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“GALLAHER'S INDEPENDENT,”
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT
QUITMAJV, S A.,
J. C. G ALL AHER,
TERMS Oi? SIDSCKIPTIOS I
[ TWO DOLLARS pn- Annum in Advance.
BV AND HY!
by MAnaAiurr j. preston.
Wht will it matter by and by.
Whether niv path below wan bright,
~ Whether it wound through dark or light,
Under a gray or golden sky,
When I look back on it, by and by ?
What will it matter by and bv.
Whether, unhefaed I toiled alone,
. Ptahing my foot against a atime v
' , Minsing the charge of the angel high.
Bidding me think of thee by ami by?
What will it matter bv and by.
Whether with laughing jov T wont
, Down tbnmph the years content,
Never believing, nay. not I,
Tears would be sweeter by ami by ?
What will it matter bv ami by.
Whether with cheek to cheek I've lain
Close bv the nallid angel, Pain.
Soothing myself through sob and sigli;
1 ‘All will be else wine by and by V* ”
What will it matter ? Naught, if I
Only am sure the war INc trod.
Gloomy or gladdened, leads to God
‘Questioning not <*f the bow. the why,
If I but reach Him, by ami by.
'Wliat will I care for the unshared sigh,
If, in mv fear of slip or fall,
'Closely I’ve e.lurvr to tin' Christ through all,
Mindless how rohgli the path mnv lie,
Hi nee He will smooth it by ami by ?
AIC it will matter bv and by,
Nothing hut this : That Jov or Pain
Lifted me skyward, helped to gain.
Whether through rack or smile or sigh,
Heaven — home— all in all, by and by.
THE JAWS OF DEATH.
BY PACT, I'AH.U.MX.
'“Aiul may God have mercy on your
•soul !"
Tlipse—the closing words of the sentence ,
•of death which bad been pronounced upon
'me —were the onl y ones I heard from the i
’time when, by order of the officer, I stood
up to receive the judgement of the law.
The eonrt-room was crowded almost be
vend its capacity, and all ages, sexes and
't 'editions of life were represented in that ,
%'irong. The dock was situated so that
nlxmt two thirds of the room came w ithin i
the mngi'of mv vision—the other portion
'including the gallery above, I had nnfieed
•w hen I came in. Dnritur eileli and rvei'v
•day of mv protracted trial the crowd of
"cariosity had been large, but. now it
■seemed redoubled. What thoughts and
emotions filled and auritnterl my mind for
the short time I sat there oh that hard and
vrnal scat! Iu all that, mass of living be
ings there was not one who could partake |
of that knowledge which was restricted to
me alone—the knowledge of my innocence.
All, from the evidence on the trial, and
the verdict of the jury, from the Statements
nml deductions of the newspapers, from a
thousand other causes w hich operate on a
populace excited by the commission of a 1
great crime in their midst, and whose con
victimis are already half m ule up by the I
arrest of somebody, all were Afire of mv j
guilt. From the time I laid made the
acquaintance of him for whose bloody
deeds I was condemned to suffer, the hand
of Fate had lain heavy upon me. That
man—theretofore a stranger- laid one
month ago so worked upon Mv frauk and
Unsuspecting nature, had so insidiously
nml artfully opened my heart and crept
therein, that within two hours of om
Meeting we were pledging and repjeilginp
our eternal friendship in bottles of wine.
All this alone. In twenty-four hoitfsnfter-
Wurd I was taken to prison, there to re
main until in due time I should lie brought
to the liar of the court to answer for the
murder of a citizen. The forms of justice
(I was tnld) must bo observed, for ns to
my conviction tiiere was no earthly doubt.
The following report from a morning pa
per shows why such was the general opin
ion:
“Our usually quiet town was last niprlit
the scene of one of the most hrntal mur
ders on record. At 12 o’clock a cry of
pain, followed liy the report of a pistol,
torn heard near the southeast tollgnte. The
few people that -were in the neighborhood
hurried to the spot, and beheld prone on
the, ground the lifeless form of otic of our
Wealthiest and moat respected citizens,
David Elburne, Esq. A pistol-shot
through the head, from whioli the Wood
poured out freely, ami las rifled pockets
told that he had been cruelly assassinated
and robbed. Search was immediately in
stituted for the murderer, and he was soon
afterward found secreted under a shed
near the scene of the dreadful deed, with
an empty pistol in his hand, blood on his
person, and the Watch of the deceased in
his pocket. His face was livid w ith fear
when detected, and his attempted expla
nation of the condition in which he was
f mnd was a mass of contradictions. He
had a hearing before the Justice and was
c immitted to prison. The name of the
villain is Leonard Manor. Let speedy
justice be meted out to him.”
All the above, as a recital of facts, Was
tr ft. nut the statement that I, Leonard
Manor, was the author of the crime, was
nntrue. But a mighty and strongly forged
chain of circumstantial evidence was
bound around me, which I was unable to
break, and my counsel, Mr. Cook, met
with his first defeat as a criminal nraoti
t oner. The only witness that e mid rel u‘
the violent presumption of my guilt and
disprove what had been brought against
me, was not to be fonnd; made way with
no doubt, by him. And there I sat aloue
in that dock and felt what no man can
describe. Protest, ray innocence I might,
and swear it with aU the vehemence of an
earnest sonl; but I would be. either laughed
at for my audacity, or whistled down as a
feigned lunatic. Oh, God ! what it is to
be falsely judged ! To have an iron wall
lietween your self-consciousness and the be
lief of the outer world 1 To see yourself
crowded into the grave by the torrent of
popular fury, and yet have that in your
bosom which might roll back the tide and
save yon could it but reach out beyond the
narrow circle in which is it confined ! Oh,
what is physical strength to the power of
this internal sense in such an hour ns this!!
How willingly would I have bartered tho j
best gifts of nature if those around nn
cotihl have partaken of this feeling ami
know what I knew. The mercy of the
Almlgbtv seemed a meaningless thing.
But He could not break His law, even to
nave the life of one of His creatures from
an unjust death 1
The closing words of ths sentence j
•which doomed me to the scaffold awoke;
me from these reflections. I sank to mv
seat, as a sigh of relief, like the groan of
°ome TiTosirth'v monster, went up from i
the multitude in the court room, followed
hy a subdued hum which had before
VOL. I.
I reigned. The people began to move out,
| speaking to each other and smiling, pleased
that file end was aa they wished and be
lieved‘it would lie. Oh, how more than
ever, then, the silent and helpless savior
in mv bosom straggled ill its hounds iu
one desperate effort to go out and become
absorbed in the thoughts of others I But
all iu vain; my heart sickened; and the
pall of despair was upon mo, as I submit
ted myself to the officers who were to re
turn me to the jail.
The court room was in the second story
of the building, and was reached from the
outside by a more than ordinarily steep
iiight of sti ps of grey stone, about twenty
four in number. As I emerged from the
front door at the top of these .steps, a
bright, piercing ray of the sun met me
full in the face. Dazzled for an instant 1
stepped forward again. But T missed the
step stone, and, unable to recover myself,
fell headlong down the way.
* * * *
I sat on a low, rough couch in the dark
est, dampest dungeon of the jail. To the
cold iron gyves which shackled my legs at
the ankles was attached a chain of like
metal, of, perhaps, four feet ill length,
terminating at a ring on the bottom of the
cell. My bauds were free, and with them
I rubbed my eves as one who hopes thereby
to make them do their duty better. I
could have but a faint view of the interim
of my apartment, as the only light that
reached it was between the two bars of a
small opening which served as a window,
situated iu an oblique direction from
where I sat, and apparently about seven
feet from the ground. A confused m'd
shapeless idea of something awful that had
happened, was happening or would hap
pen, weighed upon me. Wliat it was J
could not determine—even my situation, I
clad in k convict's garb and bound in j
chains, did not strike me with any kind
of feeling akin to surprise—l barely
noticed it—so emasculated was my menial
organizaii m and impotent of thought. It
•vius in tills stupid state I sit, when a noise
broke upon n y ear, coming, us it seemed,
from immediately in front of me. I
peered iu that direction, but could see
nothing, vet the noise, which was a com
mingling iif a grating, and a rumbling
sound, continued. Presently it censed,
mil the figure of a mull began to ileline
itself before my view. Noarer it came to
ward mo, when —oh, lieascn ! the form '
and features of him fell full lipoii my j
gaze. Then it Was that f suW all, knew j
all, felt all, remembered alls A stream of j
memories came rushing in upon mo like n
torrent. That man’s presence drove the
clouds away and ab was clear. Here 1 was.
condemned as a fel >n, but before me stood j
the felon himself. Moved by the impulse J
which this sudden discovery inspired I
essayed to strike the wretch, but my arm
refused to obey the biililiug*of my will; a
paralysis seemed to have s dzed me. An
attempt to speak met with not miuihliettci
success, as nothing but a whisper, scarcely
audible to myself, escaped my lips. He
now advanced, and, takin; a seat liesiih
nie on the Cot, spoke:
“Manor, you know yew old friend and
companion, Sangin ? I found you, and
am come to condole with yon.”
The tone with which he uttered these
words, and the sarcastic fluilo with whi"h
he accompanied them, chilled mo through.
How I could haWi crushed him. Ho con
tinued:
“Ohtte is a science, Manor. Its p<j
fect practice is an art, and, like other
arts, it requires instruments You have
been a good ofle. I um< and you in iny little
operation against old Elbrnne, nml it was
.i perfect rtuccessj You were caught with
the blood of your —my victim, still hot
upon you; the smoke of your —my shot,
was not ye t out of the pistol chain her. I
tell you, Manor, it was a grand Triumph of
art. It is a pity you could not live to aid
in future successes of mine —you’re too
good ft glove to be thrown away —I must
have more out of you before you die—by
Jove, you shall lire J”
Throughout this address I sat- with
downcast face, feeling how utterly miser
able and forsaken of God T was. At tin
word “live,” I raised my eyes and looked
at him. His small, snaky eyes glistened
like diamonds, and a sardonic smile played
j over his features.
j “Yes—live,” he said, “and,go with me.
11 have cheated justice—why not serve iu
! justice the aawu w.iv, for the time at
j least You are bound to he hung some-
I time, and T am bound to die peacefully:
j but we'will postpone both events as long
i its possible. My art being perfect, my
resources are, of course, inexhausti
ble.”
Before I was aware of it he was 'manipu
lating my fetters, and in a short time he
told mo to rise. This second effort at mov
ing was successful, and I walked several
paces’front my bed, free from the irons.
In this new state my revengful feeling?,
Wonderful as itseems, entirely disappeared.
He appeared again as a friend, and J re
i preached myself for ever having thought
; ill of him.
i “We will go out as I came in,” said
Sangiu; and divesting himself of ait extra
coat which he had on, he threw it over my
shoulders and led me, as he expressed,
“to freedom and a sphere of usefulness.”
I have an indistinct recollection of pass
ing through shadowy corridors, up and
down steps, through narrow doors, and
over walls, and a clear Idea of surroundings
, did not possess me until I fonnd that we
j were plodding through the dust of a coun
try road, with no sign of a human liabita
| tion before ns, and the town sinking out i
of sight in the dim distance behind us. \
As I looked at my companion, ns we were ;
| walking along, I felt as one fascinated by j
| one he knows to be a villain.
We proceeded in silence for some time,
when .Sangiu called my attention to a ri-;
derless horse, standing near the fence at
: the right of the road before us. As we
approached, another object met our eyes—
a well dressed man lay on the ground be
fore ns, groaning with pain. In a faint
tone he told us that seized with a vertigo,
he had fallen from his horse, and, being
unable to rise, feared that he had broken
some bones. Sangiu directed me to sit
down and support the gentleman’s head
upon my lap while he made an examina
tion. When I had done this, lie quickly
took everything which the wounded man
had upon his person including a Costly j
watch and a plethoric purse, and placed j
them in his own pockets. While we were j
j looking in astonishment at this bold pro- i
ceediug, Sargin drew from his boot a long i
I murderous looking knife, and plunged it}
; into the bo vim of the helpless traveler!
! The blood spirted into my face, and my j
i person seemed, almost in a twinkling, to
I I e it iged with gore. Before I could re- 1
J gain my feet, Sangiu, with the most uu-j
! earthly yell I eiu leaped upon the
QUITMAN, (I A.. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18. 1874.
horse and disappeared. What a situation
was hero—oh, cursed fate I Completely
lost in a sea of bewilderment, I cannot
sav how long I might have stood looking
alternately at the bloody oi r t so before me
and uiy equally bloody self, did not the
clattering hoofs behind me arouse me. 1
turned and saw a mob of horsemen bearing
down in the direction where I stood.
Leaving a few to take charge of the unfor
tunate wayfarer, the lest turned in the di
rection whence they came, first having se
cured me on one of the horses. Fleet, as
the w iml we pushed forward, until a sort
of dizziness seized me. and I felt as if 1
was being whirled through some wild and
awful dream, and yet with just enough of
co ,s ioushete to know that there was a ba
sts of rculity to it all.
All at once wo halted on the bank of
tire, which shot up a million forked
tongues of lurid flame. A heavy black
cloud hung all around, and the air wn
dense with a sulphurous odor. A dread
ful inad-house noise .resounded iu tnyears,
and 1 thought that here was Tophet, and
1 was to he a victim to the insatiate Mo
loch. A mlimed hell tolled one stroke,
like an echo from a tomb, on my right,
and, looking lip. my eyes met a black
draped gallows which reared its hideous
form into the air. No time was allowed
me to contemplate this new feature, even
had. I been so inclined, for I was instantly '
taken charge of by a pair of hangmen and
placed on the scaffold. The rope was
placed around my neck, and the stillness
which took the place of the walking to and
fro on the scaffold, told rue that I stood
there alone. I muttered a prayer, hut
before a dozen syllables were uttered, all
that was substantial beneath mo gave way,
and I dropped suddenly in a direct line
downward; a piercing pain ran like a ling
vr through iny head; everything grew
dark and lvil, and purple and white, by
turns—until, after what seemed an age of
agony, my feet touched something, a rao
iqentaiy light flashed upon me, and, iu n
syncope, I lost all thought and memory
and feeling.
* ****#
A murmur of voices crept upon my car,
and slowly and gradually I revived. 1
opened tn.v eves mul found myself in tin
company of several people, spine of w hom
were rubbing my hands, others adminis
tering restoratives, and all, more 'Or loss,
contributing to my restoration. As my
senses returned, I saw that 1 was in a
strange room and sitting by a window.
Out of that window I Moked, and—great
heaven! wliat a spectacle met my yves !
It was the yard of a prison, and pendant
therein from the cross-beam of a gallows,
hung tlic. lifeless body of Sangin! The j
sight at once recalled all the memories of
the past; but there was a hiatus which \V"" ;
yet to be explained. It was done so b\ a
kind attendant, who informed me that
my fall at the court, house steps nearly
deprived me of life, and did deprive luo of
reason -that after a brief incarceration iu
my cell it was thought best to place me
under medication, and I was removed to
the hospital .I.■ |i,il'lment of the prison
that while there the criminality of Sangin.
the anther <Jf the murder for Which I had
been condemned, was discovered through
the appearance of my missing witness,
some unguarded expressions o' Sangin
himself during a debauch in a neighbor
ing village, anil other circumstances which
had come to light since my trial -that he
was tried and condemned, ami made a
! confession, in which he stated that he had
| administered a narcotic potion to me,
I pushed me under the shed, and then after j
waylaying Mr. Elburne, and , taking aj
large amount of money from his person,
! had placed the watch and pistol on me, j
smeared mo with blood, and then escaped; \
\ that be gave poison to a cabman who was j
I cognizant of bow aud by whom I was 1
placed under tho shed. The cabman was
| my missing wittiest, and his recovery from !
tire driigj although he was for some time
in a state of insensibility, and on the
verge of death, was the main cause of my
salvation. That, following the opinion of
one of the medical board attached to the
prison, I ivies placed at tho window, in
the belief that the sight of my would bo
destroyer in the hands of the law would
have a beneficial effect. That when lie
mounted the scaffold I looked calmly and
vacantly ut him, hut when the- drop fell
I I swooned. As I revived, there were
evident indications of tho mueh-wished
j for change, and when, with a Clearer un
| dorsbihding, 1 looked again upon the
[ dangling body of the villain, it was com-
I piete, and reason resumed its reign. I
j returned to my home to recuperate my
I physical health, and it is in the pleasant
j days of convalescence that I commit to
paper and give to the world this recital of
my entrance into and exit from “the jaws
of death.” — I'hiliuMjihin National Mail:
Duration of Criminal Trials.
In ancient times trials never lasted be
yond a day. Mr. Burke said trial by jury
was unfit for cases which did not lie
within tlie comparts of a day; and it
was not until modern times that they lasted
longer. In the case of Lord Gourgo Gor
don, in 1781, Lord Mansfield sat from
eight in the morning until five next morn
ing, and as long as f|o arid tho jury were
able to sit, lie felt himself bound in law to
do so. But when trials Caine to last sev
eral days, it was physically impossible.
In the ease, of Elizabeth Canning, tried
for perjury, and which excited immense
interest, tiie trial lasted fifteen days. .In
the State trials for treason in 179-1, Thol
wali’s lasted four days, Horne Tooko’s six,
and Hardy’s nine days. Of course in such
cases it was physically impossible to sit on
without intermission, anil accordingly
Lord Kenyon and the judges resolved that
they had power to adjourn, but only, as
Lord Kenyon stated on the ground of
actual physical necessity. This was laid
down in 1796, and in lAl!) Lord Tenterden
applied the same rule to trials lor misde
meanor.
Until the Tiehbome case, no one had
ever conceived that there was power to
adjourn a criminal trial for any other
cause; and a long train ofjndgcs —Gurney,
Creswcll, Wightman, Willes, and Watson ;
held that it was inadmissible) to adjourn
for purposes of evidence, though it might
be admissible to suspend the trial for a
short time for the attendance of witnesses
in consequence of some unavoidable acci
dent, Even in civil cases adjournment is
only allowed by a statute passed in 1854,
and that- statute does not apply to criminal
cases. The adjournment in the Tiehbome
case for' the purposes of evidence are
therefore unprecedented in British law,
especially tho first adjournment, which was
not for the attendance of witnesses, but
fur the discovery of now evidence.■
THE BELLE OF MONTEREY.
The Monterey of twenty-Avo years ngo
was a vastly different town from the Mon
terey of to-day. The silent streets, now
the almost exclusive property of geese,
cows, lihd nomadic hogs, then echoed to
the ringing hoofs of the gayly attired
(iihitUertis horse; the uniform of the Eng
lish and American naval officer contra t and
with the staid black mantilla of the pretty
senorita; the guitar tinkled on moonlit
nights under the lattice of the dark-eyed
belle; and the rotnunoedf Spanish life min
gled With the bustle and activity of a pros
perous seaport town. Now, an unten
uuted harbor, a Mass of half-ruined, un
occupied buildings, and a drowsey air o
neglect aiid indifference, constitute tin
modern Monterey. Still, the roses and
the tall holly lie iks cling lovingly to the
adobe walls, and peep iu through the low
windows; hut the blushing, olive-cheeked
'•iris that offered them to the lounging
wooers at the garden gates twonty-tivi
years,ago have grown into dowdy matrons,
wrinkled by family cares, or else sleep,
peacefully hi the oil grave-yard, whos
margin is washed by the spring-tides,
which, knowing no change, murmur yet
as of old on the crescent beach.
’With all its dreary somnolence, there is
a charm about this old town, sitting like
some sad widow by the sea, mourning the
commerce which has deserted her, and
yet, in all her grief, Enoch Arden like,
hoping and waiting for a sail aiul see
ing
The great still's that globed thenißeves ia heaven
The nollmv-lielli'iviag ocean, and again
The scarlet shafts of sunrise -but no sail.
Slowly in the bay sunk the evening sun
on the 24th of December, 1848. Across
the waters streamed its last golden anil
purple rays, glistening on the wet sands,
tenderly shimmering through the branches
of the oak that stpod i.i the old Spanish
grave-yard, aiul disappearing among the
pines that sentineled the hiil-tops in the
buck-ground.
Maria Ignaeia Gomez, as the angelus
bell rung out. from the MisstiWi 'church,
crossed herself devoutly, for a moment
neglecting the rose-vino that climbed to ;
the red-tiled roof of her low, long dwell
ing. And as she stood in the garden,with
crossed hands and large brown eyes up
lifted, her black shawl drooping from her
grateful shoulders, and her red lips mov
iiig in prayer, a painter could desiYo no
better model for a Madonna or an Evan
geline, for the face had all the sweetness
of the otic, with the resigned expression of
patient waiting for the other. A sonr
lookitig, querulous face appeared at the
deep window.
“Gome here, Maria; 'tis. supper-time.”
“Yes, vuulri’ min;" and Maria, securing
the erratic vine to a nail in the adobe wall,
entered the house.
Ten years before the date of our story,
when Marin’s s.rent •'•em.inhood was at its
dawn, foremany a mile rode in the youth of
t.he southern country to catch a glimpse of
and exchange a word with the belle of
Monterey. A rose-bud from flier lingers
was a rare gift, to be carefully' preserved
and worn with jlride, arid a kind glance
from her broWn eyes sent the recipient
back to his rancho on the Salinas a happy
man. Never a cloud rested on that calm,
earnest face,nor passion found a moment’s
harbor in her bn ast. But at last h r sor
row came, in this wise: In Jnue, 1838, the
stout ship Delight furled her canvas and
dropped her anchor in the Hay of Monte
rey. She was owned by the great Hud
son’s Bay Company, anil was bound
north to drain the posts of the company
on the Frazer and Columbia rivers o f the
valuable furs which lay in tlmir s; 're
houses. The supercargo of the Delight,
James Gilmour, was a son of the viee
j president of this opulent corporation, and
: showing a positive disinclination for each
! and all of the learned professioiis, and ex
-1 pressing a hearty contempt for tile hura
j drum life of Europe, had been sent by bis
i father (o the l’jeitie shores, to. drink his
J All of tlie'advemnres fee which he thirsted.
| Ho was a youth of a singular force of
i character, very undemonstrative, and
| possessing some decided opinions of the
j ilili'lJimte life of the wealthy youth of Ghent
j Britain, which had won for him in his
university (lays the title of The Radical.
The unanimous verdict of the jury of old
wise heads to whom Gilmour. senior,
had appealed for an opinion of his son’s
character, was that James was talented,
but odd—an eccentric young man, in fact
—who, unless travel tempered him down,
would never be an acquisition to tho mer
chant office within whoso dusty precincts
his father had amassed a bulky fortune.
So James found himself aboard the De
light, anchored in the Bay of Monterey,
and, tlu/ugli nominally supercargo, really
in that tangled muz a of a young man in
pursuit of a vocation.
“Captain Brown,” said Gilmour, after
that worthy seaman had squared tho yards
to Iris satisfaction, got his fancy v.aist
■ lpthes at the gangway, and inspected the
fitfing-on of tho good clothes, which a
merchant vessel dons in port—“do you
know any of tlie inhabitants of this odd
looking village on the hill side ?”
“ ‘Village!’ Mr. Gilmore. I pray you
don’t call this a village. This is a city,
sir—the first city in California—and if I
mistake not,” continued tho captain,
“yonder at tho custom house stands tho
alcalde, a hospital gentleman to whom our
company is indebted for many favors.”
A few moments afterward, both speak
ers were heartily greeted by that official,
! who, as tho boat’s keel grated on tire
i sand, welcomed them to Monterey,
j Among tho many young and pretty
j Spanish girls whom Gilmour met in Mon
terey was Maria Ignacia. A spirit of
rivalry induced lpm to throw himself into
the lists with the Spanish gallants who
strove for tho fair Maria’s smiles. He was
more than successful. The difference of
his manner, his recitals of adventure in
Europe, and descriptions of tho grand
places of history, were something so novel
to Maria, so totally different from the
stereotyped compliments of her woers,
that sho found a charm in his society
which, in her innocence, sho cared not to
conceal. Bui the end came at last. Tho
Delight was to proceed northward, and
tho supercargo prepared to take leave of
all his Spanish friends.'
“And so, Maria,” said Gilmour, igi tlio
I evening preceding his departure, “our
j pleasant visit comes to an end. Well, I
; iiavo impioved my Spanish; and you, littlo
Madonna, if ever tlie fates take you to
I England) will recognize the abbeys uud
; tho churches from my descriptions.”
Maria Ignacia did not reply, bid stooped
jto phk up an ahalone shell, wbi h, wot
and siiceuv, lav in tin: saiul at her feet,
j “Ami now, Maria, I have only uau re-
quest to make, which our charming ac
quaintance warrants. It has three parts,
however- a souvenir from this dark hair
of yours; a letter, now and then, when jroh
weary of your Monterey lovers, uud wise
to talk to me across the water; uud— a
kiss.”
Still no answer from the girl who, with
eyes east down, strolled along by his side.
“Then I take it for granted that my
prayers prevail, Maria.”
Her soft eyes were raised to las, and he
was surprised to And how pale the face
was, and how moist, the rounded cheek.
He raised her lips to his with a half sigh,
and tin'll, as if a ne\y thought had sud
denly struck him, said, abruptly, half to
himself and half to her:
"Good God lit can’t bo so, Maria 1 Tell
me—do you love me ?”
The wonderful passion in the full brown
eyes, so tender aiul despairing, told him
jail; and then, liken foolish young man,
he took her in his arms, ami swore 'itl tin
oaths that all lovers have so often sworn
and so often broken; and when they
strolled hack over the sands, Maria’s tears
were gone, and James Gilmour clasped tho
hand of Ins promised wife.
This was all the romance in Maria’s life.
The next day the Delight sailed, and for |
ten years neither ship nor supercargo were
heard of in Monterey. But she never
married. She had a strange way of every
evening walking to the hill-top where the
old fort stood, and looking wistfully out
across tho water; then sorrowfully and re
signedly returning to her home, nursing
her invalid and sour-teiiipered mother,
and training tho roses about the adobe
walls. .
On this Christmas eve, .Maria Ignaeia,
kneeling before her old-fashioned en
graving of the Madonna, thought of the
manger iu Bethlehem centuries ago, and
wondered sorrowfully if James Gilmour
was enjoying iu his English home the
Christmas tree and the mistletoe, and all
those games he had told her of when they
walked on the sands ten years ago. And
then her thoughts went hack to that June
evening when lie kissed her bps and called
her his wife.
Boom ! Boom 1 Boom 1 through the
still night air.
Maria opened her window and looked
out. A party of Portuguese whalers went
rapidly by, anil she learned from their
excited exclamations, that a ship had gone
ashore brt tfic Foifft Pinos rocks.
“May God and the Virgin succor them 1”
she murmured piously, as she hurried to
wrap her shawl around her, and was soon
in the street.
Everyone was astir. Men on horseback
with ropes rode furiously along the beach
and toward the Point; the whalers manned
their boats, sat, tlieiv sails, and sped before
tlie blast through the. moonlit water.
They were all too late. The cruel, pointed
rocks had torn the ill-fated vessel to frag
ments, and the breakers dallied with spar
and mast, now flinging them high np on
the beach, and again drawing them bank
to hurl them once more.against the brown
cliffs. But hot a single body did the
waves throw up that night.
ChristriVos Day dawned, and when Maria
Ignnoin Gomez looked from her window
down to the crescent bench, she saw a
crowd of men standing about something, j
They lifted it np and bore it through the !
street, and to her door, for hers was the
house nearest the beach.
“Is ho dead.?” she asked, fearfully.
“When we first Saw him,” said a winder,
“he was clinging to a spar, and before we
got the host out ho was washed ashore.”
They laid him oh a bed. His dark
beard was full of sand and weeds, and a
white froth issued from his lips; a finely
built man-handsome, no dpubt, when
those eyes, now staring so blindly, had
light and life, arid those well-cut lips
moved and smiled.
“Maria- Marin, what nils you ?”
She was standing by the .bedside, her
hands crossed over her breast, her eyes as
fixed and vacant ns the dead before her.
“O, my beloved I” she moaned, laying
her white face on his bruised and stained
breast; “at last, after so many years.”
And then sho smoothed back the tangled
hair, and wiped the foam from the livid
lips, and straightened out the limbs of
him who had come to seek her after so long.
For it was her great consolation that he
had been time even to death. They buried
him behind the old fort, and Maria took
up the thread of her life again. And now
the roses were doubly dear to her, for
they were for his grave.
I (trcrlantl Monthly.
OoNVKTiuuA'riflci is I'oNoKKHK. - Mention
having been made of the ninnbey of late
Confederate officers in Congress, if,, may
be will to append their names and States.
Alabama has Lieiit-Col. John H. Caldwell,
Maj. Janus 11. Sloss and Captailis diaries
Hays and Charles Pelham. Senator
Goidthwaite was also the adjutant-general
of the state during the wav. Georgia Ims
Major-Generals John B. Gordon and
Pierce M. B. Young, Brig-Gen. Philip
Cook, Col. Hiram P. Bell, Lieut,-Colonels
Morgan Rawls and James H. Blount, and
Major R. 11. T. Whitolny, tho latter a re
publican. Mississippi lias Brig-Gen.
James L. Alcorn and Col. L. (,). C. Lamar.
Missouri lots Brig-Gen. John B. Clark and
Maj. Robert A. Hatcher. North Carolina
lias Major-Gen. Matthew \V. Ransom,
Brig-Gen. Robert B. Vance, lately
declared himself on the floor of the House
ready for another rebellion, and Colonels
James M. Leach, Alfred M. Waddell and
Wm. M. Robbins., Tennessee has Lieut,-
Colonels W. C. Whitthorne and John 1).
C. Atkins. Texas has Colonels DeWitt
C. Gildings, Roger Q. Mills, Major Asa
A. Willie, and privates W. K; Herndon
anil W. P. Me,Lean. Virginia lias Brig-
Gen. Eppa lluuton and Major Thomas
Whitehead. James B. Sen tor, republican
representative from the Fredericksburg
district, also campaigned with the Con
federate army as eorresp indent of the
Southern Associated Press.
Poe’s Sihteii.—For many years the an- j
nouneeroefit, “A sister of Edgar A- Poe!
is living at Baltimore, in great destitu- j
tion,” has’appeared in the exchanges at I
irregular intervals. Tho Baltimore (laznlt ■
has conferred a boon upon newspaper j
readers iti supplementing tho old time |
paragraph with the following: , , |
“Rev. George W. Powell, pastor of the !
Univeraalist church, delivered to Miss |
Rosalie M. Poe, the aged and helpless,
sister of Maryland’s brilliant poet, Edgar
A. Poe, the sum of SO4-35, the not prt -
cecils of his lecture recently delivered for
her benefit, entitled “A Warning Voice
from the Grave of Edgar A. Poe.” The,
feeble old lady expressed herself in terms
of warm gratitude, but spokts gloomily of
lmr future.”
MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS.
California mailo 85,000,000 cigars List
year.
The Baptists have in Pennsylvania, 401
Hniulsy school*, 6,025 toudhors, 42,365
scholars.
A Kansas couple paid ‘heir marriage fee
in b itter. They belonged to Pm.crime do 1
creme.
“Lets go and inflate” is the way tin
stateslhen in Washington put their eon
viviid invitations how.
“Tiio ono thing,” says b’eiin Paul
“which a tbaiilen most easily forgets is how
she looks hence mirrors were invented.
At the wedding of New A’lirk and Brook
lyn the Venetian ceremony will be revived
of throwing tho “Ring” into the river.
“Well, wjfe, you can’t say that I over
contracted bail habits,” “No, sir, you
generally expand them.”
A Western paper announces that board
can be obtained at a large and shady brick
goutlenhuu’s residence.
An incoherent, gentleman living iu New
York has built a shed over a sun-dial irt
Ips garden to protect It from the weather.
(>n a woman with red, lmir who wrote
portrv—Unfortunate, woman ! liow sad ii
your lot ! Your ringlets sue red, but your
poems are not.
“AVllore are you going ?" asked ali tie
buy of another, who had slipped on an
icy pavement. “Going to get up !” was
the blunt reply.
Rector’s daughter, (to Sunday scholar)—
“Oh, you have sin elder brother, well, how
old is he ?” Schoolboy— “Dunno*, miss,
but lie’s just started o’ swearing. ”
After asking-your name in the State of
Arkansas, the natives are. in the habit of
inquiring, in a confidential tone, “Well,
now, wliat was vor name afore yer moved
to these parts ?”
A negro held a cow while a cross-eyed
man was to hit heron the hfiul with an
axe. The negro,observing the man’s eyes, iu
some fear inquired: “Is yon gyine to bit
whnr you looks?” "Yes.” “Don hold
do cow yourself, ” Slid Giiffoe.
A Pennsylvania editor, disgusted with
the ordinary prospectus, comes out. fairly
and frankly. He says his paper is “an
airy old sheet, devoted to wind, whisky,
wickedness and other religious matters.
Vox Popnli, vox Beelzebub 1"
“Biddy,” said a lady, “step over and
see how old Mrs. Jones is this morning.”
In a few tnimives Biddy returned with the
information that Airs. Jones was seventy
two years, seven months and two days old
that, morning.
A rich old fellow was waited upon for a
subscription to rebuild the fence about the
cemetery. His reply was characteristic as
well as humorous: “Gentlemen, I have
made it a rule iu my business, never to
make any repairs-uiHSI tho tenants begin
to complain.”
A farmer sent to an orphan, asylum for a
boy that wils smart, active, brave, tract
able, prompt,, industrious,..clean,, intelli
gent, good-looking, reserved aiid modest.
The snperihtondent wrote back that un
fortunately they liad only human boys in
that institution.
It is affirmed that a man loses one ounce
of brains every ten years after the age of
thirty-five. This goes far to confirm the
public suspicion that Secretary Bio,hunison
is so vend centuries old.— Brooklyn Argus.
A newly married lady, “just for fun,”
hid a toy snake in her husband's boot n
few days ago. The result of the joke was
somewhat peculiar. The husband, on
discovering the mock reptile, first, took
a critical look at himself in a mirror, and
then going to a closet, seized his demijohn
and threw it far out into a neighboring
pond.
In Charles tho Second’s reign, a free
table was allowed for the court chaplains.
At one time, however, tho king, being in
necessitous circumstances, ordered this
dinner to be discontinued, but, to soften
matters, honored the clergymen wit). Ins
presence at the last intomteil dinner. The
grace used (o bo “God save the King and
bless the dinner,” but Hr: Smith, wjio pre
sided on this , occasion, .transposed the
words to "God blows tlio Kftfg,’ aiid save
the dinner." “And it shall he saved,”
said the king, amused nt the doctor’s hu
mor, and countermanded the order.
A case of inisiindersti.h'ding occurred up
in the country during last week’s trip:
Riding up to a hotel, in Oourtland county
Iwe saw tlie big, smart landlord with his
J boys, smoking short pipes on tho balcony,
while his wife was sweeping around the
chairs.
“Hello ! Do you keep this hotel ?”
“No, sir, I reckon not; this tavern keeps
me.”
“I mean, are you master here ?”
“Waal, sometimes I am (looking at the
old lady’s broom), but I guess the boys an’
I ‘run’ the stable -take your horse ?”
“(lot anything to drink round here ?”
“Yes, everything drinks around jliere.”
“Any ales ?’’
“Touch of the rhciiVnntiz myself, folks
generally healthy, though.”
“I mean liaVo you any porter ?”
“Ye,s, John’s our porter. Hold h'fs hoss
John."
“I mean any porter to drink ?” .
“l’orter to drink? Why, John can
drink, an’ it' he Can’t drink enough, I kin
whip,a right Smart o’ linker myself.”
“Pshaw -stupid ! have I got to come
dawn and soe myself V”
“You kin come down, Shaw Stupid, afnl
see yourself if you want to thar’s a good
looking glass in the bar-room.”
—■———
Grace Greenwood, in her lust letter from
Colorado,' describes a typical “poor-white”
j family of Missouri, careless, shiftless, and
S intolerably lazy, tlie daughters of which
i were accustomed to go barefoot till the
[ soles of their feet became as lmrd as horn; |
! and then tells this .story: “One of these
i young ladies, on coming bolide one day
I from a long tramp in the rain after tlie
cows, 1 was standing cm the hearth drying
| her clothes, when her mother drawled out,
| ‘Sal, thar's— a -live-- Coal- under —rer—
'foot.’ Tho girl slightly turned her head,
j and drawled back. ‘Which foot, mammy?’”
—• +
j A dispatch from Aurora, Indiana, says:
i “The wife of Rev. Mr. Denser died of
. trichinosis after a sickness of twenty-liv.
j days. This is the second death out
!<>f nine persons who have been attacked I
S from eating diseased pork.”
DVaiNKftS CAlius.
.1 AS. 11.111 INTER
ATTORMBY AT L, A W l ,
QUITMAN*,
bYiooks county, ueohoia.
—o— — (
Willpfootluc In the CountioH of the Southern
Circuit, KcholMttml Clinch of the Hrunawick. and
Mitchell <ff tiio Albany. *vruihoo tMV fc r
Juno*&-tf
j. s.
DENTIS'ir,
Office Up Stairs, Finch's Corner,
aug23-4m _____
W. 11. nF.NNKTT. H. T. KINOMiKUItY
BENNETT & KiNQSBERRY,
Attorneys at I.atV
‘ii UITMA N,
Brooks County, - Ot'oriffa.
Jue2B-tf
NO. 43.
EDWAR9 R. HARDER,
•1 y •
Attorney nt Law',
QUITMAN,
BROOKS COUNTY, - • GEORGIA,
O
iy ■ w . • • ’• h
Late ah AHROoiate J ll * t in* CVft* H u.
S. for Utah :|ml NHupwdi#;.Jforrit-oriui; now Jiulx-i
County Court, Brooks County, Uu..
inay24-l‘2mo
DR. E. A. JELKS,
PRACTISING PHYSICIAN;
Qiiiiliiian, Ga.
-L i. <
OFFICE Brick building aßoining tho wturo at
Mohaw. BritfgH, John* A Cos., Kcroven street.
limv Utf
-
MISCELLANEOUS A1) VKHTISEMENTS.
i). W. PRICE,
MERCHANT TAILOR;
QUITMAN, GA.,
r* *
Woulil inform the citizoim of Quitman anti sur
rouutliuj' country, that he has Juetopotivd a
FIRST OLA®*
MERCHANT AND TA'.LORtNfi
ESTABLISHMENT
IN QUITMAN, AND HAS ON HAND A FIsS
LOT OF
CLOTHS AUD CASSIMERES;
SUITABLE FOtt MAKING
DRESS AND BUSINESS SUITS;
He has also oh Haiid a Select Stock of
HEADY MADE CLOTHING;
CUTTING, CLEANING
AMI-
R i: P AIRlNtf
tfoirtON SHORT IfOTICE.
PRICES moderate; -hm
CREECH & NEWSOM;
DEALERS IN
DRY GOO I) Si
G lIOCKRIES,
Liquors,' Flour, 6acoii, etc.'
QUITMAN, GAY
mcylO-t.f t