JOURNAL AND MESSENGER.
CLISBY & JONES, Pbopbietobs.
TEE FAMILY JOURNAL—NEWS—POLITICS- LITERATURE—AGRICULTURE—DOMESTIC NEWS, Etc.—PRICE ANNUM.
GEORGIA TELEGRAPH BUILDING
TABUSTIED1826-
MACOIST, FRIDAY, JULY 16, 1880
VOLUME NO—LV
A Good Same and a Good Cause.
A hundred years has passed and gone
Since first that patriot band,
In faith and courage, deep and strong,
Sought freedom for our land.
They met in council, unconcerned
Of what the world might say,
Their faith in God and justice—turned
All doubts and fears away.
No selfish motives held control
Of men so strong and brave,
But each and all with heart and soul
Pledged life, their homes to save.
A bright array of glorious names.
To the ages there was given,
Inspiring man to noble deeds
And registered in heaven.
Student, go read the living scroll;
One name is there, full, round and
strong,
Its clean marked lines shows breadth of
God
To cherish right and punish wrong.
That name has lived through battle’s
smoke,
Always upholding justice’s laws
Mid shot and shell and sabre stroke,
Its periled life in freedom’s cause.
Hancock, the name, it stands to-day,
Again to lead in freedom’s fight.
His hosts are marshaled for the fray,
And may God defend the right.
A Hancock Max.
TOSSED ON
THE BILLOWS
FATE.
OF
BY 8PBINO LEAVES.
Written for this paper.]
C1IAUTEB VI.
They walked slowly along amid scenes
of happiness aud peace until childish
voices were heard close to them and a
happy group appeared.
Mrs. Felton looked on them with pa
rental pride as she whispered to Eugenic
to stop and look at them.
‘•That is my little Lily that is twining
flowers in Mabel’s hair, and my quiet
rauline sits on the grass reading.”
“They are lovely children,” responded
her companion.
The children, hearing voices, looked
up, and ilien came bounding towards
them, cxciaiiningjoyously, “Here’s mama!
here's mama!” Each pair of little arms
were twined around her neck, and each
little rosy mouth was kissed. The mother
told them that Miss Hargartli had come to
be their teacher, and again the little
mouths were-perched up to be kissed.
Together they all returned to the house,
the little ones chattering ail the way.
They went up the steps to a broad balco
ny, and Eugenie turned and gazed once
more before entering.
The door was opened; they entered a
sort of vestibule, which contained a great
many interesting tiophies gathered from
diflerent parts of the globe. From this
they proceeded to a drawing room which
was strictly tasteful iu all its arrange
ments. Here they sat together; and Mrs.
Felton explained to Eugenie that she and
her brother had been the only children of
loving parents, who were then dead; that
they bad always felt very dear to each
other, and he had furnished his bachelor
as much for her use as his own.
lie had been au»,.„ — -n,u.i, that really
she was there a great deal more Ilian uc,
and had ever entertained her friends
there; but several months previous a
great trouble had befallen him, and, in
sympathy for him, she had retired alto
gether from society. She added that he
had just returned to Liverpool from a
voyage across the sea, but could not be
persuaded to return home until some
mystery be cleared.
“And I hope,” she added with a peculiar
smile, “that the dearest part of his troubles
will soon be relieved;” and again that pe
culiar expression came over her face, and
she was silent, leaving Eugenie to amuse
herself by talking to the children.
The sun set aud the shades of evening
gathered around like a sable curtain.
A firm step was heard approaching the
dooi; the wife’s intuition recognized it,
and Mrs. Felton arose to meet her 1ms-
baud, who had come out from the city for
the night.
He was immediately surrounded by the.
happy children, rejoicing at his coming.
When Mrs. Felton introduced Eugenie
to her husband the same expression of in
tense surprise was visible iu his counte
nance as he returned his wife’s smile.
He greeted her with marked cordiality,'
and expressed pleasure at finding her a
member of his family.
Again she wa3 at a loss to conjecture
the cause of the surpiisc her name bad oc
casioned.
As the evening progressed Eugenie
found the family so kind and considerate
that she felt quite at home, and her heart
went out to them for their timely friend
ship; yet all her feelings of sadness could
not be dispelled; for an image, cherished
iu her heart through all the days of her
separation, seemed ever looking reproach
fully, and censuring her for her cruelty to
one who loved her deeply, and who had
become dearer to her than all earthly
friends. Would she see him any more?
Would she again be permitted to look into
those eyes and read the true, manly love
of a noble heart?
She felt a oesire to be alone as these
thoughts coursed through her braiu, and
the father and mother were so diverted by
the children’s innocent prattle that she
stepped, unperceived, into the curtained
recess aud'stood by the window looking
out into the moonlight.
An irresistible impulse led her to raise
the window and step out on the balcony;
and, yielding to the same inclination, she
went out among the flowers, and walked
a little way until she came to a small
fountain that continuously sprinkled r.
bed ot violets that bloomed at its base.
She stooped low to admire it when the
rumble of wheels attracted her attention;
aud, on looking arouud, saw a carriage
drive up to the door and stop.
A gentleman jumped out and started
hurriedly up the steps. Eugenie kept
very still, for fear of detection; but before
he reached the door he saw her and, turn
ing, walked as rapidly toward her.
Her heart almost ceased beating as she
saw him coming to her. What, thought
she, if it is that horrid villain? and yet he
could not be so daring. However, he was
too near to indulge in suppositions or
think of flight.
In a moment more he had raised her to
her feet and passed one arm around her.
“What is it, Louisa?” he said in an
anxious voice, as ho placed the other
hand under her chin aud raised her face
to his.
She was at first horrified and then re
lieved to find that she was not the person
for whom he was looking.
“Have you heard anything of Eugenie,”
be added before she could speak, at the
same time looking more intently in her
face; and, then—ob, merciful heaven!
What Inexpressible joy rushed into their
hearts as he discovered the object of bis
search folded closely to him, and sho
recognized her ideal—her faithful lover.
“Thank God!” he exclaimed fervently,
and his clasp tightened for a moment;
then he released her, remembering that
he had no right.
“She looked into his face,
And scanned his features o’er,
And there was still each manly grace
That won her love before.”
“Oh, Eugenic, if you knew what I have
suffered.”
“I know that I deserve censure,” she
interrupted, “yet, I too, have suffered.
So you will forgive me, will you not ?”
and those loving eyes were raised to his
beseechingly.
“Forgive you, Eugenie?” he replied;
“how freely do I forgive you; and you
will not spurn my love and protection
now, will you, darling?”
“I shall prize it.”
“Ernest,” he prompted.
“Ernest,” she assented.
“Now,” he said calmly, “I feel fully
compensated for all these months of an
guish. You can scarcely know how
wretched I have b?en. I confided my
grief to Louisa, my dear sister, who as
sured me that she would make every
effort to discover your whereabouts and
add as much as you would allow to your
pleasure and comfort, without making
known her relation to me, and I went on
a vain search for the present possessor of
your fortune, but he can rest now that I
have my darling;” and he imprinted a
kiss on her brow.
The mystery of her name was then
plain, and the import of the telegram.
They turned toward the house and en
tered by the way she had made her exit.
When they smilingly stepped into the
room, Eugenie leaning on her lover’s arm,
Louisa Felton looked up, at first trans
fixed with joyful suiprise, then sprang
forward, aud, throwing her arms about
Eugenie’s neck, kissed her;'and her hus
band tendered Raban his sincere congrat
ulation. And once more they were happy.
Ah,
“ ’Tis a blessed thing to see
The union of two hearts—
So joyous—happy.” .
The hours of darkness passed, and the
next day dawned clear and bright.
Eugenie insisted that she should begin
the duties of teaching; but Mrs. Felton
and Raban both protested against it, and
instead led her through the different
apartments of the house; and she found it
a perfect palace.
The ceilings were beautifully frescoed,
the furniture was antique, and the carpets
were elegant. Copies of some of the best
pictures of the .old masters adorned the
walls; some so large as to reach from floor
to ceiling.
When] they visited the library, which
had been kept sacred to Raban’s use, Eu
genie, happening to glance at some papers
that were scattered on the table as he left
them, saw Irwin Muller’s exact words,
anil the troth flashed over her.
“Oh! Irwin Muller, you are betrayed 1”
sho exclaimed, holding up the papers aud
laughing merrily.
“Well, I shall not deny it,” he replied
smiling, “since I remember a compliment
you once paid those writings, “
Thus the blissful days passed on in hap
py companionship.
They attended theatres, where distin
guished actresses thrilled enthusiastic au
diences: and nothing could add to their
happy days.
“How noiseless falls the foot of time
That only treads on flowers.”
And yet, “who knoweth what a day
may bring forth?”
“Sitli morning fair may bring foul even
ing late.”
It was an occasion of this kind that
they visited a picture gallery of considera-
w -—wietv. and, after examining and ad
miring the pictures iu. F.ucenie
sank on a sofa in a remote corner to rest.
Raban left her only a moment, and she
turned her head and closed her eyes upon
the throng that was walking about the
room.
When she again opened her eyes a note
was lying on the sofa by her side address
ed to “Eunice Haugood.” Her soul was
filled with terror at the sight of that name;
for but one could have written it. With
trembling hands she unfolded and read:
“Perhaps you think you have eluded
me, and are spared the execution of my
vows, but remember, I told you no earthly
power should prevent, and I do not retract.
I am more than ever determined to make
you my wife, and all attempts to escape
that decree will be futile.
“Lionel Dently.”
She sank back on the sofa, pale and ag
itated; but Raban was by her side iu an
instant, trying to administer to her com
fort, with an anxious look of inquiry; for
he had seen the note in her hand. She
begged to be carried away; so, with his
assistance, she sought the carriage.
A fearful conviction had taken posses
sion of her, when she saw Lionel Dently’s
handwriting. It was like a thunderbolt;
for it was too evident she had seen it be
fore in the note written by the thief, “Yi-
luroy.” It was unmistakably the same.
When they were seated in the carriage
she made known to Raban all the partic
ulars of her abrupt departure from Dently
Hall, then handed him the tote she had
found on the sofa.
He read it, and vowed that she should
be avenged; and the rage and hatred de
picted on his countenance spoke lor his
sincerity.
He assured her that these threats were
pure jargon, and she need ieel no longer
uneasy so long as he.lived to avenge such
insults.
She then took a small purse from her
pocket, from which she produced a paper
folded tightly, which was no other than
the note from “Yituroy;” then she held
both notes before Raban’s eyes for com
parison, without uttering a word of her
suspicion. His face glowed with anger
as she took them aud examined them
more closely.
They were so exactly alike that the
merest child might have discovered the
similarity.
With her permission he retained them,
and sat immersed in wrathful thoughts
until they reached “the park.”
When the carriage stopped at the door
he detained her one moment for a minute
description of Lionel Dently.
He accompanied her to the door, and,
telling her he should return to the city,
turned and was soon lost in the distance.
Eugenie sought her room with an cell
ing head and throbbing heart. She now
felt the effect of the excitement; nor was
her heart yet relieved of oppression, since
Raban left her with that look of resolute
determination. She knew too well that
he sought a desperate villain, who would
stoop to any means to harm him or take
his life, if need be.
Would her lover be rash? Would he
meet with any harm iu his efforts to shield
her from insult ?
Such thoughts as these rushed through
her brain with such maddening velocity
that she soon wrought herself up to de
lirium with terror and apprehension.
Mrs. Felton sat beside her until late in
the night, and though she, to some extent,
shared her anxiety, still she endeavored
to sooth and cheer the unhappy girl.
Soothing anodynes were finally resorted to,
which had the desired effect, and Eugenie
slept.
Seeing that she slept soundly, Mrs. Fel
ton crept noiselessly from the room and
left her alone.
Beautiful as thou art, unconscious
sleeper, thou art doomed. No strong arm
i3 near to save thee, thou art helpless in
the hands of fate.
She was suddenly aroused by the touch
of a hand on hers, and sprang instantly to
her feet, but was grasped with a grip of
steel and a coarse voice hissed in her ear:
„Be still, or you shall die.”
She was filled with such intense terror
The light had been extinguished, and this place. This servant is narrowly I
she could see nothing; but felt herself be- , watched by all the other servants, and it 1
ing carried to the window, and scarcely | would be dangerous for him to make any
had time to realize her peril before Ihcr attempt of that kind. Try to reconcile
chloriform she was forced to inhale had yourself to your fate; for, unless a special
its deadening effect on her senses and she i providence directs your delivery, you can
TALKLR2 WITH HANCOCK.
was again wrapped in oblivion.
never escape, even though you never con
sent to be Lionel Dently’s wife.”
CIIAPTEB vii. The unfortunate girl would have yield
Again Eugenie Hargartli lay uncon- ed h , ers £ lf . t0 unutterable despair at these
scioSs of the things of the world; and per- *1,“"** ^ u P. b,s
haps it were best that she was spared, if Pte«cd antlcs, despite the discouraging
only for a season, a knowledge of her sur
roundings; perhaps it were as well that
death contended for her spirit; yea, even
had the beautiful clay yielded up its life
to the inevitable monarch, were it not bet
ter that a pure, unsullied soul should be
transplanted to heavenly soil, where all
the trials and heartaches of this life would
be forgotten in the eternal bliss of para
dise; yet the fair Eugenic has the hard
study of life to pursue.
Once more the light of consciousness
dawned on her intfllect, and she gazed
around the strange apartment in bewilder
ment, until her eyes fell upon the figure
of a woman sitting on the opposite side of
the room bathed in tears. She became
interested in the woman’s grief and forgot
to solve the problem of her whereabouts,
“What distresses you ?” sha asked in a
weak voice.
The drooped head was raised, and a
pair of pale blue eyes were turned to
ward her iu surprise.
“Oh, I am so thankful, you are going to
live!” exclaimed the strange woman,
coming quickly to the bedside, and taking
Eugenie’s hand. “I have been so wretch
ed,” she added, forgetful that care was yet
necessary. “I am sure if you had died I
should have become insane.”
“Where am I?” demanded Eugenie
fiercely, “and who has brought me here?”
at the same time trying to raise herself to
a sitting posture,
This recalled the strange woman, and
she said in soothing tones: “Be quiet, you
are with friends.”
But Eugenie’s memory was not so
treacherous that she could not recall the
terror of her last waking moments, and
the full helplessness of her position flashed
over her like a lightning stroke. Too well
she knew the author of her abduction, but
where she wa3 and with whom, how long
she would be there and what his future
conduct would be, were questions that
made her shudder with fear and dread.
She knew, however, that Raban would
neglect no resource that might lead to her
discovery, and was thoughtful enough to
rest as composedly as possible until her
strength was regained, and, in the mean
time, she would trust that Providence
would bring her friends to her rescue.
Thus for many days she lay apparently
careless of circumstances, making
inquiries of the strange woman, who
was the only person she saw.
Eugenie was, of course, prepared to dis
like her bitterly, thinking her the abetter
of her demon enemy; consequently con
tinuously repulsed her, although she was
kind and attentive.
She made unceasing efforts to convince
the sick girl that she wished to be her
friend, yet Eugenie was suspicious and
incredulous; however she often noticed
that tears trembled iu her eyes aud she
seemed struggling with some sorrow; so
the young heart was soon touched and
learned to receive her kindness more
gratefully.
Gradually they became better acquaint
ed, each shunning the subject of Eugenie’s
sorrow.
ciaio Uoguc inu,._„j t,f> r convalescing
patient that she had been married
years to a man whom her father opposed
aud hated, and with whom she eloped;
that her husband was absent a greater
part of the time, as he was at that
time, with his friend, and that she was al
lowed no egress from the castle grounds
during his absence, and naturally turned
to her with tenderness and an earnest de
sire for her friendship.
When Eugenie learned of her loneli
ness, and saw the expression of sadness
that shadowed her brow as she talked of
her married life, she knew she was un
happy, and determined to try to alleviate
her sorrow as she had hers, aud thus they
became as intimate as, uuder the circum
stances, they could be.
She recovered her strength very rapidly,
and began to entertain doubts ■ of her
friend’s being able to find her, conse
quently she became anxious to see more
of her prison, (as such she now_considered
her present abode,) so that, if possible,
she might discover some means of escape.
Clara Hague anticipated her wish, and
one evening when it was calm, she
brought a cloak and wraped her delicate
charge closely, for the autumn wiuds had
already been sighing their requiem over
the departed glories of summer, and con
ducted her over a portion of the house,
which was cold looking to a sickening ex
tent, although some oi the apartments
were furnished elegantly 3nd even luxu
riously, the last was a parlor; when the
door was opened the first thing Eugenie
saw was a large painting of Lionel Dently
hanging immediately over the mantel.
She drew her friend quickly back and
closed the door, in repugnance to the
very image of so hated a person. Her
companion perceived her meaning, and
gave a deep sigh.
They then wandered out into the fresh
air at the back of the house, which place
was inclosed by a high stone wall running
down the side3 of the demi-mountain on
which the house was situated to the edge
of a river which flowed at its base.
Eugenie turned to view the house, and
a chill crept over her heart as she beheld
that dark, gloomy, dismal pile of stone,
which looked suitable for a veritable
prison house.
There was a grimy servant gathering
the rosy cheeked fall apples, the only
cheerful sight that met their gaze; hither
they bent their footsteps, and also began
plucking the ripe fruit.
The servant dropped his work and
stood looking at Eugenie with a sorrow
ful expression.
“Poor lassie,” she heard him say.
“Have I not seen you before?” she
asked, looking at him keenly.
“l’se been waiting for vo’rsen” he an
swered.
“For me?”
“Aye; I ha summat to say to you.
yo’d better come into the shade o’ the
tree. I dumiot want any on’to see us to
gether.”
She looked bewildered, but obeyed.
“I am na goin’ to do no harm,” lower
ing his voice. “You sa’ me at Master
Raban’s; you wonder as I’m here. This
sort o’ thing is na in my line. That mon
made me drunk, aud he promised me
brass, an’ I showed him your room. He
brought me here. I canuo’ get out, and
I know he’s a bad un when the fit is on
nim. So take care I tqll you agin.” And
the poor fellow bowed his head in shame.
A hopeful idea occurred to her at this
moment.
hope that he might be able to baffle his
guards.
He took up the basket of froit and Mrs.
Hague followed him, promising to return
in a few moments.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE HANCOCK TESTIMONIAL.
Presentation of the Testimonial by
the Eutaw Club on Governor’s Is
land.
Augusta Chronicle J
The most memorable event connected
with the Eutaw excursion to New York
was the visit paid General Hancock by
the Club, at his home on Governor’s Is
land, and presentation to him of the ele
gantly framed copy of the article entitled
“Man on the Monument,” taken from the
Macon, Ga., Telegeapu and Messen-
geb. The preface is from the pen of Col.
Charles C. Jones, the execution of the
work by Professor J. A. Pelot; the concep
tion and design had its origin with the
club.
The committee calling upon General
Hancock was composed of President R
G. Hitt, Vice-President James B. Wal
ker, Jr., Secretary W. M. Rowland, Treas
urer Henry Hyams; Messrs. Ed. H. Butt
I. O. Hansberger, W. D. A. Walker ani.
A. S. J. Gardner. Of the excursionists
present were Col. O. P. Daniel, of Greens
boro, and Messrs. Garrat and McMahan,
of our city. Of the party who received us
were General Hancock, General and Mrs.
Perry, Mrs. Foster, Mr. aud Mrs. Russell
Hancock. At General Hancock’s request
the article was read by a representative of
the Club, after which the presentation
address was made by the laureate ora
tor of the Eutaw. General Hancock
responded with evident feeling, re
ferring to the fact of its being the first tes
timonial of like character that he had re
ceived from the people of the South, and
that it should ever occupy Hie first place
in his esteem. And in reply to an ex
pressed hope that it would grace the walls
of the White House, he said wherever his
home might be it should always occupy a
conspicuous place as a cherished memento
of this pleasant association. The party
returned remarkably impressed with the
majestic bearing and graceful courtesy of
one in whom we share a nation’s pride as
the highest type of America’s soldier-
statesman.
The following is the article entire as
framed and presented:
“The Eutaw Club, of Augusta, tender
ing the congratulations of Georgia, and
saluting General Winfield S. Hancock as
the superb chieftain, as the soldier states
man, who, when the war was ended, sub
ordinated the military to the civil law and
the constitution, and hailing him as the
next President of these United States, as
sure him that the following expressejpthe
sentiments of the solid South.” Tb» ap
propriate preface was by Colonel C.^C.
Jones.
Sinn on tl:c Monument.
[Macon (Ga.) Telegraph.]
By Mi:. Habby S. Edwabds (X. I. E.)
The crowd had dispersed; the echoes of
’be cannon had died away, and the flick-
enn^ emuti.o „f «— rastfanciful sliad-
ows throughout the scene, j paused
in front of the monument and viewed
again iu the moonlight (he marble senti
nel whose watch is about the bivouac of
the dead. What changes, I thought, has
not time wrought. Here, at the foot of
this stone, whose chiseled lines record the
form of him who was the South’s de
fender, and the golden beauty of her
cause now perished, we, the people whose
blood has stained a hundred fields, have
met to celebrate the honoring of one
whose hand once turned against us, now
upholds the banners of the South and
North, their folds entwining in the breeze.
What has not time wrought ? The pas
sions that impelled are quenched, the ha
tred that persecuted is powerless, and the
swords, sheathed in their scabbards, hang
rusting with age upon the nation’s cottage
walls. But our cause! Sleeps it still ?
And as I looked, a smile grew bright
upon those marble lips above me, and low
and soft as the summer waves that mur
mur on the beach, a voice was heard:
“Arise, oh, Southland; greet thy morn.
Thy cause, thy lily cause, long folded,
blooms brighter for its sleep. The tyram
drags his chains across the world, finding
no hand to strike one fetter off, and he
whose kuiglitly hand crossed blades with
ours and fought and bled as heroes light
and bleed, looks grandly down the land;
the sword hand outstretching far, is hid
beneath the olive branch, and lifted high,
the Southern lily, whiter than the driven
snow, all spotless greets the morn. The
flower of liberty, which not the valor of
despair could keep unfolded in the mid
day’s heat, beneath the touch of Him
who worketh his own way, has burst its
its bonds and caught the golden kiss of
the new born day. It but awaits thy
brow, and he whose hand shall place it
there is worthy of thy trust.
“The soldier’s spirit greets the soldier’s
call,
There is no hate between the brave and
brave,
And he whose hand in battle labored first,
When darkness falls, will labor first to
save.”
The lips grew silent, the marble pallor
swept across the lace again, the mantle of
immortality, aud but the chiseled stone
remained. Yet in the light around, I
heard the rolling of a drum; whose echoes
rose and fell, and died across a thousand
hills. A fiery cross shone back beyond
the clouds, and neatli it rose and stood a
lino of gray clad forms. 1 saw the
chieftain and his great lieutenants, mount
ed, ride slowly up the line; then, like the
glancing moonbeams, flashed down their
swords, and quenched their brightness in
the iron sheaths. A distant cheering
shook the breeze; the merry strains of
“Dixie,” sweet as the music of a vanish
ed dream, died out, and mounting up the
starlit dome on pulsing waves of melody,
burst forth the “Star Spangled Banner?’
Then broke the vapo-s faint; the vision
passed, and left the brows of Heaven all
unmarked. The armies of the South had
broken rank forever, and Liberty kept
watch instead.
Not Worth Willie to Answer the Silly
Stories Cooked Up for Campaign
Consumption—“Go to General Sher
man?
In the course of a conversation with
reporter, Gen. Hancock said he had heard
satisfactory reports cf the campaign so
far as it had gone. He did not wish to
talk about politics or anything bearing
upon his candidacy for the presidency, es
pecially until officially notified of it by
the committee of the national Democratic
convention. Referring to the statements
made in some Republican organs that af
ter the decision of the electoral comrnis
sion he still considered Mr. Tilden legally
elected President, and would obey any
orders emanating from him after March 3,
and that ho wrote Gen. Sherman to that
effect, the reporter asked the general if he
had anything to say concerning the state
ment.
“It is hardly worth while,” said the
general, “to reply to these stories, there
are so many of them floating around now,
Suppose 1 did write such a letter as is
spoken of to Gen. Sherman. I have not
read the charge, but I understand its pur
port. If ever such a letter was written it
must be in the hands of Gen. Sherman,
It would not be proper for ne to give its
contents to the public without the consent
of Gen. Sherman, even if such a letter
was written.
“If these gentlemen who are clamoring
for the letter want it so badly, why don’t
they go to Gen. Sherman for it ? If there'
is such a letter in existence I shall be
vsry happy to have its contents given to
the public. I have never written any
thing that I am ashamed of.”
The reporter next directed the general’s
attention to the story published in the New
York Times, to the effect that General
Hancock, at the time McClellan was
relieved of the command of the Army of
the Potomac, advocated resistance to the
orders of the war department, and urged
the deposition of Lincoln and Stanton
from the offices of President and Secretary
of War.
General Hancock laughed heartily at
this new accusation. “It’s too much like
Munchausen,” he replied. “Such a story
as that is unworthy of notice. If I began
to submitting to interviews about these
statements they would occupy my whole
time, and I would have to continue
answering them for all time to come. Sen
sible persons can see the absurdity of these
accusations.”
A large party of Brooklyn Democratic
leaders, headed by Judge C*" E.-Pratt,
visited the general this nn/ v eg t ay
their compliments. The conversation af
ter a while took a political turn, when it
was asked if general Hancock was re-
ceivingencouraging reports from the can
vass in various parts of the country.
“The reports we receive,” said the
general, “are very encouraging. Nev
ertheless, although the outlook is bright,
it behooves us to work in order to achieve
success.”
One of the party present related a con
versation had with a well-known Phila
delphia politician, in whfch that gentle-
mau said that Pennsylvania was sure for
Hancock and English. 7
“There ought,” remarked Gen. Han
cock, “to be no trouble about Pennsylva-
ia. I bad a conversation this morning
ith an artist Who had been down in the
county where I was born, makingaskctch
of the house of my mother. He says that
almost every one he met would vote for
me, Republicans a3 well as Democrats.
If this is true it shows a desire on the part
of the people for a change. I am of the
opinion that the people of this country are
desirous of a change in the administra-
towerThowiffi«?^. 0 “^^
no interference with what has ire”:* 1 . 1 '
complished in the past.”
“With you, general,” was remarked,
“the past is secure.”
“Yes,” replied General Hancock, “the
past is secure; if it were not so, of what
•ail would our war have been?”
The conversation then drifted to chaig-
that General Hancock engaged in a
conspiracy to seat Samuel J. Tilden in
the White House after he had been elect
ed President. “Whether I wrote the let
ter to General Sherman on the subject of
the electoral contest, I shall not say,” said
Hancock. “But,” he added, earnestly,
“my position in regard to that matter was
well understood at the time, aud
has not changed since. I am of
the opinion that Grant’s term
President expired at mid
night, March 3. After that I should have
paid ho more attention to him officially
than I would to the man in the moon.
The houses of Congress alone had the
power to count the electoral vote and de
clare the result, and they were the con
stituted authority. My position on this
question canuct be open to misconstruc
tion. Anything I may have written to
Sherman or any one else concerning it is
at the disposal oi the public. I am not
ashamed of my views regarding the
electoral contest, and still adhere to
them.”
The visitors shortly after left the island.
Correspondence with the Democratic
Nominees.
New Yobk, July 13.—The president
and secretary of the Cincinnati conven
tion have forwarded the following letters
to Gen. Hancock and Mr. English:
July 13,1SS0.
To General Winfield S. Hancock—Sin:
The national convention of the Democratic
party which assembled at Cincinnati on
the 22d of last month unaninmously nom
inated you as their candidate for Presi
dent of the United States. We have
been directed to inform you of your nom
ination to this exalted trust and request
your acceptance. In accordance with the
uniform custom of the Democratic party
the convention have announced their
views upon the important issues which are
before the country in a series of resolu
tions to which we invite your attention.
These resolutions of the general Demo
cratic party demand that the government
shall be conducted according to the dic
tates of the constitution, and they all espe
cially condemn malediction by the party in
power of its crimes against the constitu
tion, and especially against the rights of
the people; they touch all their acts which-
have wrought so much injury and brought
so much dishonor to our country. That
which chiefly inspired your nomination
was tlie-fact that you had conspicuously
recognized and exemplified your American
people and brotherhood under the shield
of the constitution, with all its care and
guarantees for the rights of persons and of
States.
Your nomination wa3 not made alone
because in the midst of arms yon illustra
ted the highest qualities of the soldier,
but because when the war had ended—
when in recognition of your courage and
fidelity, you were placed in command of
that part of the union during the process
of resuscitation, and while you were thus
clothed with absolute power, you used it
not to subvert, but to sustain civil laws
and the rights they were established, to
protect. Your fidelity to these principles,
manifested in the important trusts
heretofore confided to your care!
gives proof that they will coutrol
your administration of the national
government, and assures the country that
an indissoluble, indestructible constitu
tion, with its wise distributions of power
and regard for boundaries of States and
Federal authority will not suffer in your
hands ; that you will maintain the sub-
Macon, Ga.—Messrs. Lamar, Bankin
& Lamar—Gentlemen : My little girl,
eight years old, Jia3 been for sometkne
troubled with a severe cough, which phy
sicians pronounced bronchitis. She slept
but little, coughing nearly the entire
orient. . , . . . . night, and we had to get up very often to
“Can you swim?” she eagerly inquired, help her out, the cough was so severe,
stepping closer to the servant. At your solicitation I bought a bottle of
“No, lassie,” he replied regretfully. Brewer’s Lung Restorer, and she began
“Then you must find a piece of timber t0 improve at once, and has been sleeping
that will float,” she directed, her eyes £{ce!y ever since, and I firmly believe
kindling with the happy thought, “and s ] ie be permanently cured. I was
use a paddle of some sort to carry you to _ vor y much frightened at her condition not
the other side of the wall down there next' ] on cr since, but am now rejoicing at her
the river; then hurry to your master and ra pid recovery. Yours truly,
he" will reward you.” j Geobge F. Wing.
The servant arose quickly and mani- |
tested great pleasure at this unthought-of j Pbepabations to Evacuate Cabul
mode of escape. • ’ are in progress. What did the British go its value to a gentleman who went South,
Mr. Greeley’s Fourierism.
Six miles from Lancaster are the ru
ins of the “Sylvanian Home,” founded by
Horace Greeley. The lands were origi
nally owned by Mahlon Godley, who in
1840 built a grist mill upon the property,
sunk his entire fortune and sold the farm,
embracing some 2,000 acres, to Horace
Greeley, who in 1843 formed a joint stock
company and established th<* noted “Syl
vanian Society,” after the plans of Fou
rier, the great French social economist.
Large numbers of people joined the soci
ety, the mills were set in running order,
large and well constructed houses were
erected, the main building covering
nearly one-fourth of an acre of ground
aud containing a large dancing hall. All
property was held in common by the mem-
jers of this institution, and the society
flourished, over three hundred persons be
ing enrolled. A commissary, elected by
the members, provided the food, which
was served at one large table. Dances
were given twice a week. On Sundays
the chaplain delivered a sermon. Their
physicians were kept constantly busy,
while the shoemakers, tailors and other
artisans were obliged to work day and
night. The proceeds of this labor went
into the treasury. As the wealth of the
community increased, the idea of erecting
a magnificent temple for worship was con
ceived.
The ground wa3 selected, the timber cut,
and the comer stone of the temple was
imposing ceremonies, Mr.
fire to them all and pocketed the proceeds,
The mills were destroyed by forest fires,
the fields remained unkempt and are now
covered with scrub oaks. Fifty miles of
splendid stone walls, the work of the colo
nists, can yet he traced through the wil
derness. The property is ownerless, and
will be sold by the couLty treasurer on
July 14th for accumulated taxes.—Phila
delphia Times.
laid with „ . .
Greeley himself delivered the address.^ committee, and many prominent politi-
The corner stone, which still remains in
place, contains copies of the Tribune,
coins and currency of that year and the
rules of the society. Shortly after the
laying of the stone jealousy arose be
tween some of the members, work ceased,
and in less than a month the association
burst, the settlers returned to the city and
the stock was declared worthless. Mr.
Greeley lost some $25,000, which he had
invested iu the concern, and was so dis
gusted with the scheme that he sold the
property to the Rev. Thomas House
Taylor, then rector of Grace church,
who erected a store there, had the land
cleared and after netting several thou
sands of dollars by the sale of crops and
lumber he sold the laud for many times
“My poor Eunice,” said Clara Hague, there for? It is a case of catching the leaving the property in the hands of
ordination of the military to the civil
power, and will accomplish the purifica
tion of the public service, and especially
that the government in which we live will
be free from the reproach or stain of sec
tional agitation or malice in any shape
or form. Rejoicing, in common, with
the masses of the American people
upon this bright prospect for the future
of our country, we wish also to
express to you personally assurances of
esteem. The confidence which has sum
moned you to this high duty will aid
its performance.
John W. Stevenson,
President Convention.
Nicholas M. Bell, Secretary.
July 13.1SS0.
To Hon. Wm. H. English — Dkab
Sib : By direction of the Demo
cratic convention, which assembled at
Cincinnati on June 22d, It becomes our
pleasant duty to notify you that you were
unanimously nominated for Vice Fresi-
experien£l! e .Duiled. States. Your laige
your able discharge ”Si flh, .government,
committed to your hands, your steadR&l
devotion to principle and the upright
ness of your private character give as
surances to the Democracy that you are
worthy and well qualified to perform the
duties of that high position and com
mended you to them for the nomination
which they conferred.
While your personal qualities and your
public services well mer,ted this honor, the
action of the convention was no doubt de
signed to indicate their appreciation of
yourself, as well as to testify their profound
respect for the Democracy of Indiana,
your native State, with whose manly
struggles you have been so long identified,
and in whose glorious achievements you
have shared.
The convention set forth its views upon
the leading political issues which are now
before the people in a series of resolutions,
a copy of which we hav9 the honor to
present to you, and to which your atten
tion is respectfully requested. . It is our
earnest hope that these views may meet
with your approbation, and that you will
accept the nomination which is now ten
dered you. With sentiments of high es
teem, we are, respectfully,
Jno. W. Stevenson,
President Convention.
Nicholas M. Bell, Secretary.
New Yobk, July 13.—General Han
cock’s grandson, named after himself,
died this morning from cholera infantum.
This event has depressed the general, and
the committee’s visit to tender the nomi
nation was in consequence purely formal.
Mr. English readied Governor’s Island at
noon and was heartily greeted by General
Hancock on the veranda of his residence.
The committee left the New York Ho
tel in a body with the members of the
national committee and other visitors.
New Yobk, July 10.—The committee
to notify the candidates arrived at Gover
nor’s Islaud on a special boat. They
were met by the general in the parlor of
his house. Hon. John P. Stockton made
brief address and introduced the secre
tary of the committee, who read the of
ficial notification. Hancock's reply was
brief. He thanked them fer the honor
conferred, and stated he would have his
letter of acceptance ready shortly, in
which lie would say all that he had to say
to them in reply. Mr. Stockton then for
mally notified Mr. English of his nomina
tion. In reply, he stated that he accepted
the high trust conferred with feelings of
profound gratitude, and that he would at
an early date convey his acceptance in the
customary manner. A personal introduc
tion of the members of the committee to
the candidates followed.
New Yobk, Juiy 13.—The steamer
Fletcher,having on board the members of
the committee of the Democratic nation
al convention, some of the Democratic
national committee, quite a numbor of
the Democratic Congressional campaign
of
“One of the ablest and wisest bodies
our countrymen that ever assembled has
given you this nomination with perfect
unanimity, and since that convention has
adjourned, we of the committee have
been to our hemes. We have seen the
masses of the conservative people of the
country, and with one accord they ratify
the action of that convention. So we are
bound to believe, as do, that your
election will be an accomplished fact.
We cannot doubt it, and when the election
is over the great principles of American
liberty will still be the inheritance of this
people, and shall bo forever. And now,
in the name of the national Democratic
party, by virtue of the power intrusted to
this cominitteo by the convention, as its
chairman, I have the honor to hand to the
secretary a communication in writing in
forming you officially of your nomination.
Gen. S'.ockton handed the secretary of
the committee, Mr. Bell, an address
signed by the committee, after which it
was handed to Gen. Hancock. In reply,
the latter said:
“Mr. Chairman and gentlemen of the
committee, I appreciate the honor con
ferred upon me by the Democratic nation
al convention lately assembled iu Cincin
nati, aud I thank you for your courtesy in
making that honor known to me. As
soon as the importance of the matter per
mits I will prepare and send to you a for
mal acceptance of my nomination for the
office of President of the United Statej.”
Those present were introduced to Gen,
Hancock, who had a few words of wel
come for each. After a few minutes
spent in hand-shaking, Gen. Stockton,
turning to Hon. Wm. H. English, said:
“The Cincinnati convention, with una
nimity, specially appointed us
committee to wait upon you at such,
time and placo as would be most
agreeable to you, and inform you in per
son and in writing of your nomination,
I now havo the honor to congratulate
ourselves on the event, and to present to
you on the part of the committee, and in
the name of the convention of the nation
al Democratic party, the official announce
ment of your nomination.”
Mr. English, in reply, spoke as follows:
Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen of the
Committee: As a practical business man,
not much accustom ed to indirection of
action or circumlocution of speech, I will
say, plainly and in few words, that I ac
cept the high trust which you have ten
dered me with feelings of profound grati
tude, and that I will, at an early date,
formally and In writing, make the accept
ance which, I am informed, is usual on
such occasions. In doing this, I fully
realize the great responsibility of the sit
uation—the care, turmoil, anxiety, mis
representation and abuse which arc
certain to follow, and I understand
thoroughly, that all the resources and
power of our political foes from all parts
of the land will be concentrated against
us. Indiana, my native State, is where
the first grand battle is to be fought, and
i irobably the most important battle of all.
Jut there are great occasions when the
discharge of high patriotic duties is to be
considered above all personal considera
tions, and I shall not disregard the unani
mous desire of the representatives of the
American people, which you speak here
to-day. [Applause.]
“I am profoundly grateful for the high
honor which has been conferred, and I
have an abiding faith that with the help
of God and the people we shall succeed in
this contest.”
The speaker was applauded at the con
clusion of his remarks, and then followed
another general hand-shaking, after which
the party again boarded the Fletcher and
left the island.
cians, landed at Governor’s Island at 1:40-
p. m. The party proceeded to General
Hancock’s residence, and upon being
ushered into the parlors, General Stock-
ton, addressing General Hancock, said:
“General Hancock, I have the honor to
introduce to you Governor Stevenson,
president of the Democratic national con
vention, recently assembled at Cincinna
ti. I have also the honor of presenting to
you the committee appointed by that body
to wait upon you and notify you oi your
unanimous nomination for the highest of
fice in the gift of the people. It is a source
of great satisfaction to the committee, in
Middle Georgia Mechanical and Agri
cultural College.
Editors Telegraph and Messenger:
Millcdgeville is all agog with her first
“commencement.” Six months since the
v^nRi’A-was inaugurated here with disad-
heart—with advaritageS; , ’^nWB3lled_ any
highest hope. Without money, equips
ment, prestige, anything but ancient
ruins, but in the midst of a teeming popu
lation—the sons and daughters of the
men who made old Georgia, and upheld
it for a hundred years—without a prophet
of good omen, and against the set preju
dices ol the age—the mad venture of a
‘free and mixed” college was made
on the 10th of January last.
Three hundred and eighty-six
pupils responded, as hetrogeneous a
mass as ever came together for one pur
pose. A faculty of nine instiuctors wa3
organized, and discipline began its work.
The result is manifest to-day in a splen
did success." All honor to the plastic ge
nius of President Dudley and his effective
lieutenants. And every dollar of salary
and rough equipment has been paid! All
honor to the trustees aud their friends 1
The Union and Becorder of this morn
ing will furnish you programme aud state
ment of yesterday’3 exercises. I add on
ly that the hundreds of visitors seem in
full sympathy with the enthusiasm of the
“home folks.” Indeed, the very neigh
bors seem amazed at the development.
There is a college here 1
Chancellor Mcll and Gov. Colquitt,
who left this rooming, are almost extrav
agant in their commendations and com
pliments. They both took part in the ex
ercises. To-day the orators of the litera
ry society, aided by tho Eatonton brass
baud, furnished rich entertainment to the
crowd that packed the old Representa
tives’ Hall. The performances were quite
creditable. At the conclusion, Colonel
James H. Blount, of Congress, slopped
over the cup of good feeling into a gener
al hand shaking. The staid, cold logi
cian seemed to have taken sudden fire
from the bubbling cheer of the audience,
or because he had no time to prepare sta
tistics, and a happy burst of ardent sym
pathy closed the occasion. Hon. A. O.
Bacon, with the trustees aud certain rev
erend celebrities, occupied the stage.
This evening at five o’clock three
classes of girls will exhibit their profi
ciency in calisthenics, and to-night Judge
F. G. DuBignon will address the Young
Men’s Literary Society. The commence
ment address to-morrow will be delivered
by Hon. A. O. Bacon.
The military feature of this institution
is manifestly a large contributor to its ad
mirable discipline. Yet the commingling
of sexes in the competitions of the recita
tion room is the great secret of the gen
tlemanly propriety and deportment among
the masses ot students. More anon. C.
RECONCILIATION.
Dear heart,
We cannot let another day
Of discord steal our life away;
The evil eidolon must fly
That would keep you and I
Apart.
Alas!
That we should so the time abuse
Which love can ill afford to lose!
The dole of sweet days is so small,
We should have tithe of all
That pass.
And yet,
Now thit the wayward tempest-mood
With night has flown and love renewed
With joy and freshness wakes again,
It is no time for vain
Rcsret.
Once more
In those wild eyes, meek, wounded dove!
I see the quivering light of love
Returning dear and doubly dear,
Yes, pride and colduess drear
Are o’er.
Farewell,
Thou dear disunion, like an isle
Where parted waters meet and smile,
It was a time of doubt and pain,
But love is found again.
Farewell 1
A neobo family near Montgomery,
Ala., was taken ill, and a voudou doctor
was called iu. ne said that snakes were
the cause of the trouble; that their eggs
weie in the air and water about the
place, and that he would destroy them for
$100. His price was deemed too high.
Then the doctor made a pass in the air
with his hand, and showed two toy
“Egyptian snake eggs,” of the kind famil
iar to children at the North. These had
been floating imperceptably iu the air he
said. He touched a match’ to them and
utiered some gibberish, while the “snakes”
were rapidly extending themselves. This
was satisfactory proof of his knowledge
and power, and he was paid the $100.
coming nearer, “you do not know how Tartar,
agents, who insured the buildings and set ment,
Atlanta, July 14.—The United States
. Circuit Court was engaged all day with
making their announcement to you, to the case of the revenue officers, charged
say that your nomination was not second- J with the murder of Tom Jones, of Camp
ed by personal or political friends, but bell county. The evidence shows that he
was the spontaneous action of that con- was killed while desperately running to
vention, actuated alone by patriotic senti- J escape. Great interest is felt in the case
here. It will be concluded to-mor:ow.
Loving a Whole Family.
“I don’t want to make any trouble, but
there is one man in this city who ought to
be gibbetted!” began a blunt-spoken woj
mau of forty-five as she stood before the
officials of the Twentieth street station a
day or two ago.
4*When they inquired for particulars she
handed out a letter aud said:
“Observe the envelope. That letter is
addressed to me. You will see that the
writer calls me his jasmine, and he
wants me to set an early day for the wed
ding.”
When the captain had finished reading
the letter sho was ready with another,
adding:
“And this is addressed to my daughter
Lucretia. You will see that he calls her
his rosy angel, and he says he can’t live if
she doesn’t marry him. It’s the same
man.
So it was, and his letter was as tender
as spring chicken. That finished sho
handed out a third with the remark:
“This is directed to my daughter Hel
en. Its the very same man, aud in it he
calls her his pansy, and he says he dreams
of her.”
“Why, he seemed to love the whole
family,” remarked the captain.
“That’s just it. I’m a widow with twQ
daughters, and he was courting us all at
once and engaged to tho three of us at the
same time. Oh 1 what wretches there are
iu this world.”
“Yes” indeed. It’s lucky you found
him out.”
“Yes, it is. If I hadn’t he might have
mai tied the whole caboodle of us. If Lu
cretia hadn’t opened one of my letters,
aud if I hadn’t searched the girls’ pockets
while they were asleep we’d have thought
him an innocent lamb.”
“And do you want him arrested?”
“No, I guess not, but I want this mat
ter to go into the papers as a warning to
other women. Just think of his silting
up with me Sunday night, Lucretia on
Wednesday night, and Helen on Friday
night, aud-calling'each one of us his -
climbing rose! Oh! sir, the women
ought to know what a deceiving animal
man is!”
“Yes; he’s pretty tough.”
“It has learned me a lesson,” she said
she was ready to go. “The next man
that comes sparking around my house has
got to come right out and say’which he’s
after. If it’s the girls I won’t say noth
ing, and if it’s me it won’t do ’em a bit of
good to slam things around and twit me
‘ burying two husbands!”—Detroit Free
of
The Fool in King Leal.
What Shakespeare did not do, as well
as what he did do, as a playwright, has
no better proof of illustration than in his
fools. He did not invent the personage;
he found it on the stage. Indeed, he in
vented nothing; he added nothing to the
drama as he found it; he made nothing;
not even the story of one of his own plays,
he created nothing, save men and women,
aud Ariels and Calibans. What he did
with the fool was this. This personage
is the resultant compound of the vice, a
rude allegorical personage constant in the
old moral plays, and the court jester.
He was a venter of coarse and sil
ly ribaldry, and a player of prac
tical jokes. Only so far back «s
the • time of Shakespeare’s boy
hood the fool’s part was hi- most cases not
written, and at the stage direction, “Stnl-
tus loquitur” (the fool speaks) ho per
formed his function extempore; and thus
he continued to jape and caper for the di
version of those who liked horse-play and
ribaldry. But Sbakspeare saw that the
grinning toad had a jewel in his head, and
touching him with his transforming pen,
shows him to us as he appears in As You
Like It, AH's Well That Ends Well, and
last of all and greatest, in King Lear. In
this tragedy the fool rises to heroic pro
portions, as he must have risen
to be in keeping with his sur
roundings. He has wisdom enough
to stock a college of philosophers—wis
dom which has come from long experi
ence of the world without responsible re
lations to it. For plaiuly he aud Lear
have grown old together. The king is
much the older; but the fool has the
marks of time upon his face as well as
upon his mind. They have been com
panions since he was a boy, and Lear still
calls him boy and lad, as he did when he
first learned to look kindly upon his
young, loving, halt-distraught companion.
The relations between them have plainly
a tenderness which, knowingly to both, is
covered, but not hidden, by'the grotesque
surface of the fool’s official function. His
whole soul is bound up in his love for
Lear and Cordelia. He would not set his
life “at a pin’s fee to serve his master; and
when his young mistress goes to
France he pines for the sight of her.
When the King feels the consequences of
his headstrong folly, the fool continues
the satirical comment which he begins
when he oilers Kent his coxcomb. So
might Touchstone have done; but in a
vein more cynical, colder, and without
that undertone rather of sweetness than
of sadness which tells us that this jester
has a broken heart.
About.the middle of the play the tool
suddenly disappeais, making in reply to
Lear’s remark, “We’ll go to supper in the
morning,” the fitting rejoinder, “And I’ll
go to bed at noon.” Why does he not re
turn? Clearly for this reason; he re
mains with Lear during his insanity, to
answer in autiplionic commentary the
man king’s lofty ravings with his sim
ple wit and homespun wisdom; but after
that time, when Lear sinks from frenzy in
to forlorn imbecility, the fool’s utterances
would have jarred upon our ears. The
situation becomes too grandly pathetic to
admit the presence of a jester, who, un
less he is professional, is nothing. Even
Shakespeare could not make sport, with
the great primal elements of woe. Ai d
so the poor fool sought the little corner
where he slept, turned his face to the
wall, and went to bed iu the noon of hia
life for the last (ime—-functus officio.
■ ?*-
.
