HtLTNTAx£A., SUNDAY, QCT
THE GAZETTE MEN AMONG THE POLI
Our Home District The Blazing Seventh —Harris’
Walk-over iu the Fourth—The County Races—
*- s>ws From All Quarters —A Glance
V at the Future.
HAMMOND AND ARNOLD.
The campaign of the Fifth District has been
focussed in Fulton for the past week.
Both sides seemed to appreciate the neces
sity of attending to the 5,000 votes that will
be cast in this county. Last Saturday’s bar
(becue at Buckhead seemed to show the Ham
mond men that there was work to do at home,
and they have spent a week in doing it. A
i right smart tussle occurred at Brooklyn on
Wednesday night, and a field battle was set
~ for Saturday night.
HAMMOND HAS GAINED STEADILY
every day. He has improved wonderfully in
political speaking, having pretty well ridden
himself of the dry court manner, and taken
on a popular style.
Everytime the candidates meet. Hammond
makes votes. His unquestionable superior- 1
ity over Arnold is so clearly demonstrated ■
that none but the most hide-bound partisans .
can stand the comparison. The canvass is
also exposing the weakness of the Arnold
movement, Itnd showing that there is no bot
tom in it. lhe people are finding out that
Hammond stands on quite as green a green
back platform as Arnold, and being a much ■
abler man, can do more for the cause.
THE LOWER END OF THE DISTRICT
is literally solid for Hammond. The whites I
cannot be divided, and they will control the i
negroes. There is still some disaffection in
Clayton and Spalding, with a taint in DeKalb
and Fayette. Gen. Gordon will speak in
three of these counties.
We are stronger than ever convinced that I
Arnold will not carry a single county in the j
district, and that Hammond will get from
500 to 2,000 majority in Fulton county. His :
general majority will run from 3,000 to 9,000. :
THE HIGH OLD SEVENTH.
There are no new developments in the I
Seventh, beyond the fact that Gen. Gordon
has taken the stump for Lester, and sets a
tidal wave in motion. There is no man in |
Georgia of Gen. Gordon’s personal popular
ity. He is universally beloved. He has had I
thousands at every appointment to hear him,
and has struck sledge-hammer blows. The
Felton papers have begun to abuse him in a
most shameful manner, which has aroused
his friends to vigorous action. Gen. Gordon
will make several speeches yet in the Sev
enth. His addresses are masterly and con
vincing appeals for harmony and Democracy.
ADVICES FROM THE DISTRICT.
“ Rome, Oct. 11th. —In reply, will say that
! loyd will give Lester 500 majority at. least ■
figures. This will be a change of 693 from
Felton. It may go to 800 majority. Tn
Chattooga the majority will be increased 250
to 300 votes. I know nothing reliable from
- Marietta, Oct. 10th.—-Of bourse, it is
sale to bet that Cobb will go for Lester. It
cannot give him less than 300 majority, and j
it may give 700. It gave Felton about 200
majority in 1876. sou may rely upon this.” '
A gentleman from Marietta, who knows
the inside of the track, says: “ Gordon’s
coming into the district will not elect Lester,
because he was elected before. Gordon has
_ “hanged hundreds of votes and created un- !
'jSSßgfleled enthusiasm, but the fight was
whipped before*he came. How? i n.» •
Lester will gain 300 votes in Murray, 200 in (
Dade, 300 in Walker, 300 in Chattooga, 150
in Catoosa and 150 in Paulding. Belton will .
lose 800 in Bartow and 600 in Cherokee.
This is a change of 2,900 votes. Besides this, '
Floyd will give us a change of 500, and Cobb
nearly as much. Polk is uncertain, while
Haralson and Whitfield show few changes.
Gordon has not been thoroughly worked, but
we hope it will give us a gain of several hun
dred. Lester'cannot be beaten!"
There is still three weeks of work in the
Seventh, and things may be changed, but we
do not well see how Felton can make it. The
betting is very heavy, and is usually even.
THE FOURTH DISTRICT.
In this district matters have been very
much simplified by the retiracy of Col. R. J.
Moses. This movement will consolidate the
opposition to CoL Harris on Mr. Henry Per
Col. Harris is, however, very confident of a
re-election, and the chances seem to favor
him very decidedly. He was in the city this
week, and says that he feels sure of carrying
every county except Talbot, and possibly
Coweta and Harris. His election is almost
one of the certainties.
THE NINTH DISTRICT.
The friends of Mr. Speer in the 9th are
showing more spirit in the canvass, and are
very hopeful of the result. It is conceded on
all sides that Speer will carry Habersham,
Pickens, Fannin, Union, Franklin, Hall and
Banks. His friends claim Clarke, Towns,
Oconee, Jackson and Morgan, and claim his
election by from 500 to 1,500 majority. Mr.
Rucker, who has been doing excellent work
for Billups, claims that Speer will be beaten
about 2,000 votes.
The race is quite uncertain. An Atlanta
man who didn’t think so was taken up the
other day in Athens on a bet of SSO, even, he
backing Billups. Both candidates are hard
at whrk, canvassing every day.
ABBOTT OR ROACH.
The legislative race in the country shows
up strong for Abbott. Mr, Roach, by openly
proclaiming himself for Arnold, has alienated
Hammond’s friends, who will center on Ab
Abbott is developing a very great personal
popularity, and will poll a large number of
greenback votes. If he only gets Hammond’s
votes, however, he will be handsomely elected.
He is a much abler man than Dr. Roach, and
will take a better stand in the Legislature.
The people know this fact, and will show it
by their votes. Dr. Roach is an indomitable
worker, but he has been beaten, and can be
beaten again, and Abbott is going to do it.
This is the season when the girl, whose
stdrn father has kicked her lover out-doors,
packs up a few things, writes an eight-page
letter to her mother, drops a clothes-line from
her chamber window, and at midnight, when
silence reigns, raises the sash, sees how dark
it is, and —jumps into bed as fast as she can.
A grey hair was espied among the raven
locks of a charming young lady. “Oh. pray
pull it out, ” she exclaimed. ‘lf I pull it out
ten more will come to the funeral replied
the one who made the unwelcome discovery.
“ Pluck it ont. nevertheless, ” said the dark
haired damsel: “it’s no consequence how many
come to the funeral, provided they all come
in black. ”
“ Nothing. " says the Bazar, “ looks sweeter
in a little girl than a white muslin princess
dress. ” Doesn’t it, old lady ? If you will just
happen around here some time when our
voung man man is looking his sweetest ona
little girl of seventeen years old, you will
blush for the tame, expressionless stupidity of
a muslin dress. And we’ll leave it to the little
girl herself, which of the two looks sweeter on
1 THE STORY OF a LITTLE HEROINE
1 Bow a T«ung Lire Struggled fliwtgi’ : Martyrd >m an
Starvation to iti Duty. j, ’
RY H. w, C.
Atlanta, Ga., October 8.
hi nee my experience with the ease of “ Sal-
I lie. I feel a hesitation in presenting a new
heroine to the attention of the public.
,j You see, Ido not mind the real sorrow that
I experienced when my sincere efforts to im
prove the condition of this child same to
naught. But I was staggered and sickened
I by the fact that most of my friends were re
joiced at her downfall.
I do not remember anything that gave more
genuine joy to the town than the relapse of
this wretched girl into the slums from which
I she had been lifted. It was the occasion
of general hilarity—this falling back of an
immortal soul into Death—this terrible spec
| taele of a child staggering blindly from sun
light into shame. I was poked in the ribs
facetiously. A perfect shower of chuckles
fell on my ear. Jt was the joke of the sea
son —this triumph of the Devil over the body
!of a girl. One mad young wag, who, with a
. keen nose for a joke, followed her into her
haunts of crime, came back, his honest face
: convulsed with laughter, and bearing on his
• lips a statement from her, to the literal effect
j that “ I was a d—d fool.”
I was staggered, I say, at the enjoyment
created by the downfall of this girl. For L,y-1
self, I can hardly imagine a more pitiful sight
than her childish figure, as with faee averted ,
and hands raised, blinded by the white light •
’ of virtue and bewildered -by her new condition, |
, she slipped back, in despair, to her old shame. !
1 may be a “ d—d fool,’ but I cannot find the |
heart to laugh at that.
MY FRIEND AND 1.
I don’t know how it is, but I have a mania for
looking into cases of this sort. It is not phi- I
lanthropy, with me; it is a disease.
I At the editorial desk, I sit opposite a young
I man of a high order of mind.
He makes it a point to compass the prob
lems of nations. I dodge them. He has
. settled, to his own agreement, every Euro
pean problem of the past decade. Those
I problems have settled me. He soars —I j
i plod. Once in awhile, when be yearns !
■ for a listener;- he reaches down for my
’ scalp, and lifts me up to his altitude, where
• I shiver and blink, until his talented fingers
I relax, and I drop home. It delights him to
■ adjust his powerful mind to the contempla
tion of contending armies—l swash around
with the swarm that hangs about me.
His hero is Bismarck, that phlegmatic mira
cle that has yoked impulse to an ox, and hav
ing made a chess-board of Europe, plays a
quiet game with the Pope. My hero is a ■
blear-eyed sot, that having for four years !
waged a gigantic battle with Drink, and alter
nated between watery Reform and positive I
I remens, is now playing a vague and losing I
game with Spontaneous Combustion. My 1
I friend discusses Bismarck’s projects with a
i vastness of mind that actually makes his dis- i
course dim, and I slip off to try my hero’s I
temper, and see whether I shall have him '
wind his intoxicated arms about my neck and i
envelop me in an atmosphere of Whisky and ■
Reform, or fall recumbent in the gutter, his I
weak but honest face upturned to the sky, and
his moist, white hand working vaguely up- I
wards from his placid breast, in token of ab
Bismarck is a Bigger man than Bob.
But I can t help thinkingthat Bobisengaged
in the most desperate and thrilling conflict.
Anyhow, I had rather see his watery eyes
grow clear and his paroxysmal arms grow
steadfast, than to see Bismarck wipe out every
potentate .in Europe. It’- a gr».-.-<. fL; nc - < o ..
watch the conflicts of kings, and See nations i
embattled rushing against each other. But
there are greater and deeper conflicts waged
in our midst every day, when the legions of
despair swarm against stout hearts, and Hun
ger and Suffering storm the citadel of human
But I started to tell you of my new heroine.
Her name is Jane.
She presented herself one morning about
three months ago. A trim, slender figure,
the growth of nine years. It was such a
small area of poverty that_l felt capable of
attending to it myself. But I remembered
that small beggars usually represent produc
tive but prostrated parents and a brood of
children. The smaller the beggar the larger
the family. I therefore summoned the good
little woman who guides my household affairs.
She claims to be an expert in beggars. She
has certain tests that she applies to all comers.
Her fundamental rule is that all applicants
are entitled to cold bread upon first call.
After this she either grades them up to cake
and preserves, or holds them to scraps- I
remember that she kept Col. Nash on dry
biscuit for thirteen months, while other appli
cants have gone up to pie in three visits. I
never felt any hesitation in taking her judg
ment after that, for of all wheedling mendi
cants Col. Nash, the alleged scissors grinder,
takes the lead.
But Jane was not a beggar. She carried
on her arm a basket. It was filled with some
useless articles that she wanted to sell. Would
the lady look at them ? Oh! of course!
They were bits of splints embroidered with
gay worsted. What were they for? Why,
she didn’t know. She just thought some one
might buy them, and she needed some money
“Who is your mother?”
“I haven’t any. She is dead. I have a
“What-does he do?”
“He’s sick most of the time. He works
when he is well.”
“What’s his name?”
(Saints! My “Bob!” Sick indeed! The
Jane was asked in, and I began to investi
-1 gate. 1 learned that this child was literally
' alone in the world. She had a sister, a puny
two-year-old, and a drunken father—my flabby
friend. They lived in a rickety hovel, out of
which the last chair had been sold to pay the
rent. The mother, a year an invalid, had
been accustomed to work little trifles in
splints and worsted. She dying, the child
picked up the splints, and worked grotesque
baby fancies in wood and worsted. She had
no time for weeping. Her hunger dried her
eyes. The cooing baby by her side, crying for
! bread, made her forget the dead mother. So
■ she fashioned the splints together and with a
brave heart went out to sell them.
Bob reformed at the bed-side of his dying
wife. Possibly at that moment the angels
that had come to guide the. woman home
swept away the mist of the man s debauch,
and gave him a glimpse of the pure life that
I lay behind. Certain it is that his moist, un
| certain hands crept vaguely up the cover till
I they caught the wasted cheeks of his wife, and
his shaggy head bent down till his quivering
I lips found her’s. And the poor wife, yield
i ing once more to the love that had outlived
I shame and desertion, turned her eyes from
i her children and fixed them on her husband.
, Ah! how this earthly hope and this earthly
I love chased even the serenity of Heaven from
her face, and lighted it with tender rapture!
I How quickly this drunkard supplanted God
in the dying woman’s soul! “ Oh. Bob ! my
darling!” she gasped, and raising her face
i towards him with a masterful yearning, she
died. “Mother didn't seem to know we were
' there after father came,” Jane told me. And
I I wondered if the child had not been hurt.
■■l • n —.------ - - -
I . _
Mil -■ fTR • jB- - r
ATLANTA, GEORGIA, SUND.& MORNING, OCTOBER 6, 1878.
that all her months of patient love and watch-
■ ing had been forgotten in a tempest of love
for a vagabond husband that had wrought
nothing but disaster and death.
i After the funeral through which he went,
in a dazed sort of stupor, Bob got drunk. I
j don’t know why or how. He seemed tenderer
: since then than before. I noticed that he re
formed oftener and got over it quicker. A
piece of crape that Jane bad fixed about his
hat seemed to possess sacred properties to
■ him. When he touched it and swore absti
nence, he generally held out two or three
days. One night, as he lay in the gutter, a
I cow, full of respect for his person, and yet
■ unable to utterly control her hunger, chewed
i his hat. Since then he seemed to have lost
I his moorings, and drifted about on a current
| less drunk.
He was always kind to Jane and the little
biddie. In his maudlin way he would caress
I them, and cry over them, and reform with
them, and promise to work for them. Even
when he ate their last crust of bread, he ac
companied the action with a sort of fumbling
pomposity that robbed it of its horror. He
never did it without promising to go out at
once and bring back a sack of flour. Onee
he went so high as to promise four sacks. So
I that the child in love like her mother with the
■ old rascal, and like her mother fresh always
in faith, was rather rejoiced than otherwise
when he ate the bread. Did he bring the
"Why, how could he? They had to bring
him home. So of course I did not blame him.
I must do Bob the justice to say that he
never earned a cent in all these days that he
did not intend giving to Jane. Os course he
never did it, but I desire him to have the
credit of his intention. If the Lord held the
| best of us strictly to performance and ruled
out intention, we wouldn't be much better in
I his sight than Bob is in ours.
‘ One day I was sitting behind a window
, looking at Jane, who stood in the kitchen
j door. Her oldish-looking, chipper little face
was turned straight to me. It was a pretty
I face. The brown eyes were softened with
' suffering, and fear and anxiety had driven all
color from her thin cheeks. I noticed that
her mouth was never still. Though she was
. alone and silent, her lips quivered and trem-
I bled all the time. At times they would break
: into a dumb sob. Then she would draw them
firmly together. Again they would twitch
convulsively in the terrible semblance of |a
smile. Then in that pretty, feminine way
she would pucker them together.
Long suffering had racked the child until
she was all awry, and her nerves were plung
ing through her tender frame like devils.
“Jane, were you ever hungry?”
“Sir!” and she started painfully, while her
of scarlet into Ker cheek's. She was a proud
little body and never talked of her sorrows.
May the Lord forgive me for having re
peated the question.
“ Sometimes, sir, when I couldn’t sell any
thing. Last Saturday we had only some
bread for dinner. We never had anything
else till Sunday night. I wouldn’t have
minded it then, but Mary cried so for bread
that I went out, and a lady that I knew gave
me some things.”
Now, think of that. From a crust at Sat
urday noon, on nothing till Sunday night.
Os all the abundant marketing of Sat
urday evening; of all the roasts, and loaves,
and cakes; of all the luxuries of Sunday
breakfast and dinner, not a crumb for this
poor child. While we were dressing our chil
dren for their trip to Sunday-school, or their
romp over the hills, this poor child, gnawed
by hunger, deserted by her drunken father,
holding a starving baby, sat crouched in a
hovel, given up to despair and hopelessness.
And that, too, within sound of the bells that
made the church-steeples thrill with music,
and called God’s people to church 1
A friend who had heard Jane’s storj’ had
given me three dollars for her. I gave it to
her, and told her that as her rent was paid,
she could with this lay in some provisions.
She was crying then, but she dried her eyes
and hurried off
“ Will you please come here and look?”
called a lady whose call I always obey, about
an hour afterward.
I went, and there stood Jane, flushed and
“ I declare I am astonished at this child !”
said the lady.
And therewith she displayed Jane’s pur
chases. A little meal and meat had been
sent home. The rest she had with her. First,
there was a goblet of strained honey ; then a
bundle of candy “for the baby;” a package
of tea “ for father,” and a chip straw hat,
with three gayly-colored ribbons, “ for her
self.” And that’s where the money had
“ I am just put out with her,” said the ar
bitress of my affairs, after Jane had gathered
up her treasures and departed. “To waste
i her money like that! I can imagine how the
poor, half-starved child couldn’t help buying
the honey-goblet; 1 should die myself if I didn't
have something sweet; but how in the world
she came to buy that hat and ribbons I can’t
see I” <
Ah I blue-eyed woman ! There’s a yearn
in the feminine soul stronger than hunger.
There’s a passion there that starvation cannot
conquer. The hat and ribbons were bought
in response to that craving. The hat, 111 bet
thee, was bought before the honey—aye, be
fore the meal or meat “ Can’t understand
it?” Then, my spouse, I’ll explain: Jane is
a woman !
I must confess that I was pleased at the
misdirection of Jane's funds. Have you
ever had a child deep in a long-continued
stupor from fever ? How delighted yon were
then when, tempted by some trifle, he gave
signs of eagerness ! So I was rejoiced to see
! that the long years of suffering had not
■ crushed hope and emotion out of this girl’s
| The tea and the candy showed that her
i affections, working up to the father and drawn
:to the baby, were all right. The honey gave
. evidence that the fresh impulses of childhood i
had not been nipped and chilled. The hat j
and ribbons—best and most hopeful purchase
of all—proved that the womanly vanity and
love of prettiness still fluttered in her young
, soul. Nothing is so charming and so femi
nine in woman as the passion for dress.
■ Laugh at it as we may, I think men will agree
. that there is nothing so pathetic as a young
woman out of whom all hope of fine appear-
DEVOTED TO GOSSIP AND LETTERS.
ance has been pressed. A gay ribbon is the
: sign in which woman conquers. I wager rtmt
; Eve made a neat, many-colored thing of fig
But to return to Jane.
I know that this desultory sketch should be
closed with something unusual. Jane should
die or get married. But she’s too young for
either. And so her life is just running on as
ever. She plods the streets as she
do. She has quit selling the flaming scraps
she used to sell, and now knits her young but i
resolute brow over crochet work, which sbJ
sells at marvellous prices. Her path is
with more sunshine than ever before, and q.t
. Sunday-school she is as smart a little w-omaji
as can be seen. If the shadow of a stagger
ing figure, that falls so often across .be;
course, could be lifted, she would have littje
else to grieve- over. Not that she complains
of this—-not a bit of it. “ Poor father is sick
so much. How can he be expected to work?”
And so she goes on, with her woman’s nature
clinging to him closer than ever; even as tlKc
ivy clings to the old ruin. Hiding his shame
from the world, wrapping him in the pleni
tude of her faith, and binding up his shattered
resolves with her heart strings.
And as for Bob:
I am strongly tempted to tell a lie, and say
that he is either sober or dead. But he is nei
ther. He is the same shiftless, irresponsible
fellow that I have known for three years. His
face is heavier, his eyes are smaller, his nose
redder, his flesh more moist .than ever. But'
in the depth of his debauch there seems to
have been winged some idea of the excellence
of Jane’s life, and the fineness of her martyr
dom. He catches me anywhere he sees me,
and falling on my shirt-front, weeps copious
tears of praise and pop-skull, while talking of
her. He swears by her.
By the way, I must do him justice. Yes
terday he came to me very much affected. He
was white-lipped, and trembling, and hungry.
He had spent the night in the gutter, and the
policeman who was scattering the disinfect
ing lime, cither careless or wise beyond his
kind, had powdered him all over. He seemed
to be terribly in earnest. He raised his tre.r
bling hand to his hat and touched the pie. ■
where the erape used to be, and swore that fat
intended to reform, for good and all. “S’ei;
me Jane!” he said.
1 have not seen him since. I hope that tlw
iron has at last entered his soul and will hold
him steadfast. Ha! that sounds like him
stumbling up the steps now. 'JHey! he has
rolled back to the bottom ! He»e he c'6mes I
again. That must be him’ “ OF-^-ourse!'
BOOKR AND AUTHC 'S. J
Chatty Notes of the Famous Literary Folks-
Scott s novels.
Edward Eggleston’s “Roxy” has gone to a
“The College Book,” an illustrated history
of twenty-four of the leading American col
leges and universities, will be out this fall.
French papers say there is but little doubt
but that Victor Hugo is insane, although his
friends, try to conceal the fact. He still
The next number of The Nineteenth Cen
tury will contain an article from Mr. Ar
chibald Forbes, narrating his experience in
The Latin poems of Leo XIII. are to be
published in Spain with translations into
Spanish of Signor Bonghi’s “Leo XIII. and
“Peep of day,” the most successful juve
nile book of Mrs. Favell Lee Mortimer, who
has just died in England, had a total sale of
The October number of the Atlantic
Monthly has been reprinted to meet the
demand created by the striking article on
"Certain Dangerous Tendencies in American
Tennyson has written, or.at lea; sis writing,
a new idyll, "The Daughter of Dervarghal,”
founded on a romantic passage in Irish his
tory, and having its scenery and incidents
wholly in Ireland. It was to study the ground
that the laureate recently visited the green
A Dublin critic reviews a book, and then
says in a postscript: "Passages that 1 con
sider to be unsuitable for the perusal of little
boys and girls are to be found in pages 61,
63, 64, 138, 1 17, 148, 151, 156, 221, 223, 212,
243, 314, 343.” Little boys and girls will
thus be saved much trouble.
American writers are looking up in Eng
land. Bret Hart has one of his dialect stories
in Belgravia ; "Mark Twain’s” articles are
regularly reprinted in London; W. W. Story
is a regular contributor to Blackwood ', Henry
James, Jr., E. S. Nadal, Mrs. Louise Chan-
dler Moulton, Rev. Leonard W. Bacon, and
Mrs. Bennett, are on the writers in Macmil
lan's; Bayard Taylor and Edgar Fawcett
are writing poetry for the English Magazines.
The New York Evening Post says that the
Bryant-Duyckniek Shakspeare, a work on
which these two eminent scholars spent the
best part of their later years, will not be
published for some time to come. Their pur
pose was to furnish “the most perfect and at
the same time the most superbly made popu
lar edition of Shakspeare which has ever
been published, and to that end both money and
labor have been spent upon it without stint.”
The text is founded upon that of the folio of
1623, which has been followed very closely,
except in those cases where the readings in
the later folios and quartoes are manifestly
improvements. The illustrations are to be the
best of which modern art is capable. The
costumes and architecture of the times and
countries in which the plays and poems are
placed are to be accurately reproduced; and
everything that can be done to make the let
ter-press attractive and faultless is to be pro
vided for before the work is begun.
These evenings are cool enough to get an
arm and shoulder under a pretty girl’s shawl,
if she’ll let y T ou.
Ohio girls discovered that they would re
move freckles, and it was all very nice until
they further ascertained that it would also
bring out pimples and ring-worms. Even sour
milk won’t make angels of women.
“ The girls of our days are very badly edu
cated,” said one of the members of committee
on education to the Bishop ot Gloucester..
“That’s very true,” retorted his lordship;
“ however, there is one consolation —the boys
never find it out.”
A young lady, hesitating for a word in de
scribing the character of a rejected suitor.l
said : “ He is not a tyrant, not exactly domi-
■ neering, but—” “ Dogmatic,” suggested her I
i friend. " No, he has not dignity enough for i
that; I think pupmatic would convey my
meaning admirably. ’
Lady (calling on intimate friend, who is j
unmarried, and has only one servant): “ Is
your mistress at home, Sarah ? Sarah: “No, i
mum.” Lady: “Then will you kindly say i
that I called to see if she could come and ,
spend this evening with us?” Sarah: “ Oh,
no, mum, I’m sure she can’t, cause it s my
i THE WICKED WORLD.
the NOTABLE CRIMES AND CASUALTIES
OF THE WEEK.
‘ A Father and his Son—A Lynching in Ohio—Au In
formal Hanging in Tennessee —“ Who’s
Managing this Hanging ?
A TRYING POSITION.
| The Cincinnati Enquirer.
i New York, October 7.—James McManus
and his son, James McManus, jun., quarreled
on Easter Sunday morning last, in their home
at 537 West Forty-second street. Mrs. Mc-
Manus, the mother, interfered, pushed her
husband into the bed-room, closed the door
and stood outside until all was quiet within.
T hen she entered the bed room. A moment
afterward young McManus heard his mother
cry out. lie entered and saw his mother ly
ing on the floor with a gaping wound on her
I head. She died soon afterward. In the trial
to-day, after being told to testify, the young
I man said : “It is hard for you, gentlemen, to
make me go against my- own father” —his
[ eyes filling and his face flushing—“partieu
; larly' as I know in my heart that he would not
I have hurt one hair of her head. He was cra
zy. The eyes of Judge Gildersleeve, the
jurors, the spectators, and even Mr. Lyon,
Judge Gildersleeve told young McManus
that he must answer or be held guilty’ of con
tempt of court. Mr. Lyon gently repeated
.the question. “I would rather not answer,”
young McManus replied, with a tinge of firm
ness in his voice. Mr. Lyon repeated the
question. “ I would rather be held for con
tempt of court than answer.” young McManus
exclaimed. Mr. Lyon seemed loth to move
that he be committed for contempt, and even
moie gently pressed the question. “I don’t
remember,” blurted out young McManus.
Then Mr. Lyon unrolled a blood-stained spade,
that apparently- had not been struck into the
earth, and asked young McManus whether he
did not see his father standing over his mo
ther with the spade in his hand, but young
McManus declined to answer. Then he was
permitted to quit the stand, Mr. Lyon being
disinclined to move that he be punished.
Officer Thomas Dalton, of the Forty-sev
enth street police, testified that young McMa- ■
nus told him that the elder McManus struck
Mrs. McManus with the spade just as he
opened the door.
“WHEN YOU HEAR ME!"
Dispatch to the Chicago Times.
Eaton, Ohio, October 7.—One year ago
Darke county vigilantes summoned a sus
pected thief from his house at Palestine, and
when standing in front of his wife, shot him
dead. Several other men were warned by
the Vigilance Committee to leave the county.
About a month ago Stephen Whade, a col
ored man, fifty years of age, received notice
to leave Darke county within thirty days or
suffer the vengeance of the committee, as he
was strongly suspected of being a member of
the same gang of thieves so terribly punished
<a year ago.
cj-. —:... t ~iw
the lawless band. His two sons armed them
selves and swore they would stand by the old
man. About ten o’clock last Saturday night
there was an unusal commotion in the quiet
little hamlet of Tampico, four miles from Pal
estine, for from various cross-roads came
singly and in squads silent horsemen, until
iu an adjacent grove half a hundred or more
Then the supposed leader of these unknown
cavalrymen in a low voice issued orders; the
men quickly masked and otherwise disguised
themselves, and each man with a gun or re
volver road out into the road, where they
were numbered off, and four officers rode at
the side of the column which moved out to
the lonely house of Whade.
When the leader, after summoning the ne
gro to open the door, and being refused ad
mittance, said: “Your time is up; come out
and pay the penalty for your crimes,” Whade
attempted to escape by a window from the
front of the house, when the command “Every
body aim, now; one, two, three, fire,’ was
given, and a perfect volley poured through
Whade fell a horribly mingled corpse. The
house bears the appearance of having with
stood a regular siege, the windows through
which they fired being entirely demolished.
The mob searched a few moments for the
boys who at their appearance had secreted
themselves in a barn, where they dared not
use their guns.
It is expected the vigilants will return
within a few days to settle with the young
Whades unless they leave. This body of
armed men undoubtedly is a regularly organ
ized body of country people, who are called
together whenever they cannot get satisfac
tion by process of law.
The neighborhood has suffered much, and
there has been considerable loss of stock and
grain, and other depredations committed.
Farmers have been terrorized to prevent
prosecution of suspected criminals. One of
! the leaders shouted when riding away: “Boys,
1 if you hear me talking, remember we mean
’ business when we call again ”
LYNCHING A DEMON.
Franklin, Oct. 7.—The lynching of John
Thomas last night was one of the most excit
ing events ever known in this section. As the
noise of the evening train died away, in the field
opposite the depot some one yelled in an ex
cited voice, “ Help ! catch him !” The few
who had lingered saw James Shannon run
ning after a negro. Leaving his pursuer fur
tber every step, the fugitive, springing up the
embankment, had jumped on the track and
dashed toward Nashville, Shannon cried:,
"Oh! for God's sake catch him; he’s
ruined my little girl I”
The despairing cry of the heart-broken
father acted like electricity on all. Many
took the lower track on foot; some jumped
in buggies and drove around the Nashville
bridge to flank him ; others ran up town call
ing for help. In a few moments the town was
astir. Every horse was in requisition. In
an incredibly short time, we were all over the
fields north of Franklin searching everything
that could conceal a man. Shannon came
up reeling and falling, his face livid, saying:
“Oh, Lord, boys, I’m ruined! My poor
child! my poor baby I”
Just after getting into Major Johnson’s
field, while looking around everywhere for the
fugitive, we espied him on the south face oi
Roper’s Knob, running in an oblique direc
tion across. We called to the crowd ahead,
and they, changing their course, took after
him. Soon horsemen went toward him at a
furious gait, but when within a couple of hun
dred yards he, thinking the game going over
the Knob, ran to the left on the northern
slope, and the negro, turning down, ran out
of sight into the thickets on the southern
Now the hillsides were covered with pursu
ers. Relieving he was hid in the thickets,
■ they spread all over the hills, but the negrc
Iran straight on, without, stopping, into Me
; Ewen's cow-pasture beyond the hills, away oil
ito the east. He came upon an open clover
| field, and while crossing a hill in it, the pur-
I suers on top of Roper’s Knob saw him.
I The horsemen, by this time increased tc
' scores, dashed madly forward, and on Mr
| Cliffe’s farm, after a chase of about four miles
I Thomas was brought to bay. The negrc
; drew a pipe, presenting it as if a pistol, anc
warned his pursuers to stand or he would fire
The answer was a blow with a loaded whij
over the head. Others coming up repeatec
| the blows until he surrendered. The sheriff
■ ran up, seized him, and said :
: “ Gentlemen, he is my prisoner. Stand i
’ back 1”
But they made a rush at the Sheriff, and
ordered him to stand aside.
They forcibly took the man away, when a
yell of satifaction went up from the assembled
. Down to the load they went pell-mell to
greet the successful pursuers. They moved
I slowly along the road. It was agreed without
' a .word that he should die speedily on the
roadside. Just within a large field they
came to a large oak with horizontal limb's
I outstretched. In profound silence they dis- i
mounted and went over the fence. ~ I
“ Who’s bossing this job ?” coolly asked
the prisoner, a likely young mulatto about
twenty years eld.
“ We are all bosses,” said one.
“ Are you going to let me hang all night?” '
“We are going to let you hang until buz '
zards eat you up.”
“ All right, then ; go ahead,” he remarked,
with the most perfect Sang froid.
“ Don’t you want to pray ?” asked one.
“ Then get at it.”
He knelt at the foot of the tree and at-;
tempted to pray, ■fcut his head continually ;
turned from his devotions to watch the prep- J
arations around him. When he had knelt j
five minutes he sprang up, and signified his
readiness to be hanged.
“ What have you got to say ?”
“ Nothing, only I did rape the child T’
“ What did you do it for ?”
“ Because 1 couldn’t help it.”
Several attempts were made to shoot him,
but these were prevented. He confessed in
full; gave all the revolting particulars with
out showing any signs of fear or remorse.
“ You are going to hang me,” he said. “ I
want you to remember there is a Judgment
Day. I wish it were here to-day.”
“ It will be here, so far as you are con
cerned, very quickly.”
"Why didn’t you hang Bill Youngman and
them other boys, who raped a negro girl some
time ago?” he asked.
(The boys he mentioned were colored, and
had been tried, but acquitted.)
“ ’Cause she was dar own color, and if you
had stuck to your own color dey wouldn’t a
tetched you, replied Dave Crawford, a col
, The last words the doomed man ever spoke
" Don’t let. me hang all night, but gimme
to my folks.”
A man mounted the tree, the hangman’s
noose was placed around the negro’s neck, a
handkerchief tied over his face and his hands
tied. lie was placed on a horse and the ani
mal driven from under the tree, and soon
John Thomas was dangling in the air.
Silently the crowd looked on, drew a long
breath and rode away.
The verdict of the jury w-as : “ He came to
his death at the hands of the citizens.”
After leaving the tree we went iu search qf
the man who had suffered, and found hitii
lying exhausted in a fence, corner. We lis
tened with bated breath to of his
horrible wrong. The crime had been done
several days before. Though the child, five
years old, had received severe, but not dan
gerous injuries, she had through fear con
cealed her wrongs, until discovered by her
Rumors and Facts about People we all want to Hear
Sankey is about to return to England for a
King Kalakakua is building a 550,000 pal
ace at Honolulu.
Mrs. Hayes says “Hold the Fort" is her
Moody has rented a house in Baltimore,
where he will reside.
The Intelligent Compositor has had his
hand on a report of an interesting case in a
medical journal, and said, after describing the
symptoms, “ astringents were ordered, but the
patient, who suffered no discomfort from the
Dr. Thomas Morley, of Boston, went to New
Orleans and opened a store for the sale of a
medicine of his own invention which he
claimed to be a specific for yellow fever. The
disease attacked him, and he refused to per
: mit the doctors to attend to him, insisting on
taking his own medicine and nothing else.
SWEET PRESS SINGERS.
The bard of the Boston Post sings of the
return of the sportsman :
Back from his summer diversion,
A lishing aud shooting excursion,
Dis wife in his pockets prodding;
“ What’s this?" said she, simplest of women,
As she held up a lace cap, o’erbrimmin’
With ribbons and elegant trimmin',
“Oh, that’s something I took for wadding.”
I The New Haven Reqister contributes an
ode —and so forth —to the sea :
Oh, sea! oh mighty, mighty sea!
That gives the stomach ache to me,
I That spoils my appetite for tea,
1 Oh deep! oh mighty, mighty deep,
I gave thee what I could not keep,
And o’er thy waters wept a weep,
The Hackensack Republican man gives
the handle of his poetical machine a couple
i of turns, and out comes this merry madrigal:
Such nights were made for lovers
Who sit on the stoop and spoon;
While on the scene, with smile serene,
j Shines the effulgent moon.
She leans up~*n his bosom.
As the moon sinks in the west;
Her downy cheek, so smooth aud sleek,
r Leaves powder on his vest.
The Yonkers Gazette man cries out in an-
[ Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud
When the summer time comes with its insolent crowd
S' Os flies and mosquitoes and fluttering bats,
j That utilize all of our features for mats;
i That stab us aud jab us and tickle our pates,
| That swim in our saucers aud bathe in our plates,
y I That drive us to woods with iniquity fraught,
J , And make us say, things that we oughtn't to ought.
1- | Full suits are cut on the buy us. — Graphic.
n I A song entitled “ Hug Me to Death. Dar
e ; ling,” is intended for a duet, and no audi
g I ence.
e “I love men,” said Queen Christine, of
:} Sweden, “ not because they are men, but be
t ; cause they are not w’omen.”
I It would become Nilsson to get rid of her
s | husband. Widow Swedes are very becoming,
you know.— Keokuk Constitution.
;-1 “ Ours was none of your front-gate com-
], mon matches,” said she; no, no; it was a
r regular high-toned parlor match.’’ — Chicago
a | Journal.
'■ i Kate Claxton needn’t chuckle because the
r I papers have dropped her for a time to pull
I hair with Mary’ Anderson. Select your con
n flagration, Kate; time's most up.
The Baltimore Saturday Gazette says that
i- homely women must be treated just as well
s, in all respects as handsome ones. That’s so,
o and we move that the editor go right home
•- and put his theory in practice.-
A" “ Dearest, he murmured, ecstatically, as
r ' |he folded her in his arms for the first time,
r ” " let me sample the nectar of your lips
“ Take a whole schooner of it,” she faintly
° ] whispered; “ it’s all on tap.”
s, It requires some pluck, in a small way, to
o j maintain in unembarrassed serenity your seat
d i in a crowded horse-car, when a tall, caltn
5. ; faced woman stares from the vicinity of the
p bell-rope, at an imaginary line of space he
'd | tween your lap and your neighbor’s.
A SKETCH OF THOMPSON MURCH. THE
How He Beat Blaine and Hale—The Story of His
Campaign and the Reins He Holds.
We present below the fullest sketch yet pub
. lished ofthe famous mechanic who beat Eugene
Hale in Maine.
The methods of his campaign are thorough
ly discussed, and we commend them to the
attention of the men who are backing Arnold
in tins District. If they had nominated a
workingman in Reub Arnold's place, they
, would have done much better than they will
do. But see what Murch says:
■ Correspondence New Y'ork Suu.
i The granite eagle that is perched over the
' main entrance ofthe New York post-office was
cut trom the rock by a stone-cutter, who will
be sworn in as the successor of Eugene Hale
in the next Congress. His name is Thomp
i son H. Murch. It is the work of an expe
rieneed workman to cut an eagle from the
granite that abounds in the Maine islands;
buPto Mr. Murch, as he admits, it would have
seemed easier a year ago for a green hand to
1 take up the hammer and steel and fashion
that bird than for any one of those stone-“ut
ters to defeat Eugene Hale. Yet Mr. Murch
did defeat him by a plurality of 1,042 —he re-
■ ceived the official figures ‘last night. Two
years ago Mr. Hale’s majority was more than
HOW MURCH MADE HIS CAN VASS.
Last fall Mr. Murch began quietly a thor
ough canvass of the district. His position as
editor of tAo.Stonecutters Journal gave him j
an opportunity to watch the local newspapers, I
and he took every opportunity oflearningjust !
what the feelings of the people in the district |
were.. ’lhe volume of discontent developed I
surprised him. Republicans were chafing I
I under the imperious rule of Hale and Blaine,
I although they did not say so openly, and w er e
disgusted with the policy ofthe administration.
But they regarded the Democratic party as
fully as bad, and there seemed no way in ;
which a protest would avail. But just Here
! conies the “true inwardness” of the greenback
movement, not only in Hale’s district, but
I throughout the State; and the manner in
i which Mr. Murch utilized it is briefly told. •
| Seeing that there was great dissatisfaction
j and that the people were ready for anything
I that promised relief and the rout of the Blaine-
Hale ring, Mr. Murch determined to put out a
i teeler early last February. He arranged for
a greenback meeting in Rockland, and paid
| Solon Chase’s expenses and the hall and
printing bills from his own pocket. Mr.
| Chase had a great audience. The people
did not hare very definite notions about this
greenback question, but they were ready for I
anything that promised a change. Mr. Murch
saw this disposition, and began an organiza- :
tion. 'The work was done in his office, in the '
village stores, on the street corners, and
wherever opportunity offered. The organiza
tion spread like wildfire. The hundreds of
voters who described all this to the writer say
that at first they had no clear notions upon
the financial question, but went into the
movement because of its promise of becom
ing formidable enough to upset both the old
In the spring Mr. Murch determined to test
the strength of the movement, and men came
boldly out of both parties with him and ran a
greenback ticket for the local election. They
polled 130 votes in that little town after only
two months organization; but they were
enough to defeat the election of the republi
can candidate for mayor. Encouraged by
this, a club-room was hired, and the work of
organization went on. Then it was decided
by the new party men, both in Rockland and
in other places in the district, to organize for
the congressional contest, although they had
no hope of present success. They were look
ing forward to 1880. Mr. Murch, as he frankly
admits he thought he would be, was put for
ward by the party men in his district as a
candidate for the nomination for Congress.
So enthusiastic were his friends that they
chartered a little boat, using all the money
they could spare, and started, many of them
without their breakfasts, for Belfast, where
the convention was to be held. A kettle of
clam-chowder made in the boat was their only
food; but they were too enthusiastic to feel
Mr. Murch was nominated, and he made
the first speech of his life in accepting. In
that speech he told the convention that he
knew that much money had been spe‘-t.iii
that district for congressional elect‘ oU? ; Be
\iid not propose to follow that examp.e f OI .
he had no monqy to spend for 3 , P ur P‘’.«s.
At IliSt neither he nor ms
’ zation and ioE the
Hale’s district is a large one. It has miles
of seacoast, and in the interior few railroads.
There are no large cities in it, and few large
towns. Mr. Murch determined to visit every
town in this district, provide speakers, and
send to every voter documents. The new
party was poor, and contributions were very
small. Mr. Murch had 51,000, and he deter
mined to spend it all, if necessary. He paid
the expenses of speakers, of hall hire, and
now and then of a band. He bought cam
paign literature, and he spoke day and night.
After a meeting he often harnessed his horse
and drove twenty or thirty miles on those
wild Maine roads in the darkness to the near
est town. He was nominated in June; by
the latter part of July he began to see that
the new movement was spreading so rapidly
that there might be a chance, after all, of his
election, and he redoubled his efforts. The
charges that had been made against him as a
communist he met on the platform and in
private. He went into Hale’s home town of
Ellsworth and had a packed hall to hear him.
His speakers were everywhere. Many of
them were young mechanics, who asked only
that their expenses might be paid. Reports
came that whole towns, especially in Waldo
county, were going over to the new party.
Election day came. Mr. Murch spent the
morning distributing tickets. At noon, feel
ing exhausted, he went to a neighboring hotel
for a short nap, and fell into a sound sleep,
from which he did not awake until the polls
closed. He lost his own vote thereby
The people in the fifth district could hardly
believe that Hale’s power was gone, and after
they saw it, the man who broke the Blaine-
Hale ring became a hero. Shrewd politicians
in other parts of the State admit that the can
vass of the new party was handled with mar
velous skill, for there were some disturbing
elements within to be managed, as well as the
enemy without to be fought. To organize,
control and lead to victory within six months
such a movement required a skill that Blaine
only was supposed to possess. But one rea
son is given for the success of the movement,
aside from what is admitted as its skillful
: handling, and that is the prevailing desire for
. the utter overthrow of Blaine and Hale.
Could Blaine hear the opinions that Republi
cans now freely express about him, he would
realize that bis sway is over, while of Hale
expressions of contempt are used.
HOW THE NEW CONGRESSMAN LOOKS AND TALKS.
The newly-elected Congressman is of me
dium size with a supple frame. He must
have been agile when younger. He moves
now with a quick but easy manner. He was
neatly dressed in black, and over the polished
linen the black ends of a necktie fell negli
gently. A slender chain of gold runs from
I his vest button-hole to his watch-pocket, neat
and not ostentatious. His feet and hands
are small, but his hands are calloused by
years of manual labor. A pair of large, light
blue and singularly expressive eyes fix the
stranger’s attention instantly. There are little
wrinkles running from the corners of the lids
that give him the appearance of being con
stantly amused, and these wrinkles do often
contract with a genuine smile. A broad, high
forehead, with the perceptive faculties espe
ciallj’ conspicuous, is fringed with light
f brown hair that is rapidly silvering, and the
. locks that are brushed hack over the ears are
almost snow white. A nose as straight as a
. Grecian model’s, with finely-cut nostrils, par
tially hidden by a silky-brown mustache, and
’ a thin-lipped, strong willed mouth, give plenty
of character to the faee. Mr. Murch would
- pass far more readily for a professional man
i than a stone-cutter, especially when a view is
> obtained of his clear-cut profile. Exposure
and labor have browned a complexion that
s must have once been rosy, and there are
I more wrinkles than a man of forty would
have after a life of ease. He speaks quickly
and determinedly, and his emotions play all
over his face when he is at all stirred.
t “Do you know,” he said, “that the Sun ex
-1 pressed” my idea precisely when it urged that
, the electoral commission was unconstitution
; al? Ah, that whole business was damnable.
he continued, and he meant what he said.
“That villianous Lousiana business and the
’ whole scheme of stealing the presidency —we
never shall get over it. I have an idea that
future patriots will try to skip that part of our
“Then you are not a believer in Hayes’
) i right to the presidency?”
t : “Indeed, lam not, and I don’t think there
- j is a man in the country who, if he told the
5 truth, would say he was either.”
"Did that feeling have any influence in
your Maine whirlwind"
L nquestionally.” replied Mr. Murch, and
; then added musingly, “I know that the dis
gust that the whole business produced had a
great influence in getting our people into that
frame of mind which led them irresistibly to
seek a change.”
“In both parties ?”
“Yes, I should say so. Republicans feel
the disgrace as much as the democrats do the
“You were nominated and elected as a me
chanic, were you not?”
“I am one, and have always been since I
left the sea. But I always preferred the name
national industrial party to the greenback
party for the new movement. However, the
name doesn't amount to very much now.
We all believe in the same ideas.”
“And what are those ideas?”
“Well, first of all, we wish labor to have a
fair chance all over the country. In addition
to that, we wish the political slavery in this
district to be done away with. We want such
protection from imposition as legislation can
give us, and we desire some arrangement by
which disagreement between capital and la
bor can be adjusted. I am myself strongly
in favor of a board of arbitrators, to be ap -
pointed by the state, to whom matters of dis
pute shall be referred. That would do away
with strikes, which I believe to be of great
disadvantage, although now. at times, abso
lutely necessary for protection.”
“But it is said that you are a communist.”
“That was the meanest slander that was
made against me. On the contrary, I believe
that the ambition to accumulate property is
the very strongest incentive for getting the
best and most labor out of men. It is that
they may have a fair chance for such accu
mulation proportionately with capital that I
have gone into the political battle. I tell
you,” continued Mr. Murch, rising and rapid
ly walking the' floor.'■“tbst- thg__most earnest
j opponents of the socialist idea areUStg-fflea..
who labor with the view of accumulating.
How such a slander could have arisen I don t
| know. It is made out of whole cloth. I
| don’t know but I had rather suffer some of
I the present evils than to have the idea of the
I “What first set you in the direction of po
litical life ?”
“ The intolerable abuses which the workmen
I employed by government contractors in our
: harbor suffered. They are mere slaves. I
expect that some of them will be discharged
for voting for me. I saw that there was abso
lutely no hope except through a ballot-box
revolution. If it had not been that, it must
have been something worse.”
“ Did you expect to accomplish it so soon?”
" No, indeed. But when I saw what in
tense dissatisfaction there was in this district
among the masses with republican rule-—a
dissatisfaction that had been subdued because
it had no way to express itself until the new
I party gave it the chance—l felt encouraged.”
“ The cause of that dissatisfaction was
: “ Well, to tell the truth, people had got tired
of hearing that they were mere servants of
: Blaine and Hale. For Hale there was, espe
-1 cially since his visit to Louisiana in the inter
est of fraud, almost contempt. People began
to feel that they were not represented, but
misrepresented. Many here think that Hale
took the money to Louisiana which manipu
lated things. Then Blaine has lost his pres
tige. People are asking how it happens that
he went to Congress poor, and now pays the
heaviest tax in Augusta. They had sickened
of his condescending, patronizing way about
election time, aud there are thousands who
are boiling mad at his insinuation that he
carried Maine in his vest pocket- The hard
times had an influence, but the people re
membered that Hale and Blane had come
down here at every election for the last five
years and tcld them, ‘ Oh, you have passed
the worst. Times are going to get be tie-
But things got worse, and-peoplfLwe--'
for any change. Now, I found all t»~
ments at work in the district. I knt «
on some points of the financial questWlfaK
could agree ; at least it would make a
long enough for us all to take hold of.”
• murch’s ideas about finance- . \
“ Now, as to the financial v' crf3 °f R®
Maine greenback partv.” . ,
"We have been widely misrepresented.
We hare been called inflationists. 1 deny
that emphatically. lam not, anyway. We
are called repu'diators. 3 hat I deny. we
are said to be in favor of irredeemable paper
money. This is false.
WHAT HE THINKS ABOUT HIS FUTURE.
“Do you think you can compass all these
things when in Congress?” _ . -
“Why,” saiil Mr. Murch, laughing, “I am
only one man, and a new 1 don't expect
to make a great a great Solution nor to
take my place in Congress as a brilliant
leader. But I shall tise all my efforts «tod
estly; but firmly, I to bring, about
‘ ~7- 1
Just here two athletic young fellows came
into the room and desired to speak to Mr.
Murch. He took them aside, but soon re
turned. His face was clouded and his eyes
“Here is an example of political proscrip
tion,” Mr. Murch said, pointing to the men.
“These men tell me that they have been dis
charged from the government works. No
reason was given, but they are first-class work
men and have been employed for five years
there; new men have been put in their places.
They were known to be friends of mine and
to have voted for me. There can be no other
reason for the discharge.”
Mr. Murch is given an excellent reputation
by the people of Rockland. They say he ■
a quiet, unostentatious man, domestic in hi
tastes, and every one speaks of his pracw
of not running into debt. His family, con
sisting of a wile and two sons, one 17 and one
15, live in a plain, two-ar-d-a-half-story doable
house, that is built on a point of lanfj»that
projects into the bay at Rockland. -The lawn
is neatly trimmed, and flowers grow in pro
fusion all about. A number of prett;
remarkably little Sebright fowls were waui ”
ing about the yard, aud they seemed perf ,
tame. Mr. Murch’s house is neatly furnii ~
Books lie around on his parlor table, m
them of a serious or political character,
seemed to be constantly in use. Th -/'-
rolls up nearly to his door-yard, and? ,
northeast gale the wind must blow pitiX
around the windows. There is, hov , ■
every evidence of taste and refinement i !•
cleanly look, the arrangement of flowers'G
the little internal decorations of the h’ w
These are not costly, but they are pleai.,
none the less. Mrs. Murch rejoices i
husband’s success, for she remembers ho '.: j
was discharged years ago for voting a wf
cratic ticket. She had encouraged he Q
band in every way during the canvas* “ .
never believed it possible for him to over A-
“ How much did your election cost you, 5 J
Mjirch,” the writer asked, “ if you have i.~’X
objections to saying?”
“ None at all. The money was honestly .
spent. My total expenses were a trifle over
£7OO, and I paid by far the largest part of the
expenses of the canvass.”
“ Hale must have spent many thousands?”
“ Yes, I have no doubt he did. Some one
told me that his father-in-law, Zack Chandler,
who was here until a day or two before elec
tion, told Hannibal Hamlin that he wished
the little fellow would move into a less expen
“ And with S7OO you overcame a majority
' of 3,000, and defeated ‘ Blaine’s little Bub ?’ ’
“ Yes; and, by the way, that expression
told against Hale here. People did not want
1 to be represented any longer by a man who
was a tail to Blaine's kite. My money was
expended for speakers, their expenses, halls,
music, and printing. Expenditure wasn t
very necessary with the people, feeling as
they did. When our people get awakened, it
doesn’t take much money for election pur
poses ; neither can their will be circumvented
’ by a liberal expenditure of cash.”
ONE WAY TO GET MARRIED.
. The Reno Gazette.
■ Judge Richardson doesn’t pretend to be a
i parson, and therefore isn’t as well up in the
■ marriage ceremony as the slimy supporters of 4
I a decaying hierachy are. The young couple
stood before him the other evening, and the
I judge inquired in a cross-questioning tone of
i the groom:
5 “ Are you a citizen of the United Sta'es?”
The groom took hold of the waistband of
i his trousers and tugged, saying:
; “ I voted for Tilden, Judge.”
1 “Why, James!” faintly exclaimed the
• blushing creature by his side.
1 “Its a fact, Emmer,” protested James,
rather indignantly, and glaring at the Judge.
His Honor coughed and demanded se
- ' “ Do, yon. sir, as a citizen of Nevada and a
! lawful voter of Reno, solemnly declare that
. ; you will forsake all other evils and chtave to
; I this one? ’
“I’ve money to bet on it! responded the
t groom, growing pale, but placing his arm
■ around the waist of the shrinking bride.
“Then,” cried the Judge, bringing his fist
down on his desk, “God has joined you to-,
gether, and the man that puts you asun-
: der. The fee is just w-hat you like to give,
• young fellow.”
i It was pretty liberal, and the court set them
i up and kissed the new wife several times be