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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.