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VOL. IV. J. H. & \V. 33. ISE AX.S, f PKOPRiaTORS. ATLANTA, 61., SATURDAY, JUNE 15, 1878. r PTT , T>AYQ ■! PEK ANNUM I 1 JliliMb, i IN ADVANCE, f .NO, 156 THE ORAN6K AND THE VINE. BY W. T. IirMAJ. Tlie gardens of the West were sung. And dreamed of by the bards of old, Far in the Atlantic, where there h ling From drooping boughs that fruit of gold; The skies they fabled here enshrine, The plains of orange, hills ot vine. Beneath the orange and the vine, Beneath the lillies where they wave, Unnumbered treasures wait to shine When ye release them from their grave. Then dig the ore, and search tlio mine, Enrich the land where grows tha vine. Behold your fields! this fertile soil Teems with the virtue hid below; It needs but steady honest toil, And all Campania's wealth will flow. Arise then ! why do ye repine Along groves of orange, hills of vine ? The plow can make, the pen pre serve; The treasures that will crown us blest; We fear no king, no tyrant serve. We are all monarclis of the West; Then send your fame from pole to line, Men of the orange and the vine ! The moss around your harp-frame clings. The b* oken chords are useless now; Tear off the moss, repair the strings, And see what melodies will flow. AAf Or do you think the sacred Nine Have left the orange and the vine? The pine tree waves on ev'ry hill, And sighs to every gentle gale, Andean its lie >unitul iniif-ic thrill A’o minstrel’s heart with such a jfitjT**'® tale? Which breathes of thoughts and deeds divine Where grows the orange and the vine. You say themes May hen empk See where the lyre ? then loving ■ your trembling strings Tiust me inspiring beauties sluno Best ’neatli the oiangcaud the vine. f the West, ion thy mountains 1 VOS are lulled O fair Atlantis The sun shin last, The storms tliemselv to rest Ere these thy guardain shores are passed; The stars on thee the brightest shine. Thee of the orange and the vine! front, and men in groups in the yard or on the piazza, most of them carelessly or roughly dressed, dusty and travel-stained, with boots thrust on over their pants and minus their coilars or other neck gear, showing in wime haste they had leaped on their horses and ridden here in an swer to Alver's summons. It seemed as if the old Confed erate days had come back — Cobb’s rough heart was stir red. ‘Halloo Boys ! where’s camp ?’ he said as he passed a group. When he reached Alver’s house, the yard was full of men who had been eating supper, at a long table spread for them on the back gallery. Floyd Beese was helping to wait on them. She was bringing out a large white pitcher of milk as Cobb sauntered up and seated him self on the edge of the gal lery. The loess sleeves of blue muslin fell away Aom her round arms, her dark gold hair was breeze-blown into little rings on her fore head. She looked a lovely Hebe, innocent of anything but gay and cheerful service. ‘Give me a draught, fair ministering spirit,’ Cobb said as she passed near him. As she stooped to pour it, he looked up into her eyes Our City Cousins—What they wear, and how cheap yet Stylish it is.—[Ste Demoresf for Jim?.) WILD WORK; Study of Western Life. A BY MAllY E. BRYAN, CHAPTER XXVI. Meantime, the trial of the prisoners by a com- mitte of citizens went rapidly on. They were found guilty of corrupt administration, which no doubt was a true bill, as they were the agents —in most instances the blind agents—of Witch- ell. They followed the directions; they worked out the plans of this man who obeyed no law in his operations but his own will. Though ostensi bly Witchell’s only office was that of Representa tive in the Senate from a certain district, yet he was really the autocrat of the new parish he had created. He levied taxes and received the money collected, he managed the judiciary and controlled all verdicts of consequence; he influ enced the legislation of the parish and exercised a close supervision over ail its public affairs. He was a Francia in a small sphere, and he possessed over these men he had put in office an influence similar to that wielded by the South American Dictator. The magnetism of a strong spirit controlled them more thoroughly than did gratitude, friendship, or interest, and they worked out his policy, with as little thought oi calling in question its wisdom or its justice as a soldier under the First Napoleon would have had of inquiring into the motives or tendency of his general’s orders. They were the instruments Witchell had used to work out his schemes of avarice and ambition. They were true to him as steel. It was part of his retribution that these friends should suffer for his sins. But the committee of judges also found these six parish officers guilty of inciting the negroes to a plot to murder and outrage the whites. This was not plausible. There was no reason able motive apparent tor such an act. What good could come to the Radicals from an out-break that would be sure to be referred to them, and would inflict great inj ury upon the Radical cause in the parish and throughout the State. As yet, there had been no demonstration of any riot bejond the shot fired by the negro at the young patrollers, and no evidence of the complicity ot the white officers except this negro’s assertion that he was put up to what he did by the Radi cals, together with the fact that certain negroes were seen the night of the anticipated riot in the vicinity of Omar Witcln ll’s house. Yet so black did the guilt of the officers loom up in theagitated minds of these judges—honest in their intentions, but fevered by excitement —that tbe voices of several were for instant death. It was noticeable that Alver was less excited and more moderate. He had the ap pearance of pouring oil on the troubled waters. He listened nervously to the shouts of the mob- Was he dismayed* by the violence of the tempest he had called up 7 He seemed relieved when the question of death-punishment was ’ set aside, and this arrangement substituted— that the Radical officers should resign their offices and leave the state within the next twenty-four hours, pledging themselves by oath never to enter it again. This decision was carried to the prisoners. They understood well that death was the only alternative to their acceptance. They consult ed together and agreed to abide by the condi tions, provided a guard should be furnished them which should see them safely out of the state. This was at once acceeded to by Alver. There was some grumbling among the crowd at the leniency of the verdict. For, be it again repeated, that these men who had ridden in such wild haste to quell, as they thought, a bloody riot in Cohatchie, be lieved that such a riot was intended and that it was instigated by the Radicals, Only after wards, when the wild tumult was over and the deed was dome, did a glimmering suspicion that they had been mistaken or misled dawn upon them to make them shudder—stout hearts as they were—at the fear that they had been too rash. In this miniature parish revolution was seen the working of the same natural law il lustrated in such bloody characters in the great French Reign of Terror. In this as in that, one evil had drawn down another. Corrupt rule long endured, had at last brought the swift punishment of the mob—a delirium of ven geance, in which nice distinctions between guilt and incidental fault were wholly lost sight of. Such is the law of nature. Sanitary neglect brings down the jrestilence; luxury breeds enervation and decay Such are Na ture’s revenges. So it was that these bronzed and beardedmen gathered before the door, behind which sat the prisoners, rebelled against the leniency of the sentence, as Alver well knew they would do. ‘Better, a great sight, string them up yonder along side the niggers and be done with it,’ muttered several voices, and in each instance Cobb’s watchful eye singled out the speakers and photographed their faces on his mind. ‘Let ’em go,’ said a deep, concentrated voice behind him, ‘Give ’em that guard, but advise them to insure their lives before they start. Something might happen on the way. Blamed if it mightn’t; I have heard of such things, and I’m awfully scared for them.’ Cobb turned quickly and looked at the man who had spoken—a slender, swarthy man, hie face half hid by grizzled whiskers, in the midst of which his bloodshot-eyes gleamed luridiy; yet there was an indescribable hint of birth and culture in his looks and carriage. Cobb dropped back along side of him. ‘Here’s my hand on them sentiments, friend,’ he said, low. ‘What’s your name, if I may know it?’ ‘Dick,’ returned the other. ‘Nothing but Dick ?’ ‘They put Cap’n to it on the Mexican border, where I’ve come from. I used to have another name, somewhat known in these parts, but nev er mind it now. Nobody seems to recognize me, and it's just as well; I’ve only oome to see how time’s serving some folks I have an inter est in.’ ‘The Radicals for instance.’ ‘Yes, the Radicals for instance—one of them in particular. The big dog of the pack is not here, I find. I owe him a debt with four year's interest. I’d have a chance of paying it now, it he was here. But he’s slipped off—the sneak, and left this small fry to pay for his sins and their own too. Let them pay too—I say. A pretty thing it is to raise this great rnmpus, and then only to send the scamps safely off with all their ill-got gains in tneir pockets.’ ‘You are right. I must See you again. Meet me here to-night? These men won t leave till sunrise to-morrow. There’ll be a crowd around here all night; but we and some others ■will have a chance to get off aside, and have a talk among ourselves. Have you a good horse?’ ‘Yes, a capital little mustang.’ ‘That’s well: meet me at this corner at seven o’clock.’ ‘I’ll be there,’ said the man, who was no oth er than Lanier, back from his four year’s so journ in Mexico—swarthier, thinner and more sinister of look; with beard and hair prema turely gray. He had not been six hours in his native neighborhood, and ‘had made himself known to no one when Alver’s dispatch came, and all a-fire with the hope of seeing himself at last revenged upon the man who had crossed him in the fierce desire of his heart, he rode in hot haste tojCobatchie, and cursed the luck when he found that the husband of the dead Adelle was not among the prisoners. When Cobb turned off from the crowd col lected around the building in which the offi cers were confined, he took his way down the street. He stopped a moment,as he came to Omar Witchell’s house—the neat little home he had built for his bride. APeady there were about it tokens of a woman’s refined taste—the flower beds in the yard, the young vines train ing across the piazza, the bird .-age among the pots of blooming plants in the window. But the singing of the canary' was now the only cheery sound about the little home. The wives of the four married officers stood together on the piazza, but they were not speaking. They were waiting in agonized suspense for news concerning the fate of their husbands. Through all that dreadful day their anguish had been greater than that of the prisoners. Every shout from the mob rent their hearts like a death knell. The trampling of the horses in the street as parties of armed mea rode by, the noise of the crowd, as they earned the negroes to the gallows, struck them dumb and tremb ling with apprehension. Cobb leaned on the paliug and looked at them. Omar’s wife stood with her locked hands rest ing on the railing—her whit, Dee, her small, childish figure leant forward as if intent to catch some sight or sound that, should convey a hope to her heart. Devene’s young bride with her Southern nature less capable of con trol-walked the piazza wringing her hands, and crying. The two sisters of Witchell were quiet. Mrs. Wallace, pale with compressed mouth, stood at the back of the chair in which her younger sister sat. Mrs. Holliu had her arms about her child, holding him to her, her head, with all its golden hair desheveled, bowed upon the flaxen locks of the boy. While Cobb looked on, the expected message of the gallery. There was one within hearing of their low tones. ‘Cobb,’ said Floyd, leaning towards him, ‘are you certain of being able to carry this out to-morrow? There’ll be a guard, remenfl'&r,’ _ ‘A fig for tko guard . I* Hinder’, i'yb ts'pmtewIF not fellows among these here that'll see me out in the busi ness, and we’re looking for a livelier crowd to-night from over tlio Texas line. A dis patch has been sent there and they’ll be here to-night by the bayou Prince road. May — ~-— :: = ■■■■■— —— be they’ll have a brush with came. Aman galloped np on horseback. Mrs. ! the darkeys down below l exre taey get h..re, Devene sprang to meet him and returned hold- j to whet their appetites tor more tun. out a note. ‘For you’ she said, looking at Mrs, Witchell. ‘Shall I read it aloud Minnie ?’ A quick gesture of assent answered her, Mrs. Devene read ‘What do you mean ? i ‘Whv, word came just now that Levi Adams j was gathering np a gang of negroes down the I river on the other side, and has seized all the i flats and was threatening to burn and rob and We have resigned onr offices, and are to leave J kill generally, in revenge tor the niggers hung here and the darkeys and the Radicals weva got jugged.’ ‘An exaggerated report of course. ‘No; I reckon it’s true. Adams is a smart; devil-may-care darkey; a leader among the ne groes. They are stirred up in a perfect ferment with the news of the armed men in Cohatchie and the arrestin’ and ban gin . uhey may do damage, though there’s only a few white families down there now. All have come into Cohatchie that could get away. The fellow that brought the news is staying at the 5 in- cent’s. He says they are all sick there. He came to get medicine, but Alver will not give him a permit to return. He has arrested |him and put him under guard for disorderly con duct. The fellow had taken a dram or two and was a little noisy and talkative—that was all. I can’t make out why Alver had him taken np. •I can,’ said Floyd. ‘I know who the man is, and why he was arrested. I thought we had got rid of both those fellows. If they can’t be forced to quit the parish, they ought to be scared into holding their tongues.’ Floyd gave not a thought to the distress and possible danger of tbe Vincents, who had been so kind to her,—to Zoe, whom she called friend* Sho only thought, ‘if the negroes do commit any violence there, all the better for my scheme, au the more color will bo given to the pretext we are to render for the steps that have been taken, But another thought came into her mind: ‘Have any of the men been sent down in that direction ?’ she asked. ‘None; and it will be wondered at that nobody has been sent to the very quarter where it^ was first reported that a riot was gathering, It s an oversight.’ , *Yes, parties must ride down there to-morrow. ‘By that time,’ she thought, ‘it is safe to sup pose the negroes will make some demonstration. They had spoken low but eyes were turning in their direction, and she moved away with her pitcher. She turned back to ask, ‘Have you seen Col. Alver?’ ‘Only for a moment.’ ‘I see him coming this way. Mind what I have told you, not one word to him of what will happen to-morrow.’ ‘I shall mind; but, between us now., dees he not know ?’ ‘He does not. He may suspect but, if ne does, he has not said so even to me. Let it bo so; we do not need his help. You have seen that the intentions he has expressed concerning the prisoners are peaceable.’ ‘Hell’s paved with such peaceable intentions: muttered the desperado with an uubeliveing grin, as he turned away. It was growing dusk, nearly time for his ren dezvous with the men he had picked out to-day with his sharp, evil eye—The crowd was gather ing more densely around the place of the (Continued on 8th page.) the state upon oath not to enter it again. There was no alternative. It was to do this or die. ‘Resign only to save your lives’ was my broth er’s instruction, We leave tomorrow at sun rise, I trust to God, we shall be permitted to see you and say goodbye, but do not be disap pointed if this is not to be. I will see Hayne if I can and get him to intercede that the favor be granted us—the only one I shall ask—to go to you and say farewell. Y'ou can not come to ns here, through th* mob. It would not be permitted and you must not attempt it, I have not been able to speak to Hayne. He will not come to me, though I have sent for him, and called him when I saw him in the crowd. And I thought him my true friend. But do not fear for us, we will be safe. A guard of our own choosing will accompany us; sviil see us safely out of the State. Don’t distress yourself any more dearest. Be brave and strong. Think of the time when we will be reunited, and among our old friends. Alver has given ns his word of honor that our wives shall be protected and cared for, and every facility allowed them for joining ns as soon as we are in a place of safety. I will write to you to-night, and tell you at length what to do and what to send me. We have been furnished with pens and paper and will each of us write to-night. Don’t wor ry; all will be right. Yours, Omat..’ ‘Thank God ! it is not what we dreaded,’ cried the impulsive wife of Devene. ‘Let them leave this country. Who would stay in it after this? I will follow Rob with all my heart, or I wil go with him. Why should we not go with them ? ‘We may not even be allowed to see them before they go,’ Airs. Wallace said. ‘I will see my husband. They shall not keep me back. What not let me tell him good bye ? Could any one be so cruel ?’ Omar’s little wife said nothing audibly. Her lips moved as she sank into a seat; sho motioned for the note and took it in her bands and fixed her eyes on the lines written by the beloved hand. Witehel’s sisters moved oh to tne end of the piazza and looked into each other’s face3—a look of mutual, dreary understanding. ‘They will choose the guard themselves, Airs. Hollin said at last, with an effort at reassuring. The older si J tsr smiled bitterly. ‘They will choose !' she said. ‘What choice is there ? 'Who among all those men yonder dare befriend them if they wished to ? Hayne will not come near them —Hayne that Omar treated like a brother: who sat at his table and shared his purse, often and often again. I have little hope from the fact that they will choose their guard.’ ‘Your head’s level there, my Y’ankee Aladam,’ Cobb said to himself as he moved off and turned up into a street running back of the Alain or River Street. Every house he passed had horses tied to the paling or to the trees in