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VOLUME V.
A REBEL SPY'S ESCAPE.
“A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND
IN DEED.”
How he Flayed off as a Milkman and Got
into the Federal Lines A Quick
Change of Clothes and
a Bold Game.
Detroit Free Press.
A few days before tho battle of Stone
River I was ordered by General Bragg,
then at Murfreesboro, to proceed to Nash
ville and secure information in regard to
Rosecran’s intentions. This information
was supposed to be in possession of cer
tain people in the city friendly to the Con
federate cause, and I bad but to call on
them .and receive it.
About half a mile from the Union pick
ets lived a farmer who supplied a milk
route in the city, lie was thoroughly
rebel, and after an hour’s conversation I
fixed it with him that I was to drive his
rig into tire city, using hi pass, deliver
milk to regular customers, and then send
the outfit back by a person he named. I
paid him s!.¥> in gold for this exchange,
and left his home an hour before daylight.
Ho lent mo the coat and hat he usually
wore, and 1 had no fear of being halted by
the pickets. When I reached the outpost
1 was challenged for my pass. I handed
it oyer, but It was hardly looked at, the
officer saying :
“Oh, it’s you, eh ! Well, I shan’t object
if you fill my canteen.”
lie handod it up and I filled it. I saw
him looking me over with sharp eyes, and
noted especially that he fastened his eyes j
on a finger ring of peculiar make which 1
had stupidly forgotten to remove. How
ever, nothing further was said and 1 drove
on. I was stopped twice before entering
the city, but my pass took me through,
and I entered upon the work of delivering
milk soon after daylight.
T was not only perfectly at home in the
city, but the milkman had carefully locat
ed each customer for me. Some of the
servants looked curiously at me, but oth
ers gave no heed, and I got through the
work in a couple of hours without any
feeling of uneasiness. I left the horse at
the place agreed upon, notified the party
who was to return it, and then set off,
satchel in hand, to hunt up a certain per
son 1 had been recommended to stop
with.
The people whom I came to sec could
not be approached until after dark, and
although the city was a bee-liive of bustle
and excitoment I did not want to take
any chances by exposing myself. While
making for the haven mentioned I stopped
for a moment to make a small purchase at
p store, and was waiting for my change
A yhcn I heard a soldier say to a citizen at
the &or :
“HaVe you seen a man wearing a black
slouch ha % a brown coat and having a
satchel in Ink hand, pass here?”
“Seems as I .'lid. Who wants him?”
“I do.”
“Oli! you belong to the provost guard.”
“Yes, we suspect the fellow is a spy.”
“Well, I think he passed here not five
minutes ago, going towards tlie market
house.”
The young man behind the counter was
looking me square in the eyes. He knew
I was the man wanted. Presently he
said, speaking in low tones :
“My friend, you had better go out by
the back door. You'll surely be shot if
they catch you.”
I bowed my thanks and bolted for the
alley. I pot safely out on the street, and
lind traveled three blocks when I heard a
yell behind mo and saw three cavalrymen
coming. Right at hand was a house with
a basement door which was open. I
dtsL'od into the place, shut and locked the
door find boldly struck out for up stairs.
There was no one in sight on the first
jioor, and I ascended to the second. There
\Tas now a great noise in five street, and
mcwi were pounding Qu the doors. As I
reached the upper hall a woman came
out of a bedroom.
“Who are you ?” she demanded, not
seeming to be in the loast alarmed.
“A rebel spy ! lam just from General
Bragg.”
“And the men below are after you ?”
“Yes.”
“Go in there. You will find clothing.
Change as speedily as possible. You arc
my brother George, from Illinois.”
While she went down stairs I pushed
into the bedroom. There was a closet full
of male attire, and I wasn’t over three
minutes in making an exchange. In
place of a coat I put on a morning gown,
clapped a smoking cap on my head, and
when I had thrust my feet into a pair of
slippers, I disposed of my old clothes by
thrusting them up the fire-place chimney.
There was a loaded pipe on the mantel.
I lighted it and marchod down into the
hall, just as the woman came up stairs at
the head of half a dozen Federals.
“What is it, Lucy?” I asked in a voice
not too anxious.
“These men are after same one, and
they say he came in here.”
“We were at his heels when he entered
the basement and locked the door on its,”
said the sergeant in command.
“What a bold fellow; and you thiuk he
is in the house ?”
“I know it.”
A ell, let us make thorough search.
Bister Lucy, where is the cooit?”
“Gone to market.”
Ah ! The man may have secreted
himself in the lower part of the house.
Come on.”
1 headed the soldiers in their search
As may be imagined, it was a useless one’.
We looked into every place where a man
might have concealed himself,* and the
sergeant finally became discouraged and
observed:
“Is it possible he went out the back
door.”
“I thought so from the first," I replit and,
“but I wanted to be satisfied.”
Opening the back basement door, and
showing him a yard with the alley gate
open, I continued :
“The man doubtless passed out that
way, and is now two miles away.
*1 ought to be kicked for a lool,” he
growled. “Well, am very much obliged
to you, aud hope you will excuse this in
terruption.”
“Who is the man you are after?”
“A spy from Bragg’s headquarters, or
we so suspect. He came in with a milk
wagon.”
The soldiers presently departed and the
woman said to me:
“You can select a suit from the closet
and make yourself at home for the day.
When night comes you will know where
to go.”
That night I got the information that I
had been sent for. It came from people
who expressed the confidence in their
knowledge derived unconsciously from
members of Rosecrans’ staff, and settled
the date of his movement towards Stone
River, Three days later I was back at
Murfreesboro; and the news I brought
made almost a complete change in the po
sition of Bragg's line.
OLD GKNIiUAL SPINNER.
A ('lfni With tlie Greenback Futlirr-ln-
Law in His Florida Retreat.
New Y ork World
The name of Gen. Spinner is we'l known
from one end of the Union ta the other,
principally through his unique signature
which adorned the greenback notes while
lie was Treasurer of the United States dur
ing the late Yvar. lie is now over
84 years old. He is spending
the declining years of his life at Pablo
Beach, Fia., encamped on the seashore.
He has with him his daughter, a married
lady, who, together with a negro servant,
is his only attendant. During the past
two months he has been suffering from a
severe sickness, but is now rapidly re
covering. The old General has few visit
ors, and to those whom he sees he delights
in relating incidents in the lives of the
prominent men whom he has met during
the past fifty yeers. Speaking of General
Spinner, Mr. W. R. Corwin, of this city,
visited him at his retreat on Pablo Beach,
Fla., said yesterday :
“ While I Yvas in Florida several weeks
ago I decided to call on General Spinner
at Pablo Beach. A few days after he had
become ill I left Jacksonville and pro
ceeded down to Pablo Beacli for the pur
pose of seeing the old General. I called
at liis tent and was met by his daughter,
Mrs. Schumacher, who, learning the .ob
ject of my call, went into the tent to in
form her fathor of my arrival. She re.
turned after a few moments and said that
I.could go in and see the General, pro
vided I did not remain long. I had ex
pected to see him somewhat changed; but
was startled as I stepped inside the tent to
sec his feeble condition. He was sitting
in a low tent chair with a military cloak
thrown around him, and his appearance
indicated physical weakness, lliscothad
been prepared for the night and was
drawn up close to where he w r as sitting,
while his negro servant stood respectfully
a short distance away, waiting to assist
Ids master to bed.
“The venerable ex-Treasurer sat silent
fora few moments after exchanging greet
ings, but finally brightened up a little and
began to talk. He said that he attrib
uted his condition to a cold he had con
tracted a few days before while on a visit
to Jacksonville. Talking with a visitor
seemed to cheer him and soon lie passed
trom his sickness aud began to speak of
Washington and public men. 1 would
Imve given much could I have taken down
some of the stories he told me of Grant,
Johnson, Lincoln, Chase, Stanton and
others in the stirring scenes of the war and
the exciting times after its close. In some
way the name of Clarkson N. Potter was
mentioned by me, and I told the General
that he was dead. This he had not known
and was surprised to hear of it. He then
launched out into anecdotes of that gen
tleman’s public life. Suddenly he stopped
talking and relapsed into silence. Ile was
apparently in a doep reverie, and while
sitting there with his hands clasped in
front of him he remarked in a low, sad
tone: “Yes, yes. lam 84 years old and
must be nearing the end. Perhaps this is
the breaking up. I have outlived many
and it is time for me to go!”
“I sat there, deeply impressed by his
words, which were uttered slowly. That
scene I shall never forget. There sat the
rugged form, now drooping from illness,
of a man who had filled honorably many
important positions of trust, who had
been prominent in the war time*, and
passing his last years on the Florida sea
coast. I rose to leave him. He thanked
me for my call and as I passed out of the
teut I glanced back and saw that he had
resumed his reverie. I made several ef
forts afterwards to see him again, but
without success, as he was too unwell to
receive anyone.”
Another style of satchet that is “con
trived at once a double debt to pay” is a
traveling pincushion. Made of two strips
of nbon about three inches wide and
quarter of a yard long stitched together
and filled with powdered orris root, it
can be easily tucked into a satchel or
trunk,—Ohristiau Terhuno IJeniek,
CARTERSVILLE, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, JULY 27, 1886.
A PRISON ROMANCE.
THE PARDON OF A MYSTERIOUS
PRISONER.
‘ Col. Swallow,” who Was Sentenced to
Fifteen Years Imprisonment Par
doned by the Governor of
Tennessee—Etcetera-
A recent Nashville letter says Gov.
Bate, in accordance with the custom to
pardon a convict every Fourth of July,
liberated a noted convict who has been
called Col. Swallow. In November, 1882*
he was arrested here for obtaining money
under false pretenses in five eases and
sentenced to the penitentiary for fifteen
years. The man had many aliases, but he
gave that of “Swallow” as his real name.
He was a mystery to the officers who ar
rested him. He was evidently a man of
high culture, was relined to a degree in
iiis utterances and actions, and gave every
evidence of gentlemanly breeding. lie
was calm under every circumstance of his
trial, and, save for a pallor, received hi*
sentence stolidly. liis main object seem
ed to be to avoid notoriety, and he has
tened to the penitentiary after his con
viction without any attempt at a reversal
of the decision of the court. Since lie has
been within the prison wall he has con
ducted himself with extreme decorum.
liis superiority over his striped associates
was evident to every officer, and to them,
too, he appeared a man with a history he
was anxious to conceal. It was noticed
that the prisoner “Swallow” spent all of
his leisure hours in writing. Presently
articles under the nom deplume of “Swal
low” lound their way into the public
prints. The Nashville American contain
ed several. They w r ere written in classic
English, witli a peculiar smoothness, and
withal in a fine descriptive vein, for they
treated of historical incidents long passed.
“Swallow” contributed articles to the
Century, Harper’s and the Southern Biv
ouac, which depicted in masterly style
many memorable epochs in the late civil
war. Campaigns were analyzed, and the
motives which controlled Southern Gen
erals at important stages of that unequal
led warfare were given, and events, per
sonal and historical, connected with the
strife related with such accuracy and mi
nuteness of detail that the writer Yvas
highly praised. It was evident that he
must have figured in the scenes depicted.
Little did editors and readers of the fore
most magazines which published the
works of “Swallow” dream that he was a
felon in the Tennessee penitentiary. Not
long since the Century sent him a
check for S9O for a short article. The
proceeds were, it has be-n learned, used
in repaying Dr. Price and Dr. Ward the
money' taken three ago. Now, the rest of
the mystery which had enveloped the si
lent man who wore stripes and wrote his
tory begins to be lifted. Several weeks
ago Capt. A. J. Porter, of the Board of
Public Works and Affairs, received a let
ter from a lady in Missouri, stating that
through a Masonic lodge in that State she
had recerted information which led her to
believe that a brother whom she had long
thought dead was in the Tennessee prison
under the name of Col. Swallow. The
lady signed ker name and gave the real
namo of her brother, and asked Capt. Por
ter to interest himself i* her brother’s be
half. Efforts to that effect were made,
and a mass of correspondence witli the
Governor ensued. Pressure came from
high quarters to induce the Governor to
pardon the mysterious conyict. Capt.
Porter went to see him in his cell and ad
dressed him in his real name. Col. Swal
low, for iucli he must be termed as yet,
was astonished. He thought that his
name was buried. It was that of a high
aud honorable ancestry whose dishonor
he had thought to save. He begged se
crecy and his request was granted. Gov.
Bate, it is thought, also knows the true
name of the unfortunate, but Le will not
divulge it. This much, however, is reli
ably known. The swindler, whose opera
tions covered several States, and the letter
writer for the Century, was born in Fred
ericksburg, Va., sixty years ago. There
are strong reasons for believing that his
true name is Stephen G. Poitor, though
no relative of Capt. Alex. Porter, who so
earnestly labored for his release. liis
family was wealthy and aristocratic. He
went to Georgetown College, Pa., and
was a class-mate of President Arthur and
a college mate of Gen. Robert Toombs.
At the opening of the war he entered
the Confederate service, he saw hard ser
vice, he was shot through the body once
and left for dead on the battle-field of
Fredericksburg, lie recovered, however,
and again enlisted, only to be shot again
through the leg. These scars remain to
tell of liis courage. He was on the sta rt' of
Gen. Jubal Early, and later on that of
Gen. Breckenridge. Thus the mystery of
liis accurate acquaintance with the war
and the high merit of “Swallow’s” arti
cles, which attract the>attention of veter
ans of both sides, is readily explained.
The steps by -which the courageous and
cultivated Southern soldier fell are as a
sealed book. With his fortune swept
away by the strife in which he had so
nearly offered up his life, may it not have
been that the broken-spirited mercurial
temperament in one temptation lost h ; e
high estate, and from evil to worse be
came another sad monument to the ruin
wrought by war. However, sinning
grievously, he has grievously suffered.
The aged man now only seeks to hide his
retreat fronq the gaze of his fellow men.
He has a son in Florida who thinks him in
Europe, and he it is to whom he will prob
ably turn. liis form is now bent, his
his locks are white and his step feeble,
and he longs, as he wrote to the Governor,
100 pass his last days in rest. Counting
good time lie had served five years of the
fifteen allotted him, and few will be
found who will assert that the chief Ex
ecutive of Tennessee erred in granting
liberty to this suffering scion of a wrong
ed household.
A H ANDS#ME FIEND.
Detroit Free Press.
We were at the Air-Line Junction, just
out of Toledo, and the four or five of us
waiting for the same train became quite
friendly, men will under the circum
stances. We were out on the platform
when a train came in from the other way
and about a dozen passengers got off. All
of a sudden a middle-aged man with a
bald head and a professional look about
him —he was one of the five of us who
were waiting —gave utterance to one of
the biggest oaths on the swearing calen
dar, and took a step or two forward. We
saw that his attention had been attracted
to a good looking woman in the company
of a rather oldish aqd good looking man.
Tke woman left her husband—for so the
man proved to be—and walked right up
to ou>' friend, nnd held out her hand and
said:
“Shake! Charlie! You aren’t looking
exactly well. Divorce and all that does
not seem to agree with you first-rate. Let
me introduce you to my hub.”
“No! Never!” gasped the man whose
face was as white as a sheet.
“Oh, well, just as you please. He’s a
good feller, and he wouldn’t be jealous.
Got your wife picked out, old boy?”
“For God’s sake! go away !”
“All right, Charlie, but I supposed you
would be glad to see me. We didn't get
along together very well as man and wife,
but we shouldn’t lay up any grudgos-
How’s the folks at home? How’s your
business doing? Anybody dead or mar
ried since I left? Say, Charlie, Yvhat did
the papers say about me, anyhow?”
He held up his hands as if to keep her
back, and she laughingly said;
“Bah! but I ain’t going to hurt you ! If
you are going to stop here for an hour or
two come up to our room and w'e’ll talk
over old times.”
With that she bowed and turned away,
while our friend began pacing the long
platform. One of the others understood
the case and whispered to us:
“lie was divorced from her two years
ago, and it nearly drove him crazy. She
was and is a scheming, heartless, faithless
woman. Lands! but how dare she talk
to him after that fashion !”
About fifteen minutes to train time we
went in to see about our luggage, leaving
the man still walking. We had scarcely
left the platform before a special came
dashing past. We heard the whistle and
the bell and the roaring, and the sounds
had not yet died away when there was a
shout of horror trom the platform. The
divorced husband had flung himself un
der the train, and when’it had passed his
body was a mangled corpse.
The woman came down from the sit
ting room into the crowd and asked what
had happened. Seine one told her that a
man had flung himself under the wheels,
and she was given a description of the
victim.
“Why, that’s my old Charlie!” she ex
claimed as she raised her hands. “Now,
what could have posseased him to do
such a thing! Why, it’s so funny—so
very, very funny that he’d let himself be
ground up that way !”
She ran back to the edge of the crowd to
tell her husband, and as she explained the
horror to him she tapped him ou the
shoulder and said:
“Now, then, you won’t be jealous of me
again, will you?
THE COW GOV EVANGELIST.
He YViu; Oneo Maverick, but Now Claims
to bo RrauileU.
The great southwest does not mean to
be outdone by any other portion of this
great continent. Learning of the success
of the Rev. Sam Jones, and the sensation
he was creating oast of the Mississippi,
they have taken up What they claim to be
an equal prodigy in the person of S. W.
Wesley, who as an evangelistcan “whoop
her up with any of them.”
“I was born,” said the evangelist, in a
reported interview, communicating the
startling secret with much impressiveness*
“I was born in Missouri, but when I was
a 3-year-ole I riz to the enormity of the
fact an’ went to Texas. One dark night
I saddled a gray filly an’ rode out into
Texas. Yes, sir, it was my third birth
day. 1 brought up on the fr-ntier, and
until a year ago was a cowboy. Every
one knew me. I was branded all over
with the devil’s irons; ves, sir. One day
a year ago, tilings bein’ corpse-like on the
frontier, I dropped over in Anderson
county, jest to get aswaller of civilization.
I had several, so to speak. Happened in
to meeting one night, and there was Maj-
Penn, an evangelist, firin’ red-hot Bible
into the crowd. Belore that I’d been a
sort o’ Maverick, knockin’ around with
out no owner; but that night the Lord jest
lassoed me, branded me, an’ says, ‘Now
you caper on my ranch,’ and I nave been
adoing the very same. Why, a year ago
I didn’t know Matthew from Mordecal*
but I’ve sorted things out, If any man
can jump a quotashun from the Bible
that I don’t know why I’ll—l’ll swaller
my hat or eat him blood-raw, jest as he
likes.”
Mr. Wesley is in real earnest in liis
present mission. He recently visited
some of the Northern States for the pur
pose of raising money to buy and repair a
church building in Caddo, Tex. In this
he has been successful. He is the sou of
an Illinois river steamboat captain, and
claims to be a descendant of the great
John Wesley. His progress in the church
has been rapid. He was converted in
April, 1885, licensed to preach by the
Baptist church in July of that year and
ordained in April of this year, since \
which he has been constantly preaching, 1
A THIEF'S BOODLE.
THE SINGULAR ILL LUCK. OF
BURGLARS.
How Big Fortunes Are Wasted by Cracks
men at the Game ot Faro—The Fate
ot Plin White, Jesse Allen,
Jim Casey and Others.
“Hello! Promised to tell you what:’''
said the eld police detective, roused from
a nap, and rubbing liis eyes. “About
thieves who stole fortunes and died poor,
eh ? Come to think, so I did. But aey !
wouldn’t the other kind do ; them that
stole and kept the money V No ? Take
more stock in the other gang ? Queer!
Well, sit down and let me think.” And
the old detective pushed a chair over to
the reporter and tilled his pipe with a
sigh that sounded a good deal like a
growl.
“Seems to me,” he resumed, a little un
graciously, “you ought to be satisfied with
what you’ve had in that line here lately.
It isn’t but a week or two ago you were
writing the obitury of the king pin of that
gang, who died som’eres up in Massachu
setts. Plin White was the boss thief for
cheek as well as for luck, as one might
know, for he was a newspaper man from
the start, and it was when he was druv
•ut of the business that he caught on to
Boston Suckers and showed his metal.
Plin was the boss swindler, and no mis
take. He was the only man I ever knew
who robbed a man ot all he had ; ruined
him the first time and cleaned him out
the next, all under the guise of friend
ship. When he stole he lumped it, there
never was a mean hair in Plin’s head and
went for a stake of SIOO,OOO or $50,000 if
funds were low, I’m blamed if I don’t
believe he stole a couple of millions in his
time and yet he died poor. Where did it
go to? you ask me too much. One
thing I can tell you; very little went
back to its rightful owners. Some of it
was lost in a flood that swallowed up his
fowl farm on that Louisiana Island, where
he had a fortune invested; doubtless
much of it was blown in at faro. That’s
the way nine tenths of all stolen money
goes, and that’s h#w gambler’s live. To
my mind that is the principal objection
to gambling. You bet your money
against a thief’s put up by backers, and
the chances are not even.
“The real thief ain’t the man that
steals, but the one who puts up for the
t*ols and takes the profit, but none of the
risk. He is the fellow who gets rich at
the busincs*- The others die poorer than
rats, iu jail or in their boots, according to
their luck or the whim ol their master,
whose slaves they are, even the best of
them, Geo. Howard was one of them
He was a regular mechanical genius and
used to buy bank locks and such, and
study mechanism and the way to over
come it for months and months in his
room, bofoi-e he >7Olllll tackle the job.
When he was shot down and killed in a
row with the rest of ihe gang up in West
chester county, he didn’t have a cent, so
far as anybody ever heard, though he had
stolen thousands, I don't suppose a
smarter thief ever lived than Jesse Allen,
one of the Allen family New Yorkers
know so well, lie stole more money
than wegld make any man comfortably
rich before he was found dead at a rail
road depot, with a kit of burglar’s tools
beside him, stricken down by apoplexy
or heart disease just as he was going at a
job. He was just out of the Ohio peniten
tiary after serving #ut a seven years’ sen
tence. No money was ever found after
him, and for good reasons—he didn’t have
any. There Was a bank burglar shot
dead over in Jersey when he was blowing
up a safe. John Hughes was his name,
and he had gambled away more than one
fortune in New York, but for all that
enough money to bury him decently
couldn’t be got together.
THIEVES WHO DIED A PAUPERS.
Big John Garoty, the second story
thief, who fell through a stair hole in a
house on the Hill over in Brooklyn and
was killed, with his arms full of rich sil
ver wedding presents, was as poor as
Job’s turkey. He was clever at the trade
and had ruined a score of men. When
he escaped from Sing Sing once he did it
so nicely that his keeper never could find
out how it was done till fate sent him
back to show them and have a laugh at
their expense. There’s lots of other
thieves that died in their boots, hut these
will do. Just let me count iu Jim Casey,
who comes to my mind in that connec
tion. Jim was a bank burglar, and a good
one. Ellen, his wife, was a trump, too.
In the July riot of 1871, when she was a
pickpocket on Eighth Avenue, she Mas
shot in the leg, and at the hospital they
found twelve pocket books and purses in
her clothes. Jim and her worked the
racket together for all they were worth,
till Jim vas shot dead by Toni McCor
mick, his pal, iu a Twenty- seventh street
saloon in a a argument about sharing the
boodle from a Philadelphia bank they had
cracked. 1 hat busted the firm and no as
sets were found to administrate on. Jim
hud blowed it at laro. 1 lie old woman
is stealing in England now—if she isn’t
in jail,
“Tommy Stacks, who stole $12,000 in
Government bonds—good as gold—from
an editor in ibis town, was pardoned out
of the Charleston penitentiary u couple of
years ago, blind, paralyzed and without a
penny or friend. 1 suppose he is dead
now. Dutch Heinrick, who worked with
the best of them and help to steal millions,
got silly from drinking and humming und
die lin a madhouse in Germany. There
was a chap they used to call the ‘king
prop man’ from the handy way he had of
getting away with gentlemen’s ‘props,’
which is to say pins. Ilis real nme was
William Roger, and his alias Boils, l'luy
had to sarape together a few pennies' on
the sly to bury him. Kerwin Carr, who
was one of the three that got away with
$200,000 in cash from the house of a Mr.
Moore on Madison avenue, is buried in
the Potter’s Field. He died a lunatic on
Blackwell’s Island. Trey Dennis, who
was one of his two pals in the job, was
killed while robbing a house in Thirty
fourth, and the other, Bill Vosburgh, had
fallen to the rank of a fourth class sneak
thiel' when I ran across him three years
ago working a Coney Island boat. Jacob
Levy was one of the lew who managed
both ends of the business himself. He
was a thief and a fence at the same time
and was reported to be wealthy. He had
a farm out at Jerusalem, Long Island,
and I supposed, money in bank. Still
when he died in a hospital in this city, a
charity patient, it turned out that he had
nothing.
Dick Moore—we used to call him Ten to
One Dick, on account of the chances he
liked to take at faro —gambled away more
than one million dollars of stolen money
and died of slow consumption in the ut
most destitution. So did Ike Weber, the
counterfeiter whose Pennsylvania con
federates spent more money in a day
bucking the tiger than most men make in
a year. Take the case of Charlie Becker,
who beat the Government experts at en
graving. Becker c.arae to grief in Italy
for forging American letters of credit and
shoving them on the Continent and after
ward in Brooklyn, where he was forging
French bank notes. Asa ‘straight’ me.
chanic he could have earned a compe
tence. Preferring to be a thief, he died a
pauper.—N. Y. Mail and Express.
OUR SCHOOLBOY HAYS.
Rill N? s.
Dear reader, in the midst of the hurry
and the distraction of business do you
ever look out far across the purple hills,
with misty vision, and think of the days,
now held in the sacred silence of your
memory, when you trudged through the
June sunlight to the little log school
house, with bare feet and happy heart?
Do th pleasant memories come throng
ing back to you now of those hallowed
years in your history when you bowed
your head above your spelling lesson,
and, while filling your mind with useful
knowledge, you also filled your system
full of doughnuts and thought?
How sweetly come back to us to-day,
like an almost forgotten fragrance of
•honeysuckle and wood violets, the recol
lections of the school-room, the busy hum
of a score ot industrious scholars, and,
above all, the half-repressed sob of the
freckled youth who thoughtlessly hov
ered o’er the bent pin for a brief, transitory
moment. Oh! who can give us back the
hallowed joys of childhood, when we os
tensibly sought out the wherabouts of
Timbuctoo in our geography while we
slid a vigorous wasp into the pants pocket
of out seat mate?
Our common schools are the founda
tions of America’s free institutions. They
are bulwarks of our liberty and the glory
and the pride of a great republic. It is
there that the youth of the land learns the
rudiments of greatness and how to throw
a paper wad with unerring precision.
Do you remember when you had no
dreams of statesmanship and when the
holy ambition to be a paragraphs had
never fired your young blood? Do you
remember when you had no ambition
except to be the boy who could tell the
most plausible lie? Do you still remem
ber with what wonderful discretion you
sought out and imposed upon the boy
you thought you could lick? and do you
still call to mind the thrill of a glad sur
prise that came oyer you when you made
a slight error and the meek eyed victim
arose in his wrath and left you a lone
some ruin ?
Do you ever stop to think of those glo
rious holidays you took without the teach
er’s consent? How you rambled in the
wildwood all day and gather nuts, and
crab apples, and wood ticks, and water
melons and mosquito bites? Have you
returned tired and hungry at night and
felt that your parents wouldn’t be so
tickled to sec you as they might be?
Do you know of the day when you
rashly resolved to lick your father, and
he persuaded you to change your mind
and let him lick you?
Who would rob us of these green mem
ories of other days? Who would snatch
from us the joy we still experience in
bringing up those pictures f careless
childhood when we bathed in the clear,
cdm waters of the smooth flowing river,
or pelted each other with mud or dead
frogs while the town people drove by and
wondered why the authorities didn’t take
some measures to prevent boys from
bathing in publie places.
People come into the Boomerang
office every day and see us waiting out
checks and raking in the s?.ads and think
that we must l>e happy, but we’d give all
these gaudy trappings of wealth and lux
uriant ease for one week of those school
days, when we had less wealth and more
appetife.
It might not look dignified for a man
upon whom the eye of the nation rests, to
descend to the sports of youth, but everv
little while an almost irresistible spell
comes oer us to lay aside our white i
vests and costly gems, while we don a !
gingham shirt, a pair of top boots and |
some other finery, and make a raid ou j
the watermelon trees of Wyoming.
NUMBER 11
READING A RIME NOVEL.
A chap of a bootblack who had made
his stake for the day sat down iu the
shade iu the poetoftice window the other
day and pulled a dime novel from his
pocket with a grin of great satisfaction.
It was a novel about a terrible western
desperado, who was pictured on the
cover with his hands full of revolvers
aud his mouth filled with bowie-knives.
The boy was thrilled at the sight of the
wood cut aud ho made haste to begin his
reading. He had read only u half page,
holding the book in his left hand, when
he suddenly clenched his right fist. The
medicine was beginning to work.
He road to the bottom of the page and
a look of exultation crept over his face.
The hero had probably killed a couple
of men and barricaded himself in a sa
le ou.
During the reading of the next page
tho boy paused from perfect satisfaction
to the deepest anxiety, and he oouldn’t
keep his feet still. The hero was being
surrounded by the towns-people, who
meant to send up the mercury for him.
Fage third was so exciting that tho
boy began to breathe hard and grow
pale and chew on his quid of gum for nlj
he was worth. The hero was probably
loading up liis weapon, tilling up with
benzine, and getting ready to perish or
die.
Fage fourth was a screamer. The boy
got up ami sat down three different
times, and half way down the page he
swallowed his quid slick and clean. At
the end of the page it was painfully evi
dent that his collar-loti id choked him, for
his neck was growing very red. Fage
five related how the hero shotidown four
or five men and made a dash out of the
town, firing over his shoulders as he ran.
The boy slapped his leg and grinned as
if he had found a dollar.
Being afraid that the hero would stub
his toe and be overtaken, the boy
skipped tiie next seven or eight pages
aud caught the hero at bay iu the pres
ence ot u dozen Indians. His eyes be
gan to bulge out aud the sweat to ap
pear, anti it was evident that he expected
the fur to fly.
The next page was full of bullets and
war-whoops. The boy held up liis
right arm as if sighting a revolver,
dodged three arrows and a tomahawk,
and was just panting for breath when
the Indians, or as many of them as were
left alive, kindly consented to withdraw
and go off after some other kind of mut
ou.
Again the boy turned over half a doz
en leaves, and as lie settled down again
..he gave a start of surprise. The hero
had just leaped off a 200-foot precipice
and landed safely on his cheek. Then
came a look of proud satisfaction as the
desperado knifed a couple of grizzlies
aud kicked a panther into insetisibiiity.
The next page was a corker. It was
made up of avalanches, cyclones, rattle
snakes, mountain lions, redskins, road
agents, Danites and chain lightning; and
after suppressing three yells, four groans
aud seven shivers of horror, the boy
sprang up, pocketed llio novel, and mut
tered to himself as he wiped liia damp
blow on his elbow:
By gam! but 1 can’t wait no longer!
I’ve got to go off aud steal a banana or
lick a boy or susi a policeman!”
Tamili ■iin in i 'ii r TViii aim ■—!
REMOVAL 2
JOHN T. NORRIS’
FIRE INSURANCE OFFICE
*
First Door South of Howard’s Bank,
(up stairs.)
BEST COMPANIES, LOWEST KATES.
Come up—you are welcome.
S. 11. GALLOWAY. JAMES UREN.
GAIJ.OWAV UK ION. 9
CA ItTKRSV I LI. K, G A.,
Will keep for sale Dressed aud Un
dressed Lumber and Shingles. We
will also do Lumber Dressing for the
public. At the opening of the season
we will be prepared to guarantee sat
isfaction in Cotton (iinniug. Well soon
have connected with our ether business a
first-class Corn Mill. The patronage of
the public genet ally is respectfully so
licited. jun22-2m
B lil AUTIFUU)ISPL.\Y
—ou—
spring Millinery !
-■
My stock of spring millinery lias just
arrived aud 1 am nmv prepared to give
my patrons splendid bargains, as I can
duplicate Homo and Atlanta prices.
Come and see mo l>tf >re you bnv your
spring bats. Yours Respectfully,
Miss L. Shockley.
TilM.o \\ , VOM
AND FORA
Cheapest vvv ;fflßiisiaess Education.
THE Commercial College Ky.
ntckMl Honor and Cold Modal over all other Colleges,
at tne World’* Exposition, for System of Book-keeping and
General Business Education. tUHHJ tlr.duste. In Bu.l
■*•* io Teachers employed. Cost of Full Business Csursts
including Tuition, Stationery and Board, about #SM>. Short-
Hsnd, Type-Writing and Telegraphy specialties. ■’**
ration. Enter Now. Ursriu.te* Cunrantesd Stiee.
circulars address W. B. SMITH. Prest, Lexinton,Kj.
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