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SPRING PLACE J1MPLECUTE.
jr. o. HEiARTSSIili, 33d. and. HPviTo.
VOL XIV.
Going Home.
A misty silence on the hills:
No more the lowing cattle roam,
A bell the dreamy twilight thrills
And sweetly chimes my welcome home.
The pattering of little feet
Adown the dusky path I hear.
And lips meet mine with kisses sweet
And tenderest welcome. Home is near!
Forgot, the toil that makes the day—
The absent joy. the hope denied;
Light as a dream the fade away
Where Love sits at the fireside!
—Atlanta Constitution.
The Colonel’s Monument.
BT con. GEORGE W. STMOr.HS.
I had noticed it the week previous,
when I rode up Caney creek, searching
for the house of Gabe Thomas, who,
my agent in Lexington had assured me
with positive emphasis, “knew every
cow path and hog trail in Wolf county. ”
This eaconium on Gabe’s abilities as
a topographer was not undeserved,
and in three days’ time, under his
pilotage, I was enabled to locate and
make a rough survey of the tract of
land of which I was in search.
Now, on my way back, I had Gabe
as <t companion (he was going to visit
sonic cousins in Magoffin county, whom
he assured me he had not seen “senee
the war”), and when, in our course
down the torturous “crick road,” we
reached a point where there was a
superb view of the sloping wooded
ridge stretching away to the right,
and there could lie seen shining among
the green foliage a white marble obe¬
lisk that seemed to me so much out
of place in this mountain wilderness
I reined my horse and asked him what
it was.
“Kunnel Outherwaite’s moniment,’’
was the answer.
“Killed during the raid of John
Morgan’s that you were telling me
tbout last night?”
“Who?”
“The colonel—Colonel Outher
waite. ”
“Bless yore butes, the kunnel ain’t
dead. Leastways he wuz alive an’
kickin’ the day afore yo’ re’ched my
place, for I seed hirn moseyin’ ’routid
the monument when I wuz out on the
ridge lookin’ fur stray hogs. ”
This answer puzzled me exceedingly,
and to put myself right, I suid : *
“Did you not just say that it was
Colonel Outherwaite’s monument?”
“Sartirf shore!” he replied. “Hit’s
his’n an’ no one else’s. He sot hit up
an’ keeps thet leetle patch o’ ground
round erbout hit shet uv weeds an’
trash an’"planted with posies. Don’t
do nuthin’ else, fer thet matter, an’
hain’t done nuthin’ else senee s’ren¬
der. ”■
Here was a mountain mystery, and I
determined to attempt its solution.
“Can we get closer to the monu¬
ment ! ” I asked.
“Sartin shore. Thar’s a trail a
piece furder down the crick. ”
“I would like to have a nearer view
of the stone. It seems to be a very
fine on^”
“Best thet money c’u'd buy,” an¬
swered Gabe. “The kunnel sent to
Looisville fur hit, an’ hed the blamed
thing sknlptered out jess esyo’ see hit.
Must ’a cost him a power o’ money.
But shucks! He’s got lasliiu’s uv
cash, an’ blue grass land, an’ guv’ment
bonds, an’ the like o’ thet. I on’y
wish he’d t’ar loose with a few dollars
ap hyar in the mountings. But he
don’t. Jess lives thar on yan side the
ridge with an ole colored man an’
man to wait on him, an’ hit pears
like he don’t hev no ambishum fur
nuthin’ but jess thet doggoned stun
moniment.”
He had turned into the trail while
he was talking, aud onr horses were
slowly climbing the steep ridge slope.
The laurel bushes fringed the path,
shutting in the view on every side. It
was not until we were within a few- rods
of the marble shaft that it again came
within our line of vision.
It stood in the centre of a little
plateau, tree-bordered, perfectly
square, and as level as a house floor.
Surrounding the stone was a heavy
granite coping, and within the enclos¬
ure there grew a tangled profusion of
fcright-hued flowers.
As we approached the moument there
was no lettering visible, but on the
side that was hidden from us there
was deeply graven in the white marble
this pathetic and enigmatical inscrip¬
tion :
“An Unknown Soldier of the C. S.
A.”
SPRING PLACE, MURRAY COUNTY, GA. SATURDAY. JUNE 16, 1894
I was staring at the letters, and in
fancy building up a romance about
the senseless dust lying beneath the
stone, which once had had a name and
a living, breathing individuality
among the gray soldiery of the Lost
Cause, when Gabe touched my arm.
“Pooty, ain’t hit?”
“Very!” I answered coldly, and
then asked in return: “Why should
Colonel Ontherwaite have erected this
expensive memorial to this particular
unknown follower of the stars and
bars?”
“Thet’s what stumps lhe, an’ the
hull settlement fur tbet matter,” said
Gabe. “Ez nigh ez I kin git et hit,
fur I didn't live in these parts doorin’
the wak, the kunnel wnz a pizen rank
uuiouer. an’ Tom, thet wnz his son, a
mere yeurliu’ uv a boy when we’uns
fired on Sumpter, wnz ez de’d sot on
the southern side o’ the argiment.
The old kunnel owns mitey near all
the land yu’ kin Bee frnm hyar, an’
h’ed what he culled a shoo tin’ lodge
built ontTi stun back thar on van side
the ridge. Wail, when things got tol
abul lively an’ famlys hyar in Kain
tueky wnz divided ev’rv whiehway,
Tom off an’ ’lists in the southern
army. When his daddy hearn uv hit
he jess r’ared an'charged like a mad
bull, an’ swore by all thet wnz holy,
thet the boy wnz no more kin of his’n.
He ’clared thet he sh’u’d never Lev so
much ez a place to bury hisself on
land o’ hisn, an’ he made a will cuttin’
Tom off without a nickel.
“The kunnel owned a monstr’us big
plantation down Lexington way, an’
alius kep’ open house, but arter Tom
listed he shet hit up, manermitted his
slaves an’ moved up hyar where the
fo’kses wuz powerful clever to the
yankeo refugees, an’ fed an’ sheltered
’em by the hundred. Then John Mor¬
gan raided throo hyar on his way from
Vlrginny, his men rid down Caney.
’Twus a dark nite when they passed
throo’ ’an the old kunnel wuz et one uv
the winders uv the stun house watchin’
’em go by.
“They hed all passed, an’ he wuz
grittin’ his teeth an’ eussin’ ’em sorter
low like when he hearn suthin’ movin’
erbont his stable. Quicker’n a flash
he grabbed his double-barreled shot¬
gun an’ sneaked out to see who ’twas.
He’s no coward, the ole kunnel ain’t,
an’ when he mos’ re’ched the stable, he
called out;
“Who's thar?’
“‘A confedrit sol—' begun the
stranger, an’ them wuz the last words
he ever spoke.
“The kunnel tore loose with both
barrels, a’ the stranger drapped 'ithout
ever so much ez battin’ his eyes. The
kunnel yelled fur the hands an’ a lite,
an’ when hit wus fotched, diskivered
thet he’d killed a boy uv erbout Tom’s
aige, dressed in a ragged confederate
uniform.
“Bury him;’ ordered the kunnel,
an’ the nex’ day the man drug the
body down hyar an’ dug a grave.
“Wall I the kunnel never menshuned
the sarcumstan.ee uv the skootin’, an’
his hands never talked to nobody. One
day a letter cum fur the kunnel, an’
in hit wnz writ thet Tom hed been
shot ded in one uv the big battles that
wuz fit ’way up in Virginny.
it i Heaven kev marcy on the boy,’
sed the kunnel, sorter husky-like,
when he read them words, an’ the nex’
day he mounted his hoss critter an’
rid off. Fo’kses say thet he went all
the way to Virginny an’ hunted high
an’ low fur Tom’s body. ’Twas no use,
though. It hed been chncked into a
trench erlong with a hull passel more
uv unknowns. He kem back hyar
lookin’ twenty y’ars older, an’ jess
shet hisse’f up in the stun house, He
stayed thar like a groun’ hog in his
burrer till arter s’render. Then he
kem out, rid off ag’in, an’ when he
kem back fotched thet moniment with
him. Senee then he’s done nuthin’
but ’tend to hit an’ the bed of posies
inside the stun fence thar. Thet’s the
story uv the kunnel’s moniment, ez
nigh ez I kin arrove et hit.”
So interested had I become in
listening- to Gabe’s story, and so ab¬
sorbed was be in the telling, that
neither of us had noticed the approach
of a third person. When he had
finished and I looked up there stood a
few paces behind us a tall, broad
shouldered man, quietly dressed, with
a face bronzed by years of exposure
to wind and sun, and the faintest trace
of silver in his hair and moustache. I
was about to greet him when Gabe
whispered:
“Thar kums the ole kunnel now.
We’d better mosey, fur he’s monstr’us
oneivil to stranger folk.”
Turning from the bronzed-faceo
stranger, I saw a white-haired man,
w ho walked feebly and leaned on the
plateau. Feeling instinctively that it
would be a sacrilege to intrude my!
idle curiosity ujiou this old man’s sa¬
cred heart sorrows, I backed slowly
toward the horses.
The white-haired man lifted his
head, and his eyes wandered from the
monument to Gabe and me, finally
resting upon the stranger. Suddenly
he threw off the supporting arm of the
servant and started forward.
“Tom! My son!” he cried, and
held out his trembling old arms.
“Father!” was the one word that
fell from the newcomer’s lips, and
rushing forward he was clasped to the
colonel’s heart.
A few days afterwards, in the office
of the Phoenix Hotel, at Lexington, I
came face to face with the colonel and
bjs stalwart son, no longer a dead and
buried “unknown soldier of the C. S.
A. ” The recognition mutual and
was
the younger man held out his hand.
“I am Tom Outherwaite,” he said,
with a frank smile. “This is my
father, Colonel Jeems Outherwaite.
We met you the other day in Wolfe
county, and I presume you know the
story of the monument. Well, the
Yankees didn’t kill me, and
since Appomatox I’ve been pretty
nearly everywhere that a man cpuld
go on this globe of ours. My father
is to begin living the old life again
that was a very happy one in the days
before the war, gnd you can rest as¬
sured, sir, that you will always be
heartily welcome at the Ontherwaite
farm.”
“Indeed you will,” added the col¬
onel. “I only caught a glimpse of
your face that blessed day, but it asso¬
ciated with my boy—my Tom, who has
come back to me from the grave, and
I shall always remember you and al¬
ways be glad to see you. ”—[Detroit
Free Press.
Will the Gold Supply He Exhausted 1
The two most eminent Wing writ¬
ers on the most, precious metals, Suess
nud Soctbaer, have recently published
a very alarming statement. It
is to the effect that, the total
amount of gold dug out of the earth
annually suffices only to supply the
present demand for that valuable sub¬
stance for use in the arts. Not a bit
of the new product of the mines is
available for coinage. Trinket use and
waste in manufacture exhaust the
whole yield. If this is correct, then
gold must vanish from circulation be¬
fore long, because the output of the
gold mines of the world is diminish¬
ing rather than increasing, and there
are few fields left to explore. But
Uncle Sam’s metallurgists say that it
is not so. The writers quoted fail to
consider the fact that the gold em¬
ployed in the arts is utilized over and
over again. It goes through a sort of
cycle.
Articles of jewelry often disappear,
but are seldom lost. When through
accident they pass out of the posses¬
sion of the well-to-do, they go to the
poor and sharp-eyed, who sell them or
pawn them. Some jewelry is lost by
fire and some in the sea, and these
losses are absolute and hopeless; but
jewelry otherwise is certain, practically
all of it, to find its way sooner or
later to the pawnshops or into the
hands of dealers in old gold. Thus it
is melted up eventually and reappears
again in other shapes. This is what
is termed the “invisible supply” of
that metal.—Washington Star.
Not at All Politic,
Pilles—That young Dr. Sagely is a
queer person.
Squills—How so?
Pilles—Mrs. Hayswelle called him
in to prescribe for one of her indispo¬
sitions and he told her there was noth¬
ing the matter with her and proved it.
And yet he wonders why lie doesn’t
get on better with his rich patients,—
[Chicago Record,
The French government has just
created, in the nature of an experi¬
ment, a postal serviee by camel ex¬
press in the French territories of
Obosh and the Somali coast. In con¬
nection with this service a special pro¬
visional stamp will be issued, the value
being 5 francs.
NELLIE GRANT.
Mrs. SartOl’is Has Decided to Set
tie in Washington.
tion’s Capital Recalled.
There are few persons in this city a
P re8e nt time, writes a Washington
correspondent of the New York Com
mercial Advertiser, in whom the wom¬
en folks take such a quiet interest as
in Mrs. Nellie Grant Sartoris. It is
°ttly a 3ew days ago that Mrs. Sartoris
arrived from England. She came al¬
most directly hero and has remained
very quietly much of the time in her
apartments at her hotel. She lias
taken short drives and received a few
callers, but her every movement is
considered doubly interesting when it
became knqwn that she is to be a per¬
manent resident in this city.
Mrs. Sartoris has decided to pur
chase a house in the northwestern part,
of the city, near the fashionable cen¬
ter of the capital. Although she is
not a society woman in the sense in
which the term is-used here, she will
undoubtedly figure in many social
events.
It is surprising how few persons
now prominent in official, military,
diplomatic or social life at the capital
remember personally the grand wed¬
ding 20 years ago, in which Mrs. Sar¬
toris figured ns the bride of Algernon
Sartoris, the young Englishman, who
sought and won her hand. Those who
were present at the wedding, which
was the wonder of the social world for
months, can recall the youthful grace
of the bride,, then Miss Nellie Grant,
the only daughter of President Grant,
and the apple of the old soldier’s eye.
She was in her early womanhood then,
| and literally the daughter of the na
tion. It was not altogether pleasing
that she should choose an Englishman
i 3 or her husband, but he was young,
yich, of good family and distinguished
manners.
Although there have been many
changes in the youthful face and slim
figure of the bride who sailed away
across the seas twenty years ago in the
Mrs. Sartoris of to-day, her old-time
friends see many reminders of tlie
Nellie Grant of 1875. Although now
a matron in appearance her eyes arc
still bright and frank and her manner
has lost none of its quiet tenderness.
There is liiore of a resemblance now
in her features to those of her father
and although she resided abroad for so
many years Mrs. Sartoris is in man¬
ner, speech and appearance an Ameri
san woman.
She has laid aside her widow’s
weeds, but dresses quietly in dark
colors, and is passionately fond of her
children, one of whom, her eldest son,
is now a student at Oxford University
in England, aud will not join his
mother here u ntil his graduation.
Mrs. Sartoris may be accounted
wealthy, even in these days of great
wealth at the capital. She has aq an¬
nual income of $30,000, derived from
the property left to her upon the death
of her father-in-law. She is also said
to have an allowance of several thou¬
sands of dollars more from Mrs. Grant
who treats her four children—Colonel
Fred D. Grant, Jesse, Ulysses S. Jr.,
and Mrs. Sartoris—without partial¬
ity.
As Mrs. Grant is said to have an in¬
come of $25,000 a year, including the
$5,000 awarded to her annually by
Congress as the widow of General
Grant, and exclusive of the allowances
of her children, the Grant family are
really something more than well-to-do,
If. is quite likely that Mrs. Grant
will spend the remaining years of her
life with her only daughter when they
settle upon a permanent residence
here,and it is considered not at all un¬
likely that Colonel Grant will also be¬
come a resident of the capital, moving
here with his family.
Benedict Arnold’s Last Years.
The last twenty years of the life of
Benedict Arnold were probahly the
most unhappy that ever fell to the lot
of man. The British were willing to
use him to promote their own plans
and to pay him for his disgraceful ser¬
vices, but everywhere he was. held in
such contempt and scorn that for
years he scarcely ventured to appear
in public. Before his treachery he
stipulated for a fortune in cash and a
$1*00 a Year In Advance,
commission as Major General in the
British army.
He got both, anu zoon spent the
former in speculation, while the latter
did him no good, as no officer in the
army would serve under him; and, al¬
though his talents and bravery were
unquestioned, he remained to the end
of his days a Generel without com¬
mand, even at a time when the British
Government was sorely pressed for
officers and men. In 1798, during
the French war, when the country
was anxiously gathering all resources,
he applied to the Duke of York for a
command, but was refused.
He went home in despair and said
to his wife: “They will not let me
find a soldier’s death.” He never ral
lied after this blow, and soon after his
mind appeared to wander. He order¬
ed his Continental uniform to be
brought, and put it on, including the
sword he had w-orn when in the Amer¬
ican service, and so he died, a raving
maniac, in 1801, at his residence in
London.—[Baltimore American.
Uses of Cotton-seed Oil.
Cotton oil ranks next to sperm oil
and above lard oil for illuminating
purposes, and it may be burned in any
lamp used for either. Mixed with pet¬
roleum, it increases the freedom of
burning; but this requires a change
in the wick. As a lubricating oil cot¬
ton-seed is useless, because it is half
way between the drying and the non¬
drying. For the same reason it can
not be used for paints, for wood 1111
ing, or for leather dressing. It has
some use as a substitute for vaseline
and similar products. The oil enters
into the production of laundry and
fancy soaps and soaps for woolen mills.
The American sardines, properly
known as young shad and herring, are
put up with this oil, and the use of it
extends so far that nearly all the real
sardines of Europe,are now treated in
the same way. the oil forms an em¬
ulsion in medicine and a substitute for
cod-liver oil. Ou the market the
crude oil is known as either prime, vs
off quality, or cooking. There are
also the white summer, the yellow
winter, and the white winter. All
these, except the crude, bring an aver¬
age of about fifty cents a gallon in the
wholesale market. After the oil has
left the seeds, they become food for
stock in the shape of oil cake, while
the ashes from the hulls make a fer¬
tilizer for root crops.—[Popular Sci¬
ence Monthly,
New Theory ol‘ Color.
Professor Bidwell has been lectur¬
ing before the London Institute late¬
ly, and advancing some novel facts
and theories with regard to colors.
He said that blue and yellow mixed do
not make green, but white, if both the
original colors are perfectly pure. In
an impure state, both blue and yellow
contain green; and when they are
mixed the white, which would come
out if the colors were pure, is colored
by the green impurity they contain.
Professor Bidwell still further aston¬
ished his audience by proving to them
that yellow was not a primitive color,
as we have hitherto, in our simplicity,
believed, but a compound, and he pro¬
ceeded to split it up. He showed also
that the natural color of gold was
green, and of copper blue; but it is
obvious that if our apprehension of
color depends on the nature of the
waves of motion that effect the eye, a
scientific experimenter, by intercept¬
ing certain waves, can make any ob¬
ject whatever color he pleases.—[New
Orleans Picayune.
Our Original Troy Pound.
In 1828, when Adams was Presidcm
of the United States, Congress author¬
ised or appointed a commission “to
bring to this country a troy pound ad¬
justed to the British standard. ” When
the commission returned the President
received the package and broke the
seal in the presence of the distin¬
guished men of America. This origi¬
nal weight standard is now in the
mint at Philadelphia, and is not re¬
garded as being of ideal accuracy by
aqy means. It is made of a very poor
quality of brass, is rough in texture
and hollow. According to a law now
in force, each state is entitled to a
copy or duplicate of this standard.—
[St. Louis Republic.
The orange grows wild all over
tropical Asia, and is everywhere re¬
garded as indigenous.
NO. 15.
You’ll Get There in the Mornin’!
Keep on Iookin . fer the brighlt) bright skiesf
Keep on hopin’that the sun’ll rise;
Keep on s,n 5? in ' when the whole world sigh*
An ’ you ’ U get thera in the mornin ’ !
Keep on plowin’ when you’ve missed the
crops:
Keep on dancin’ when the' fiddle stops;
Keep on faithful ’tin the curtain drops,
An’ you’ll git there in the mornin’!
—Atlantic Constitution.
/ HUMOROUS.
“How do you like Chicago?’'
“Fine—-327 trains leave there every
Jay.”
Almost every woman we know would
like to know what some other woman
has got to be prond off.
“What! You a literary man and
have not read the Heavenly Twins?”
‘I haven’t.” “Gemini!”
Benedict—Why won’t she marry
you? Is there another man in the
case? Singleton—Yes; her father.
Husband.—Does that new novd;
turn out happily? Wife.—It doesn’t
say. It only says they were married.
Visitor—Johnnie, what’s that awfui
noise in your back yard? Rev. Amen’s
Youngest—That’s pa practising his va¬
cation cough.
His Mother.—You ought to fee.
ashamed of yourself, fighting little
Johnny Naybors. Tommy.—I do mam¬
ma ; he licked me.
“They say the wolf is continually at
their door.” “Well, I don’t know
what he is there for. They never
have anything in the house.”
“When a man is in debt there is no
concealing it.” ‘‘There ain’t?” “No;
the first time a bill collector calls on
'lim he is sure to be found out.”
“I can’t make these matches strike,’
said Bloobumper, after two or three
ineffectual efforts. “That’s because
you are not a walking delegate,” said
Mrs. Bloobumper.
“The advantage of being an alder¬
man, ’ said the honorable gentleman
from the ’steenth ward, in reflective
mood, “is that you do a good busi¬
ness and don’t have to advertise.”
Cholly—This is my grandmother’s
portrait, and I am thought to have
some of her features. His Adored—
Yes, I see a strong resemblance be¬
tween her eyebrows and your mus
tache.
“1 ou are not looking well this morn
*u&>” said the mirror to the gas jet.
“No. My boss was out all last
night.” “What has that to do with
you?” “Why, can’t you understand,
stupid, that I was out all night, too?”
Bertha—Tom, this paper says Mr.
Tightfist was “generous to a fault.’ 1
What does that mean?
Tom—Well, from what I know of Mr.
Tightfist, I should say that it meant
he couldn’t possibly be generous to
anything else.
Elder Sister—Come, Clarence, take
your powder like a man. You never
hear me making any complaints about
such a little thing as that. Clarence
Callipers (sorely); Neither would I if
I could daub it on my face ; it’s swal¬
lowin’ it that I object to.
Banks — What did her father say
when you told him that you wanted to
marry his daughter? Rivers—Well,
he didn’t absolutely refuse, but he im¬
posed a very serious condition. Banks
—What was it? Rivers—He said he
would see me hanged first.
The College Man of Today—Oh, 1
say, Governor, you ought to have been
here last week. It was immense! We
drowned the president of the freshman
class, and tee-hee-hee-hee—two of us
crawled into Prof. Bluegoggle’s room
after he had gone to bed and turned
on every gas jet in the room!
The rich American had a nobleman
for a son-in-law, until the funds 'were
cut off, and then the gent removed
himself. “By the way,” said a friend,
who had not heard how the affair
turned out, “isn’t your son-in-law a
peer?” “Not exactly,” admitted the
old gentleman; “he’s a disappear,”
and then he explained how that brand
of nobility happened to be.
“Well, Charles,” said the prond
father, “you are to be graduated in
June. What are your ideas as to se¬
lecting a profession?”
“I think I will be a lawyer, father,
I am fond of ease. ”
“Ease? Do you consider the lawyer’*
profession one of ease?”
“It certainly is at the start. Younf
lawyers never have much to do, ”