TIS ROWERS COLLECTION
J. H. & W. B. SEALS, fpRorRntTOBs.
ATLANTA, Gi., SURD AY, MARCH 23, 1878.
-|—, -» rrt 1 $3 rKlt ANNUM
TEEMS, 1 IN ADVANCE.
ACROSS THE GVL.fr.
BT MARY E. BBYAH.
Near her, and yet hew far,
Watching her move among the festal erowd,
Distinct in her dark beanty, pale and proud.
As I would watch a star—
A cold, far star, upon whose glorious beam
I may but gaze and gazing idly dream.
Anear her, oh 1 so near
That I may see the rich depths in her eyes—
The smile that on her red lip dawns and dies,
And hold my breath to hear '
The voice, whose thrilling sweetness bids my cheek
Plush with a transient joy I may not speak.
And yet. a f* *r, so far 1
A gulf between us, hope can never span;
Gazing across it love's bright cheek grows wan.
I see thee shine, my star.
I hear thee sing my bird, aloft and free.
And know that beam and song are not for me.
I gaze, and scarce can deem
That proudly-smiling lip can be the same
That once in low, sweet whispers breathed my name.
It seems a strange, wild dream.
That that red lip has once, to mine been pressed—
That jeweled hand has my dark locks caressed.
Or that the regal brow,
That crowned with ebon braids, where jewels shine
Like purple clusters through the foliaged vine,
Seems never made to bow,
Has drocped in trustful fondDess to my breast.
Like some rich jewel with sweet dewB opprest.
But this is with the past;
I will not touch the slender hand again,
Dpon whose whiteness fell my tears’ hot rain.
On that wild hour—the iast—
When we two looked into each other’s eyes.
And said a buried love no more must rise,
Does its ghost haunt her yet?
I ask it, when she falters in some song,
She sang with me in days gone by so long;
And when our eyes have met,
And hei’s have darkened, and their smile has passed j
As though by some brief memory overcast.
The Belle’s Abduction.
THE EXILED CRIMINAL.
BT MAJOR A. F. GRANT.
CHAPTER I.—The Hut on the Coast.
Towards the close of an extremely sultry day on
the southeastern coast of Africa, a strange event
A singular-looking human being was standing
under a giant tree, toying carelessly, as it seem
ed, with the coil of a stout lariat. He appeared
to be expecting the approach of game for he
glanced anxiously through the poor foliage that
stretched from his right. He was half-savagely
clad, strange-looking knives and pistols protrud
ed from hia belt, and his gun looked like a
dangerous weapon. His face was swarthy, bis
limbs strong and active, his eyes dark and full
of low cunning.
All at once a series of noises far to the right
made him uncoil thh lariat, and his eyes flashed.
A troop of zebras was approaching, as the
sounds plainly indicated. Stepping from the
shadow of the tree in order to give his strong
arms play, the man kept his eye fixed on the
wild animals that were neariDg him at a break
neck gallop, closely pursued by two wolfish-look
The thunder of hoofs seemed to shake the
earth, the air resounded with the mingled cries
of dog and zebra. It was a thrilling sight, as
the beautiful animals, with heads erect, dashed
on, and ever an anon aimed furious kicks at their
The man selected one of the finest members
of the band, and with a precision that stamped
him no novice in the art, the noose dropped over
the striped neck.
The zebra, brought suddenly to a stop, made
desperate attempts to free itself; but the victor
had passed his lariat around the tree, and the
prize was securely held. On, still on rushed
the remainder of the troop, and their tramping
were soon lost in the distance.
At last the captured beast lay on the ground
exhausted, and the swarthy man, after making
his rope secure, turned from the spot.
He seemed elated with his victory, and chuc
kled to himself while walking away between the
two fierce-looking dogs. Nothing appeared to
dampen his spirit, and as he reached the coast
and looked far seaward, he exclaimed:
‘ No sail! I wish a ship would never put m
here! This is the land for me. Here no officers
of the law Uve to hunt a fellow man down—here
I can breathe the pure air with nothing to fear
After a good long walk he entered a substan
tial though roughly-built hut, and the dogs
threw themselvs down before the door. The
structure looked like the labor of one man, as
indeed it was. It was built of such timber as
the tropical coast afforded, and the roof was
covered with a profusion of gigantic palm-leaves.
The interior of the singular abode was not
very prepossessing. The ceiling was low and
dark, and the few articles which the single apart
ment contained consisted of several stools a
rough table and a cot.
‘I want to end my days here,' the man said,
surveying his home with a sense of gratification.
‘I sincerely trust that no American vessel will
ever sail iDto the harbor. They know that I
have sailed irom New York; but they don’t know
where I am.’
He talked like a criminal, and his eyes were
those of a had man; but he did not appear a
hardened wretch. He set about preparing sup
per, after having communed with himself as
above. The cuisine was not elegant, but it in
cluded many ol the delicacies to be found on
the delightiui African coast. He partook in Bi-
lence, and with an appetite sharpened perhaps
by a wearisome hunt. While he enjoyed his
evening repast in the little hut, a young man in
the city of New York was reading the following
advertisement to a fashionably-dressed gentle
man of hia own age :
‘ 7en thousand dollars reward I The undersign
ed will pay ten thousand dollars for the appre
hension of one Bolivar Box, who is snpposed to
1 ---i left the city ol New York between the 10th.
26th. of April Said Box is a dark-complex-
The morning revealed the labors of Bolivar
^Iseveral tall signal poles stood along the shore,
and he was straining his eyes to see if a sail was
insight. The very man who, a few hours beiore,
was hoping that no ship would ever disturb his
retreat, was hoping aud praying for a sail.
At last a sail caused him to shout tor joy, but
alas ! it passed by, and another night settled
down upon land and sea.
Hecei Bloomfield held out better than Bolivar
Box She felt that deliverance would assuredly
come, as she had so miraculously been preserved
from the sea, while the heart of the impatient
man began to sink within him.
It was getting late one evening several months
after the events narrated above, -when three per
sons confronted a well dressed man, who stood
in one of the reception rooms of a well known
New York hotel. , . ,
‘Mr. Horace Ware, we want you, said one of
the trio, who looked somewhat like an officer of
The face of the person addressed turned slight
ly pale. .... „ ,
‘May I inqure into the oause of this. he
‘Certainly. Miss Eecei Bloomfield has re
turned and Bolivar Box has turned state's evi-
The man’s face grew suddenly white.
‘Returned ?—state’s evidence?’ he gasped.
He was taken into custody, and the law sent
him to prison.
Bolivar Box was happy to escape with but a
reprimand, as he had turned against the chief
criminal, and Edgar McCann, believing him an
honest man at heart, took him into his employ.
When the city was prepared to hear of it,
Recei’s wedding took place, and she at last found
herself a happy bride in the home from which a
scheming lover had torn her.
Bolivar Box’s repentance has been sincere. He
is trving to forget his one error, and let us hope
that he will succeed.
A GIRL’S SUICIDE.
The noose dropped over the stripd neck.
ioned man, with jet-black eyes, long, dark hair,
and stout-limbed. He has, moreover, a scar un
der his left eye. As he has bean a saiior, it is
probable that he may have shipped. He is want
ed that he may be punished for his crimes, as
he is supposed to be concerned in the recent
mysterious disappearance of Miss Recei Bloom
field. Any information that may lead to his ap
prehension] will be liberally paid for.
No.—Broadway. Second Floor.’
•It hasn’t caught him yet ?’young McCann’s
companion said, when the last word of the ad
vertisement had been read.
‘No; and, what is more, I fear it will avail me
‘But, after all, Edgar, may you not be hunt
ing tor the wrong man ?’
‘What! the wrong man ? Do you suspicion—’
■I suspicion nothing,’ was the reply.
‘Theu what do you mean when you talk about
the wrong man ?’
‘This Bolivar Box never was Miss Recei’s lover,
‘Bless you, no! Why I thought he was the
last man upon whom the girl would smile. He
was homely, stoop-shouldered, and no fit mate
for an American woman. No, sir ! he is not the
wrong man !’
‘ Then what had he against the young lady ?’
‘ I cannot say.’
‘Could he have been hired ?’
‘I never thought he could. People in the
vicinity of his cobbling shop were wont to say
that Bolivar Box was as honest as he was ugly
and misshapen. His action mystifies me.’
‘Then I suppose I shall have to give it up,’
was the response. ‘I hope that Miss Recei will
return unharmed, but I fear that Bolivar Box
will prove too shrewd for you. He will see that
no person secures an opportunity to catch up
your liberal reward.’
Edgar McCann did not reply for a moment.
‘ It is a deep plot,’ he said at length. ‘I fear
we cannot unravel the mystery. I sent for you
to help me, as you have been a detective. Miss
Bloomfield has been spirited off, but by whom?
I am confident that this Bolivar Box is the active
person in the affair; but he may huve had abet
‘My opinion is that he had,’ the young man’s
compamon said. ‘ While we hunt secretly for
them, we should not forget this Mr. Box.’
The foregoing conversation took place in the
counting-room of one of the largest business
houses of New York.
The strange disappearance of Reoei Bloom
field, one of ihe handsomest young women in
the city, still remained the topic of conversa
tion in certain circles. She was the betrothed
of Edgar McCann, the young merchant, and, at
the time of her disappearance, she stood in the
very shadow of the altar.
Miss Bloomfield had been the victim of a
clever hut well-laid scheme. Oue evening a
carriage, purporting to be her lover’s, halted
before her home, and the driver handed her a
message purporting to come from Mrs. McCann,
the merchant’s mother. The yonng lady was
requested to hasten to the McCann home, as
her betrothed was declared to be very low.
Suspecting nothing, Recei hastened to comply,
and was driven rapidly away.
It was the last seen of her, for days had
lengthened into weeks, and no tidings concern
ing her true situation bad been returned.
The driver was believed to have been Bolivar
Box, the shoemaker, whose shop had not been
opened since the night of the dastardly deed.
This is the story of Miss Recei Bloomfield’s
disappearance in brief.
Now let us return to the inhabitant the hut
on the Naval coast, for he is no lei a person
than the badly wanted Bolivar Box.
We left him at supper.
He finished the repast and pas8« from the
hut. The wind was blowing strocjy from the
sea, and betokened a storm on the liters. The
night was settling down upon the tile’s home,
and his dogs were seeking their ’St, when a
strange cry came from the Hea.
Bolivar Box started ajsd listenecwith all his
A repetition of the cry startle? the wolfish
‘ Help ! help ! or I shall drown !’
The next instant Bolivar was funding to
ward the sea.
CHAPTER II. — ‘A MAN FO] ,’ THAT.’
The waves were already highvhen Bolivar
Box reached the shore, but he lunched a boat
which danced on the foam-tippj waves, and
No star appeared to show thenan the way
through the waters, and while h rowed hither
and thither through the gloom, e listened for
the cry that had roused him to dring exertion.
At last he shouted at the top ofhis voice. It
penetrated the night lite the tors of a speak
ing trumpet, and floated aiar t< sea. But no
cry responded, and the would-b rescurer was
about to return to the shore. Hhad perfected
his resolve when somithing stick his bout.
Dropping an oar, he seized theibject, which
appeared to be a small yawl apprently empty.
‘It has been capsized,' said Bovar Box, ‘ but
I will take it ashore, as it may p>ve of service
to me in the future.’
The next moment he was pullig shoreward
with the captured boat J dlowinjin his wake,
aud at last drew up with’ an exclmation of sat
But what was his consternatior when he dis
covered a female form lying pron in the bottom
of the craft which he had wretiaed from the
grasp of the sea? He rubbed lb eyes as if to
assure himself that he was no! dreaming, then
bore the insensible being to nil hut, where,
with the help of a candle, hegaled upon her
They were pale and heautiul. Her fragile
figure was arrayed in spotless wiite, and her
rich hair was bound with band of beaten gold.
In short she looked like a brio tc Bolivar Box,
who had seen many brides in »e great city Irom
which he was a hunted exile.
But strangest of all,he startd violently when
he had gazed for a moment upn the white face
that lay up turned to the lifafc of his candle.
He looked wildly about hirn.md then permit
ted his eyes to fall again t the unconscious
‘I had not expected to see er again !’ he said,
like a criminal. ‘I wonder aow she came to
find me here. He said thatffie should never
recognize me; but here she iin a stupor from
which she is waking as fast aihe can. My heart!
this is a pretty go. But the) is a way to get
rid of her forever!’ and as .he speaker’s eyes
flashed he laid his hands ujfl the waif from the
‘No, I dare not do it!’ e said, shrinking
back at the touch. ‘She’s to pure and sweet
for Bolivar Box. I've wronpd her enough al
ready, heaven knows, and Iioght to be think
ing' of reparation.’
The last word was stilljnivering his lips,
when the eyes of the sleetr opened and fell
upon his dark and guilty fbe.
‘Where am IT she criet ‘I remember tbe
forced marriage, the boat sd tbe storm. Did
they succeed? Tell me! ami Horace Ware’s
‘No, thank heaven !’ said Bolivar Box. ‘At
least I hope you are not, gentle lady.’
‘Then I am content !’ was the reply, and the
eyes closed as if to shut from sight an unpleas
ant, scene. ‘But I am not on the ship now ?’
‘Indeed you are not. This is the home of Bol
‘I live here, my lady. You are Recei Bloom
field, hd d I am ’
‘Bolivar Box ?’
‘Bolivar Box, at your service ! answered the
quaint man with a smile. ‘Do not fear me
now. I rejoice that I have been able to save
your life. Do you know in what part of the
world I found you adrift on the ocean ?’
‘I do not.’
‘This is the southeastern coast of Africa. As
well as I know, I am the sole tenant of this part
of the world They are hunting me in Ameri
ca; but I think they are far from the right path.
I exiled myself. I hate the crowded cities, for
in one of them I committed a crime—I left my
cobblers’ bench to do a villian’s bidding, for
‘I know it,’ and the eyes of Recei Bloomfield
fell pityingly upon Bolivar Box, ‘Let me tell
you what has happened to me since we part
ed company. I never knew until I found my
self in the hands of Horace Ware that I was
loved by two men. He knew of my betrothal,
and hoped to make me his wife at all events. I
was conveyed to a vessel in the harbor of New
York one night several weeks after my abduc
tion, and sailed on the following day. Once at
sea, Horace Ware appeared and renewed his
pi ©testations of love. He grew excited when
he met with a firm refusal,and refused to restore
me to my relatives and friends. Our voyage
was long and tiresome. I did not know whither
we were bound. At last he determined to suc
ceed. I found assistance in an old sailor and
pretended to accede to his importunate de
mands, for I knew that he had bought the cap
tain over to his designs, and intended to force a
‘The hour came, hut I did not appear at the
obnoxious altar. With the sailor’s assistance, I
managed to escape to the boat in which you
found me, and we pushed from the vessel. But
the winds struck us and careened the boat. My
companion was swept away, and I lifted my fee
ble voice for help.’
‘And I heard you !’ cried the exile with joy.
‘I thank fortune that I have been able to save
your life ! He will not think of looking for you
on this coast, which is supposed to be uninhab
ited. Now listen to me, Miss Recei Bloomfield.
I am not going to be an exile any longer.’
The youDg girl's eyes flashed with exultation.
‘I want to avenge nnself. He drew me from
my bench with a golden hook.'
‘Yes,’ exclaimed Recei. ‘Bolivar Box, if you
help me to reach my friends, which would be
the graudest revenge for you in the world, you
shall net need to cobble the remainder of your
‘But I am worth ten thousand dollars now.
Mr. Edgar McCann thinks enough of me to offer
that sum for my apprehension. ’
‘He thinks you will disclose my whereabouts,’
the girl said, smiling.
‘I fancy I could.’
Half an hour later the belle of the avenue was
sleeping quietly in the exile's humble hut, and
he was down on the beach.
All throngh the night he worked while Recei
dreamed of the home which she had not seen for
many a weary day.
■ HT MEET \
i. “TjTCXDEr. Til XT S'-YE
AXV'THEF. SUICIDE — TWO REMARKABLY PLAYFUL
letters from the victim.
Correspondence Evansville Journal.
Boonville, Ind., March 7. — The bell tolled
this morning announcing the death of Miss
Nancy Lee, aged 15, who committed suicide last
night by taking a teaspoonful of morphine, and
died this morning at 8 o’clock.
Suicide must be “catching,” for there must
have been no less than five in this county within
two months. Especially does it look that way
in this case, as it appears to be caused by the
death by suicide of Fannie Dillingham, of which
a full report was given in the Journal at the time.
The act has caused much inquiry and excite
ment, for it is an almost unparalleled case —
that a girl as old as she should be so attached to
one who was not a relative and only a friend,
that she should commit suicide for the sole pur
pose of “going where that friend is.” For sev
eral weeks after the death of Mrs. D., this little
girl grieved very much, and scarcely ate any
thing, and at one time asked her mother whetfier
she thought she would go where Fannie was if
she should die. This soon wore away partially,
and no signs of any rash act were given until
about three weeks ago, when she asked for mor
phine at one of the grocery stores. Yesterday
evening she ate supper, and appeared as lively
S as usual. She was seen taking a tin cup of water
with her to her room as she went to bed. No
more was heard of her until 12 o’clock, when a
i curious noise awakened her father, who at once
I saw that she was in a stupor, aud sent for three
| physicians, who worked hard until morning,
| but without effect. The tip cup and some of
the powder was found on the bureau, and in one
of the drawers was found the following:
letter no. 1.
“Well ma, you and pa need not be frightened,
I for this is nothing but morphine that makes me
sleep so good and sound forevermore; and I will
tell you, if I never wake up, I want you to lay
me in the new graveyard, just right against
i Fannie’s grave, to stay with her forevermore and
' eternally; for I am going to see her and stay with
: her, and do you reckon that her and me will
I have as much fun as we did here together ? I
hope we will, if not more than here;and I guess
• that we will, if old “Hack” Dillingham does not
; come and call her away, like he did beiore, aud
[•if he does he had better not, for I do not like
him no how, for he caused her death, and that
is enough for him, I think. Well, bury me at
j the new graveyard; put my grave right against
Fannie’s grave, and if ever you go to Terre Haute,
call for Fannie and I, and then if you see us
| together, and at the same time, you may know
| that I am with her. Well, ask Alice if she is
; mad. Tell her that I am not mad at her, and if
she is mad I can’t help it, and tell her that she
I wanted to know where I was going the other
j' day, when I told her that I was going to see
| somebody that 1 had not seen for a long time,
! and tell her that Fannie and I like her.
i Well, now I will give you my rings mi, and you
! must wear them, and go out to aunt Mary’s and
stay as long as you was going to; and be sure to
bury me at the new graveyard, and do not leave
room between me and Fannie to bury ‘Hack’
Dillingham, her pa, her sister, her aunt, or any
body, and take good care of her things that I
had and keep them in my little bucket, and
keep it to remember me by forevermore, and if
aunt Mary does write a letter to me, put it in
my bucket, and keep it too,’
Tied to her bed-pfcst and supposed to have
been written after the drug was taken was
letter no. 2.
“Oh ma, let me sleep this morning, fori do
not think you can wake me, for I took a tea
spoonful of morphine to go to rest forevermore,
and I do not want yon to disturb me from my
nap. If you find my letters in the safe drawer,
you must read them, and keep them and mind
No other causes than those in the letter are
known to anyone. She was a bright young lady,
but reason must have been partly dethroned.
She will be buried according to her request to
morrow forenoon. It is not known where >hej
got the poison.