of the Giendow Ivan ,
Company at Hurdtovm. She predicted'
evil against her fifteenlr birthday, which
befel on the 13ch of October last, and
since that date she has been bedridden
and paralyzed. At times there appears
uuder the counterpane of her bed a pres
ence as of a rat, a rabbit or a cat swiftly
moving from place to place and eluding
detection. In vain is the bed
or the patient removed to another place;
the “presence” is only powerless to ret
when the mother sleeps with the child.
The physicians, no less than the clergy,
and the common folk of all the country
side are baffled. Crowds come daily to see
the mystery. On one recent occasion
Mr. Richards, Mayor o. ; Dover, held his
stiff hat above the “proGance,’' and the
hat received a blow* that crushed it.
Violent blows have been given to the
hand, to a cane, and to other objects held
out over the place where the “presence”
was, and, needless to say, attempts to
grab the presence have failed. All the
while the girl lies moaning as if m terror
sor pain, and her position in the bed
would be plainly such as to show that the
mysterious movements were not caused
by h r. The girl has been knows to gp.
stain from all food for the spaee of fifteen
days, and fo. some weeks past she has
oniy received a little milk daily, yet her
facß is fair, and, when the visitation is
not nigh her sleep is apparently fiealth
ful. Her parents are plain and honest
people, who view this as an affliction not
to be turned to account for notoriety or
money. The neighbors, unable to ac
count for it in any other way. have
solemnly decreed witchcraft against an
old woman living among them, and
charms are in active demand.- N 7
World.
i _
The strawberry and green-pea trade at
Memr his is a rushing one while it lasts.
One planter gathered last season (and
probably will equal it this) lOoJoOO quarts
of strawberries from his patches. One
day last week he sold 1,410 quarts in
Memphis, and shipp : to Chicago, Louis
ville and tit. Louis .1,400 quarts.
“Mary,” murmured Imping Alfred, un
decided what to say, 11 .Mary, if you do
not love me, thay tho ; thut’th the only
way. But, Mith Mary, if you love me,”
pressed the wretch in accents bland,
“And you wouldn't Irk to :hay tho, then,
Mith Mary, thqueetb my hand.”— New.
York SunA
(SUBSCRIPTION $2 00 a year
\SLS..t. OOP!I’D 6 cetus.
SENATORMOIITON AND Us will
ItPNi>nf>e to Nonslii-rti ItiiMillUvini—The
Case of Kollom; —Vn K s , n y on i.oui*-
iunn ntul if Ii Carolina—The Ann.
ment of .Hunter mid t niltn'ilut lon—(ou
tempt for S.iutlierii I’rimiino*—Hnyeti
and Grant—The lirenl to Stop Army
Supplie*—Virtues nnd Purposes ol the
Kepublienn Party.
Indianapolis, May ~ 3 . — A letter from
Senator Morton is published here to-day.
The Senator begins by saying :
“ Sev. rat weeks ago an open letter was
addressed to me thr, ugh the column- of
the Now York Titiits, written on behalf of
more than one hundred prominent
Southern Republicans, stating their
views on the political siualion and
invking mine. I have also received
many letters from different parts
of the country inquiring i to ti.o condi
tion of the Senatorial question from
Louisiana as it stood at the adjournment
of the Senate.”
THE CASE OF KELLOGG.
The Senator then alludes to Mr. Kel
logg’s presenting himself to the Senate
March ;> for admission, and tua nr
the buna e ou his lie alsoifl
h |
T*rd~ntials S* ..ie" j£.'*I9PRSs 5
Mays:
“The Committee on Privileges and
Elections met soon afterwards, aud the
Republican members united m u report
that prima facie S. B. Packard was law
ful Governor cf Louisiana, tho Legisla
ture was the lawful Legislaiure, that W.
P- Kellogg had been elected in conform
ity to the act of Congress, and was enti
tled to be sworn in and take his seat. As
a number of members of the Senate were
absent, and tho su< j . t would lead to a
long debate, and there was a general anx
iety o adjourn, the report was not laid
before the Senate. If the, m > jority of
the Senate shall at the mxt session be of
the opinion that K Hogg was lawfully
elected by tho L egislature of Louisiana,
he will be entitled to his seat, notwith
standing even is that have since oc
curred.
THE BLOODY SHIET AGAIN.
“The Republican governments of
Louis ana ami South Carolina have yield
ed to force. They have gone down be
fore an armed minority whose threats of
future violence were guaranteed of a long
train of bloody deeds in the pi it. I re
gret that tho real character of the trans
action should be obscured in i oat)l by
pretended investigations or n< gMintiona.
Stripped of all disguise and pretenses the
simple fact is (hat Packard; v.: Chmuber
l.dn wore not, abyj to mahilo;;i themselves
in authority, and the government of the
United States, in the exorcise of its dis
cretion, refused them its sup-port. Then
tho Legislatures, finding tin inselves do
fenseless, fell to pieces, and from their
ruins, in part, new Legislatures have been
constituted whose legality consists in the
fact that there aru none to -onpose them.
Ihe law and the rights of tho majority
yielded to an armed, aggressive minority,
ihe Democratic party iu Louisiana, an
undoubted minority, possessing most of
ihe wealth, arms and military experience,
were determined to govern, whatever it
might cost in tho way of life. They
threatened the majority at the late e! ec
fion, which cost many tiv sand was the
product of the most infamous and damn
ing of crimes. The murders and crimes
had boon proved and tuy blood- oiuiued
majority set aside by lawful process.
“The administration and. cm. and that such
a case of insurrection anu violence was
not presented as mnirorz and the National
Government to interfere,and that the con*
tending parties mus; b left to
streng resorp ci •
THE AE>tY ACI'KOPEIATION QUESTION.
Mr. Morton hero speaks of the House
refusing to vole appropriations for
the army unless conditions were incorpo
rated that the army should not be used in
the Southern States, which Le says was
clearly unconstitutional :
“The question was should the Presi
dent yield to the inevitable, or proceed
ouly to inevitable defeat ? There are and
have been for years many Republicans in
the North who have deprecated the use
of the army to support Republican State
governments iu the South.
“The Republican majority in the Sen
ate upon the Southern question is but
nominal, if it exis!ed at all. Five Repub
lican Senators voted at the late executive
session against seating Kellogg, and to
refer his credentials to a committee, thus
refusing to recogniz the Packard govern,,
ment, and a numb r or .!Republican Sena
tors, sufficient whoa added to the Demo
cratic memuers, to constitute a majority,
have steadily refused to rcoognize the
Republican State government in Louis
iana since 18715 by voting against seating
a Senator chosen by it. While in my
judgment it was clearly the right of the
President under the Constitution to recog
nize the Packard government and sup
port it by military power, the undertak
ing would have been futile and failure
disastrous; with divided public opinion in
his own pasty and both houses of Con
gress against him, ho would have faded
in the end. Tho Democratic House has
power to destroy the army entirely, and
from my knowledge of tho Senate, I am
sura the Republican majority of that
body could hardly be relied on to support
him in such a course. We have had so
much talk about coticiiia ion and frater
nity that many well meaning people in
the North had come to believe ail that
was necessary to secure tranquility and
equal rights in the South was to withdraw
the army, the Republicans to abandon the
struggle, and commit tho government to
the white Democrats of those States.
HOW HONESTY AFFECTS THE SENATOI! AND
HIS FOLLOWING.
“The professed yearning for nance* and
fraternity cf the very men who* planned
the massacres in LouAiann, Mississippi
and Souiit Carolina have been received
with disgust, iutehrfdy nauseating to the
people who understood the facts. The
painful truth is that political murder in
the South have e used to Oo shocking,
and are readily justified by energetic talk
about carpet baggers, scalawags and
Radical thieves. Not a man has been
punished for the butcheries at Hamburg,
Ellenton, Coifax, Coushatta, Mechanics’
Institute, Clinton, Vicksburg, or any
other of the hundred, slaughters of Re
publicans that might be named.
hxfi VIEWS ABOUT PBESIDENT HAYES.
“I don’t believe that President Hayes
intends to destroy tho Republican parly
and attempt U.e erection of anew one
upon its ruin.-.. I believe in his patriot
ism aid high integrity, in his undivided
purpose io make the administration a be
neficence to the country. The language
of his inaugural was strong and beautiful,
and the declaration of his devotion to the
great doctrines of human rights which
constitute the foundation of the Republi
can party, left nothing to be added or de
sired. He began the conduct of national
affairs under circumstances of extraordi
nary difficulty. Tho minds of men were
greatly divided as to what should be done,
while ail were agreed that something
should be done ; that things could not
long go on as they were. He marked out
his course and addressed himself to it
with undaunted courage,
“Mr. Hayes was elected an a Republi
can, and x believe he will be a Republi
can President, not in a mere partisan
way, but in the reuse of devotion to Re
publican principles, and maintenance of
Republican organization by placing the
political power in tko bauds of worthy
and qualified Republicans. Political
principles do not ex,epate themselves.
They require a petty to do that. Organ
ization in politics is as necessary as in
war. _ Great numbers of the same way of
thinking, but acting without concert, are
as helpless as an unorganized multitude
in the presence of a disciplined army.
THE GBAN’D EEPUBLICAN PABTY.
“I present the Republican party as ft
grand and indispensable instrumentality
for carrying into operation the true
principles of government and human
rights. We hear ;t said that the Repub
lican system or reeoi.stru is u xVdk
ike only sens*.
h-.tU . Xu. . #
armed and murderous orminizft&fps, V;
terrorism and proscriptions, Wi
wicked and cruel of tho age, ,auii|j yi f
Demo. 'i Hi m tissuraneesio President Hu;
m Louisiana and elsewhere of protect!-■!
and equal , rights are executed in vgooaw
faith the system will not be a failttrrjnut ■
a grand success extorted from its enemies.
“The great features of reconstruction
are the Fourteenth and Fifteenth amend
ments to tho constitution establishing
the equal civil and political rights of ail
men, and the statutes enacted for
enforcement. So far as these have failed
reconstruction is a failure; so far as they
succeed reconstruction is a success. m|
THE SOUTHERN PUBFOSE.
“Let it be understood that the great
purpose now of the Southern people is to
recover from the losses inflicted by thti ]
rebellion. They do not now think of
leaving the Union. They aro not now
preparing schemes for future secession,
but are, with intense earnestness, re
volving plans for recovering from their
great losses. For this purpose they will
support the Democratic party North as
long as it is subservient to their policy,
notwithstanding their ill-repressed resent
ment for its inliuouco in getting them
into a rebellion, and its sneaking
cowardly course while it lasted. We are
told that they are quiet in those States
where Democratic rule is established
\ ery likely. When they have gained J.o
complete power and the Republican pAy
hus ceased to struggle, there will b In
inducement to shoot men because of
their politics. Thq*v will be peace when
there is abject r mission. Let tho
recent massacre/. Mississippi, which
has made the Modoc comparatively re
spectable, answer. Peace, which is ob
tained by stamping a political party out
of existence, is not u; harbinger of pros
perity and haVpint- .”
After fnrtll r di -cussing ..
Senator Morton says: “The men ftj
within several 'years, have Sp
Democratic party m solid co IH , >■■■ K
South, aatiMgSfc
ooaNt•wrtinTntij’ Roflent qW
the equal ,i 0 f mu. : ny
opinion that the body of t , ru
Democracy hu not changed in regard
to tho civil and pofitioal rights of the
negro, and that if Tildan had been elect
ed President within his 'term of four
years the fourteenth aud fifteenth amend
ments would have been substantially
overthrown.”
The Senator proceeds at length in this
forced and foolish strain, illustrating in
himself how impossible it is for men of
his stamp to progress either in morals or
polities any further than the period upon
whose events they rose into power, and
to \vhich they owe their prominence as
public men. He oioses with this charac
teristic sentence; “Should tho North by
unhappy discoid be dividod and thus fall
prey to the solid Confederate South, re
bellion will have been suppressed in vain,
the fruits of the war lost and our last
condition worse than the first.”
ARMAGEDDON.
The f.astern Hnr ■ <tn4 | Prophecies 10 bo
Piilfll led.
[Austin (Texas) Statesman.}
In view of the impending conflict in
Europe, tho followin'; may interest your
readers: About thirty years ago, a gen
tleman residing in Middle Tennessee,
and at the time at the head of one of tho
largest OB' prosperous institutions
of learning n the South, published what
purports tb boa true interpretation of
tbo prophecies contain- and in the Bible.
Tho work created a profound sensation,
for the author was well known as being
incomparable as a Hebrew and Greek
scholar, and was respected by theologians
everywhere because of his thorough
knowledge of the sacred writings. In
his work ho agrees with all tbo eminent
commentators up to a certain period,
after which his interpretations are entire
ly dilferent from any ever made, and
his arguments to sustain them aro unique
and highly interesting. It is remarkable
that Don Oftstellar, tbe great Spanish
statesman, in a brilliant article published
in the New York Herald early last year,<
takos the same ground ud eniertaina
same opinions that tho author to whom I
have alluded does in regard to the future
of this country andiiho oonlTct now or
jnenoingiii Ihr ye. mt-J
'ih - ; ’ ’.juSi
RitioiisTiiifei;. •. so valeiy, is, to say the
least, a remarkable c , incidence. But
wliat I wish to call your attention to at
this time is the following remarkable in-,
terpretation of one of the propheoies rft
Ezekiel: “The Kings of the South shall
push or butt at him, and tho King of tbo
North shall come against him like a whirl
wind, with chariots and with many
ships. ’ Russia is the power which tho
King of the South is to “push.” Tho
King of tho South is Turkey, on the
south of Russia, and tho King of
the North is Great Britain. This is
evident, he says, from its northern posi
tion as a great power, and from tho im
mense naval, as well as land forces, it
possesses. Ho says tho attack of Eng
land, or Great Britain, on Russia is to bo
great and furious but finally unsuccess
ful; for Russia will move right on. and .
moro than gain her purpose. She will,
conquer Asia Minor and tho Turkish
empire generally, and will advance on
Palestine, and “shall havo power over
treasures of gold and silver, and over all
tho precious things of Egypt.” While
engagod in these conquests, “tidings out
of the East and oat of the North shall
trouble him." The tidings from the East
and the North may be the news of the
disaffections of the Papal ppwes .nr .
account of tho superiority which ]
Russia gives to tho Greek Church, and on I
account of holy places in Judea. The!
word tidings seems alidf he says, to indi-l
cate great insurrections. He is positive!
that tho Russian empire *has two groat!
works to do: the first -is to destroy the!
Roman church in Europe, and the oiholfl
to attack the United States. He alscl
states in his book that beforo th wr/F
begins for the conquest and annihilation
of Turkey, tho French people would es
tablish a republic, and assist the United
States at the time Russia makes the it~
tack. According to this writer, the pres
ent war in Europe will become gen or:,!
and be the most fearful tho world has v
witnessed, and is to take place beforo tha
117th day of tho year 1878.
Apt Ar'aul Aid.
The following is from Rev. Henry J.
Yan Dyke’s recent sermon before the |
Northern General Assembly at
Christ is the Advocate of sinners, the|
Angel of tho Covenant, the Author anefl
Finisher of faith, the Alpha and Orncifl
ness of OCHfißfl
souls, the 'B74R|
of God, of si
Covenant, tja
stone, thejnl
vation, tiyagfe
of God,
Father -oil
living
dead ov'-ii
Heritage, the HabitatioTß
the Judge and King of s&l
of God that taketh away tho
world, the Mediator and Zvl sen l
new covenant, the Messiah of ail *he J
prophets, and tho Morning Star 01 thol
everlasting day. He is the Only begotten
of the Father, the root anil offspring of
David. He is the Prophet, the Priest,
the Prince of Peace, the Propitiation for
sin, the Physician of souls, the Power of
God unto salvation. He is the Rock, the
Ref uge, the Hansom, the Righteousness
and Resurrection of all who shall be
saved. He is the Son of God and of man?
the Seed of womaß, the Shiloh, the Sure
ty and the Shield, the Sacrifice and Sanc
tuary, the Sanctification and the Sun of
all saints. He is the Truth, the Treasure,
the Teacher, the Temple, the Incarnate
Wisdom, tho faithful and true Witness;
in short, he Is the very Word of God. In
His name all divine revelations are sum
marily comprehended.
Chicago’s Divobce.— Perr jons holdmj
decrees of divorce dbtailed in Chicagl
will be interested in Vne caae of Nelsol
F. Hood, of Aurora, Indiana, who dot fl
divorce in a lit ah court through aCincayß
lawyer married again, though 1
neve? went nearer Utah than Chicagl
Gn prosecution by his wife in Dearboll
county, Indiana, Circuit Court, Hood
been found guilty of fornicafciafu,
sentenced to pay one hundred
ancNii v month.:.’ iiuoris^jjjjgij^