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CHASED 81 THE SEPOTS;
The Idol's lload.
A'Thrilling Story of the In
dian Mutiny.
COMPLETE IN TWO NUMBERS.
‘Well, Charley, curiously enough my dream
was also about an extraordinary escape from
danger, and was even shorter than yours. The
first thing I recollect—there seems to have been
something before, but what I don’t know—I was
on horseback, holdings very pretty, but awfully
pale, girl in front of me. We were pursued by
a whole troop of cavalry, who were taking pistol
shots at us. We were not more than seventy or
eighty yards in front, and they were gaining on
us fast just as I rode into a large, deserted tem
ple. In the center was a huge stone figure. I
jumped off my horse with the lady, and as I did
so she said: ‘Blow my brains out, Edward; don’t
let me fall alive into their hands.’ Instead of
answering, I dragged her round behind the idol,
pushed against one of the leaves of a dower in
the carving, and the stone swung back and
showed a hole just large enough to get through,
with a stone staircase inside the body of the
idol, made, no doubt, for the priest to go up
and give responses through the mouth of the
idol. How I knew of the secret entrance I have
no idea. I hurried the girl through, crept in
after her, and closed the stone just as our pur
suers came clattering into the courtyard. That
is all I remember.’
‘Well, it is monstrously rum,’ Charley said,
after a pause. ‘Did you understand what the
old fellow was singing about before he gave us
the pipes ?
‘Yes, I caught the general drift. It was an
entreaty to Siva to give us some glimpse of fu
turity which might benefit us.'
We rode for another mile without a remark,
and then Charley said:
‘Let’s have auother pull at our flasks and
light our cheroots.’
This was done, and as it was getting late we
put our horses into a canter When we were
within a mile of home we draw up.
‘I feel ever so much better now, ’ Charley said.
‘We had notgot the haschish out of our heads
before. How t do you account for it all, Harley ?’
‘I account for it in this way, Charley. The
opium naturally had the effect of making us both
dream, and as we took equal doses of the same
mixture, it is seaicely extraordinary that they
should have affected the same portion of the
brain and caused a certain similarity between
our dreams. In all nightmares one is on the
point of something terrible happening, and it
was the same thing here. Not unnaturally, in
both our cases out thoughts turned to the sol
diers: If you remember, there was a talk at
mess some little time since as to what would
happen in the extremely unlikely event of the
Sepoys mutinying in a body. I have no doubt
that was the foundation of both our dreams. It
is all natural enough now we can think over
it calmly. I think, by the way, we had
better agree to say nothing at all about it in the
regiment.’
‘I should think not,’ Charley said: ‘we would
never hear the end of it; they would chaff us out
of our lives.’
We kept our secret, and in turn came io laugh
over it heartily when together; then the subject
dropped, and by the ena of a year had as much
escaped our minds as any other dream would
nave done. Tnree months alter the affair, the
regiment was ordered down to Allahabad, and
the change of place no doubt helped to erase all
memory of it, Three years after we had left
Jubbalpore we went to Beerapore. The time is
very clearly marked in my memory because the
very week we arrived there Hay Courtenay, now
my wife, came out from Eogland to her father,
our Colonel. The instant L saw hbr I was im
pressed with the idea that I knew her intimately.
I recollected her face, her figure, and her very
tone of voice, but where I had met with her I
could not conceive. 1'pon the occasion of my
first introduction to her I could not help telling
her that I was convinced that we had met, and
asking her if she did not remember it. No, she
did not remember, but very likely she might
have done so, and she suggested the names of 1
several people at whose houses we might have
met. I did not know any of them. Presently
she asked how long 1 had been out in India.
‘Five years,’ I said.
‘And how old, Mr. Harley,’ she asked de
murely; ‘do you take me to be?’
I saw in an instant my stupidity, and was
stammering out an apology, when she went on:
‘I am very little over eighteen, Mr. Harley,
although I evidently look ever so many years
older; but papa can certify to mv age; so I was
quite a little girl when you left England.’
I apologised immensely, of course, and ex
plained that it was only her extraordinary like
ness to some one I had known well in England,
that had so completely deceived me, that I had
never taken possibilities into consideration.
She was immediately down upon me about it,
persisting that I considered that she looked
about forty years old, but I think that the fun
rather drew us together, and gave us a sort of
intimacy, which helped me at the time when
half the men in the station were at her feet.
Of course, I saw that I had been mistaken, but
the likeness haunted me for a long time, the
more so that I could ne\er recall where I had
known the original. I need not tell you the de
tails of our love-making. At the time when the
mutiny broke out, we were not actually engaged,
but I bad spokeu to her father, and as I bad a
fair income besides my pay, he mad6 no actual
objection, although he said with great truth,
that he had expected that she would have done
better. He was an uncommonly good fellow
though, and gave his consent, stipulating that
there was to be no engagement whatever for six
months from that time, so as to give her an op
portunity of doing better if she chose. May and
I understood each other, though I had never
actually spoken fo her, and I knew that she was
not a girl likely to change, so I was quite con
tent to accept the stipulation.
It is a proof of how completely the opium
dreams had passed out of the minds both of
Simmonda and myself that even when rumours
of general disaffection among the Sepoys began
to be current, they never once recurred to us,
and even when the news of actual mutiny reach
ed ns, we were just as confident as the others of
the fidelity of oar own regiment.
At last the tidings of murder and massacre
reached us, and a thrill of horror and alarm ran
through the European community. We had no
white troops, and were literally at the mercy of
the Sepoys. The demeanour o f the troops, how-
ever remained unchanged; the native officers
assured us that they were thoroughly staunch,
and would defend their offioer against any reg
iment of mutineers who might come. There
was a regiment of natives here in cantonments
with us, and these were equally quiet and well-
hahaved Although we believed that there was
buHiUle fear we were still in a state of great
anxiety. There were four or five ladies belong
ing to the two regiments, and it would have been
an 8 immense relief to us if we could have got
them into a place of safety, but we had no means
whatever sending them away, even had there
any place to send them to, which there was
There was a week of suspense. I need not
tell yon what we all felt, especially those who
like myself had women we cared for with us.
At the end of the week we had news that two of
the rebel regiments from Meerut were march
ing against us. Now was the trial. We paraded
both regiments, and appealed to them whether
they would be true to their salt. The colonel
addressed our fellows as his children, asked
them if he had not always treated them as such,
and appealed to them if he had ever been ud-
just or unkind to them. The men replied that
they would die for their salt.
In high spirits we met at mess, feeling assur
ed that we should give a good account the next
day of the mutineers from Meerut. There was
a strong muster, for the two regiments had since
the trouble began agreed to mess together as our
number was not a large one, and the married
men naturally siayed at home with their wives.
On the night, however, several of the married
men had come down in order to hear the talk
about the probable fight to-morrow. The Colo
nel was in his place at the head of the table.
Dinner was over, and dessert was just put upon
the table when we heard a shot at a short dis
tance. and before we had even time to wonder
what it meant, a crowd of Sepoys appeared at
each window, and before we had time to leap to
our feet, a tremendous fire was poured in upou
us. Four or fiye men fell dead at once, the
poor Colonel who was next to me, was struck by
half-a-dozen balls. With a cry of rage and de
spair, every man rushed to seize his sword; we
had our pistols in our bolts; we had been or
dered to wear them as part of our regular uni
form, and on no account to take them oil’ eveu
at meals. As I snatched up my sword, I was
next to Charley Simmouds, and just as we seized
them, the mutineers poured in at the windows,
headed by Subadar Piran
‘I have it now,’ Charlie said; ‘it is the scene I
dreramt.’
As he spoke, he fired his revolver at the Snb-
adar. who fell dead in his tracks. A Sepoy close
by levelled his musket and tired, Charley fell,
and the fellow rushed forward to bayonet him;
as he did so, I sent a ball through his he id. It
was a wild tight for a minut6 or two, and then a
few of us with a sudden rush together, cut our
way through, darted through an open window,
and out into the dark.
There were shouts, shots, and screams from
the officers s compounds, and fear and terror;
the flames were already rising.
What became of the other fellows I knew not,
I made as hard as I could tear towards Garde
ner’s bungalow. Snddeniy I came upon a cav
alry man who wag sitting on his horse, looking
at the rising flames in the bungalows. His back
was towards me, and he neither saw nor noticed
me till 1 ran him through the body. I leapt on
his horse, and galloped down to Gardener's
compound; I saw lots of Sepoys round the bung
alow. lookingatit. I dashed into the compound.
‘May ! May !’ I shouted, ‘where are you?’
I had scarcely spoken, when a dark figure
rushed out of a clump of hushes close by, with
a scream of delight. In an instant she was on
the horse before me, and shooting down a couple
of fellow* who made a rush at my reins, 1 dashed
out again. Stray shots were fired after us; f >r-
tunately the fellows were so busy looting, that
they had laid their muskets down, or we should
never have got out of the compound.
The scene was terrible, dimes were leaping
up from all the officers’ compounds, some were
running about in all directions, shouting like
devils, and the awful shrieks of women rang out
above the yells of the natives. I turned oft'
from the parade ground, and dashed down be
tween the walls of the compounds, aud in an
other minute or two was in the open country.
Fortunately, the cavalry were all down looting
iheir own lines, or we must have been overtaken
her on my horse; happily, for those screams
drove me nearly mad, and would have probably
killed her, for the poor ladies were all he: in
timate friends.
Her first question as on recovering conscious
ness was to ask after her father, and to
reproach herself for going away without him.
I iorhore of course to enlighten her as to the
certainty I had as to his late, but left her some
slight hope by saying that two or three others
had cut their way out at the same time with my
self, and that it was of couse very possible that
he was with us; as to her waiting for him it
would have been infinitely worse than useless,
unless he had had a similar piece of luck to
mine in getting a horse, he could not by any
possibility have saved her.
May spoke very little during that long ride,
I believe that she was certain that her father
was dead, and the vague sense of loss, added
to the horror of that five minutes in the garden
had completely stunned her.
I need not tell you about the next two or
three days, hiding in woods and going cau
tiously at night; once or twice I had to ride into
peasants’ houses, and ask for food, and I have
no doubt that information was sent by one of
the natives, for on the third day I saw a party
of thirty or forty native horse approaching the
wood where we were hid; a man on foot was
acting as their guide. It was hopeless to at
tempt to he concea ed, so I at once mounted
with May, and rode off upon the opposite side of
the wood. The country was, however, flat and
open, and we had not gone above a mile, when
looking round I saw them come out of the wood
full speed. Escape seemed hopeless; our horse
knocked up-not by fatigue, lor except upon
that first night, I had not wanted him, May rid
ing while I walked beside—hut by want of food,
had no great go in him, and carrying double,
could not hope to escape. I instinctively turned
the horse towards a ruin I saw at the foot of a
hill a mile distant. I say instinctively, for I
had no idea of the possibility of concealment;
my intention, if I had an intention, was simply
to get my back to a rock and kill as many as I
could, keeping the last two barrels of my revol
ver for May and myself. Certainly no thought
of my dream influenced me in any w r ay; in the
whirl of excitement I had never given a second
thought to Charley Simmond’s exclamation.
May had borne up well up to this time, but
she saw all hope was gone now; and believing
that she had only a few minutes to live, opened
her heart to me.
In spite of my frightful peril, I was happy in
that pleasant time when she told me how she
loved me.
‘Give me your promise that you will shoot
me before they come up,’ she said, ‘you would
if I were you wife, and I have a right to demand
it now.’ I gave the promise, and would have
kept it. It was a hard raoe to the ruins, and I
believe that they could have caught us had they
pressed their horses at best; but they thought
themselves so perfectly sure of us, that they
did not hurry much amusing themselves by
firing at us with their carbines.
We rode into the entrance to the rains, rather
over a hundred yards ahead of them. As we
did so, I saw a great stone image before us, and
like a flash of lightning, the whole dream
flashed across me. The chase—May’s face —
the present scene—everything; as I leapt from
the horse, May repeated shoot: ‘me before they
come up.’ „ , , .
‘We are saved,’ I answered, to her amazement;
‘Quick! behind that image.’
I snatched the mnssuck of water and a bag of
bread I had that morning obtained, from the
saddle, gave the horse a blow with the flat of
my sword, and hurried behind the idol, where
there was only just room to get.
Not a doubt entered my mind but that l
should find the spring, as I had dreamt. Sure
enough there was the carving just as I had seen
it yesterday. I placed my hand on the leaf
lets without hesitation, a small entrance mov
ing hack, I hurried my amazed companion in,
followed her, and turned the stone on its hinges.
For a moment it seemed quite dark, but a faint
light streamed in from an opening above, in the
top of the idol’s head, and I soon found a mas
sive bolt which shot to, so as to prevent any door
being opened by accident or design when any,
one was inside. Then I went up the steps into
the upper parts of the body, and peeped out
through case holes, not larger upon the outside
than a thick knitting needle, and made, I after
wards found, in the ornaments round his neck.
The holes enlarging on the inside, permitted us
a view all round.
The niggers were in the court-yard, and had
already dismounted and were preparing for a
search. Looking round I saw May on her knees
crying quietly to herself; a thing—I mean the
crying, not the praying -which I had not seen
her do since that terrible night. What I felt
mvself at our escape, the circumstances of which
appeared to me almost miraculous, I need not
tell you. I never passed such a happy after
noon as I did shut up in that idol, with the mu
tineers searching about outside, firing shots at
everything and rummaging high and low. I had
no fears whatever of our hiding-place being dis
covered.
May at first pretended to be very angry that I
had let her tell me how she cared for me, under
the idea of instant death, when I knew all along
we were going to be saved; and how, she shonld
like to know, did I know of this secret. I told
her that a Fakir had told me of it; I did not want
to bewilder her by telling her what I have told
you, and that I did not feel sure that it was the
temple described until I entered and recognised
the scene. Had I done so, I said, I did not
know that I should have checked her, for al
though, under the circumstances, I could not
have spoken to her, was it not far better that we
should be engaged to marry as soon as the war
was over.
We could hear everything that the natives
said outside. They were furious at our disap
pearance, and said that we must he hidden
somewhere and that they would wait a week in
the place rather than give us up. This was
alarming, although we might, perhaps, have
held out a week on our bread and water; but,
fortunately, the next morning a scout rode in at
full speed and said tta a column of British
troops on their way towards Delhi, were coming
along, aud would pass within a qnarter of a mile
of the temple, and that it was, therefore, expedi
ent to be off.
Thiee-qnarters of an hour later we were safely
among our own people; a week afterwards I
married May. It was no time for ceremony
then, and there was no meaus of sending her
away; no place where shecould have waited un
til the time of her mourning for her father was
over. It was neither a time nor a place for cer
emony, and so we were married quietly by the
chaplain of one of the regiments, and neither
of us ever regretted it since. Simmonds
escaped by lying hid in the ice-house, in
which, fortunately for him, were both eatables
and drinkables, for three weeks, and then crawl
ing away at night, unobserved by the natives of
the town; the mutineers had long before marched
to Delhi. He had a hard time of it before he
came upon one of our parties, and when he was
brought Jin P I did not think he would pull
through it. He did though, and we often talk
ed over our dream, which had saved both our
lives; for he said he would never have thought of
the ice-house had not the remembrance of what
he did in his dream come into his mind as he lay
on the floor. We agreed to say nothing to any
one about the circumstances, as it would lead to
an immensity of questioning and wonder. His
silenes wa« soal«<i. muUh&k&S. h i' “ ha1 l fi —
head, as we marched into Lucknow with Colin
Campbell. This is the first time I have ever
told it.
THE END.
A Tribute to the Memory of Pro
fessor William Henry Waddell.
The following memoir, taken from the Atlanta
Constitution ofSun lay, Oat. 13th, is reproduced
here as a tribute to the memory of Professor W.
H. Waddell. Penned most fitly and beautifnlly
by his kinsman and tellow-Presbyterian, it strik
es responsive and sympathetic chords in the
heart of one who esteems it a high honor to have
been the pupil and friend of Proessor Waddell,
and who cherishes the same faith and hope
as a fellow-Christian. W. B. B.
Intelligence of the death of Professor Waddell
was a rude shock to the people of Georgia, aud
to scholars throughout the whole country. It
came upon those that knew him best and loved
him most, “like a clap of thunder from a cloud
less sky.” lieturning to his home from a north
ern tour, undertaken more for recreation than
for health—in the full 11 iw of joyous spirits and
high hopes—he was suddenly stricken down by
the insatiate archer. The victim was as uncon-
cious of its fatal aim as those around him. How
true it is that “in the midst of life we are in
death !"
Professor Waddell sprang from a line of dis
tinguished teachers and educators. His grand
father, the late Moses Waddell, D.D., devoted
ALL the: would over.
FASHIONS VAGARIES.
Frankfort, Ind,, October 12.—An altercation
occurred between Isaia%« Jarvis and George
Pence, near Sedulia. last nigh^, with corn
knives, resulting in the killing of Jarvis and
fatally injuring Pence. The quarrel was re
garding a piece of pasture. Jarvis was sixty
yeors old, and wealthy.
John Boyle O Rielly, nominated for auditor of
Massachusetts, by the Butler convention, has
declined the candidacy. He gives as his rea
son for doing so that if elected he should have
to choose between filling the auditor's or the
editor's chair, and he perfers the latter.
Oa the night of the 24th instant a crowd of
men from 75 to 100 ro le into the town o f Ath
ens, Ala., and fircing the j tiler to deliver the
keys of the jail took therefrom Daniel McBride,
a negro, who murdered a white woman near
Athens on the 7th. The crowd hanged him to
a tree on the spot where the murder was com
mitted.
At Saigon, China, on the 17sh of August, four
English sailors perished, one after the other,,
endeavoring to rescue a Chinese coolie who had
fallen into the hold of a steamer and been
choked by carbonic acid gas.
Three thousand New York news boys and
bootblacks were given a picnic, a ride on barges
the main part of his long, busy, aud pre-emi- j to (rovernor s island and a dinner by Mr. John
nently useful life to the work of educating the [ ^ tarl , Q .'_ ^ ae , iRtle felloy Willie Brook while
young.
Trains are not so long as last year.
Elbow sleeves are very fashionable.
Square and round trains divide the popular
favor.
Silver lynx is the leading fur for the coming
winter.
Moire antique plushes are found among the
new goods.
Double-skirted dolmans are among new im
portations.
The short walking dress is slowly but surely
gai linggfavor.
Waiscoats for the ladies will be sold^separate
from the suit.
The Louis Quatorz9 jacket is to be revived
the coming season.
The bonnet shapes of this seasons are very
like those of last year.
D ark plaid suits are being universally made
up with an English coat.
The Thyra is a felt hat, so-called forjthe.Dan-
ish princess of’that name.
Croizette is getting fat, and is afraid of losing
her lien on publio favor.
White camel’s hair wrappers, trimmed with
Russian lace, are very handsome.
Mary Queen of Scots bonnets and the wide
ruches and ruffs worn in the time of that Queen
will be worn to some extent this winter.
R Figured coatings are still iu vogue for gen
tlemen. Fine diagonals are preferred for dress
frocks, and powdered surface for full dress.
Ladies should know that spirits of ammonia,
diluted a little, will, cleanse the hair very
thoronghly.
A Parisian milliner announces a ‘huntress’s
costume,’ in velvel and satin. Boots reaching
nearly to the knee, with small tassels; genuine
trousers of satin such as would delight Dr. Mary
Walker, and areal coat of satin,with fancy cuffs,
close-fitting at the waist, where there are four
buttons, worn over a long black velvet waistcoat,
which it shows at the breast and below the
waist—these, with a small and gentlemanly tie
at the throat and a high hat.almost of the sugar-
loaf form, with a band of velvet and flowers,
make up the costume, It is worth mentioning
that the ‘Scottwoman’ is one of the styles in
travelling suits most affected, though it is ri
valled in popularity by the ‘tartan of the Forty
second Clan.’
A Baby's Strange Bedfellow.—That was a
horrible sight which met the eyes of a young
mother near Jefferson Texas. During the night
she had felt something strange on her foot. In
the morning.husband and wife rose early leaving
the little babe—their first born child—in the
bed. The mother after a while returned to look
at her sleeping little one. On turning back the
light coverlid, she saw a sight that almost para
lyzed her with terror—a large rattle snake coiled
close beside her child, its head, with forked
tongue and glitering eyes, within an inch of
the naked dimpeld arm of the babe. She did
not scream, but moved quietly, keeping her eye
fixed upon that of the snake, got her hands
upon the child, then qnick as thought snatched
it away from its terrible bedfellow. The snake
was then killed; but it must have bitten the
child as the mother snatched it away, thongh
it was so slight a scratch that she in her fright,
did not notice it, until the baby’s arm began
to swell and grow purple. It died within a few
days.
Such men —if other such there be—as
Wm. H. Crawford, John C. Calhoun, George
McDuffie, Hugh L, L^gare, Jauies L. Pettigrn,
A. B. Longstreet, I. A. Campbell, A. P. Butler,
and A. H. Stephens owe their academic training
chiefly to his tuition. They are but few of the
many jewels in his preceptorial crown. The
father ot Professor Waddell was the late James
Pleasants Waddell, the most universally accom
plished person in the various branches of polite
learning I ever knew. Forty-six years of his ac
tive and laborious life were spent in the busi
ness of teaching youth. For twenty years he
was of the faculty of the University of Georgia
—discharging the while, at different times, with
rare ability and acceptance, the duties of three
separate and dissimilar chairs of the curriculum
—no mean proof of the variety, extent and accu
racy of his scholarly acquisitions and ac
complishments. The mother of Prof. Waddell
was a daughter of the Rev. Hope Hull, and sis
ter of the late Hon. Asbury Hull and of Dr Henry
Hull. Thus, it would seem that preceptoral
life and labor had a double claim upon him—a
dual, ancestral claim—derived alike from the
paternal and maternal line.
He was in the 45th year of his age when the
dread summons came—comparatively a brief
life for one so brilliant. It was a life not spent
in nor made shining by the blaze of political no
toriety, where mere glitter is so often mistaken
for pure gold,but one passed in the quiet bowers
of literature and ‘search of deep philosophy’’—
wherein genuine merit, only, wins. He gradu
ated in 1852, at the university with highest hon
ors, in a large class of gifted competitors. He
gave the first work of his. manhood-life to teach
ing, as his fathers had done. In 1855 he was
elected tutor of ancient languages in his alma
mater: subsequently he was chosen professor
thereof. His connection with the faculty of the
institution began with his first election in 1855;
it continued without interruption to the day of
his death—coveringan unbroken term of twenty-
three years. With the Latin and Greek lan
guages, especially the Greek—he was critically
lamiliar. It is high praise, but not extravagant
eulogy, to say that he had no superior in the
American scbools as a thorough master of the
-Gr‘ o1 " language and literature. I once saw him
casually, on the train, reading for pastime, the
Antigone of Sophocles. “Where is your Greek
Lexicon?” was the inquiry. “In my head, not
in my pocket,” was the answer. Although he
found the chiefest source of literary enjoyment
in studying the unequaled masters ot Athens
and of Rome, he was not unmindful of other
pursuits and acquisitions. He had read gener
al history, philosophically and profoundly, kept
pace with the current literature of the day, and
yet had time to sweep his scythe in the fields of
scientific research and inquiry.
Whilst his tastes and habitudes were those of j
the cloistered student, he bad warm and hearty j
social dispositions and affections. The social
element predominated over the selfish in his
nature. None more thoroughly enjoyed the so
ciety of friends that he; and few could better re
pay what they received in the social gathering.
to the stranger his manner at first savored
somewhat more of bluntness than of blandness,
but it was never brusque, and a moment’s obser
vation evinced that the kindliest and most gen
erous of hearts beat in his breast. He could
tolerate the stupid; he despised the arrogant; he
abominated the vile; he loathed the mean. It
was difficult for him to distinguish between the
sinner and the sin—the criminal and the crime.
The austtre school in which he was bred made
him concrete, not abstract, in judging between
the guilty and the guilt. But his fidelity in
the friendships he cherished was unbounded,
unfailing and almost a proverb. Slow to form
attachments, when once formed they were abid
ing, unselfish, enthusiastic.
His active religious life began with his man
hood's life. He had scarcely attained his major
ity when he beoame a communicant of the Pres
byterian Church— the ecclesiastical faith of his
fathers—and for many years was an office-bearer
in that communion. His daily walk and con
versation—guileless in humanity and without
spot—avouched the sincerity of his profession
and the steadfastness of his faith.
He edited a Latin and Greek grammar “for
the use of beginners.” They are text-books in
our schools and colleges; and have indissolubly
linked his name with the classical culture of
the century. Nor have they yet reached the
pitch of favor they are destined to attain. Pi
oneers of their kind as they are,years will prob
ably elap.se ere they be supplanted by better-ap
proved text-books of their type and aim.
Sixty years ago his grandfather was called tc
the presidency of the college. From that day to
this some one of his name and blood have been
associated with the institution, without inter
mission, either as student, or tutor, or professor,
or president. Professor Waddell felt a pardon
able pride in the reflection that the part he there
performed in contributing to the lettered glory
of the State was not only without blemish or
blot, but worthy of the name he bore.
The University will mourn him. Although
her child, he had almost become her chief.
Her pupils will mourn him, They can never
forget his untiring assiduity iu performance of
his duty nor his unsleeping thoughtfulness of
their welfare, nor how diligently and yet how
kindly, he encouraged the desponding, stimu
lated the slothful, warned the wayward, admon
ished the ambitious:
“Their hearts will be his funeral urn;
And should sculptured stone be denied him,
There will his name be found, when, iu turn,
They lay their heads beside him.”
I lovingly and sorrowfully lay this leaf upon
my cousin in blood and brother in election.
September 23, 1878. J. D. W.
laughing and clapping his hands with delight
was pushed overboard and drowned, uothing
found of him but his cap. His brother Frank
burst into sobs and cries cf grief and the mass
of boys stood quiet and looked on soberly for
five minutes; then the unaccustomed pleasure,
the lunch and lemonade drew off their attention
and they were soon merry as a flock of black
birds. Poor little Willie was forgotten except
by the brother who had been his companion
and co-worker.
A double tragedy took place iu a St. Louis
hospital last week. Mis3 Emily Muller was
nursing Miss Alice Wood to whom she was
much attached. By mistake she gave her the
poison of corrosive sublimate in place of mag
nesia that had been prescribed—Miss Wood
died in terrible agony and Miss Mailer full of
self-reproachful anguish, cried out: ‘Oh it has
crazed me !’ aud left the room. In a few min
utes she confessed that she had taken carbolic
acid, from the affects of which ahe soon after
wards died.
The Mary Stannard Murder —Rev. Hayden
of New Haven who was accused of the murdei
of the girl Mary Stannard and was discharged
for want of proof, has been re-arested on the
ground that new evidence has been discovered.
It is now thought that the girl was poisened, as
a quantity of arsenic has been found in her
stomach. Rev. Hayden had previously ac
knowledge buying arsenic. The girl was found
dead in the woods. She had been seen with the
minister a short time before, aud she had given
her friends to understand that she was troubled
because of a criminal intimacy between her and
this man at whose house she had once lived.
The Body in the Barrel.—The Silver Lake
mystery—the discovery of a dea l woman packed
in a barrel, has been solved after long investiga
tion and the murder traced to one Reinhard
who murdered his young wife Annie Degan,
that he might live securely with another woman
whom he married about the time he committed
the deed. He packed the bo.iy in a barrel and
wheeled it off on a barrow, telling his neighbors
that it was a barrel of crockery.
Storm and Shipwreck.—A dreadful gale of
wind blew off the M issachuetts coast Satur lay
and Sunday 12 h and 13 ih inst. Houses were
blown down, wharves flooded, fishing-boats,
schooners and steamers sunk and swamped,
lumber vessels wrecked and lives lost.
Last week the train on the Elevated Railway
of New York, ran over a man, chopping him
into pieces—Fragments of his head, limbs and
body fell in a bloody shower to the street below.
James Mullen, a wealthy farmer and bache
lor, residing near Gower, Mo., was found last
Saturday morning lying near his barn dead.
The body was frightfully mangled, nearly all
the flesh having been eaten off the bones by
hogs. The supposition is that he fell from the
barn loft, breaking his neck.
Fun for tlie Family.
A profane upstart—The man who sits down
on a bent pin.
The favorite string of a Bostonian—String
beans.
A West Hill woman calls her husband ‘Dark
est Hour,’ because he comes home just before
morning.
Johnny, who has been reading of Solomon,
wants to know if the queen of Sheba was any
relation to those two Stiebas that devoured the
forty-two children that were sassy to E'isha.
As the November election approaches, the po
litical speakers sent out to save the country are
becoming very much in earnest. In his speech
last night ODe of them yelled so loud that he burst
a boil on a man standing on the opposite curb
stone.
There are some scenes almost too pure and
sacred to be viewed by the thoughtless world.
One of them is a two hundred pound woman
with a mole on her chin ‘talking baby’ to an
ounce and a half canary bird in a brass cage.
‘Johnny,’ said a sporting Third ward father,
‘Johnny, what have you got in your fist?’ ‘Two
pears,’ said Johnny. ‘Good hand,’ said the ab
sent-minded parent, ‘take the pot—'then he
blushed, and, pointing to a brass ketttle, he add
ed, ‘to your mother.’
The magnetic telegraph made mortal enemies
of a young lady and gentleman who left Balti
more Wednesday night last upon matrimony in
tent: an indignant mother and an irate fa her
sent a dispatch to stop them, and they were
stopped.
An Irishman upon his arrival in the United
States, noting the great number of military ti
tles, oxclaimed, ‘Wnat a devil of a battle has
been fought near here, where all the privates
were kilt ! ’
‘I am a sort of a planet,’ he said in despairing
tones. ‘I have just about as many quarters in a
month as the moon, but they don't last me half
so long.’ But he didn’t laugh, even when the
bricklayer’s clerk said, ‘Gibbous a rest.’
‘At a spelling match at Winona, the word
‘fricassee !' stumped the crowd. It finally came
to Mr. A. Fields, who readily bridged the gulf.
He said: ‘In my day they called fried —f-r-i-e-d.'
The original way of surmounting the difficul
ty created a shout of laughter.
It is written in a female hand. It’s a poem,
and asks: ‘What was the dream of your life?’
It was signed ‘Elfrida.’ We havn’troom for the
poem, but just to quiet Elfrida we will answer
her conumdrum. The dream of our life has
been to be rich enough to put on a clean shirt
every day, and to have two suits of clothes,
with a pair of suspenders to each pair of pants.
But it has never been realized, Elfrida. Castles
in the air.
It is promised that the Rex ball to be given in
Atlanta on the 25 inst. will be a brilliant affair.
Elegant fancy costumes will be worn by the fash
ionables ot the city and the guests from other
portions of the country.
Miss Ida Dale and Mr. S. G. Miller were mar
ried in Baltimore last week by Rev. Foster.
A brilliant reception was given at the residence
of the bride’s parents on Harlem Square, at
tended by a number of prominent men and
j fashionable ladies.