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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. ■ ?*- .