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VOLUME V.
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SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, MAY 2, 1878.
LITTLE WHITE LILY.
Little white Lily
Sat hfti stone.
Drooping and waiting,
Till the sun shone.
Little white Lily,
Sunshine has fed;
Little white Lily
Is lifting her head.
Little white Lily
Said, “it is good;
Little white Lily’s
Clothing and food 1
Little white Lily
Drcst like a bride 1
Shining with whiteness,
And crown'd beside 1”
Little white Lily
Droopefch in pain,
Waiting and waiting
For the wet rain.
Little white Lily
lioldeth her cup 1
Rain is fast falling,
And filling it up.
Little white Lily
Said “good again,
When 1 am thirsty
To have a nice rain l
Now I am stronger,
Now I am cool,
Heat cannot burn mo.
My veins are so full l
Little white Lily
Smells very sweet,
On her head sunshine,
Rain at her feet.
Thunks to the sunshine l
Thanks to the rain !
Little white Lily
Is happy again !
BE HAPPY AS YOU CAN.
This life is not all Huusjiinc,
Nor is it yefc all showors,
But storms and calms alternate,
As thorns among the ilowers.
And while we seek the Otises,
The thorns full oft we scan.
Still let us, though they wound us,
Bo happy as we can.
This life has heavy crosses
As well as joys to share
Aiul griefs and disappointments
That you and I must bear.
Yet, if misfortune's lava
Entombs hope’s dearest plan,
Let us, with what is left us,
lie happy as we can.
The sum of our enjoyment
Is made of little things,
And oft the broadest rivers
Are formed from smallest springs.
By treasuring up small waters,
The rivers reach their span;
Sp wo increaso our pleasure,
Enjoying what wo can.
There may be burning deserts
Through which our feet must go.
But there are green oases,
Where pleasant palm trees grow.
And if we may not follow
The pallia our hearts would plan,
Lot us make all around us
As happy as we can,
Perhaps we may not climb with
Ambition to its goal.
Still, let us answer, “present,”
When duty calls the roll !_
And whate’er our appointment,
Be nothing less than man,
And cheerful in submission,
Be happy as we can.
The Obstructed Track.
Oh a crisp night in October, tire wind
rustled the leaves in the woods that sur
rounded Viola Vathek’s house.
Above the fair girl, who looked out of
a small dormitory window, shone countless
stars; she might have seen Bootes and
Orion had she looked up, but that night
the worlds of heaven had no attraction
for her.
She was listening to a strange sound
borne from the west by the nocturnal
breeze that chilled her cheek. I might
have said, with propriety, a succession of
sounds, for it seemed that some persons
were cording wood or moving heavy tim
bers not far away. Save this noise, tho
night was quiet, and she heard without
interruption from the window of her
boudoir.
“I believe it is in Gwynne’s Cut,” she
said, at last, to herself. ‘‘Perhaps some
villain is obstructing the track for devilish
purposes. The Red Bird will soon be
due, and this is Ed’s trip down.”
Her face grew a trifle paler, as she
spoke, aud a moment later she stood be
fore the ancient wall sweeper in ono of
the lower rooms.
The moonbeams stealing in at the win
dow, fell upon the face of the dial, and
told Viola that it was twelve o’clock.
“Twelve!” she murmured. “What!
twelve o’clock, and he whistles to me at
half past! My heavens! what if the
track is obstructed in the cut!’’
With the last word on her lips, she
turned and soon left the house.
At the gate she paused a moment and
listened. The sounds were still to be I
heard, and sho believed that they ema
nated from a spot in tho out near the
cattle-guard- Then she started forward
again, and crossed the meadow that lay
between her homo and her destination.
The stars looked down upon a little ob
ject that glittered like silver in Viola’s
hand. It was a revolver, and her fingers
held it firmly. Once or twice she glanced
at it as if to satisfy herself that it was
there. Then she looked up again with an
air of determination.
She was the belle of the country she
inhabited. Her father was dead, and,
with her widowed mother and a little
brother of twelve, she dwelt in the humble
house won by the sweat of that father’s
brow.
A railway station called Beaumont, was
the only settlement near, and it was six
miles from her home. She seldom went
thither, for there was no society there,
and she could enjoy herself bettor at
homo.
The track ef iron was tho making of
Beaumont, for the road was new, and
towns were sprieging up all along the
line. Viola could see the oars from her
window, and often had she sat thereuntil
the flaming head light of the midnight
express had appeared and disappeared.
An opening in the woods enabled her to
see the light for a moment, and then tho
lighted windows of the cars.
Did the engineer know that she was
watching—that his engine gave two shrill
shrieks as it reached the opening— two
shrieks that seemed to say, “Violal
Violal” She always smiled whon she
heard tho sounds, and with the smiles
lingering on her face, or a blush, she
would listen to the rumbling of tho train
as it died away beyond tho cramped
boundaries of uncommercial Beaumont.
That brace of shrieks, loud and shrill,
told her who drove that engine toward
the great city on the Mississippi’s bank.
They recalled the day, one year sinoc,
when the first engine sho had ever seen
stopped at Beaumont, scarcely a station
then.
The engineer was young and handsome,
and when he saw her examining the great
driving-wheels, and looking with wonder
ment upon the mighty beauties of his iron
pot, he leaped to the ground.
“A pretty piece of machinery, ” he said
to her, “and sho goes like a bird.”
She blushed when she oaugh* his eye,
and the sound of his voice thrilled her.
Overcoming her timidity, he helped her
into his cosy apartment on the engine,
and explained to hor the wondrous
mechanism of the beautiful monster.
Then he said good-bye, and she saw the
train move off, and his hat waving from
the engine was the last thing she saw as
it darted around the curve.
A week later she found herself at the
station talking to hint again. Their meet
ing seemed purely aceidenal, and no
doubt it, was such; but I am sure the
meetings that followed it were not.
By and Ly Ed Gordon, the engineer,
carried a picture over his heart, and on
Viola’s bureau lay the photographer’s
semblance of his face.
Thus the acquaintance at the station,
during the Red Bird's trial trip over the
new road, had ripened into love, and the
two midnight shrieks told her he was safe
and driving his engine toward the river
metropolis.
She sat at her window ofttimes with the
lamp on the sill, and often fancied that
she could see him leaning from his engine
with cyeH fixed to catch a glimpse of her
before the train would be swallowed up
by the woods again.
This life was excitement and joy to
Viola; but it was passing away. The
time was coming when Kd Gordon would
leave the road and accept the superin
tendency of the company's car shops in a
flourishing city.
But let me return to the October night
wheu Viola left her home to investigate
the sounds that seemed to come from
Gwynne’s Cut.
She felt that obstructions were being
placed upon the track in the dismal place.
Of late the company had incurred the
hatred of certain persons residing in the
vicinity of the station, and orice or twice
the track had been tampered with, but
fortunately to no serious extent.
The night express generally went
through the cut with undiminished speed,
for no obstruction had been encountered
there, though the cattle-guard in the
centre would assist the evil-disposed.
Viola at last reached the cut in which
the mellow moonbeams fell, and paused.
Something high and dark obstructed the
track before her, at the very spot where
the cattle-guard seemed to be, and she
held her breath. It was twelve o’clock
when she left the house, and her walk had
occupied a number of piec’ous minutes.
Tho shrieks of the Red Bird would soon
ho heard, and a moment thereafter its
head-light would flash into the out or
gorge.
Sho saw moro than a pile of strong ties
on the track. She saw the dark figure of
a m in moving about the pyramids, as if
contemplating his night’s work and spec
ulating upon the death and ruin it would
cause. She watched until she believed
that ono man had accomplished tho dia
bolical deed, then she crept forward
through the shadow of the Ln lies tint
lined the sides of tLe,cut, until she stood
within ton feet of him.
“I’ll go back to the station now,” sho
hoard him say to himself. “I can get
there before tho accident, and when it
occurs, why I can run up there and sue
him under the ruins of his engine, so
crushed that that doll-faced girl of his will
not recognize him-”
A cruel laugh rippled over his lips as
ho stepped back from the heap of ties,
several of which ha had forced into tho
guard, whero they woro wedged like posts
of iron. Ho etijoyed liis own words, and
viewed the works of his mad hands,
“I’ll crush the Red Bird,” he said,
turning away, “and put him out of my
path forever I”
The last words, full of a devil’s triumph,
still quivered on his lips, when Viola
stepped from the shadows and thrust tho
muzzle of her revolver into his face.
He started back with a cry of horror
and muttered her name.
“This is your revenge, Morgan Duke,”
said she, looking sternly into his eyes.
“Now, obey my commands, or tho re will be
a lifeless £ody on the track, to be mingled
among the ruins of the night express.
To work at oncel Off with your coat,
and remove every obstruction your wiqked
hands have placed tliorol”
Ho looked at her, and a ourse foil from
his lips.
“The train can’t bo saved now,” he
said, and there was joy fn his tones. “It
took me ono long hour to obstruct the
guard. In twenty minutes, or less per
haps, you’ll see tho Red Bird’s head-light
up tho cut. ”
“Villain!” she cried, “if this track is
not clear when I see her head-light, I’ll
drive a bulletdhr. ugh your brain I You
know what to dol I will wait no longer!”
Covered by her revolver ns he was,
Morgan Duse, the station-master, dolled
his coat and went to work-
Viola novev took her eyes from him,
and tlie silvery moon that rested over the
cut showed his every movement. He
was on the pile of ties, hurling them, one
bv ono, with the strength of a modern
Samson upon the not over-wide grade.
He worked for life, for he knew when i he
thundering train was due, and a glance at
tin; girl on the.track told him that she
won and surely kil! him if ho did not do her
hi I iing.
Once sho said to him, as iie paused for
breath before attacking the ties which he
had.driven into the cattle-guard:
“I never thought this of you, Morgan
Duke. When I rejected you, I thought
you would bear it like a man."
He replied riot, hut glanced at his
watch.
“Hail past tweivel" lie said.
“To work!" was the stern command,
and Viola stepped forward and brought
the revolver nearer his head.
Ho tugged at the tics with great
strength, and large drops of perspiration
stood out on his forehead.
“loan’t move them," he said, at last,
turning upon Viola.
“i r ou must!” was the reply.
"I drove them in with the sledge.”
“I did not hear the sound.”
“It was deadened with my coat.”
The girl's face grew paler than evor,
and she glanced fearfully up the cut.
“Take them out!" she said, suddenly;
“the train is coming! I hear it!”
The villainous station-master heard the
rumbling, and again turned to the tios.
"You have your choice!” Vi da said
to him. “A bullet or an unobstructed
trackl"
Sho watched him as woman never
watohed man before. She knew that he
was dfiing ali that could be dona to undo
his wioked work, and while she watched,
her heart grew still beneath the rumble
of the express.
He’ll soon call me," she said to herself.
“Thore! there!”
The familiar shrieks cleft tho cool Oc
tober air, but they brought no joy to her
heart. She was not at the old window
beside the light ho loved to hail from his
engine. Perhaps she would bo the first
to kiss his cold brow beneath tho stars in
Gwynne’s Cut. She almost shouted for !
joy wheu she saw the first tie drawn from !
the guard by the desperate man. 1
NUMBER 18.
“Quick! the sledge! break the guard!”
sho cit'd.
“Gods! I never thought, of that!” he
said, and the next moment ho was shat
tering the long guard with tho hoavy
sledge.
At last the piece was broken, and ho
thrust the other ties down into tho long
opening ho had made.
At that moment, the train, rounding
the ourvo, dashed into the cut, and tho
flashing head-light, not twenty feet away,
almost blinded the eyes of the twain.
Morgan Duko stepped from the traok
| and ti ew himself upon the heap of dis
; ordered ties, utterly exhausted. lie saw
i triumph in tho girl's eyes, and watched
j her a.s the train came on.
[ O lor (length to hurl her upon tho
track and beneath the wheels of the thun
dering train! ller revolver had . ceased
to coyer him. but ho could not have lift
ed even a child.
The train dashed by I Viola saw her
lovor’H face for a moment, and an exclama
tion of thankfulness welled from her
heart. He was safe, and the precious
lives that he carried westward had escaped
Morgan Duke’s machinations!
“You’re a worker, Morgan Duke,”
said sho to him, smiling. “Wo will sep
arate hero.”
He looked at her a moment in silence.
“Are you going to tell?” lie asked
“Such men as you are dangerous,” she
replied.
“Then you are going to exposo me?”
“I am.”
' He did not reply.
They parted forever thore. Morgan
Duke was never oaught by the thb officers
of the law: but justice afterward over
took him. The iron wheels of a railway
train crushed him on the Wrack.
The company presented Viola a beau
tiful house, when her husband took charge
of tho car shops. I know she will never
forget bar night, in G Wynne’s Cut with
her rejected lover.
George Shoenberger, a butcher, living
a mile from Huntsville, Ala., was shot
and instahtly killed at his own pate, at
Z'A M., 13th ult. Three negroes were
tracked from the spot to the slaughter
house of MTft'6 'White, another butcher,
aud arrested. They confessed their guilt,
hut said that Whito bird hired them to
loit. White was comtnitwd to jail. The
excif 'i nt was great, and continued to
ine. ■. bveninv, Vrlieh* a mob
sta r :.i •' 1 ' jail, but 'waa repulsed. A
ore ' many tie have been stolen lately
:<r< . id tiurii villa, and it in thought that
White was tr nrnirtent among the thieves,
whi' ■ Bho'enberger is known tohavo been
particularly active in ferreting them out.
This is supposed to have been tbeinotive
that led to the crime. On the f Bth inst.,
hundreds of mounted men came hito town,
and at ones broke open the jail, took out
White and two of tho nogrooS, and hung
them to the same limb. White died
protesting his Innocence, but tho negroes
confessed their guilt, and affirmed his.
On the 13tH ult., a fire broke out in
Clarksville,,‘frann.,’ and \could . not be
stopped uutiPall the business part of tho
town was consumed. It is thought that
the place was’sot' cri fire by tho negroes in
| icvenge for Hits' killing of one of their
! cumber by a policeman while attempting
. o evade arrest, ami for the lynching of a
-egro a few weeks before, for attempting
to ravish a young lady. The fire broke
out while the coroner’s jury were investi
gating his death. Most of the negroes
refused to help, and mar.y pf them gave
trouble to the whites who were trying to
extinguish the firo. Six whites and three
blocks were appointed a committee to in
vestigato tho killing and the fire. Esti
mated loss, $500,000.
Doubtless all bur readers remember the
suit brought by Theodore Tilton against
Itcv. 11. VV. Beecher, for adultery with
Mrs. Tilton. A few weeks ago, Mr. and
Mrs. Tilton agreed to live together, and
now she has acknowledged, in a letter
which, by her own request, has been
published, that the charge is true. Sho
liad previously confessed verbally to five
ladies of Plymouth Church, giving all the
particulars. Mr. Beocher denies tho
charge flatly and explicitly. One of his
counsel during the trial says that Mr.
Beecher has been frequently applied te
for money to aid Mrs. Tilton, with the
threat that, if the money was not forth
coming, something would turn up.
> i
A few days ago, a sugar-houso and a
gin-house wero burned near Nfcw Iberia,
hi. A negro was taken up on suspicion,
confessed bis guilt, and was hanged., He
admitted that lie set firo to another
sugar-house some months ago.