The Middle Georgia argus. (Indian Springs, Ga.) 18??-1893, January 27, 1881, Image 1

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IHIHI
Dinner was over at last, and Mr. Wal
ter Currie, English Commissioner at the
up-country station, at Huttee-Bagli, in
Northern India, had gone upon the ve
randa with his wife and liis two guests,
the Colonel and Major of the th light
infantry, to enjoy the cool of the even
ing.
On three sides tho house was sur
rounded by its compound, a largo in
closed space serving the purpose of, a
courtyard, but the fourth was only sep
arated by a small patch of garden from
the road, along which a number of native
women wore passing with their little
pitchers on their heads.
The sight of them naturally turned the
conversation upon a favorite subject
with all Anglo-Indians, viz., the char
acter of the natives and the best mode of
dealing with them.
“There s only one way,” said the
Colonel, emphatically. “Tell ’em what
they iU'o to do, make ’em do it,* and
thrash ’em well if they don’t. That’s
my wa fr.”
“ Well, I venture to differ from you
there, Colonel,” said Mr. Currie, quietly.
“ I liacj to do some thrashing once or
twice, I own, but most of my native ser
vants get along very well without it,
and they seem to serve me excellently, I
assure you.”
“I wish you had been in my place,
then,” retorted the Colonel; “yotfd
have changed your opinion, I warrant.
Why, the year before last, when I had
charge of two battalions of the rascals
down at Suttepoor, because there wasn’t
another Queen’s officer within reach—
just like my confounded luck !—there
was no getting anything done unless I
did it myself. By Jove, sir ! I had to
be everything at once—my own Quarter
master, my own Sergeant Major, my
own caterer, and—”
“And your own trumpeter, Col. An
nesley ? ” asked Mrs. Currie, with an
arch smile.
The Colonel’s broad face reddened
ominously, and an explosion seemed
imminent, when a sudden clamor of
{merry voices from the road below drew
the;,? all to the front veranda.
' The cause of the disturbance was visi
ble at a glance. Two lialf-drunken En
glish swaggering along the
road, had come into violent contact
with a native who was running past;
and one of them, enraged at the collis
ion, had felled the poor lad to the
ground, and was unclasping his own
belt with the evident intention of beat
ing him unmercifully.
“Served the young whelp right,”
shouted the Colonel, rubbing hisliands ;
“ that’s just what they all want.”
The other officer, Maj. Armstrong—
popularly called Maj. Strongarm—was a
huge, brawny, silent man, whose forte
lay in acting rather than talking.
During the whole discussion he had sat
like a great bronze statue, never utter
ing a word; but, at sight of this man
ill-using this child, he woke up rather
startlingly.
To leap to the ground twelve feet be
low, to dart across the garden, to vault
over the high stockade beyond, was the
work of a moment for the athletic Major,
and in another instaut he had raised the
boy tenderly from the ground, while say
ing to the foremost soldier, in the low,
compressed tone of a man who means
what he says :
“Be off with you.”
“ And who the deuce are you, shovin’
yer nose in where you ain’t * wanted ?”
roared the infuriated ruffian, to whose
eyes the Major’s plain evening dress bora
no token of his being an officer. “ Jisfc
you—”
The sentence was never finished.
At the sound of that insolent defiance
Armstrong’s sorely-tried patience gave
way altogether, and the powerful right
hand which had hewed its way through
a whole squadron of Shiv cavalry fell
like a sledge-hammer upon his oppo
nent’s face, dashing him to the ground
as if he had been blown from the mouth
of a. gun.
“ Well done, Maj. Armstrong,’’shouted
Mr. Currie from above. “ You deserve
your name, and no mistake. ”
At that formidable name the soldier
took to his heels at once, and Armstrong,
without even looking at his prostrate an
tagonist, proceeded to look at the hurts
of the boy.” #
The latter was sqrely bruised in many
A I.U.TIP OF CARBOIt.
Tell me, lump of carbon burning
Lurid in the glowing grate,
"While thy flames rise twisting, turning,
Quenoh in me this ourloua yearning,
Ages past eluoidate.
Tell me of the time when waving
High above tire primal world.
Thou, a giant palm-tree, lifting
Thy proud head above the shifting
Of the storm-cloud’s lightning hurled,
While the tropio sea, hot laving,
ItounA thy roots its billows curled.
Tell me, did the mammoth, straying
Near that mighty trunk of yours,
On the verdure stop and gaze,
Which thy ample base displays,
Or his weary limbs down laying,
Bleep away the tardy hours ?
Perchance some monstrous saurian, sliding,
Waddled up the neighboring strand,
Or leapt into its native sea
With something of agility,
Though all ungainly on the land;
While near your roots, in blood-stained fray,
Maybe two iohthyc beasts colliding,
Hit and fought their lives away.
1 ell me, ancient palm-corpse, was there
In that world of yours primeval,
Aught of man in perfect shape?
Was there good ? and was there evil ?
Was there man ? er was it ape ?
Tell dip, lump of carbon, burning
Lurid in the glowing grate,
Lies there in each human face
Something of the monkey’s trace ?
Tell me have tve lost a link?
Btir thy coaly brain and think,
While thy red-flames rise and sink,
Ages nast elucidate.
gWMgMPL"*" I I ■
Just in Time.
XV ide-Awake, Independent, but Neutral in Nothing 1 .
places, and the blood was trickling free
ly over his swarthy face; but the little
hero still did his best to stand erect, and
to keep down every sign of the pain
which he was enduring.
“ You’re a brave lad, and you’ll make
a soldier, some day,” said the Major to
him in Hindoostanee. “ Came with me,
and I’ll see that no one molests you
again.”
The lad seized the huge brown hand
which had defended him so bravely,
and kissed it with the deepest reverence;
and the two walked away together.
Six months have come and gone, and
Mr. Currie’s hospitable home presents a
very different spectacle. The pretty
garden is trampled into dust and mire,
and the bodies of men and horses are
lying thick among the fragments of the
half-destroyed stockade.
All the windows of the house are
blocked up, and tlirough the loop-holed
walls peer the muzzles of ready rifles,
showing how steadily the besieged gar
rison stands at bay against the countless
enemies, whose dark, fierce faces and
glittering weapons are visible amid the
lialf-ruined building and matted thick
ets all around.
The Sepoy mutiny of 1857 is blazing
sky-high over Northern India, and
Col. Annesley is blockaded in Huttee-
Bagh, with a certainty of a hideous death
for liimself and every man of the few
who are still true to him, unless help
comes speedily.
Day was just breaking when two men
held a whispered council in one of the
upper rooms.
“No fear of the water running short,”
said Maj. Armstrong, “but, even upon
half rations, the food will be out in four
days more.”
“And then we’ll just go right at them,
and cut our way through or die for it!”
growled the old Colonel, with a grim
smile oil his iron face, for, with all his
harshness and injustice, Col. Annesley
was “grit” to the backbone. “We
mustn’t say anything to them about it,
though,” added he, with a side glance at
Mr. Currie, who, standing in the further
corner, was anxiously watching the thin,
worn face of his sleeping wife.
At that moment a loud cheer from
below startled them both, and the next
moment Ismail (the “Major’s boy,” as
every one now called him) burst into the
room with a glow of unwonted excite
ment on his dark face.
“Sahib,” cried he, “there is hope for
us yet! A detachment of lngleez (En
glish) are coming ) the other bank of
the river; if we can send word to them
as they pass we are saved.”
“How do you know?” asked the Major
eagerly.
“I heard the Sepoys say so, while I
was hid among the bushes yon
der,” answered the lad.
“Among the bushes yonder?” roared
the Colonel, facing around. “Have you
really been in tlie midst of those cut
throat villains listening to what they
said. Whatever did you do that for?”
“I did it for Sahib Armstrong’s sake,”
replied tlie boy, proudly; “because he
was good to me.”
Tlie Colonel turned hastily away to
hide the flush of not unmanly shame
that overspread his hard face; and Arm
strong smiled slightly as he heard him
mutter:
“By Jove! these chaps aren’t so black
as they’re painted, after all.”
“But if the troops are beyond the
river how can we communicate with
them?” asked Mrs. Currie, who, awakened
by the shouting, had arisen and joined
the group. “They may not pass near
enough to hear the firing, and w r e have
no means of sending them word.”
“Fear nothing for that, mem-sahib”
(madam), answered the Hindoo boy,
quietly. “I will carry them word my
self.”
“But how can you possibly do it?”
cried Mrs. Currie, tliuhderstr’tick by the
confident tone in which this mere child
spoke of a task from which the hardiest
veteran might well have shrunk. **
“Listen, Sahib,” answered Ismail.
“ I will slip out of the house and make
a dash into the enemy’s lines, as if I
were deserting from you to them, and
you can tell your people to fire a shot or
two after me with blank cartridge as I
go. Then the ■Sepoys will receive me
kindly, and I’ll tell them that you’re &11
dying of thirst, and that they must only
wait one day more to make sure of you,
so that they won’t care to make another
attack. Then, when they have no sus
picion, and think I’m quite one of them
selves, I’ll steal away and slip across the
river.”
“ But are you quite sure the Sepoys
will believe you?” asked Maj. Arm
strong, doubtfully.
“They’ll believe this, anyhow,” re
plied the boy, deliberately making a
deep gash in his bare shoulder and stain
ing his white frock with the blood as he
glided from the room, followed by Arm
strong.
The plan was soon explained to the
men below, and a moment later Ismail’s
dark figure was seen darting like an ar
row across the open space in front of the
building, followed by a quick discharge
of blank cartridges from marksmen at
the loopholes. The sound of the firing
drew the attention of the Sepoys, sev
eral of whom ran forward to meet him.
In another instant he was in the midst
of them.
“I can scarcely see for those bushes,”
said Col. Annesley, “but he seems
to be showing them the wound on his
shoulder, and telling them it was our
doing.” e
At that moment an exulting yell from
the enemy came pealing through the air.
“ That’s the story of our being short
of water, for a guinea I” said the Major;
“it was a veiy good thought of his. If
it only delays their attack two days lon
INDIAN SPRING, GEORGIA. Tan 07 igg,
.. > .
ger, there may be time for help to arrive
yet.”
Slowly and wearily the long hours of
that fearful day wore on. The heat was
so terrible that even the native soldiers
of the garrison could barely hold their
own against it, and the handful of En
glishmen were also helpless. Had the
Sepoys attacked them, all would have
been over at one blow; but hour passed
hour, and there was .no sign of an as
sault.
At length, as afternoon gave place to
evening, a movement began to show
itself in the enemy’s lines. Then curls
of sn.oke rising above the trees showed
that the evening’s meal was m prepara
tion ; then several figures with pitchers
in their hands were seen going toward
the river, among whom the Colonel’s
keen eyes detected Ismaih
“By George!” cried the old soldier,
slapping his knee exultingly, “that lad’s
worth his weight in gold ! There’s his
way down to the river right open to him
without the least chance of suspicion.
*Wliy, he’s a born gentleman—nothing
less!”
Every eye within the walls was now
turned anxiously upon the distant
group, fearing to see at any moment
some movement which would show that
the trick was detected. How did Tsrnn.il
mean to accomplish his purpose ?
Would he plunge boldly into the river,
without any disguise, or had he some
further stratagem in preparation ? No
one could say.
Suddenly, as Ismail stooped to plunge
his light wooden dipper into the water,
it slipped from his hands and went float
ing away down the stream. A cry of dis
may, a loud laugh from the Sepoys,
and then the boy was seen running
frantically along the bank and trying in
vain to catch the vessel as it floated past.
“ Wliat on earth’s lie up to ? ” grunt
ed the Colonel, completely mystified.
“I see ! ” cried Maj. Armstrong, tri
umphantly; “there’s a boat yonder
among the reeds, and he’s making for it.
Well done, my brave boy ! ”
But at that moment a yell of rage
from the Sepoys told that the trick was
discovered.
Luckily those on the bank had left
tlieir pieces behind, or poor Ismail
w ould soon have been disposed of ; but
the alarm instantly brought up a crowd
of their armed comrades, whose bullets
fell like hail around the boat and its
gallant little pilot.
“Let us fire a volley and make a
show of sallying out,” said the Colonel;
“ it’ll>ake their attention from him.”
But in this he was mistaken.
The first rattle of musketry from be
hind the house did indeed recall most of
Ismail’s assailants, but at least a dozen
were left, who kept up an incessant fir
ing, striking the boat again and again.
All at once the Colonel dashed his
glass to the floor with a frightful oath.
Between the two gusts of smoke he
had seen the boat turn suddenly over,
and go whirling down the river, keel
upward.
“ There’s an end of the poor lad,” mut
tered the veteran brokenly. “ God bless
him for a brave little fellow. And now,
old friend, we must just die hard, for
there’s no hope left.”
The> first few lioiirs of the night passed
quietly, and the exhausted defenders,
utter'd > worn out, slept as if drugged
with opium. But a little after midnight
the quick ears of the tw T o veteran officers
—the only w r atchers in the whole gar
rison except the sentries themselves—
caught a faint stirring in the surround
ing thickets, which seemed to argue some
movement on the part of the enemy.
Listening intently for a few moments,
they felt certain that they were right,
and lost no time in arousing their men.
The scanty stores of food were opened
cnce"more, and, .crouched together in the
darkness, the doomed men took what
they fully believed to be their last meal
on earth.
“ They’re coming !” said Maj. Arm
strong, straining his eyes into the
gloom through a loop-hole. “ I hear
them creeping forward, though I can’t
see fhem.”
“What the deuce was that?” ex
claimed the Colonel, suddenly. “It
looked like a fiery arrow flying past.”
“It’s worse than that,” said the Ma
jor, in a low voice. “ The rascals are
shooting lighted chips of bamboo out on
to the roof to set it on fire. Send the
women up with buckets to flood the
thatch; there’s not a moment to lose. ”
“ I’ll go and see to it myself !” cried
Mrs. Currie, hastening out of the room.
But the power of this new weapon had
already become fatally manifest. The
house was an old one, and dry as
tinder from the prolonged heat,
and as fast as the flames were quenched
in one place they broke out in another.
When the day dawned the fire had al
ready got a firm hold of one corner of
the building, and a crushing discharge
was poured upon all who attempted to
extinguish it, while the triumphant yell
of the human tigers below .told them
that they felt sure of their prey.
“It’s all over with us, old fellow,’’said
the Colonel, grasping the old comrade’s
hand; “ but, at least, we shall have done
our duty.”
“ Give me one of your pistols,” whis
pered Mrs. Currie to her husband, in a
voice that was not her own. “ I must
not fall into their hands alive. ”
At this moment Maj. Armstrong was
seen to start and bend forward, as if lis
tening intently; for he thought—al
though he could scarcely believe his
ears—that he had suddenly caught a
faint sound of distant firing.
In another instant he heard it again,
and this time there could be no doubt,
forjjjeveral of the others had caught it
* and a gleam of hope once
more lighted up their haggard faces and
bloodshot eyes.
Louder and nearer came the welcome
sound, while the sudden terror and con
fusion visible among the enemy showed
that they, too, w’ere at no loss to guess
the meaning.
Then high above the din arose the
well-known “hurrah ! ” and tlirough the
BmoH -clouds broke a charging line of
glittering bayonets and ruddy English
faces, sweeping away the cowardly mur
derers as the sun chases the morning
mist.
‘ ‘ Thf t ore a worth liis weight in gold, ”
said Col. Annesley, r, a few hours
later, he listened to Ismail’s account of
how he had dived under the boat and
kept it between him and the Sepoys,
that they might think him drowned.
“He’s the pluckiest little fellow I’ve
seen, and, although lie belongs to the
Major, I’m going to take my share of
helping him on, by Jove I ”
Tho Burr-Hamllton Duel.
On the 4th day of July, 1804, Alex
ander Hamilton and Aaron Burr had
met for the last time as public charac
ters at the dinner of the Cincinnati.
The arrangements for the duel, which
were of the most secret character, had
then been fully made, but not one guest
at the dinner would have suspected their
existence. Eye-witnesses long aiterward
recalled the imperturbable face of Burr
and the vivacity of Hamilton, who was
in the chair, and over the walnuts and
the wine sang the ballad of “The
Drum.” Eleven days later the antago
nists met at Weehawken—the beauties
of wliich, as sung by Halleck and Rob
ert C. Sands, the local poets of the pe
riod, have long been destroyed. The
rocks on which the adversaries stood
have been made into blocks of Weehaw
ken granite and pave the streets of the
metropolis. William P. Yan Ness, who
eight years afterward tilled the office
now filled by Judge Choate, was Burr’s
second on that dark day, and Judge
Nathaniel Pendleton, the grandfather of
Senator Pendleton, was Hamilton’s sec
ond. Matthew L. Davis, “the spy at
Washington,” a journalist thought to be
closely connected with Burr, and the
famous Dr. Hosack waited in a dell be
low tho dueling ground near the water’s
edge, where wonderingly sat the boat
men who had ferried the parties over.
At twelve paces the rivals faced each
other—Hamilton placed so that he took
his last look at the city. Burr fired as
tho lips of Judge Pendleton closed on
the word “ Present,” and Hamilton was
shot dead before he could bring
his pistol to a level. It is
doubtful whether he meant to fire
at all on the first exchange of shots, for
when Judge Pendleton had inquired
“Shall I set the hair trigger?” liis prin
cipal had meaningly said “Not this
time.” The wound was soon pronounced
mortal by Drs. Hosack and Wright Post
and certain consulting surgeons of emi
nence whom Gen. Key, the French Con
sul, summoned from three French frig
ates which had anchored in the harbor.
In thirty hours after the encounter
Hamilton was dead. Possibly his death
agonies, which the surgeons described
as acute, were intensified by the re
membrance that less than three years
previously his eldest son, Philip, had
also been killed in a duel. By his bed
side stood his fifth child, John Church
Hamilton, who still lives at the ago of
88 years. Among the other children by
the bedside were Angelica, who died un
married ; Alexander, Jr. , who left no
children; James Alexander, who mar
ried Miss Mary Morris, and died at
Dobb’s Ferry two or three years ago,
leaving four daughters and one soi
Alexander, a distinguished lawyer;
William Stephan, who died a bachelor
in California ; Eliza, who became Mrs.
Augustus Holly, and Philip, the young
est, who married the daughter of Louis
McLane, and whose son, Dr. Allan Mc-
Lane Hamilton, is a well-known phys
ician in this city. The verdict of the
Coroner’s jury, “ that Aaron Burr, Vice
President of the United States, was
guilty of the murder of Alexander Ham
ilton, and that William P. Yan Ness
and Nathaniel Pendleton were accessor
ies,” lies flow among the musty files of
the Court of General Sessions. —New
York World.
Mills for Marbles.
Almost all the marbles with which
boys everywhere amuse themselves, in
season and out of season, on sidewalks
and in shady spots, are made at Ober
stein, Germany. There are large agate
quarries and mills in that neighborhood,
and the refuse is turned to good account
in providing the 3mall stone balls for
experts to “knuckle” with. The stone
is broken into small cubes, by blows of
a light hammer. These small blocks of
stone are thrown by the shovelful into
the hopper of a small mill, formed of a
bedstone, having 'ts surface grooved
with concentrate furrows. Above this
is the “runner,” which is of some hard
wood, having a level face on its lower
surface. The upper block is made to
revolve rapidly, water being delivered
upon the grooves of the bedstone where
Ike marbles are being rounded. It takes
about fifteen minutes to finish half a
bushel of good marbles, ready for the
boy’s knuckles. One mill will turn out
169,000 marbles per week. The very
hardest “crackers,” as the boys call
them, are made by a slower process,
somewhat analogous to the other.
A writer in Land and Water says;
“What a mistake it is to put marble
statues in the open air in London!
There is an effigy of the Queen in the
Royal Exchange. In fine weather the
features are soot-begrimed, and on wet
days the water flows in dirty furrows
doVn the cheeks.”
SUBSCRIPTION-$1.50.
NUMBER 22.
True Lore.
A pretty story is told of the late
Czarina, who, as is well known, was a
most faithful wife, in spite of the long
continued harsh treatment and neglect
of the Czar, and a wise and devoted
mother. Although a strict observer of
the rules of the Greek Church, she al
ways opposed the tendency to substitute
forms and ascetic ceremonies in religion,
in place of true feeling and domestic
every-day duty.
While visiting the Smolnoje Institute
for girls, some years ago, the Empress,
during the examination of the pupils,
suddenly asked, “Wliat is love ?”
The young ladies blushed as though
an improper question had been proposed,
became greatly confused, and were silent.
Madame Leontieff, the directress, kneel
ing, begged leave to state to Her Majesty
that all knowledge of this dangerous suh.
ject was prohibited by her, and that, in
all probability, the pupils did not even
know the meaning of the word.
The £zarina frowned. “So far from
being a dangerous subject, madame,” she
said, “love should be the piu*e main
sprf if a woman’s life ; first, love for
her v mts; then, love for her husband ;
lastl ’ love for her children ; and love for
God always. If your pupils have not
this, they are badly prepared for the du
ties of life.”
The Empress left the Institute, and
the next day, Madame Leontieff was re
moved as incompetent by the Imperial
Ministry of Education.
In American society, the mention of
love is too often received by young girls
with a blush and a giggle, which betray
the narrow and vulgar meaning which
they attach to the word. It is to them
simply a flirtation with some young man,
which may or may not end in a mar
riage.
It is the fault of their mothers if they
a e not taught to know and respect that
divine quality of devotion and self-sacri
fice, which alone can ennoble a woman’s
life, and which, whether it is given to
parent, child, or lover, makes her more
akin to her Master.
If we were asked for a typical picture
of love in the present time, we should
choose, n >t a pretty little girl sitting by
a moustached youth in the moonlight,
but Mary Diller standing by her old
holpless father on the burning deck of the
Seawanhaka , the flames wrapping her
like a- arment, and burning her eyes
blind South's Companion.
A Witty Judge.
Readers of Shakespeare have always en
joyed the wit of ‘ ‘Port) a,” in the Merchant
of Venice, by which she saved ‘ ‘Antonio*
from the knife of ‘ ‘Shylock. ” The pretend
ed judge affirmed the right of “Shylock”
to his pound of flesh, but added, should a
drop of blood be shed in taking it, his
life would be forfeited. A California
judge has shown equal wit.
A hard character, well-known as a thief,
was indicted for entering a miner’s tent,
and stealing a bag of gold dust. The
theft was proved. He had been seen to
cut a slit in the tent and reach in and
take the bag. A bright thought occured
to the counsel for the defence.
“ How far did he get when he took the
dust ?”
“About half-way in, as he reached
over,” said the witness.
“ May it please your honor,” said the
shrewd lawyer, “I shall demand the
acquittal of my client. The indictment
is not sustained. He did not enter the
tent. Can a man enter a house when
one-half of Vs body is in, and the othei
half out?
Tlie jury and judge were equal to the
emergency. The verdict of the jury
was, “ Guilty as to one-half of his body,
and not guilty as to the other half. ” The
sentence of the judge was, “Imprison
ment for the guilty part, of two
The •prisoner may leave the other part
l; hini, :■ take r - ith him.” Theshaif)
lawyer was <
Health Hu. U Students.
“Health for Students” is a
neat little pocte* pamphlet, condensed
by Prof. Burt (Jr. Wilder from his course
of six lectures on hygiene, delivered at
Cornell University. It embodies many
useful suggestions respecting choice of
room, food, clothing, ventilation, time
and method of study, sleep, exercise,
bathing, care of the eyes, and stimu
lants. He advises students to make
breakfast them principal meal, not be
cause the forenoon is usually longer and
more fully occupied than the afternoon,
but because a hearty mid-day dinner is
apt to incapacitate one for both mental
and bodily work during a large part of
the afternoon. He thinks that break
fast should always include oatmeal
mush, oi tracked wheat, with plenty of
milk ; and that in place of meat, at least
for an occasional change, two or three
eggs are desirable.
Early Rising.
A German physician of celebrity has
lately been investigating the subject of
early rising, and has come to the con
clusion that, far from making a man
“healthy, wealthy and wise,” it has
quite the contrary effect, and shortens
life instead of prolonging it. In the
majority of cases which he has inves
tigated, the long-livers have indulged in
late hours, and at least eight out of
every ten persons who attained the age
of 80 and upward were in the habit of
not retiring to rest until the small hours,
and remaining in bed until the day was
far advanced. He has no doubt what
ever that early rising is a most perni
cious habit for those who go to bed late,
and, like Charles Lamb, thinks it better
and, like Charles Lamb, thinks it better
for everybody to delay getting up until
the morning has had a chance to be
come well aired.