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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,”