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“OVEK THE WIRE*.”
First, I nuist tell you who I am, und
how 1 came to bo in tire Baysville Bank
in the “wee sma' hours'' one dreary
December night, some three years ago.
My name was then Olive Hudson,
and I was seventeen years old that same
December night/ and o small that Mrs.
Knight’s Dolly* who was not twelve
years old, was half a head taller than
myself.
We \Kfrc rich folks once, hut father
died and left us very poor. Mother
struggled along in a weary, hand-to
hand fight with poverty till I was six
teen, and then died. She had rented
two rooms of Mrs. Knight, widow, also,
with two stalwart sons, an aged father,
and two daughters. After mother died
I was adopted by the Knights, and, al
though I was earning a support as mu
sic teacher in the Baysville Academy, I
was like one of the family when I was
in my good landlady’s house.
They were all in good positions, but
by no means an aristocratic family.
John, the eldest sou, was in New York
in a wholesale sugar house; Tom was
the night watchman of the Baysville
Bank building, and grandpa—we all
called him grandpa—was telegraph ope
rator of the town, while Mary was a
milliner, and Dolly stayed at the office,
sending and receiving messages.
Baysville Bank building was a large
granite structure, containing the post
office and the Bank on the first floor, the
telegraph office and a number of private
law offices on the second floor, and other
private offices on the third floor. In
the basement were post-office rooms for
sorting the mail, and also the large bank
vault.
I knew the building well, for I was
fond of telegraphing, and spent half my
leisure time perched up by the side of
grandpa, while he slept peacefully or
read the newspapers.
And that was the beginning of my
amusement at Dryden, the next station.
The operator at Dryden was a wit, and
flashed nonsense at our office when busi
ness was dull. It fell flat when grandpa
was in the office, but if I were there I
sent back jest for jest, and sometimes an
hourslipped by like a minute as we talk
ed over the wires of every topic under
the sun. He called himself “Lion,”
and I, for nonsense, signed myse
■hantT’ laughing as I did so at the re-
Hection of my tiny fingers in the office
Viirror.
Beyond Dryden, and only five miles
I/om Baysville, was C , a large com-
Knercial town, the nearest railway sta
tion, and where an office was always
fcipen for the accommodation of travel
lers.
I? As I have said, Tom Knight was the
| night watchman of the Baysville Bank
building, and a lonely time he had of
I it. The last Mail came by stage at 4
o'clock in the afternoon, and the post
office was vacated at six. The bank
closed at by six oclock every
office was ip;, zed for the night.
At seven fom was on duty, and
grandpa, who was a little restless at
night, was in the habit of taking down
? some coffee and luncheon, as the build
ing was only a stone’s throw from the
house.
On the December night I have al
ready mentioned, it had stormed heavily
all day, and I had taken anew class at
the Academy, and came home later in
the day than usual, excited over my in
crease of salary.
Everybody else had gone to bed, and
I was lingering over the kitchen fire
with Mrs. Knight, dreading the plunge
into my cold room, where I had allowed
the fire to go out.
The clock struck twelve, and Mrs.
Knight, lifting her face from over the
fire, said:
“ Do call grandpa, Olive ; he's asleep
on the sofa in the sitting room. I’ll
have Tom’s basket ready by the time
grandpa has his hat arid coat on. I
hate to call him, for he was complaining
of rheumatism all day, and the ground
is very wet, although the storm is over.”
“ Let him sleep,” I said ! “ I'll run
over with the basket. It is but a step.”
“ But it is so dark; are you not
afraid?”
“ (Not a bit; I’ll slip on ray waterproof
and rubbers, and draw the hood of my
cloak over my head.”
“ Well, if you will, though I am afraid
Tom will scold at my letting you go.”
“ I’ll put down the basket and run,
and he will never know who left it.”
“Go into the rear basement door; he
leaves that open for grandpa,”
“ I know.”
I grasped the handle of the basket,
and hurried across the space betweeu
the building and the house, and stole
jflly in at the basement door, in pur-
VOL. II—NO. 48.
suaucc of my plan to drop the basket
and run.
In my rubber shoes my steps were
noiseless, and I had scarcely passed the
threshhold when I stood rooted to the
floor in terrible amazement.
Somebody was talking.
I crept forward und listened. There
was a man in thq vault, and a light
shone under the door.
While I listened, someone said:
“ There is a confounded draft here ;
did you shut the door, Smith?”
“ Yes, but the wind might have blown
it open.”
1 had just time to djjrt uuder the stair
case and crouch down, when the door of
the vault opened and a man came out.
He crossed the entry, drew two heavy,
noisy bolts, fastened the door by which
I had entered, and returned without
closing the vault door.
I could look in by the dim light and
see two men working at the safe locks
by the stream of light thrown from a
dark lantern.
There was the outline ofa man bound
and gagged upon the floor, but I could
only conjecture that it was Tom, for I
could not see distinctly.
There I was nicely caged, for it would
he impossible for me to draw those heavy
bolts without attracting notice. And
the bank being robbed, that was evident.
How could I prevent it? I could not
get out; I could not reach Tom. Sud
denly I remembered the telegraph office
on the second floor. If I could sum
mon help from C ,it was only five
miles, and there was a long job for the
burglars before they could open thesafe.
I could creep around the stairway ! If
one of those busy men turned his head
I was lost. I crept softly on all fours,
slowly, watchfully, and gained the stairs.
Up I darted, blessing my India rubber
shoes, till I gained the door of the tele-
graph office. All w‘as dark there ayd l
dared not strike a match.
I listened, and then leaving the door
open, groped my way to the well-known
desk and gave the signal for C- . I
could hear my heart throb as I waited
for the answer. It came! Still work
ing in the dark, and I sent this message:
“Burglars in the Baysville Bank
vault! Watchman gagged and bound!
Can you send help?”
Again the agony and suspense in lis
tening, but at last the souud reached
me :
“ Will send help immediately.”
I crept to the head of the staircase,
afraid the clear ring of the instrument
had been heard in the vault, but no one
came up stairs. The windows of the
telegraph office faced the street, so I re
turned, bolted myself in safely and sat
down to watch.
The town clock gave one resonant
stroke, breaking the deep silence, and
no signs of life were visible in the long
stretch of road leading to C . I
was numb with cold, wishing heartily I
had not left Tom’s basket under the
staircase, thinking regretfully of my ow’n
cozy bed, when I heard afar off the sound
of horses’ feet.
No sister Anne, in Bluebeard's tower,
was ever more watchful than I was then.
Would the burglars take the alarm ?
The building made a corner of two
streets, and I saw eight mounted men
dash up the road, separate, and while
four dismounted in front, four went to
the rear.
The burglars were unprepared for
this flank movement, for while the po
lice in front were thundering at the main
entrance, the robbers rushed to the rear
basement door right into the arms of
the police stationed there.
I could hear the hubbud, pistol shots
fired, the scuffle of feet, cries, oaths, and
general confusion ; and I slipped down
stairs and out of the now deserted main
entrance and ran home.
Everybody was in bed, and I went to
my room and had a good crying spell,
and comforted my half-frozen body in
double blankets, where I soon fell asleep.
All this was on Friday night, and I
had no teaching to do until Monday, so
slept late, but coming down, I found all
the family prepared to make a heroine j
of me.
“ I never knew until this morning,”
said Tom, '‘that it wasn't grandpa who
sent the telegram to C . By Jove,
Olive you’sc spunky, if you are little.”
“ I gave up when four of them
pounced on me from one of the upper
rooms. They must have got in during
the ,day and hid there.”
1 tried to make the Knights promise
not to tell my adventure, but could not.
Before night all Baysville knew how
Olive Hudson caught the burglars. 1
was in the office with grandpa, when
over the wires ennre this message:
“ Whatdoes Olive Hudson look like?"
“ Everybody in Drydenis talking of her
great exploit.”
I flashed back:
“ What do you suppose such a woman
would look like? She is nearly six feet
tall, broad-shouldered, and loud-voiced,
a perfect Elephant.”
“ Was it really yourself, Elephant?”
“ Dear Lion, it was.”
“Do you know I want to see you. 1
am going to New York to-day, but I'll
be back next spring.”
If he came to Baysville he did not
sec me. I ran away in a fit of shyness.
In March a wonderful thing happened.
My mother’s brother, who had been
seventeen years—nearly all my lifetime
—in Cuba, came out to New York,
found me out, and took me into a life
of ease and luxury, making me pet in
his splendid house. He was a bachelor,
over fifty years of age, handsome and
well informed, and with large wealth.
He introduced me to old friends of his,
and my circle of acquaintance w idened
every day. I was entirely happy, for
we loved each other well.
One day Uncle George brought home
to dinner a stranger, who lie introduced
as:
“ The son of iny old friend, Olive, Mr.
Roberts.”
I made myself agreeable, as in duty
bound, to Mr. Roberts, a man of thirty
or thereabouts, with a face that was
downright ugly, but pleasant from the
expression of frank good humor and in
telligence upon it. We talked of every
thing, and I was surprised at the conge
niality of taste we soon discovered. In
an animated discussion of heroines, Mr.
Roberts turning to Uncle Georg£, said:
“ You were kindly inquiring this
morning about my fortune since my fa
ther died, but I did not tell you one lit
tle episode. Before I was fortunate
enough to obtain my present lucrative
situation, I was fora time telegraph op
erator in a small place called Dryden,
and then I heard of a real heroine, of
whom the world will probably never
hear.”
I knew what was coming, but kept
my face perfectly composed to listen.
When the story was finished, giving my
Uncle a sly pinch to keep him quiet, I
said :
“ What kind of a looking person was
the wonderful heroine ?”
“ I never saw her, for although Bays
ville was the next village to Dryden, I
never went there. But she was des
cribed to me as tall, strong and mascu
line.”
“In short, my dear Lion,” I said
gravely, “ she was a perfect Elephant.”
Such a stare as greeted me I am cer
tain never came upon Leo Robert’s face
before or since that hour. His eyes di
lated till I thought they would pop out
of his dear, ugly face, and his mouth
opened in utter amazement. Finally he
remembered his manners, and gasped:
“ Pardon me, I—was it really you?”
“ Uncle George,” I said, “ will you be
kind enough to introduce me properly
to Mr. Roberts? I believe he thinks
your niece must bear your name.”
With a flourish, Uncle George arose
and gravely introduced:
“Mr. Leo Roberts, Miss Olive Hud
son ; Miss Hudson, Mr. Roberts.”
After that we could not certainly be
strangers, and Mr. Roberts came often
to dine with Uucle George.
And one day there was a wedding,
where the bride was very small, buried
in lace and orange blossoms, and the
bridegroom was ugly and good natural;
but it was a true love match, a fit end
ing for the flirtation commenced at Dry
den and Baysville, “Over the Wires.”
By relying on our own resources we
acquire mental strength ; but when we
lean on others for support we are like
an invalid, who, having accustomed
himself to a crutch finds it difficult to
walk without one.
HARTWELL, U.V., WEDNESDAY, JULY '>4, 1878.
HILL ARP’S VERSION,
now i.enter roixnfri.trn amonu
TilK IIOMK-UtARDN.
NtundvriiiK IIIn l>l|(hhor on Nntnnln.v
nil Preach in* iin* OnN|rl on Nuniln).
Cor. Atlanta Constitution.
Edituks Constitution : The com
bat thickens! On ye brave! On
Thursday last General Luster opened
the battle at Cartersvillc with a sixteen
pounder. just to feel of the enemy and
see if he were tliar. lie found him en
trenched among the old home-guards,
and for about fifteen minutes they
seemed to look upon the cannonadin’
as a joak. Before long tire General
put in some heavy guns, and the ene
my begun to wake up and st ir round
quite lively. For an hour and a half
Luster poured shot and shell around
’em and over 'em and into 'em, and
then stopped and paused for a reply.
General Felton had by this time got
all of his pieces in position, and stay
ing behind his entrenchments, he bang
ed away furiously for about two hours,
pourin’ all sorts of big guns and little
guns and long guns and short guns and
swivels and mortars and chain shot and
t
slung shot and shot with pisen balls in
’em, rammed down with old newspapers
and telegrams from Alex Stephens and
a letter from John Wolford and docu
ments from the emigration burn, and
seein’ as how the enemy remained firm
and unterrified, he ripped up Joe
! Brown's road and slung it at him from
! a big columbiad, and then clmn a tree
| and exclaimed, “If you don’t leave
here prematurely and let me alone I'll
set Gen. Wofford on you in the name
of the Lord next Sunday mornin’ at
10 o’clock a. m. —precisely by my
Washington time. Now git!”
But Luster wouldn’t git worth a cent
—on the contrary he brot forward his
old minet gun, and usin’ Parson Fel
toh’s*seripter text for wadden, he let
| fly for 15 ininets in the awfullest man
ner amazin. lie made 15 holes in the
breastworks and hit the enemy twixt
wind and water and demoralized his
home guard to an alarmin extent. But
Gen. Felton rallied and came back to
time, and after a few random shots
| from both sides the forces were drawn
off and the guns put in the branch to
cool. As usual, both sides claim the
victory, though it is certain, that while
Luster did not lose a man the burial
j squad was at work in the fortifications
|to a late hour last night. I heard Gen.
Luster say that he had him where he
wanted him, “for” says he, “if he
! stays where he is I’ll forage all over
the district and perish him out and if he
dares to come out i’ll whip him any
where in an open field and a fair fight.”
“ Well, you see, Luster (we used to
call him Luster when he was a boy,)
spoke for two hours at the start; tell
ing the people who lie was, and what
lie cum for, and who sent him, and how
lie felt towards them and all mankind ;
like the young fellow said he felt when
his sweetheart that he was was a d} - in
for, owned up that she loved him and
he said, “ Right there T didn’t have no
hard feelins agin nobody in the world.”
He peppered and salted and spread his
speech with joaks and antidotes and
when he got done everybody was in a
good humor with him and themselves
and tiie rest of mankind. He done it
up splendidly I tell you, and if the
thing had stopped right there, the home
guards would have returned to their
homes calm and serene, satisfied that if
Luster got to Washington the country
would still be safe.
But you see, it didn’t stop there, and
that's always the way in this life.
Things won’t stop where we want ’em.
A man is always a runnin up agin
somebody and he can't have his own
way about nothin. And jesso I)r. Fel
ton run up agin Luster. The doctor
has got a good taste of Washington,
and it suits him and lie’s not goin to
surrender. The elegant hilarity of it, is
harmonious with his genial disposition,
in fact, it beats Felton's chapel, and all
that sort of bisiness to death. Well,
he begun his reply with a mournful solo
upon the purity of the judicial ermine
as it used to was when judges were
pure and dignified, and I think he wept
a little when he talked about Judge
Luster a gittin down off the bench and
draggin his judicial cloak about in the
WHOLE NO. 100.
I mud and mire and filth of politics.
Then he told how a prominent gentle
man said yesterday he wanted to come
out and take the field for him. but he
Imd a big suit in Luster’s court and he
was afraid if lie did it would prejudice
his ease. Then lie defended himself
for running as an independent candi
date, and read extracts from Mr. Ste
phens about rings and political trick-*
sters, and he paid a long tributary to
that independent gentleman and ac
cused him of being the grentest man
that the Almighty ever made. Then
lie denounced the Ringgold convention
as a trick and a fraud gotten up by his
enemies and concocted m a back room
by some jack-leg lawyers. He said he
had a document to prove this and read
an extract from a letter of John W.
Wofford, of Missouri, which said that
he, Wofford, found out there was a ring
and lie wished he could come back to
Georgia to help the doctor light it.
Then he took up Judge Luster's record
and accused him of voting for Cole
against Peirce Young and of taking
office under Bullock and plundering the
treasury and helping Joe Brown to
swindle the State out of her railroad,
and he wound up the record by saying
that this Luster was a great man and a
great hero—that he was bom great, and
during the war he got to be a heap
greater, anil he was running on his war
record and was taking to himself great
credit, because he did his duty ns a
soldier just like ten thousand other sol
diers did—and then he mocked Luster’s
way of holdin down his right stump
with his left arm and pumped himself
a little and gave notis that although he
was not a soldier himself, the immortal
invincible hero of a hundred battles,
Gen. W. T. Wofford, would take the
field in his behalf. “ Ah,” said he,
“ fellow-citizens, when Wofford was
fighting in Mexico, whore was Luster
then ?” As nobody answered, I sup
pose the connundrum was given up.
lie wound up by tellin Luster that he
would beat him 2,000 votes in Bartow
and beat him in his own county besides.
Well, the Felton boys shouted splen
didly, and the Luster boys yelled
amazin, and it was hard to tell which
side made the most satisfactory fuss;
but there was a few big-mouthed dark
ies on hand and you could hear ’em
holler hurra for Felton a half a mile,
and one of ’em in partikler always
wound up his injun howl with “I is a
wild hog, I is.”
But you see, Mr. Editor, Luster had
another chance at the parson, and for
15 minutes he made it grand, lively
and peculiar. He charged him with
utterin slander that he knew to be false,
and lie put him on partikler notis that
he shonldent do it any more, that his
age nor his high calling nor nothing
else should protect him if he dared
ever again to repeat those slanders. I
tell you he was hot and he was grand.
He rose forward to the liight of his in
dignation. His left arm towered in
the air—the stump of his right arm got
excited, too, and suddenly tore the
empty sleeve out of his pocket, and
sent it curlin above his head, an<J as he
spoke of truth, and honor and the leg
acy a good man ought to preserve for
his children, the boys trembled, and
cried, and shouted, and nary man in all
that crowd had cheek enough to holler
hurrah for Felton. “ What kind of a
man is that, fellow-citizens,” said he,
“ who will on Saturday utter these
slanders on his fellow-man and then
on Sunday rise up in the sacred desk
and preach a sermon from the text—
‘ Let your communications be yea, yea,
and nay, nay, for whatsoever is more
than this cometh of evil,’ and what
kind of an apostle of Cl<xl is he who
denounces me for dragging the judicial
ermine in the filthy quagmire of poli
tics, when he himself is trailing in the
same filth that sacred mantle which as
a minister of God he wears, and claims
to have come down from heaven ?”
I tell you, Mr. Editur, and you may
tell it to your folks, that our standard
bearer is all right, lie'll wake up the
dormant energies. The parson didn't
know who he was foolin’ with, but he’s
a findin’ out fast and faster. Why,
Luster never got tired of a job in his
life. He’s got as much hold on as Tom
Perry, and can carry as big a load.
He’s broad shouldered, big-necked, dark
skilled, nimble footed, with (tyebrown
like a small brush heap, and the beard
on his chin would grate a cocoanut to
the hollow in two minets and a half.
\ ft
Why, you might as well attack a Htone
Mountain jail ns such a man as that!
When he takes hold he wont let go;
and you enn't boat him off, nor scare
him off; and you can’t kill him off, for
that’s been tried. Folks that ought to
know do say that his arm was unjinted
at the shoulder, but it has sprouted out
agin and has grown eight inches since
the war. Plowin’ a bull aint nothin to
the way he was raised. lie never had
a pair of shoes until he was grown, and
used to run about in the snow and ice
and frost of winter workin to maintain
his mother and her children, and ho
done it, too; and one night when the
stars fell and there was weepin’ and
wailin’ and nashin’ of teeth, he was a
runnin’ about in the potater patch a
tryin’ to catch ’em in his hat. Hurrah
for I,lister, I say. Amen. Sclah!
Bii.l Aw.
THE INFLUENCE OF MOTHERS.
BY L. A. ATTAWAY. t
Far The Hartwell Sun.
Whatever may be the grade in so
ciety. the talents or opportunities of a
mother, she has the power of exerting
more influence on the mind of her off
spring than any one else.
It is indeed the mother who moulds
the character and destiny of her chil
dren. She can sit beside the young in
tellect. and by the stroke of her chisel
give it such shape and beauty as will
command the admiration of a world.
Yea, she who leads the mind of her
child to right and noble principles,
stands higher in the scale of benefac
tors than he who unshackles a continent
from thralldom ; for she adds more to
the sum of human happiness, if we es
timate the effects by their duration.
Could every good and great man
arise from the dead, to tell from whence
the power came which first called his
noblest qualities into action, each one
would point to a mother.
Can ambition in a woman’s heart ask
more ?
We cannot doubt but that our Ire
loved Washington owed m, t'f |i'P
magnanimity to the instructions of a
kind mother.
Bonaparte was a great man ; and he,
perhaps, might have been a good one
had his mother managed him properly.
She, however, always permitted him to
have his own way; consequently he
grew up to be an odious man, hated by
the world, and at last died in obscurity.
When the brave Coriolanus invested
the city of Home for the purpose of be
sieging it, the Senate and the people
importuned him to draw off his army ;
but he with the sternness of a general,
refused to comply with their earnest
solicitations. The attempt to effect his
inflexible principles was in vain. At
length, however, in this dilemma, and
just as Rome was almost ready to yield
in despair, it was suggested that Ven
turia, the mother ot Coriolanus, and
Volumina. his wifi*, should make an
effort. “ They accordingly set forward
from the city, accompanied by many of
the principal mothers of Romo. G'ori
olanus, who, at a distance, discovered
this mournful train of females, resolved
to give them a denial.” No one, how
ever, has a heart so callous as to spurn
the pleadings of a mother. The hero
remained steadfast; but when he saw
his mother—heard her “ begging for
pity and protection,” he could bear it
no longer. He is moved—“he rushes
forward to raise his parent who has
fallen at his feet, exclaiming : • O, my
mother, thou hast saved Rome, but lost
thy son !’ ” Thus we see that nothing
but a mother's influence was effectual
with this inexorable man.
Alfred, king of England (one of the
most learned men of his time), was ex
cited to literature by his mother.
“ I shall never forget,” says a wise
Philosopher, “ that it was my mother
who first caused the good in my soul to
grow and bear fruit.”
“ Earth,” says another writer, “ has
not a more sacred spot than a mother’s
grave.”
Ask the devoted minister of the Gos
pel who taught him to pray. lie will
say, “ My Mother!” Ask him who in
culcated the most impressive lessons on
his memory. The answer will be, “My
Mot her !” Let us go to a man who has
lived in dissipation : though he maybe
a participant of the midnight revelry—
a gambler and a sot—but only remind
him of the prayers and teachings of a
devoted mother who is sleeping in her
grave, and lie will be unable to restrain
bis tears. The happiness or misery of
every child depends in a great measure
on its training; and as there are many
more responsibilities devolving on mo
thers than fathers (so far as regards the
training of children) it is, therefore, ma
terially essential that mothers should
endeavor to wield a good influence.
Let the mother be wise and virtuous,
then will “ her children rise up and call
her blessed.”