PICKENS COUNTY HERALD
VOL. IV.
Night.
Come with thine unveiled worlds,'O truth of
night,
Come with thy calm. Adowu the shallow
day,
Whose splendors hid the vaster world
away,
I wandered on this little plot of light,
A dreamer among dreamers. Veiled or
bright,
Whether the gold shower roofed me or the
gray,
I strove and fretted at life’s feverish play,
And dreamed until the dream seemed in¬
finite.
But now the gateway of the all unbars;
The passions and the cares that beat so
shrill,
The giants of this petty world, disba i
On t he. great threshold of the night I
stand,
Once more a soul self-cognizant and still,
Among the wheeling multitude of stars.
—[Archibald Lampman,in Scribner
TRAILED BY INDIANS,
AN OLD IIUNTEll’S STORY.
“It was in ’48, and I’d been out
trading ’monget the Flatheads and the
Nez Perces for nearly two years off
and on, when one day I caught on to
a scheme the Flatheads had got up to
raid tho little settlement near to where
Cnaton, Nev., now stands. There
were iliree families living there, and
the plan was to wait until the men
went to Carson City for provisions,
when the women and children were to
he killed and the cattle run off by one
party, while another waylaid the men
on the way back and murdered them.
I was up about .Winuemucca when I
got hold of this, and I set off' for Can¬
ton as hard as I could go, but the men
were gone by the time I reached the
settlement, which was called Ridley’s
Camp. I had reason to fear the Indi¬
ans were only a few hours behind me,
and we had to move quickly. Our
only chance was to hide in the moun¬
tains till they left tho neighborhood
or work our way as best we could by
night to Carson City.
It was useless to think of saving the
men, so I just kept that part of tho
business to myself. There were in all
thirteen of us, two women and their
seven children, and three little chaps
whose mother had died the week be¬
fore, and me. The first thing I did
was to stampede the cattle and horses
to keep the Indians from getting them,
then, as wc started, I shut up the
houses to keep the redskins as long as
possible there before they found out
the people had run away.
We made tho little creek called
Snake River by daylight, aud, after
reconnoitering, I made the whole party
wade out to an island in the middle,
which was about 20 by SO feet, and
covered with flags and rushes aud
some stunted willows. Here we lay
all day, for the most part down on our
stomachs under the brush. Of course
we could build no lire nor move about,
so we ate tho cold victuals the women
had brought along, and I dipped up
water in my cap. Twice parties of
Indians stopped not a hundred yards
below where wo were to water their
horses, but, judging from their ac¬
tions, I knew they did not suspect any
one was near them, hut were proba¬
bly on their way to Ridley’s. They
did not linger, but rode on at once,
much to my relief, for all the time
they were within hearing I am sure
I-did not draw a breath a minute for
fear one of the children would cry
out, when we would hav~ all been
massacred; but the poor little things,
with the exception of a child a few
weeks old, were too badly scared to
slir or speak unless bidden; and as for
the women, they put any man I ever
6aw to shame with their calmness aud
courage.
When night came we struck out for
a line of hills lying about five miles
away, and where I counted on finding
a cave, or at least a hiding-place. Of
Course I and the women and the larger
children could have made it without
difficulty; but being obliged to wait
on the little ones and to carry them
evrey half mile or so, we were nearly
all night getting to the nearest hill.
We’d gone about a mile, when low
down on the horizon I saw a dull glow,
and knew the Indians were burning
the camp and that they’d be on our
trail in a little while. When we got
to the hill I could see nothing like a
cave, and, while it was pretty heavily
wooded, there was no place to hide
where the Indians would not spy ns
directly. I was looking about me
when I caught glimpse of a black bear
“We Seek the Reward of Honest Labor.”
JASPER, PICKENS COUNTY, GA„ THURSDAY. MAY 28, (894.
running round a rocky spur about
half way up the hill. I followed just
in time to see her go tumbling or
climbing down a sort of gasli
jn tho earth, aud which I knew
must bo her den. Without stop¬
ping I jumped at her and found myself
in a little cave, about ten by ten foot,
hut with another larger one leading
away toward the center of the hill.
Tho bear began to growl when she
saw mo, and 1 saw, when my eyes got
accustomed to the dim light, that sho
had two cubs in tho den with her,
which she was going to defend. So,
aiming as carefully ns I could, I fired
at her, breaking her skull, after which
I killed the two cubs and transferred
my party to the cave. The last of the
cold meat and bread were then eaten,
and the women and children, creeping
into the larger division, which was,
however, only about four feet in
height, went to rest. But I was too
anxious to sleep, tired as I was, so
hoisted myself out of the cavern and
climbed to the top of tho hills to see
if 1 could see aught of tho Indians.
Several times it seemed to me that I
saw a band moving along tho lino of
tho horizon, and, while the speck
might have been cattle, I thought it
best to stay where wo were all that
day, that night and the next.day. Our
great trouble was water, which had to
be brought from a spring on the other
side of the hill, and as only a small
quantity could be brought at a time—
my cap being the only vessel we had—
the children especially suffered a good
deal. At last one of tho women dis¬
covered a flint rock with a hollow dip
in the middle, which would hold about
two quarts or so, and I kept this filled
as a cistern. I ventured that night to
roast a piece of the bear in a hole in
the ground, which change of diet wa s
a welcome one. I never passed such
a time since I was born, for I dare not
sleep an hour for fear of a surprise,
and the weight of responsibility I felt,
with those poor, helpless creatures on
my hands, was simply awful.
Late on ths second day, when I
climbed tho hill for a last look, I saw
a small band of Indians not more than
an eighth of a mile away. They did
not number more than seven,but wero
armed and in full war dress, aud were
heading straight for the hill. Drop,
ping on my all fours I ran as fast as I
could for the mouth of the cavern,
and scrambling down soon had tho
women and children crouched up in
the far end of the larger division,
where no shot fired into the smaller
one could reach them, though I hoped
the Indians would either pass by al-
togetleer or fail to find us if they
halted. Silence then was absolutely
necessary, and the women impressed
this on the children. I then went
back, and by clinging to one of the
bushes swinging across the entrance
to the cave peered out to seo what the
redskins meant to do. I could sec
they had struck our trail and suspect¬
ed wc were somewhere about, for
they dismounted, and scattering, they
began to search about tho woods.
As they drew near our hiding place
1 dropped down into it and cocked the
guns the women had brought and my
own trusty rifle. I suppose my fre¬
quent goings in and comings out had
left some trace, for they seemed to
notice the entrance at once, and pres¬
ently I saw a head peeping over. The
dim light of the cave might have pre¬
vented the owner from seeing me, but,
as ill-luck would have it, the infant
child I spoke of wailed out just at this
particular moment. The cry was
stifled in an instant, but it bad been
heard, and the head craned over
further, while another and another
popped over. I was crouching down
as close as I could, but, hearing the
click of the trigger, I knew conceal¬
ment was no longer possible, and
blazed away. Two screams told me
that a couple of heads had been hit,
and the third disappeared. I heard a
voice shouting for the others to come
up, and could distinguish the tones of
a colloquy being held, though without
hearing what was said.
Presently a lighted torch was flung
into the cave, but I had retreated into
the further one, and. nothing being
visible, the Indians were nonplussd,
and I heard one cry out that there was
nothing there. Another retorted an¬
grily that some one had killed Blue
Water and Leaping Turtle. This was
followed by a patter o f shots on the
floor of tho cave, one of which, re-
bounding, struck out) of the children
on tho breast, but, though the bullet
embedded itself in his skin, the plucky
little fellow did not utter a sound. As
their firing still produced no elVoct,
the Indians did not know how to ac¬
count for matters, and presently one
of thorn was imprudent enough to
stick his head over the edge, but 1
made no move, and they hold anothci
council. It was evident that they
feared to enter the cave, not knowing
how many lay concealed within it, and
at last they hit on the very plan I had
been dreading.
A lighted torch was thrown over,
and a quantity of leaves and moss was
pushed after it, but their amiable in¬
tention of smoking us out failed, ow¬
ing to the dampness of tho leaves fu
moss and my having deluged tho
earthen floor of the cave with the
water wo had on hand. Seeing this
fail, they summoned up courage to
enter the cavern, and as we saw the
five forms leap over, the women and I
opened on them. I killed my mail in¬
stantly, and so did Mrs. Ridley, who
immediately let a dusky fiend, who,
screaming, rushed upon her, have the
full contents of the other barrel in his
breast.
The other woman missed her aim,
and the next moment was in tho grasp
of one of the Indians, but before I
could come to her rescue, her son, a
boy of 12, had flung his arms around
tho redskin’s nock, and, hanging on
his back kept him from striking, when
the woman, picking up a tomahawk,
struck him a tremendous blow on the
forehead. He dropped like a log,
crushing the boy beneath him. The
remaining Indiau, seeing his compan¬
ions fall, made a break for the en¬
trance, and was just climbing out
when I caught him, and, firing,
brought him down with a broken arm
and a ball in his side.
Seeing him helpless, and thinking
him dying, I did not shoot again, but
went back to the women, whom .1
found shrieking with excitement. I
quieted them, and congratulated them
on their courage, which, however, was
entirely gone as soon as the call for it
was over. I rolled tho Indian off tho
boy, who was considerably bruised by
tho weight of the dead body, . but
otherwise not hurt. Tho wounded
Indian I found to be an old acquain¬
tance of mine, and seeing he was dy¬
ing rapidly I did not disturb him. lie
told me that finding Itidiey's Camp
deserted, the main party had gon$
back home, but that siispecting me of
having warned them, sotno of the
young hot bloods had followed us to
be avenged on me. They were pretty
certain that I was the only man in the
party, but did not know but what
others had Joined ns.
Well, wo took possession of tho
ponies, and we were able to travel
much more rapidly, though had it not
been nearly desperate to think of walk¬
ing in our exhausted condition, I
would not have risked riding them,
for a man on foot has twenty chances
on the plains to one the mounted fel¬
low has. Wo reached Carson City
without further adventure, though
starvation and thirst and fatigue were
our constant companions, and there
found the women’s husbands and the
other man, who wore just starting
home. I had to get a doctor to give
mo something to quiet .my nerves, for,
for eight days and nights, I had not
slept more than thirty minutes out of
every twenty-four hours, and even
after all were safe I could not quit
listening for noises.— [Globe-Demo¬
crat.
The Message Was Accepted.
An oldtimo telegrapher was telling
an oldtime story of his craft the other
day in an afternoon resort. Back in
the forties or fifties he was an opera¬
tor at the terminus of tho Erie Rail¬
road in Jersey City. The road worked
its tclegi aph lino practically for its
own convenience, and only accepted
messages from the public where mat¬
ters of life or death were concerned.
It happened that a New York sport
wanted to communicato with a com-
rade in Corning, aud let the latter
know that he was coming up to go
shooting. It puzzled him to circum¬
vent tbe telegraph regulations of the
railroad company, but he finally
evolved the following: “Aunt
Jemima is dead. Am coming by this
afternoon’s train. Bring the dogs
down and we will go hunting.” The
message was accepted and transmitted.
—[New York Continent.
GOLD AND SILVER.
Instructive Facts in the History
of Their Coinage.
Work of the U. S. Mints Since
Their Organization.
The United States mints, says Dr.E.
D. Miller,were organized in 1793. Be-
twoon that year and tho year 180.’) tho
Wgest number of silver dollars coinod
in any one year was 423,515, and the
total number coined during the first
ten years of the mint’s history was 1,-
437,517 dollars. Frqm 1805 to 1835,
a period of thirty years, there were no
silver dollars coined. In 1836 there
were only 1000 silver dollars coined.
There were none coined in 1887, and
in 1838 and 1839 there were only 300
coined. From 1835 to 1843 only 585,-
023 silver dollurs were coined. From
1844 to 1873 about 6,007,798 silver
dollars were coined. From tho organi¬
zation of the mint to 1873 only about
8,032,318 silver dollars were coinod.
Tho largest amount of silver coined in
any one year previous to 1873 was in
1872, when 1,118,600 dollars wore
coined.
The largest amount of gold coined
in any one year previous to 1873 was
in 1860, when $83,395,538 were
coined. In 1850 62,614,490 dollars in
gold were coined.
Previous to 1873 silver and gold
cojns were on an equality at the mints.
In 1873 silver was demonetized. In
1872, although tho coinage of silver
was as free as that of gold, only 296,-
G00 silver dollars were coined, while
in tho same year our mints coined
$57,022,747 of gold. For four years
after 1873 there were no standard
silver dollars coined.
In 1872 Congress authorized tho is¬
sue of the trade dollar, which con¬
tained 420 grains of silver, nine-tenths
fine, while the standard dollar con¬
tained only 412 1-2 grains. Tho ob¬
ject of the issue of tho trade dollar
was to promole our trade with China,
Japan and India, which have the silver
standard. From 1872 to 1878 over
34,000,000 trade dollars were coined.
In the year 1873 Congress passed a
compulsory coinage act, and the very
first year of its operation our mints
turned out 22,495,500 silver dollars,
showing that in one year, under com¬
pulsory coinage, tho people received
more than three silver dollars to each
one dollar given thorn in oighty years
under free coinage.
Under free coinage in 1872 only
296,000 silver dollars wero coined,
while there were $57,022,743 in gold
coined. Yet in 1890, under compul¬
sory coinage, we have had 35,923,816
silver dollars coined, and only $22,-
021,748 of gold coined. During the
last eight years, under compulsory
coinage, there have 'been about 49,-
636,775 more silver dollars coined than
have been coined of gold.
The largest amount of gold ever
coined in one year was iu 1880, when
$96,850,890 wero coined. Since tha
year the coinage of gold has been de¬
creasing until in 1889 there were only
$21,413,931 coined, while, under com¬
pulsory coinage, silver, which began
in 1877 with $22,495,550, has grad¬
ually increased in coinage up to 1890,
when its coinage amounted, as above
stated, to $35,923,816.
Pets of the Poor.
“You will notice,” said the young
poet, “that there are two sorts of
people who show a marked taste for
flowers—the very rich and the very
poor. The rich have them in profu¬
sion in conservatories. The poor have
one little pot perched iuside or outside
a window according to the season.
And the loving and personal attention
which this ofttimes sickly flower will
get from toil-hardened hands is one of
the curious things you are always run¬
ning across in human nature. Another
way in which the poor try to bring
into their houses tho breath of the
country is by keeping birds in cages—
canaries generally. A poor woman
who lias a canary and a geranium
counts herself happy indeed. Sho has
the perfume and the voice of the coun¬
try.”— [New York Sun.
Forlorn.
“Why lias Miss Merriweather never
married? Did she find her lover uu-
worthy?”
“No, poor thing. Sho never ever
bad that luck.”
The Funeral of the Fntnre.
‘-The time is coming,” said an un¬
dertaker of this city tho other day,
“when people will ccaso to go to
fnucrals in troops, and when the
friends of tho deceased will tako fare*
well of his remains at ids home, in¬
stead of following him to tho grave as
they do now. This will bo a decided
change for tho better. Funerals as
now conducted arc foolish and mean¬
ingless performances. They bring dis¬
comfort to nil who attend them, and
in many cases they do positive injury.
Think of tho thousands of people who
catch their deaths of cold from stand¬
ing shivering around an open gravo ;
and from sitting for hours in cirringei
traveling at a snail’s paco for miles
into the country. Of course the time
is not far distant when burials will bo
largely superseded by cremation.
“On the whole, I am disposed to re¬
gard cremation as a blessing. Fooplo
arc opposod to it now because they
think that it is unnatural and horrible.
It is simply an. assistance to nature’s
work; it doo; neatly and quickly wlmt
nature accomplishes after a long tiino
and in avory unpleasant fashion. I
wonder if people will ever realize that
when a human boing dies tho body
which ho leaves behind him Is not
himself. There is no more relation be¬
tween a man when lie is dead than
there is between any living thing and
a piece of clay. But wo have not
reached that 6tnge of civilization when
the popular mind can grasp this fact.
When wo do, there will be very differ¬
ent funeral ceremonies from those now
in vogue, and other methods of dis¬
posing of the dead will change mated-
ally.—[Now York Telegram.
Great Crevasses of Mount St. Elias.
Crossing tbe great snow field form
ing tho floor Of the amphitheater were
hundreds of yawning chasms, many
of them twenty to forty feet in
breadth and half a mile in length.
These we had to cross by narrow snow
bridges or follow for long distances
before being able to pass around their
ends. A view into the blue depths of
one of those great crevasses is a sight
never to be forgotten. Their lips are
of while snow, festooned and ovor
arching in a thousand fantastic forms;
below, tho color changes by impercep¬
tible gradations to tho deepest blue.
Their extreme depths are as dark in
color as tho unfathomable sea. Many
timeB their bottoms arc beyond tho
jeach of vision; again they are level-
floored and form a fairy-liko valley
with walls of sculptured crystal; iu
other instances they arc partly filled
with wafer of tho deepest indigo, iu
which every detail of the fretted walla
abovo is reflected. Some of tho larger
crevasses are crossed by snow arches,
thrown directly from bank to bank,
and resembling in their grand propor¬
tions the Natural Bridge of Virginia.
Our way luy for miles across this
beautiful but treacherous pavement
along the brink of dizzy precipices,
and across narrow bridges with bottom¬
less gulfs on each hand. Although
wc had been living on the glaciers for
weeks and had become familiar with
many of their wonders, the grea 4
crevasses iu the upper snow regions
were so magnificent in their propor¬
tions and so wonderful in color that
they called forth exclamations of ad¬
miration from every member of our
party.— [Century.
Lifting Bridges by Electricity.
The case with which electricity can
now be applied to the moving of
heavy weights has led to its employ¬
ment for that purpose in many opera¬
tions where steam or hydraulic or
other power was formerly used.
Among these may be mentioned the
fffting of bridges, for which the elec¬
tric motor is peculiarly fitted. It is
stated that in the city of Rochester,
all the bridges that cross the Erie
canal are to be operated electrically.
Of the fifteen bridges for which it is
proposed to provide power, it is as¬
sumed that at least four will at times
be lifted simultaneously, and that a
period of fifteen seconds will be oc¬
cupied for each lift; furthermore,
that each bridge will be lifted at least
eight times per hour during a period
of ten consecutive hours of the day of
greatest canal traffic.—[New York
Commercial Advertiser,
-•--
Statistician G. E. llavenstein esti-
mates that the earth could hold a total
imputation of about 5,990,000,000.
NO. 30.
Doubting Hearts,
HI.
Within the shadow a drooping face,
Crowned by a wealth of flowers and lace,
Dark brown eyes under white lids pressed,
And Ungers that love to be caressed.
A throat that glistens, ‘neath priceless pearls
Hose In the rosebud garden of girls.
1 dream of her nightly, gay coquette,
And wonder if I’ve half won her yetT
Or if Bhe would look as sweet and fair
To some other man who by chauce was there
SKI.
Within tho shadow, the lights turned down,
Far from the noise of the reHtless town,
While eyes of the boldest, deepest blue
Seem to be looking me through and through;
A strong hand clasping about my own
With a touch that straight to my heart has
flown;
Do I love him? Yes and always will;
My heart responds to his own heart’s thrill,
But he looks as tenderly, I suppose,
In the eyes of every girl he knows.
— [F. H. Curtiss, in New York Sun.
HUMOROUS.
The little follow Is none the loss a
strapping fellow.
Necessity is a doubtful virtue be¬
cause it knows no law.
It seems to bo tho burglaries and not
the burglars that are committed now¬
adays.
The carpenter, liko tho country
schoolteacher, is accustomed to board,
ing around.
“I understand they have discovered
tho original man through whoso
whiskers tho wind blew.” “Who wa»
it?” “Bluebeard.”
Gosiin—If Miss Scadds’ faco is her
fortune she doesn’t rate very high.
Dollcy—Her pa value is much above
her faco valuable.
“Docs your wife sit up for yon
when you como homo late from ths
club?’' “No, hut sho often sits dowi
on mo after I got in.”
Miss Vanitas—Do you know tho se¬
cret of my beauty? Miss Tartly—I
think you can assure yourself, dear,
that no one has discovered it.
Tom—Yes, I always laugh at John¬
son’s funny sayings. I am under cer¬
tain obligations to him, you know.
Jack—Why, what a coincidence. I
owe him money, too.
Sho—Will you always love me, dear,
just the same as you do now? He—
Always. She—You wretched thing I
Why didn’t you protest that every
year you would love me more ?
Tommy—Ma, you must got me a
new pair of shoes. I’ve got a hole in
one of my shoes. Mother—Is it a big
Hole? Well, I lost my stocking through
it this morning going to school.
Tho bewhiskered superintendent
beamed upon tho class boys. “Now,
boys,” said lie, “what shall I talk
about?” “Talk about a minute,” ex¬
claimed the bad boy of the class.
Dash way—Just look at Miss Jasper.
She lias a dress for every day iu tha
week. Cleverton—How tho mischief
can her father afford it? Dashaway—
Easy enough. It’s the samo dress.
Irate Parent (catching his clerk
kissing his daughter)—Now, now,
young man. I don’t pay you for that
kind of work. Clerk—N-uo, sir. And
I don’t propose to charge any extra
for it.
Young Housekeeper (to butcher)—
You may send up that bag of ham,
aud—er—how is your liver this morn-
big? Butcher—Fust rate, mum. 1
been takin’ Saratogy Wichy for a
month.
Fair lady (with large conversational
aperture)—Cau’t you make the mouth
a little smaller? Photographer—
Great Scott I do you want a picture
without any mouth at ull? I’ve pared
it down three inches already.
Pompous Author (to veteran edi¬
tor) :—What would you advise a man
to do whose ideas are in advance of
the times? Veteran Editor (prompt¬
ly) :—I would advise him to sit quiet¬
ly down and wait for the times to
catch up.
St. Helena Becoming Deserted.
For twenty years St. Helena has
been going to the dogs, and has now
very nearly arrived there. It is the
Suez Canal that has killed it, as it has
ruined many other ports of call. A
final blow was given when quite re¬
cently the French Government decided
to withdraw the garrison of Imperial
troops. Last year this order began to
come into effect, and St. Helena is
rapidlv drifting into a position of a
deserted island.—[Philadelphia Reo
ord. —.
