Newspaper Page Text
THE IATB MRS. A- SURRATT.
The IMory of Her Warder Retold.
A correspondent of the Columbia
(Tenn.) Herald, writing from Washing
ton, relates the ofDtold tale the ju
dicial tmfrder ofr Mrt. Surratt, as im
parted to him by John W. Clampitt,
Ksq. Mr. Clampitt was then in his
- twenty-sixth year, and on the night of
I the murder was Just passing from his
| office, when a gentleman rushed by and
] said excitedly, “President Lincoln has
I been murdered, and John M ilkes Booth
did it !* Those who heard him thought
the man was crazy, but Mr. Clampitt
saw a great crowd snrging to and fro
among the people. The correspondent
Continues i
InunciUately he pushed to Ford's
theatre, but with great difficulty got
through the crowd and saw the wound
ed President, not quite dead. By nnd
by curses loud and deep rended the
very heavens. Cavalry were swarming
every street and avenue. The well
known sympathizers of the South “ hid
out,’’ and made themselves very scarce.
A night or two before that, Richmond
had fallen and Washington was as
bright as day. Joy unconfined reign
ed everywhere. The rocket’s red glare
was seen at ever}’ {joint in the heavens.
The exulting cannon shook the sur-
rounding hills. Every home and tene
ment was illuminated. Lincoln ap
peared before the people and called for
the hands to play Dixie, saying jocose
ly, “ we have captured the song, too !”
In that hour of the greatest triumph
that mortal man ever saw, the Presi
dent was warm-hearted and kindly dis
posed towards the South. How strange
the change ! The victor of this night
was in a few short hours suddenly hur
ried to the great hereafter! No won
der there was excitement. In a few
hours every home in Washington was
draped in mourning. Not to do it was
to become the especial mark of the
bootings and peltings of the mob.
Mrs. Surratt’s boarding-house was
heavily adorned with the funeral sym
bol. In a few hours she was lying upon
the straw-covered floor of the old arse
nal, sick, broken-hearted and utterly
crushed. The leading lawyers—all
lawyers of the vicinity were entreated
to go to her bedside and take her case.
Almost all framed miserable and shuf
fling excuses. Such an infamy and
such a disgrace never fell on any coun
try, or upon any bar before. A pro
fession in the leading land of liberty
in all the tide of time, faltered and
flickered in that awful hour, a profes
sion noted the world over and in all
ages for its heroes, furnished hut three
in this crisis. In letters of gold their
names should be set in pictures of sil
ver, and be read of all men for all time
to come. They are Reverdy Johnson,
John W. Clampitt and Mr. Aiken.
These three seeing nothing but duty,
and casting all tear of the present from
them, stood by her and with her until
cruel hangmen carried her up, more
dead than alive, to the gallows. Clam
pitt, as soon as sent for, went to the
arsenal and took her case. Day and
night, without the hope of fee or re
ward, he labored for her. A court
martial was convened—a courtmartial
in the capital of a Republic, in a pure
ly civil case—not to try a member of
the army ! Where is the warrant for
it ? It was done. Men of the army,
wholly ignorant of the forms of the
law and the dictates of equity, were
called to compose atribuual to try Mrs.
Surratt, Payne, Harold and Azterot.
Not one of these persons belonged to
the land or naval forces of the Union.
The war was over. The courts of the
country were open ; in fact, never had
been closed in Washington. Reverdy
Johnson, the greatest constitutional
lawyer since the days of Webster,
launched his keenest thunderbolts at
the illegal and unconstitutional court,
but in vain. They insulted him and
madly drove him from their presence.
With the infamous Joe Holt as Judge
Advocate, they pushed things with a
high hand. The prisoners were brought
in heavily ironed at every sitting. The
so-called court sat from April until
July.
The woman was ironed too. Even
day the accursed manacles rattled in
the hearing of her .counsel. The court
was organized to convict. Not satis
fied with insulting Johnson, Gen. Lew
Wallace remarked that he despised the
men who were Seeking to break down
the government witnesses. Clampitt
waited for someone older to reprove
the judicial wretch ; no one wishing to
do so, he arose and said: “ I am as
tounded at the remark of the member
of the court. It is supposed that this
tribunal was organized to do justice,
The llabtwell Sun.
By BENSON & McGILL.
VOL. IV—NO. 27.
not to convict I will let the member
know that it is the duty of the counsel
or the defense to use every means le
gitimately to sift the witnesses. The
member must remember that he is be
fore the people as a judge, nnd that he
•annot ride over precedents with tin
•unity, lie is not riding his horse at
Monocacy now.” Wallace had been
accused of running at Monocacy
bridge.
One day Clampitt felt a touch upon
bis shoulder, and turned round to see
who it was. It was Harold, a mere
boy. “ I wish you would give me an
envelope and postage and some paper.
I want to w rite a letter to Ren Wood.
I am getting pretty d—d tired of this
thing.” Clampitt reached over and
told Holt what the boy had said, and
he laughed immoderately. The trial
progressed and the*prisoners were con
victed. Then the trouble came on
Clampitt in a perfect flood tide. He
and Miss Annie Surratt went to Judge
Wylie, and he granted a writ of habeas
corpus to suspend the execution, but
this was suspended by an order of An
drew Johnson. They went to Joe Holt,
and upon her bended knee the daugh
ter besought this fiend to see the Pres
dent and save her mother. He finally
consented to go. As he was coming
out of the White House, the daughter
met him. He informed her then that
Johnson was implacable. Johnson af
terwards said that Holt never came to
him. Clampitt says every avenue to
the President was closed against him
and the poor girl. They never saw
him. One sultry day in July, 1865,
they were executed in the old arsenal.
Clampitt went to see Mrs. Surratt.
She was lyings on the same bed of
straw, with a Catholic priest attending
to her. He reached over and seized
her hand. It was limp and almost life
less. She turned her languid eyes full
upon him. “ Mrs. Surratt, I have not
slept a wink in 48 hours. I have tried
everything, and in every way, to get
relief. There is no hope. Farewell.”
lie went into another room. Hancock
came in and poured out a glass of
whisky and said: “ I have fought
through the war conscientiously. I
have been in the very mouth of hell in
battle. I would rather be there to-day
than to give the order for the execu
tion of this poor woman. But lam a
soldier. I have to act like a soldier.
I must obey orders. Proceed witli the
execution.” Soon the saddest and
most mournful procession started for
the gallows. Harold, a mere boy, came
along crying like a child. Azterot
tried to talk, but broke down. Payne
was game and defiant.
And then the most awful sight that
men ever gazed upon was seen. The
huge soldiers carrying Mrs. Surratt in
their arms. In front of them walked
the priest, holding before the poor wo
man’s sight, the crucifix. She never
took her eyes off of the sacred emblem.
They held her up so that the hangman
could lift up her helpless head and ad
just the infernal rope. The trap was
sprung, and the poor creature spun
around like a top for a moment, and all
was over with her. She was speechless
and nearly dead, before she got into
the hangman’s clutches. Wtiat a
shame! What a crime! This poor
woman was the victim of Stanton and
Joe Holt. This man still lives in this
city. No one ever sees a blind open
in the house. No one ever talks to
him about the tragedy. Now and then
you may see him going to market with
a servant in an express. He is on the
retired list of the army- and gets a good
salary. He keeps a light all night,
long. He is dying of remorse. Con
stantly his poor victim dangles before
his glaring eyes and murders sleep.
If he has a friend in the world, no one
knows it. When the trial was going
on he was the ablest and most fascina
ting talker in the world. He is chang
ed now. The world is against him.
The reaction has set in. He alone is left
of the murderers of that poor woman
—the object of universal execration
and horror. Only once he tried to
throw off the black load. Then An
drew Johnson couvicted him -of lying.
What a life!
Clampitt is not as smart as Holt.
Few men ever were. He is not rich as
HARTWELL, GA.. WEDNESDAY, MARCH 3, 1880.
some of them who were concerned in
the undoing of this poor woman. He
has never hail power and plaoe, and
may never have. Notwithstanding all
this, I had rather lie John W. Clam
pitt than any of them. His conscience
is all right. He is a hero that any pro
fession or any country may be proud
of.
Rural KowiMwe.
Concord <JV. II.) Patriot.
Michael Kelly, or Mike Kelly as he
was usually called, was an eccentric old
farmer living in one of our suburban
towns. Born of poor parents, by in
dustry and perseverance be had be
come possessed of one of the finest
farms in that section, of which he was
justly proud ; but no prouder was he
than of his own physical strength and
agility, that had assisted him in accu
mulating his property and made him a
most excellent boxer and wrestler, and
he had a corresponding contempt for
men of inferior powers. One spring,
when help was unusually plenty, lie de
termined to have the farm run that year
by a strong team. So, when a man
presented himself and asked for work,
after inquiring of the man ns to his
habits, etc., lie Would finish by asking
hhn to fight. In this way he disposed
of quite a number of applicants, and
was beginning to despair of getting his
“strong team,” when, one morning as
he was standing in the barn door, a
young man came up the road, and, see
ing him, called out:
“ Good morning, sir.”
“ Good morning,” gruffly.
“ Do you want to hire a hand to work
your farm, sir!”
“ Perhaps so; want to hire out ?”
“ Yes, sir; I am looking for a job.”
“ What can you do ?”
“All kinds of farm work, sir; I was
born on a farm.”
” Can you ftgni f
“ What, sir ?”
“ Can you fight, I say ; can you lick
me ?”
“I don’t know, sir, whether I can or
not; but I can try.”
And he did try. The first thing
Kelly knew he was on his back on the
floor, with two teeth down his throat;
the next, the man was astride his stom
ach, with a fist in each eye, and his
nose was bleeding. Then he let him
up, and was just picking up his bundle
to start off, when he was called back
and set to work, and he proved to be
as trusty and industrious as he was
brave. The farmer’s daughter needed
just such a man fora husband, and now
he may he seen any day superintend
ing the work on the farm, while Father
Kelly sits in the arm-chair and tells to
his grandchildren the story of his last
fight.
An Owl’s Flight of Eight Hundred Miles.
hew York Tunes.
The White Star steamship Celtic,
which arrived from Liverpool on Wed
nesday last, brought a strange passen
ger who had boarded that vessel in
mid-ocean. A large white owl dropped
on one of the forward spars in an ex
hausted condition one evening when
the vessel was about eight hundred
miles off the coast of Newfoundland.
When brought to the deck by a sailor
it was found to be nearly dead from
cold and hunger, and almost too weak
to eat. It had become greatly emaci
ated and trembled violently in endeav
oring to swallow the first morsel of
meat which was placed in its beak. It
slowly recovered and is now perfectly
well. It is supposed to have been
blown off the coast of Newfoundland
by the westerly gales. Finding itself
once out at sea it had probably ceased
making efforts to reach land and had
drifted before the gale, Its only efforts
being to keep above water. The bird
must have possessed remarkable pow
ers of endurance, the officers say, to
have kept up so long. The Celtic’s
owl, which is now quite tame, measures
nearly five feet from wing to wing, and
is white with the exception of a few
small specks of dark color.
Knowledge cannot be acquired with
out pain and application. It is trouble
some and like deep digging for pure wa
ters ; but, when once you come to the
I spring they rise up and meet you.
Devoted to Hart County.
A Romance of Illinois.
It was night.
And such a night!
The wind came in savage gusts from
its lurking places on the broad prairies
that stretched away to the westward,
and howled in mournful cadence the re
quiem of the dying year.
Yes, the old year was dying. It
would soon be deader than a smelt, and
the demise of that young fish means
business.
young limn nun unsmug eye aim
clear-cut lips, around which hovered
the remnants of a cold, cruel smile,
nervously strode across the floor of a
richly-furnished room in one of Chica
go's most elegant mansions. For more
than an hour he paced the apartment,
never once striking a trot. This show
ed that lie was a natural pacer. Iu his
right hand he held a tiny piece of pa
per, which fluttered in the breeze cre
ated by the cl ip he was going. That
piece of paper was from Penelope Mc-
Guire, a proud and haughty beauty,
the only daughter of a man whose de
mesne was one of the most extensive
on Aberdeen street.
Perhaps she had been giving the
young man the breeze in which the note
fluttered.
But, apparently, she hadn’t.
No, no. The missive told him of
her undying love, and how his image
was never absent from her maiden
fancy. This looked as if you could
bet on the girl; but who can tell the
workings of a woman’s heart ?
This is what bothered the young man
and had set him to pacing. He had
wooed the maid with all the ardent na
ture of his soul—and innumerable
boxes of candy.
Was this saccharine margin to be
swept away by a sudden decline of her
love for him ?
Not if he knew it.
“ ’Twas but yester e'en,” he said,
“that I saw her boarding a car as the
clocks were striking 8, and yet the
raise creature thinks to explain away
her action by saying she was going to
see a sick friend. She little knows
that I saw her bangs, and know full
well that no woman wears them unless
she is going where she can be seen.
But she shall trifle with me no longer ;
I will scorn her proffered love ” —and
he seated himself at an inlaid ebony
writing desk.
The next day’s mail bore to Penel
ope the following missive:
Nobuddy can pla me for a sucker.
Awa fals woman and practis your wiles
on anuther. George.
“Do we need compulsory education?”
ask our public men.
Well, I should remark.
Determine your course in life, and
then do not swerve from it. Many
young men commence their career with
out any definite plans. Thinking to
day, perchance, to amass a fortune
tiikki: in xo nr. atii.
BY SIR K. HULWEK LYTTON.
There is no death ! The stars go down
To rise upon some fairer shore;
And bright in Heaven’s jeweled crown
They shine forevermore.
There is no death ! The dust we tread
Shall change 'neath the summer showers
To golden grain or mellow fruit,
Or rainbow-tinted (lowers.
The granite rocks disorganize
To feed the hungry moss they bear ;
The forest leaves drink daily life
From out the viewless air.
There is no death ! The leaves may fall,
The flowers may fade and pass away ;
They only wait through Wintry hour
The coming of the May.
There is no death ! An angel form
\\ alks o'er the eartli with silent trend ;
He hears our best loved things away,
And then we call them ** dead.”
He leaves our hearts all desolate.
He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers;
Transplanted into bliss, they now
Adorn immortal bowers.
The bird-like voice, whose joyous tones
Make glad these scenes of strife,
Sings now an everlasting song
Amid the tree of life.
And where he sees a stnile too bright,
Or heart too pure for taint and vice,
He bears it to that world of light,
To dwell in Paradise.
Born unto that undying life,
They kave us hut to come again;
With joy we welcome them—the same
Except in sin and pain.
And ever near us, though unseen,
The dear immortal spirits tread ;
For all the boundless universe
Is life—there are no dead.
$1.50 Per Annum.
through some particular channel, they,
to-morrow, easily alter it for some other.
So they pass their lives, continually va
rying, always discontented with the
present, and ever looking to the future
tor brighter days, which their indecision
does not warrant them to expect.
JEFF DAVIS’ PORTRAIT.
Th l.nto Mm. linn.;'. I'mviil It. Ml.-
■laalppl - Jir I.h via’ Cltlh.. \% In n Tu.
It vn.
The following correspondence wns
read in the Mississippi Senate on Mon
day, the Dili i nst., and on motion was re
feried to a select committee:
Executive Department, Jackson,
Feh.' 9th, 1880.— To Senate and House
of Representatives : (i unti.KMKN —On
the 15th of October, 1879, I received,
per express, a crayon portrait of Hon.
Jefferson Davis, presented to the State
of Mississippi by the late Mrs. Sarah
A. Dorsey, of Harrison county. This
testimonial of her love for her native
State entitles Mrs. Dorsey to the kind
remembrance of the people, and to the
thanks of their representatives. The
portrait has been placed in the State
Library, and is subject to the action of
your honorable body. I also have the
honor to submit herewith, for your in
formation, the letter of Mr. Davis,
which accompanied the portrait.
Respectfully, J. M. Stone, Governor.
MR. DAVIS’ LETTER.
Beauvoir, Mihh., August 14,1879.--
His Excellency, J. M. Stone, Governor
of Mississippi: Dear Sir —The late
Mrs. Surah A. Dorsey, a few days before
her decease, instructed me to present to
her native State, Mississippi, the crayon
portrait which accompanies this letter.
It was made after a photographic like
ness of myself, which was taken in the
identical clothes worn when I was cap
tured. Every article I then had on np-
J rv*# aw •• Al* a A r% p,, 1 m
of large spurs which were stolen from
me after my capture. I had a water
proof “ raglan” and a shawl about my
head and shoulders when I left the tent,
hut on being hailed by a cavalryman
who rode a considerable distance before
his comrades, I dropped both the rag
lan and shawl while advancing on ray
challenger, and thus appeared before
my captors in the exact costume repre
sented iu the portrait.
Faithfully yours,
Jefferson Davis.
Excellent Interest Rules.
For finding the interest on any princi
pal for any number of days, the answer
in each case being in cents, separate the
two right hand figures to express it in
dollars and cents:
Four Per Cent. —Multiply the prin
cipal by the number of days to run ;
separate the right-hand figure from the
product, nnd divide by 9.
Five Per Cent. —Multiply by number
of days and divide by 72.
Six Per Cent.—Multiply by number
of days; separate right hand figure and
divide by 6.
Eight Per Cent. —Multiply by num
ber of days and divide by 45.
Nine Per Cent. —Multiply by num
ber of days; separate right baud figure
and divide by 4.
Ten Per Cent. —Multiply by number
of days and divide by 86.
Twelve per Cent. —Multiply by num
ber of days; separate right-hand figure
and divide by 3.
Fifteen Per Cent.— Multiply by num
ber of days and divide by 24.
Eighteen Per Cent. —Multiply by
number of days ; separate right-hand
figure and divide by 2.
Twenty Per Cent.—Multiply by num
ber of days and divide by 18.
Two miles of railroad have been built
on the ice, crossing the Ht. Lawrence
river at Montreal. The ties and string
ers are laid flat, and water is pumped
between them to freeze, thus making a
solid bed.
The wife of a defeated candidate in
Massachusetts, the day after the elec
tion, presented him with triplets. He
did not arrive at home until the next
day, when he was shown his offsprings,
one at a time, until all three had been
! exhibited, when, looking at his wife, he
asked : “ Are all the returns in, Ma
i riah?”
WHOLE NO. 183.
MOT A DISGRACE TO LABOR.
The following srtiele, under the aheve
heading, we clip from the Atlanta Sun
day Phonograph. It is worth a car
load of political editorials:
We live in n busy age. An age when
real worth is more highly appreciated
than the show of fine toggery and su
perficial accomplishment*. The olden
lime pmu dm -mi and haughtiness of
Southern aristocracy is coming to its
senses. It is well that some of our peo
ple ure coin)idled per force, to recog
nize labor as honorable, und respect
those who have to earn their daily sus
tenance by physical exertion. This
past state of affairs was the result of
training among the better class of our
people. Children reared in affluence
were taught to believe that a man wlw>
turned the mellow fallow w ith his bright
shining plowshare was an individual
considerably low down in the social
sphere, nnd the lady who by choice or
necessity, handled the frying-pan or the
haiu-bioiler, and had the odor of dish
water about her was also put in the cat
egory of servant girls and Irish biddies.
Happily since the emancipation of
slavery there has been a change, and it
ha® been for the better. Not moretliaD
twelve years ago the writer was an un
sophisticated plow-hoy und lived in an
humble home in a small village of this
State. During the hot summer days
while faithfully following a small mus
tang pony in the tedious rounds of the
corn-furrow, people would pass along
the public highway in carriages and
buggies to and from the village. Some
.of them good, old sturdy farmers, would
give a cheering smile, accompanied by
the happy “good morning” and add,
“that's a nice piece of corn young man,
you ought to feel proud of it.” These
piain, honest words went directly to the
hoy’s heart, flattering his ambition and
lightening the weight of his daily toil.
These kindly speaking people wero
poor, honest, hard-working sons of toil,
and without being aware of the fact,
contributed greatly to the happiness of
the young man between the crooked
pieces of w hite tnk.
Others would pass along the same
thoroughfare, dressed in the best of
clothes, drawn by a pair of fine blacks,
shaded by blue silk umbrellas, und
blessed with every luxury that the
nonri cmmi vnsii> uut a stuuc v* mnu
jof encouragement was never received
from them. They did not so much ns
waste a glance on the small boy and the
little mustang pony. They were looked
upon as something no better than a'
stubborn mule and a chicken stealing
negro, and not worthy the notice or re
spect of decent people. As said before,
this feeling is dying out in the South,
and before another decade every vestige
of it will be obliterated in this section of
the country. Our readers will pardon
us for relating tins bit of personal his
tory as it is done with the hope of doing
something towards accomplishing a good
purpose, i jabor is honorable and should
he respected. The man who labors is a
wealth producer, is one of nature’s no
blemen, and should command the respect
of die very best people in the land.
Right here we would like to say a few
words to the young men. Young man,
if you ever intend to be anything or
anybody, for God’s sake don’t be a loafer.
Your parents may bo rich and able to
supply you with everything you need
and a great many things you do not
need, but that is no excuse for idleness.
Go to work. If you can’t be a bank
president, be a cash or parcel boy in a
dry goods store, and if you can’t got
such positions as you prefer, take any
thing that comes along, and our word
for it, you’ll never regret taking the ad
vice. Young ladies who think that it is
degrading to work, are not worth their
weight in shucks ; and young men of
worth in quest of life partners should
give the butterflies of fashion the go-by,
and seek girls of true hearts and willing
hands as companions.
A Silent Woman.
Madame Rignier, the wife of a law
officer at Verseilles, dropping some re
marks which were out of place, though
not important, her husband reprimand
ed her before the company, saying:
“Silence, rnadame, you ar a fool!”
The lady immediately subsided. She
lived twenty or thirty years afterwards,
and never uttered a single word to
anybody not even to her children. A
pretended theft was committed in her
presence, in the hope of taking her by
surprise, but with no effect, nothing
could induce her to speak. When her
consent was requisite to the marriage
of any of her children she bowed her
head and signed the contract, and even
when she died she merely sighed
“ adieu,”