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JACK, THE_WAGONER.
A Realistic Sketch Concerning a Type that has
Passed from Among us.
A REMINISCENCE OF GEORGIA SLAVERY
adventures with the patrol. On one occasion he
was surprised in a cabin on Maj. L,’s place. He ran
and was pursued to the river, about a quarter of a
mile leaped in ami made his way from rock to rook
on the shoals until he came to the main stream, be-
vond which was a dense swamp, and into which, for
the fear of snakes—intensively repugnant, to him-he
declined to enter. They could see him on the rock
under star light, and opened fire on lnm with stones,
which fell thickly around him. Outraged at the harsh
treatment, and determined not to surrender, and
seeing and hearing danger as it lurked in darkness
and the stones fell on the rocks and in the current
around him, he suddenly uttered a deep groan and
fell with a terrible splash into the water. The
shower of stones ceased, the patrol called: Jack
onlv replied bv his straggles and spattering of
water. They leaped into the river, and icanned
him in time, us they thought, to save Jus lifc. car
ried him out, resucitnted him, and finally yielded to
his solicitations to iet him walk home. 1 Jus adven
ture was confided 1o me. It was the tight of Jacks
ambition to get even with them, and tins scheme
was disclosed to me. ,
Below the row of cabins in which Ins stood and
across a small field wore a morass and mire, the
descent to which w as so gradual in the approach to
the main swamp that it, was not observable bj star
light. It was a change, in one leap, from terra
finna to soft black mud several feet deep His
scheme was to baptize the (tents, as lie called them.
in that mud on their next round.
The account he gave me, with a glee that ro pen
can describe, after the trial of the experiment ran
about in this si,vie : ,
“Well, Little Hoss.” as he otten called me, when
in full humor, “shore miff, them dam patteroUers
come agin last night, well nigh midnight. I had
been asleep, but was awake and heard em as they
crossed the fence from the big road. By the time
they got through looking round the upper houses, 1
was all trimmed and ready for the venter. Just as
they was coming to the door, I .pimped out and
leaped the fence, and took down through the open
field like a deer, and the whole troup of em crossed
at once, ami here they come, Vept one man that fel
and sprained his ankle crossing the fence I heard
the grant, but the racket was too close to my heels
to stop. You know I could a ran off from em
but I let’em keep about tlie length oi n fence rail
liehind, hollowing, “ketch him ! ketch him liefore
he gets in the swamp !” You see I knowed how to
cross on the tusdes, but I didn’t care much if I
missed. So I got that cr wd into it too. But I
went clear. But before vou could twink your eye
three times I heard a mighty splung in the mud.
an<l that they quit the race. It was the puttaest
race I ever had liefore patterrolers, and it ended
more satisfactory. I looked through the bushes
and they was ail in, and down flat, ami then the
loud cussing liegin in cold yernest. They silenced
the whip]Ktorwills and frogs. 1 tell you. 1 hey used
up all the cuss words that the Scripter tells urbont.
While thev w.s a cussing and gittin out, I crossed
the swamp furder down and come through the
orchard and in at the Lack door and was a snorin
hard w-apjied up in my blanket when they ail
come in to the light to rite up themselves and
clean off the mud. They didn’t axe me for a pass
that time, but thev wanted more water fotch to
clean off wid than ever 1 toted before, sit that, time
o'nigbt, because thev said the women would spicion
’em er gittin tight if they went home in that fix.
They copied a whole spellin book agin the nigger
that out-run ’em and got away. Some said it was
dis and some dat nigger. But I knowd all the time
what nigger it was, but I never let on, you bet.
They axed me for a liottle to rub sum on the
sprained ankle, but I knowd them wet fellers want
ed it, to drink. So I didn’t have nary drop and was
miglitv drv, and mightv sorry they didn’t have
along a little to give a nigger for tot in water for
’em. And, Little Hoss, you better believe they
didn’t chasenarv nnthernigger last night.”
But the primary and most admirable element in
the physical and moral composition of my sable
friend was displayed oil one of our many wagon
trips to market. There were many methods for a
l>ov to lie useful on those trijis. It saved taking a
negro lioy from the field, and was in full accord
with my desire for relief from the monotony of the
farm where I had long since seen all that was to lie
seen and learned all that was to be learn.“d.
After the Gftjrgia Railroad w»s- projected^, an£
1 to tMe stations in Talliaferro, Green ftnu
He was an orphan slave boy. without knowledge
of ancestors or kindred, brought from A irgima and
sold by speculators to my father, then a young, in
dustrious and thriving Middle Georgia farmer; the
first, but not by far the last, negro slave he pur
chased. .
The history of his early life, as it came to me bv
tradition, as the waiting boy of my mother, null
boy, plow l my, lieroic protector of my olner brothers
who were liis juniors—in their juvenile adventures—
the feeder of the horses and mules, superintendent
of the gin, the custodian of round-packed cotton
bales, and of the square ones, after the parkin
screw came into use,and the wagoner and teamster on
their way to and from the distant markets of-Macon
and Augusta, whichever offered my father the best
prices for his crops, is a part and parcel of the his
tory of the Old Homestead plantation now gone
back to wilderness—not of native oak and hickory,
but of scrubby pine. 'When I thick of the place,
memory precipitates a thousand mental vis:
But none so vivid as the little ook grove on the mil,
and the moss-covered, uncliiseled stones that lie
aliove my sire and mother, whe.ie he placed her and
we placed him ten years later. “Mars Olie and Miss
Betsy,” as the slaves called them, and by which
fond appellations the few survivors I have met in
freedom, carry ,me mournfully back to the old home
and plantation on the Yellow river.
He identified himself in sympathy and affection
with my father's sons as they grew up, and never
experienced the sentiment of indifference to their
wishes. Never for a moment thought they were
wrong, or under any circumstances had forfeited
night to liis aid, even if necessary, at the hazard of
his own safety; As they grew up, and begiui to go
from home to school, and to make arrangements in
life, based on higher aims, and more cultivation
than the habitudes of the plantation. Jack, by the
natural law of his nature, liegan to transfer his af
fections and allegiance to liis younger master—the
present biographer. And if I have any boast to
record for myself, it is that the reciprocal feeling
rose in my breast to its proper height. And the
memory oj it is fresh mid green across the long
years of revolution, change and decay of social
system and the incomplete progress of the new era.
• Jack was a “complete success, whenever any
emergency made it incumlient on him to resolve
himselve into a committee of ways and means. He
was a man of forbearance and courage. His cour
age was of the manly type, and liis physical power
was equal to its demands. His color was dark, hair
profuse and kinky, frame strong and well knit with
sinew, chest round and full, head round, full, deep
and broad in the perceptive, amative andcombativc
regi< ns, but rounding off in the reasoning and rever
ential organs. with a prominent broad nose. Nature
made him a character, and he improved wonder
fully on her liberal gifts. He was a man of note on
the " ami, and in the neighborhood. He taught me
the current countrv songs of wit and melody. His
strong, round melodious voice distinguished him as
a corn gineral, which old men will understand
without, and the younger ones with this brief ex
planation: At com-huskings, log-rollings, house-rais
ings, and all occasions that called for com songs, he
was a leader of the choir. He gave out, and they
responded. Jack could out hollow all the negroes,
and was, therefore, the most popular gineral in the
neighborhood. And a corn gineral was always a
distinguished character—among negroes. If his
colored associates could l>e called back and interro
gated, they would, next to his manhood and cour
age, speak of his vocal powers, and his wit and
humor in the songs of that day. If my father could
lie interviewed, he would sjieak of Jack as the most
faithful of slaves. He could send him with his
keys, trust him to feed his horses and mules, turn
over to him gin and cotton, his thrasher and grain,
send him abroad with his team and wagon to carry
cotton to market and bring home supplies-
But when I come to sjieak of him, lining still alive,
it Ls of him as the friend of my childhood and early
youth, of the confiding boy mastej-, after the lapse of
long years, cf the faithful slave-friend devoted
to each other, and he to me still, in memory dear.
I do not ignore the relation of faithful negro boys,
school fellows, or the sacred relation of my own
senior brothers. But to this day, I doubt whether
my devotion to Jack as a friend, at that jieriod of
niv life, did not exceed my fraternal ties. The older
brothers felt some moral obligation to bring my
delinquinces to notice—the matters he felt specially
commissioned to conceal. They were often prepared
to condemn and rebuke my follies. He was on my
side in everything right or wrong. He had no
power of vision when others saw my faults, and he
never knew of any wish of mine that did not tax
his ingenuity to contrive for its gratification, and
never had any good thing but he sought to divide
with me. I was never afraid to venture into the
current to swim if he was near. When he went
with us possum hunting, we never got lost He
could tell the course by the seven stars or ellen
yards, or by the moss on rlie sides of the trees, if he
amid not see the stars. We had no fear of wild eats,
panthers, ghosts or graveyards, hooking cows, or
biting dogs if he was along. No childhood commis
sion inspired me with more Zealand perseverance
than to procure whatsoever little gratification I
could for liis physical comfort. No article of dainty
diet eluded my vigilenee If it was tobacco. 1 knew
howto solicit my father for it. or to find out
where he kept it. And' not having the fear of the
statute made and provided against furnishingslaves
with spirituous liquors, before my eyes. I could get
into the old peach, that now and then made his soul
glad and gave life to his how and fiddle down in the
cabin where I and the other boys tipped the fantas
tic, but not very light, toe.
Disregarding the prohibitory law against teach
ing slaves, at his solicitation I taught him letters—I
mean the letters of the alphabet. And he licnt. over
them long and hard, by his pine knot fires, but never
got beyond three syllables, in the same old spelling
lniok that had the pictures of the wolf, the squirrel,
and the rude boy up the apple tree. And he finally
alMiiuloned the pursuit of book knowledge, relying
on his native powers of perception and reason in
preference to the slow-moving current of intelli
gence through uns]leaking print. But he knew full
well that the cause of his literary failure did not lie
at my door, for I was prepared to carry him on
through ineligibility and incomprehensibility and
all the big words in the back of the book.
While he was scrupulously loyal to his owner, the
effort was ever vain to induce him to transfer more
than a mere formal obedience and submission to a
hired overseer. He accepted the situation, despis
ing his temporary boss as a continuing nuisance on
the plantation, and obeyed all orders he regarded
reasonable and not too strongly at variance with
liis settled views of when* and how things ought
to lie (lone. And when his dissenting opinions in
volved him injan attempt by the overseer to whip
him, he was too wise to return blows he thought un
just, but knew were lawful. But there invariably
occurred, on such occasions, what in plantation
parlance was called a runaway, under the spur of
momentary "anger. But he always came back, made
his apjieal direct to my father, and submitted to the
liest terms he could make under the circumstances.
His arguments against the substitution of the
authority of an overseer, for that of his rightful
master were to my mind so convincing that at that
tender period of my life my sympathies ran against
the overseer, and 1 had no scruples about aiding in
any little coup de tut to evade his interference with
the wishes of favorite slaves.
In those days the patrol system was in vogue"
requiring written pemiisssinn, called a pass, to go
from home. And it wus the duty of the patrol,
called by the slaves j aterrolers. to flog all slaves
caught off their owner': pit in isos without a pass. It
was the counion lair of the system that it was legit
imate to escape by flight, not made so by statute,
but custom. But whin-the attempt was unsuccess- , ...
fill, the stripes were often heavier than they would | delivered with his immense fist a blow under the
have been injease of ml mission. It was rare that, a | chin of the assailant that threw him on his baek to
good negro ever had more than a few nominal licks I the ground. 1 then assumed the roll of commander,
over his clothes. Bur when those of general bad j and yelled out, “Jr.nip on him. Jack ! Jack, as-
charaeter were caught, they usually leceivcd the sinning his former position, seeing he
•extended to tme stations in
Morgan counties, the farmers farther west began to
cease hauling to Augusta, and to deliver cotton at
the terminus of the road.
We had delivered our crop that year at" Black
head—had carried the last load and was waiting for
several days in the common wagon camp for my
father who had gone to Augusta to sell the crop
and ship back his supplies for us to haul home.
There were several camp fires of negro wagons near
our camp. The night was damp and bleak. Jack
had cooked my supper, which I was eating while he
was looking after the mules only a few steps from
the fire, when a huge, rough savage looking white
man came to our fire. I was the only white person
on The yard, and it was dark, except near the camp
fires. His appearance was enough to alarm a 1 imid
man. much less a helpless boy. at a period when
the youth of the State did not cultivate the idea of
settling all disputes with deadly weapons.
He soon began to assail me with rough jokes and
disgusting questions anil to increase his unfeeling
manner and tones with my manifestation of dis
pleasure. And after threatening what he would do
if I dared to sauce him. and seemingly intent on
provoking me to sauce hint, lie came across from
his seat, on the upturned water bucket-, and pulled
my hat down over my eyes and cursed me. I was
afraid to raise my hand, or use a harsh word. Jack,
who had been a' sullen silent witness to it. called
me to show me something about the mules. As
we passed, he reached over into the provision basket
and took out the long, keen blade, made of file in
the blacksmith shop, securely inserted in a buck-
horn handle, about five inches long, which he used
to cut smooth slices of bacon to lit", but about home
often carried as a wen] ion of defense.
tVhen we got out into the dark behind the wagon,
he addressed me in a low but firm voice, thus ;
“That rascal come here for a fuss. This is your
camp and lie ain't got no more right to come here
and cuss you and pull your hat down over your
eyes than he would to go in the big house at home
and do it. And you reckon he'd ever git out of dar
alive 1” He wai'tted a moment and added : “He’s
got to take a whippin away wid him if he don’t
git away mighty quick.”
My feelings of alarm were all superceded by a
spirit of revenge in a moment, and I was ready for
any plan he preferred. Jack preceded .
“He looks mighty bulky through the shoulders,
and may be much of a man. But be goes away
from here with a whippin if I ain't mighty mis
taken. I'll try him first with mj- fist, and' if he
seems like he's gwine to git the vantage uv me, I’ll
cut off his head wid dis.” And he carefully inserted
the keen blade under the waistband of his ragged
pantaloons, leaving the handle convenient to his
right hand. “You know they can't hang me but
once, and I’d rutber lie hung twice or three times
than forMars Obe’s son to have to take sieh as dat.”
He continued :
“It won’t be the liest for me to start it. You go
light hack wharyou was. and the first word he says
to you jest jerk up anything you can git hold uv
and hit him over the head.”
Our intruder was still sitting on the bucket, and
looking more savage than before. I was so perfect
ly enthused with the idea of resenting my insults
that I did not wait for their renewal. 1 stoojied
down to mend the fire and with an oak limb about
two inches in diameter that had burned in two. as
quick as I could raise it I struck. 1 dealt him a
blow over the head and face, which scattered the
live coals and ashes well over liis face and in his hair,
i stunned, but did not fell him. Instantly Jack
threw me back nearly against the mules, with an
imjierative older to “stand back.” and with left foot
front, left arm across liis breast and right one drawn
up to his shoulder, he was in my place, ready to re
ceive the desperate attack of the infuriated man,
whose vision was no doubt confused by the fin - and
ashes. He lowered his whole lvalue as if to multi-j
ply his strength, and v it ha rising surged the body.
him ! I wan’t to cut off both his ears and mash him
for a coward f” The exhilerating effect, of Jack’s
shouts and triumphant laugh re-assured the negroes
of tlie camp, and they soon scampered out to join m
the congratulation. Jack took me up in his arms
and carried me around among them, and with an
unearthly voice of triumph and a muscular power
that seemed redoubled by his exliileration, lie threw
me up repeatedly several feet in the air and caught
me when 1 came down, and exultingly told the
wagoners 1 was a “chip of the old block. ’
But after awhile the exultation subsided. Tlie
position of that white man, who he was. the extent
of liis injuries and the penalties the law might
aflix to that amount of satisfaction by a negro,
out of a white man, were all discussed to me by
Jack to whom they were a sealed book, lie delib
erated seriously upon the matter. We could not
leave there until father came back, and it would not
do for him to le/ive the wagon and team, and he
didn't want to set any constable about it, or to take
up liis board in jail. But before he went to sleep
he reached his conclusion, and adopted his pro
gramme. called up all the negro wagoners and gave
them their orders about in this style :
•> “Now, colored folks, I lit that white man because
he come here and imposed on my young master,
and I would do the same thing over agin to-mor
row night. But still I don’t zactlv kn- w what sort
of foolishness might come out of this fuss, and you
know a nigger don't stand a good chance when it
conics to Jaw wid a white man, and I don't want to
run mars Obe to expense. Now, you can all laugh
and talk about the rascal when you go home and
how I made him git, but if any fuss is made about
it down this way, you must all tell it jest as I pint
out. Now be perticler, and don't fail to ketch the
word right. You can tell all about how he come
here and cavorted, and tried to run over my little
master. But when it comes to the fight, you must
say I stood hack and m v little master took up a stick
of wood and knocked him down with it. three times,
and then he broke and run. Now mind ! if any of
you tell a different tale from this, if 1 ever ketch
you out- while I am a wagoning, thar’l be a serus
battle right thar between you and me.”
The injunction was acquiesced in by all, and Jack
and 1 went to sleep.
The incidents of later dab's, illustrating maturer
years, in which affection modified by larger intelli
gence was never abated, and of the long years of
separation, cannot be condensed into a narative like
this. Thirty odd years later I saw him in Atlanta,
a free, but not a” happy man. He embraced me,
shed tears when speaking of old Master and Missus,
sobbed with grief wiien I told him when and where
my brothers were killed in battle. Subjugation and
the consequent waste of estates had made me a poor
man. Emancipation had made him poorer, and
time had made him old and emaciated and weak.
A curtain is hung now, that screens from vision,
but not from memory, my faithful slave friend,
“Jack, The Wagoner.'’
Cnthbert, October i4th, 1869.
Letter From Nashville.
The Days of the Falling Leaf- Capitol
Sill-The Annual Fair The Custom
House - Funny Church Episode —
Mount Olivet Christian Eeid,
at Home Look out Gate
City Guards.
Dear Sunny South: ,
Looking far beyond the city’s limit, at the encn-
cling hills, framed by the purple rim of Lie horizon,
a lovely picture greets the eye. Summer lias g<
erously filled to overflowing the granaries that sup-
pi v toiling millions, and she has not \ et ceased it i
largesse, although October, loveliest handmaid of
thb year, is in waiting, clad in a robe of russet, aim
scarlet and gold,
“Brighter than brightest silksof Sainarennd.”
whit
JOE, THE WOLF.
A Tragic Episode of the Sage Brush,
[From the 8nn Francisco Argonaut.)
Battle Mountain, nearly the centre of the desert
Battle mj not a particularly attractive
f-m-ige A rail ed office and a freight depot, a r w
of business bouses and saloons, and a cluster of Un .
nreteiitious dwellings comprise its extent. At the
lime of which I write, some five years ago, it w !ls a
lively burg, however, and a rough one. A small
“ of toamsters and miners, and a coterie of
rtl monte men who made it thin headquar-
Hisetl
livened: “It's
ip< ,
drunken l>outfi. . . ■»
Half-il<izen of us one day in a saloon. I w as an
bv the remark most emphatically
fourteen inches between my eyes, and I sine like a
i wid?” The speaker, a large magiufieeutly-pro-
' ,.,,i;i„t: sum demented the peculiar de-
PROFESSORB. MALLON.
The Browning Society and the Girls’ High School,
of Atlanta.
Impressive Ceremouies
The Browning Society of the girl’s high school is
the oldest, as it is probably the most popular of the
many literary societies which attest the culture of
Atlanta. Among the women of this city most dis
tinguished for talents, character and amiability will
be found those who have been its officers.
When the news of Mr. Million’s death was received
at the girls' high school last Monday, there was at
once a called meeting of the society, and resolutions
of regret and condolence were adopted. As the
regular monthly meeting of the association fell on
last Friday, it was agreed to make the occasion a
a memorial of Mr. Mallon.
When the two hundred girls of the high school as
sembled on Friday at the regular hour in Browning
hall, there was aii unusual gravity on their youthful
faces, showing that they were in some way deeply
impressed. The hall was draped with mourning,
and underneath the large, excellent photograph of
Mr. Mallon aj fineynlla lily was placed on a small
bracket. Tna-nkTL^aetrp there was a very tjiffer-
" «d „TtV Ti>o!ii when the girts were in
fill! thirty-nine, well 1 ut 01
When required 1 11
confonn to his eng;
mv father's rami
•i failed to make Jack’s pass
mints. .Mid 1 could write
that, if he had been on the
the situation, said, “No, he's a white
give him a far fight." And with apparently in
creasing power, as if there was an engine in his
chest and shoulders, he knockt d him down twice
patrol instead of Icing tl.e magistrate that appoint- ! more as the man rose and renewed the assault
ed them, he would 1..vi sworn to thegtr.uiiunessof | Jack never moved from his position, but waned
the'pass. Jack disposition to roam on emergencies I every time for him to rise and come at him. Tlie
caused him to risk it without a pass rather than risk I last time the man rose to run. Then Jack t< 10k after
waking me to write it. This often involved him in j him, exclaiming—u la patrol, “Ketch him ! ketch
enl scene in CfSn l _
formed that 11 friend had sent them a present, and
Ephraim, the well-known janitor of the high school,
entered, Inuring this portrait with the figure turned
from them. As Ephraim, in obedience to instruc
tions, slowly revolved the picture until the speak
ing likeness' of Mr. Mallon faced the assemblage,
there burst from it a shout of girlish pleasure and
recognition. And now how different the expression
of those faces which turned round occasionally to
look at Mr. Mallnn’s well-known features! The
girl’s high school had lieon the especial pet of Mr.
Mallon. With his dying breath he had sent them
an affectionate message, and it is said the very Inst
words on his lips were “Girl’s High School. ’
After the minutes were read, the president of the
society. Miss Hannah Sheehan, read an appropriate
and feeling address in a voice trembling with emo
tion. She was followed by the historian, Miss Em
ma Muse, with an interesting account of Mr. Mal
kin's life and services. Many of the more easily
impressed girls were already in tears when Mlss
Minnie Quin read an appropriate and touching little
original poem on the death of Mr. Mallon, which
did credit both to the heart and taste of the writer,
it was, of course, a girlish performance; but it was
promising because there was more poetry ill the
idea than in the mere jingle of the versification.
This was followed b\ thi reading, by Miss Ruther
ford, of the “Resolutions''of tlie meeting of teach
ers, previously published in the Constitution', and
then was read a notice of Mr. Mail'd from flic Na
tional journal of Education, showing his high repu
tation among the prominent educators of the coun
trv. All opportunity was then offered to any mem
ber of the association who wished to speak of Mr.
Mallon. In response. Miss Mollis 1 Bostick read (her
own selections a l'ew lint s from Tennyson’s beauti
ful tribute to Prince Albert, which seemed as if
written for the occasion. Afterwards, a short and
simple paper was read by Miss Gertrude Reynolds,
putting into words t.hc idea so often expressed du
ring the past week by the gins of this school: “One
of the principal reasons why 1 wanted to go to the
high school was, I thought we should see more of
Mr. Mallon.”
As the exercises proceeded, the young eyes grew
dim with those natural tears which are worth a
thousand conventional “resolutions” of sorrow, and
when Miss Haygood rose, and in a voice husky with
emotion, told them that Mr. Mallon had left to the
Browning society his well-chosen educational
library ; and, saying that the existence and pros
perity of tf e high seiiooLs were due more to the ef-
forts'of Mr. Mallon than of any other person, she
charged the assembled girLs that when they were
old women, they must remember and tell the young
jieople of that future day of the good man who had
done so much forpopular education in Georgia, then,
among all the two hundred girls, there was a gen
eral break down into tears and sole. It was a gen
uine. unforced tribute to the work of the man lying
dead in his coffin so far away which would have
impressed the most uninterested stranger. Ah, if
Mr. Mallon in the better world, where “God makes
all a man’s enemies to be at peace with him,” knows
what passes here below, nothing which friends can
sav in his honor, will touch him as this scene at the
Browning Society.
The exercises of the society wore closed by Miss
Mamie Pittman, who read in a piaintive voice the
beautiful poem, “He who died at Azan gave,” etc.
Mr. Mayer, Vice-President of the Board of Edu-
cat.011, who was present, was almost too full totally,
but he said a few appropriate words in which he
told the effecting fact that Mr. Mallon, after so
many years of service, had left Atlanta poorer than
when lit ciime. The society then adjourned.
Mauv things are remembered to show that though
Mr. Mallon went-to honors and pecuniary emolu
ment in Texas greater than ho had here, his heart
was in Georgia. Many per.-ons recollect that he said
in parting, that lie hoped to save enough from the
liberal salary which would be paid him to come
and die and be buried in Georgia. It seems, there
fore, fitting that Georgia should claim the remains
of him who was, by the choice of his iove, by the
work and sacrifices of his life, her own son ; and that
.. thev should rest among those whose outburst of
' " as master 01 „ t thj> n ,, ws of hLs ,] ea th, showed bow widely
7. be was loved here. A measure is on foot among
the teachers of the public schools to have him
brought to Atlanta.
Visitor.
“Babes in the wood.” . .
We have been out sight-seeing, and have conclud
ed that when viewed at sunset, Capitol Hill wears
it's loveliest aspect. The windows of the noble
building, reflecting the crimson glory of the sun,
seem touched with holy fire, enkindling the imagi
nation, until the grand architectural proportions 01
the State Capitol seem to lie tlie frozen eloquence or
the statesmen who have often assembled here to en
act laws for our good old commonwealth, but at
the hour when day and night have met Capitol
Hill is the chosen resort of lovers who breathe tneir
vows in the friendly shadows of the corn tilers, tu
promenade in the beautiful grounds, to catch the
inspiration of t he scene. Beautiful evergreens dot
the velvet verdure of the grass; and along the wind
ing walks the magnolia real's its head, recalling
grand old Southern forests, with their drapery oi
gray moss, and growth of bay and laurel.
Our annual Fair attracted many strangers to the
city, stimulated gent rous emulation, and gave a
fresh impetus to every department of industry.
The competitive drill at the Fair Grounds lietween
the Rock City Guards and Porter Rifles, resulted m
victory for the former, who were handsomely
equipped, and made a magnificent display. T here
is nothing sensational stirring the current of lite in
th; social world, but we are promised a rich least or
musical and dramatic entertainments this winter.
The brick layers’ strike caused some consternation
for a day or two, but the working men w isely con
cluded to resume work at the the old price, and de
mand higher wages at the beginning of the new
year. . ,
Many handsome improvements in the shape of
spacious mansions and cosy cottages are being made
in and around the city. The Custom House, the
corner-stone of which was laid by President Hates
two years ago in the presence of a great concourse,
is now in process of completion. It combines beau
ty and utility, architectural fancies being expressed
in solid South Carolina granite. A11 amusing epi
sode occurred in a quiet country neighborhood a
few days since. On a bright Sabbath morning, the
bell of a little country church was calling the pious
of that vicinity to their devotions; among others
who responded to its invitation, was a lady and lier
little lioy of this eity, then on a visit to country.
Service began, and in a solemn voice the minister
announced his text. Then a hynm was sung, and
all knelt; but just as heads were bowed, and all was
you ever see a goosoeggt" An audible smile broke
over the congregation, and prayer was suspended
for several minutes, as all eyes turned toward the
corner, where the culprit sat, cowering at liis te
merity. . .
If the reform in spelling will only simplify for
the rustic lover the uncongenial task of writing a
love letter, and thus save the wear and tear of the
alphabet, we will lie triad to believe that the emi
nent fuivocates of ihe’Teiorm, have inaftiguratcSd &
golden era in orthography, but at the late meeting
of teachers in our pulili-i schools we believe the
question was not discussed.
A recent visit to Mt. Olivet, the silent city of the
dead, convinced us that it never looked lovlier than
now under the management of the efficient super
intendent, Mr. Woodard. Everything about the
hallowed sjiot is in perfect order; the humblest
graves bearing simple garlands of fresh flowers,
speaking as eloquently of cherishing remembrance,
as do their marble vaults, and magnificent monu
ments in which this country abounds. Oil entering
the iron gate a picturesque sight meets the eye.—
The keejier’s house of stone stands just at the base
of a lovely, grassy slope, covered with a mantle of
vines; and standing in the doorway one glances baek
at the winding road, and tall church spires of Nash
ville, whose streets resound with the din of indus
try, one forgets for the moment that tins is the e;i-
triice to the silent city, peopled by those who have
loved, suffered, and cherished aspirations, “claim
ing kindred” with the stars, who, for countless ages
have looked calmly down 011 the wrecks of earthly
hope and ambition.
During a visit to Salisbury. N. C., the local habi
tation of Miss Frances Fisher, the popular author
ess. whose nom de plume is Christian Reid, was
pointed out tons. AW observed it y-itli great in
terest, having been so often delighted with the pic
tures of courage, goodness and fidelity so graphical
ly depicted by her pen. The house is a large frame
building, in a dilapidated condition, the roof in some
places being covered with boards. A resident of
Salisbury told us that Christian Reid possessed
remarkable beauty, united with rare intellectual
gifts, and great Itivcilness of character. AVe have
lieeu informed that she received her education at
After a momentary sur .
and this terse dialogue followed:
“Yer from the city, ain t yer'
“I am.” „
“Yer don’t know me, do yer.
“Take a drink and gist acquainted, then.”
“Don't drink.”
“Smoke, then.”
“Don't smoke.”
“Do yer shoot”’
“Not worth a continental.
My years of assurance, acquired as a correspond
ent, and my knowledge of aggressive characters,
did not prevent me from feeling some uneasiness as
I observed mv interrogator’s dexterous fingers slide
to his belt and grab the hilt of his “whistler.” An
unpleasant termination of the conversation was
avoided by the strange appearance of a woman,
who stepped from the overland train, just then ar
rived, and directed her steps toward the saloon.
8he was rather a comely-looking female of thirty-
eight or more, and evidently ill and suffering from
the effects of an extended debauch. Joe stared at
her as one looks at the arisen dead for a moment,
and then walked quietly to the door, threw himself
into the saddle mid rode away. Ashe passed the
woman she lifted her hands imploringly towards
him and fell to the earth unconscious. She was
borne to the hotel, and the kind women of tlie vil
lage tliil what they could for her. She spoke no
•word when she recovered from her swoon, but lay
quietly, unmindful of her life fast ebbing away.
During the day I inquired of Brokennose Charley,
who knew everybody and everything about the
farm, regarding the man Joe. Charley said that
little was known of him, except that lie mined some,
gambled some, drank like mad, and altogether was
a bad lot. He had killed two or three men, and had
been shot and cut himself several times. He inva
riably preceded an invitation to imbibe, or the
shooting of a man, bv the expression: “It’s fourteen
inches between my eyes, and I smell like a wolf.”
From this idiosyncrasy ant.' his blood-thirsty dispo
sition, he was known and dreaded as “The Wolf."
Prudent people, however, addressed him as Joe.
The Wolf returned to town the next day, and on
entering the saloon from wliieh he had made his
hurried exit, quietly asked:
“Has that ar woman gone?”
He was told that she was sick and could not live
but a short time. A great change came over his
face; the hard furrows of dissipation and crime
were transformed to the pitiable lines of sorrow.
Not noticing the dram proffered by the bar-keeper,
he hastened to the hotel and made hLs way to the
bedside of the dying woman. Abruptly he ques
tioned:
“Was yer follering him?”
“No, Joe; I was hunting you.”
“Sure?”
“So help me God.”
Th poor, white face, scarred and deep-seamed by
excesses and sin, grew reliant with gladnassj as Jig ['
kneeled down anti kissed her. vvith a seal df’Toro*"*^*
giveness, with the pressure of his lips but half re
turned, she sunk baek dead.
Through the service at the simple burial the fol
lowing day, Joe stood with uncovered head, but his
bronzed and immovable features betrayed no emo
tion, nor vouchsafed any clow to the mystery that
enshrouded the coffined outcast and himself.
The evening of the funeral tlie AVolf called on me
at my room. Seating himself, without preface, he
said:
As a man of sense and no coward, yer can look
at a brave man’s agonj in the right wav. The past
I’ve hidden for twenty years, fur I ain't the kind to
carry my heart on my sleeve for jackdaws to pick
at. But thar’s a feeling as th&jgh I'd choke if I
didn't talk to some one. The woman buried to-day
war my wife. Here’s some letters the wimen folks
found on her an’ give tome. You look over them
while ! chin, fur I’m slow on the read. We war
married in the states when sue war sixteen au’ I
just come of age. A bit after it I got tlie gold fe
ver an’ went to Califomy. I11 a couple of years, I
made quite ;i pile, an' went home for her. She war
changed, an’ it warn’t long before 1 heard the sto
ries, and found tlie truth, that she had gone wroug.
He war a iine-liaired chap, who had come into town
while I war away. 1 war a likely young fellow
then, but the blow turned me into a devil. 1 went
fur him, but he heard of it an’ slid out for Califor-
nj'. i fullered him, an’ fur twenty years I’ve been
hunting him aii over this coast. A voice of hell has
urged me on, an' I’ve killed men that the taste of
blood might keep fierce my hop of revenge. I’ve
never found him. During tliese j ears i’veTieard of
her once in a while, and how she war drinking and
going to the dogs, i’ll alius meant to see Her when
I’d settle with him. His name war Bill Armstrong.”
Tlie letters taken from the dead woman, which 1
over, were mostly answ ers to in-
| quines regarding the whereabouts of her husband.
An unfinished letter of her own to some friend in
Patapsco, MtL, and imagine that amid the rom.-i
tie scenery of that region she caught the inspiration j bad been lex
which lias added so much to the literature of our j ouiries r
loved South.
By and by our pet military company, the j the East, and dated a few days previous to her
Rock City Guards will send a challenge to "foe- death, showed that to this poor, lost creature, with
the grasp of death, upon her, there had come back
men worthy of their steel,” but you need lit >t whis
per this to your own gallant Gate City Guards.
B. P. C.
Nashville, Tenn., Oct., 21st, 1879.
A letter from Lexington, Ky., says: “Trotting
About Women of Twenty-five.
The man who meets and loves the woman of twen
ty-five is truly fortunate, and she is equally fortun
ate in meeting and loving him, says a writer in a
feminine journal. At that age she seldom deceives.
She may not have, she is not likely to have then,
her first sentimental experience; but such experi
ence at such an age is more sentimental and rarely
ever fleeting. She looks back at the youths she
imagined she was enamored of between sixteen or
eighteen, or often twenty-two, and they are more
than indifferent or repellant to her—they are ridic
ulous, and in some sort she, as she then was, is ridic
ulous to herself. She cannot but be grateful to her
destiny that her sympathies and affections have
been reserved for a worthy object and a higher end.
At twenty-five, if ever, a” woman knows and esti
mates herself. She is less liable to emotional or
mental mistakes; she Ls far surer of her fortune, be
cause she feels that her fate is, to a certain extent,
within her own hands. Not only is she lovelier and
more lovable, broader and stronger than she lias
been, but her wedded happiness and powers of en
durance are in a manner guar anteed.
A Touching Incident.
A sad and touching story is told of a scene wit
nessed at the terrible railroad accident a few days
ago near. Jackson, Michigan. VATtile the dead and
wounded were lieing extracted from the wreck, one
lady, afterwards ascertained to be Mi's. Rice, of
Philadelphia, was discovered to be dead with her
arm.wound around the neck of her little four-year-
old boy. Both lay under the car, the lioy alive, but
with liis leg broken, and so surrounded and confined
that it was for an hour or more impossible to get
him out. James McDonough, of the round house
force, worked long and faithfully, without a mo
ment’s rest, to rescue the child. The poor little fel
low moaned out: “Oh! if 00 tan o'ny dit me out I'll
besodood? Tate me out from here and I’ll
dood boy! Tate me out
out!” At last McDonough
and Dr. McLaughlin tenderly
leg. His father also lay man;
to her the glory of her first and only pure love
and the unconquerable desire to die at his feet’
freed from the burden of his curse. Strangely'enough!
another letter gave information of Bill Armstrong
and stated that he was living near Boise City in
Idaho. These two I read to the desjierate man who
sat before me, his gleaming eyes burning with pain
and his lips mute with anguish. When 1 ceased, he
grasped my hand with, “Thank yer, stranger,” and
left the room. I watched him mount his horse
and ride out into the black night. The wolf was
again on the trail.
The circumstances I have related were vividly
called to my mind during my present visit to Bat
tle Mountain, by casually overhearing an account
of a fatal shooting affair between Bill Armstrong
a mining speculator, and Joe, the Wolf, at Boise
hi 1S78. The details of the reneountre, 1 give
111 the words of the narrator, who was an eve-wit
ness: J
“Joe met Armstrong 011 the street, and with the
single exclamation, ‘I’m Aggie’s husband!’ pulled
and fired. For some unaccountable reason he
misseu. Armstrong returned the fire, .shooting Joe
plump through the heart. He fell on one knee and
tor a moment swayed like a reed liefore the storm.
Grand m hLs physical strength, in the power of his
r^overed hiniscif. As from Ills aspen lijis
urteen inches between my
oil’! he fired, killing Arm-
rang the old t
eyes, and l su
-■ The sales of Ohio and -
1- week have been at 4- T w ° o1 thi ”
il to 40 cents for XXX; N.f , “ad,* X ? nd XX > «1»
a 47 cents; Michigan •m,i' ..L 1 ‘“ies are firm at 45 to
.. ! V . V n _ an <t Wisconsin 11,. ...r.
horses were never in such demand before, isthe uni- leg. His father also lav mangled ami ueart b.
versa] testimony of all in Kentucky.” J him, but not where little Willie could see him.