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GALLAHERS INDEPENDENT,
. FUBUBUES EVERY SATURDAY AT
QUITMANj a.,
J. C. GALLAHER.
TKKMS OF SUBSCRIPTION l
TWO DOLLARSper Annum in Adrance.
[From the N. Y. Sunday Murvttry.J
A HUMAN SPECIMEN.
BY HAKBIET IB VINO.
I.ike a fate or a fury Gabrielle Jo Vincy
burst in u|x>u her guest, face nil tune, eyes
swollen with weeping, long hair streaming
behind her, her guest the picture of neat
ness and decorum, a moonlight smile rest
ing on her features, a devotional boot in
her hand —a sedate Diana, sedutely pre
wiring for repose.
"Euphrosyne,” exclaimed the hostess,
gesticulating grandly with the dressing
comb she still carried in her hand. “Eu
phrosyne, you were right. You told me
he was old, uufeeliug, a uiouster."
••Now Oabrielle, dear,” expostulated
Euphrosyne. “Monster 1 You must know
] wouldn't use such a word about Mr. De-
Viney. I esteem him highly.”
“But it’s true, ” sobbed Gabrielle, “tme,
true ?" ...
And, having reached a climax of woo,
she sank upon the iloor at the feet of her
guest, the wild disorder of her floating
crimson wrapper and flying hair contrast
ing as vividly with the sober-tinted, un
ruffled folds of the other’s dress as did her
wildness of manner with Euphrosyue’s
culm demeanor.
“He is a monster! I should die if 1
didn't tell some oue, aud 1 don’t mind
your knowiug it, for 1 wouldn’t spoak of
it to any other living soul, not even my
mother. I'm jealous—wild."
"Jealous," said Euphrosyne, with an |
incredulous smile. “\Vliy, Oabrielle, you
must be out of your senses.”
“laui, almost, with grief, "said Oabrielle,
“but it isn’t causeless; indeed it isn't. 1
•am jealous of a great nasty spider.’
"There, lie down on my bed.” said
Euphrosyne, soothingly, while a form oi
distress ' contracted her fair forehead.
“Don’t talk about him to-night. 111 get
soule water and bathe your forehead.
Hadn’t I better call Mr. De Viucy ?”
“No, no. I see what you think, ’sob
bed Oabriella, bursting the next mo
meut into a laugh. *’l in not insane. A
vear ago he s|H Ht evening after evening
by my side, only too glad if he oould hold
my hand.
-I went to him to-day, when lie was
bending over that great glass case—l wish
my eottin was in it, indeed 1 do—and 1 ;
haul, just us gently a* I could, for I know ;
men don’t like a scene: I
• • ‘Herald, you seem to he interested in I
that creature.
“ -Intensely, my dear,’ he said, espe
cially at this time. Don’t make a noise.’
•T liad to swallow that. Not make u !
noise ! My heart was beating like a bass |
drum. Iso longed that he would look at |
mo just a moment.
•• Gerald,’ said I, ’has it a heart, a liv j
iiig, boating heart like mine ?
“ No, my dear, these, Croat urea are con
structed bu very different principles from !
the Vertebrates,’ said he, und tucu he did :
turn his eyes, with such mind suprise in!
them.
• Don’t laugh, dear. I kmnv it'd farce
tit nnv "in ele*.', lint niy Ucurt is broken.
“ hues it [line for Jim when you ure '
sway ? II is it emotions, longings, memo
rics?' mini I, anti l laiil my buna on nn
In'iirt. 1 know 1 was a loot, amt mul 1
suppose I Lookeil like an affected one, lull
it was tin- strength of my feelings, ilear.
•• (iabrielle,’ lie saiil, just imagine it,
Eiiplirosyuo, ’you must tvally excuse mi
it 1 euu’l puy proper arteution at tiiis mo
ment, but ipnet is very essential. Come ;
to luu at some other time, my love, and
I'll do my best to answer your question.
There's much controversy on these points
muting men of science. Kuu-away for the
present.'
“1 hate him, Euphrosyne, and I hate
the ugly, little speckled beast —hate it
With an undying hatred.”
Ephrosyne looked shocked. (iabrielle
burst into a laugh, then wiped her eyes
and resumed the combing of her tresses,
the storm quite spent
"Euphrosyne," said she, presently,
"will you lend me your lover ?”
A delicate pink suffused the calm fea
tures.
"There, please don't pretend you don’t
know who I mean'' she added quickly.
"Of course we all konw that William
adores you, but let him appear to adore
mu for a time. It will not be the first
case of the kind. 11l make him jealous,
and then he’ll know how ho has tortured
me—Why don't you speak ?”
"1 has nothing to say,” replied Euphro-
Bjue, judiciously. "Air. ltawdon is his
own master."
"But us far as you are concerned, you
are willing.”
“Quite,” said Euphrosyne, and perhaps
she was. Perhaps it was uot an uneasy
feeing that made her glunco first at the
coral rod of Ciabrielle's cheeks anil lips,
then at her own fair countenance in the
mirror.
It may be that Gerald Do Vincy had
such need of keen observation in his zo
logical studies that lie kept none whatever
for ordinary affairs of life. However, that
maybe, William ltawdon, erst devoted to
Euphrosyne, because assiduousion his at
tentions to Gabnelle De Vincy. Together
they roamed, with every appearance of the
merest accident, through the apartments
devoted to the researches. Now an
opera, now a theatrical preformance en
ticed them from the De Vincy mansion.
If the naturalist were aware of the fact, he
gave no sign, but steadily watched and
recorded the antics of the "speckled,”
beast, "his last new specimen.
Euphrosyne, meanwhile, was as calm
os ever, a little more pallid and cold, per
haps. If William ltawdon in his evening
vls'ts occasionally inquired for her she
was usually not at home. No one guessed
of the tears that bedewed her window cur
tains behind which she watched the pair
depart.
A fortnight had passed.
"I shall end my visit to-morrow,” t said
Euphrosyne, quitely. “I am convinced
that she loves him, that he loves her. It
is nothing to me that he may some day
come and kneel at my feet. I should
spurn him. It was a base deception all
along. Her end accomplished, she is now
happy, her husband unconscious of her ,
artifices.”
Bo saying, Euphrosyne retired to her
apaitmeut, to be awakened at tho "noon
of night” by an awful figure—(labrielle
de Viucy in a snowy robe and floating vail
of hair.
“Euphrosyne!” cried she, "wake up; I
want you; I shall go mad if lam alone.
Give me your haud. dearest. I'm not
sorry. I made up my mind to do it. It
was my only chance of happiness. I
thought he was dead—please keep my se
cret, dear; don't let any- one kn w I did it.
lie lifted himself up afie, he was dead,
VOL. 11.
i stared at me, he said, as plainly ns living
! person spoke. ’Yon needn’t expect to he
j happy,’ und he laughed ! O it was dread
! fill. O those eyes I O Euphrosyne. ’ Shu
j ended with a wild laugh.
With many mingled emotions, Euphro
syne laid her hand on the head that was
pressed upon her bosom, kept it there till
a heavy breathing showed that Oabrielle
De Viucy slept.
In the darkness and silence, her bewild
ered brain conjured up a thousand hor
rors. The most prominent idea of all was
that the poor woman was insane; that jea
lousy had made her so, or that, perhaps,
the insanity had produced her jealous rage.
Then another fancy gained upon the
watcher's mind, that her first suspicious
had been correct; that Oabrielle De Viucy
I had practiced a deception upon her friend;
that by premeditated murder she had
sought to secure the happiness which wed
ded life had denied her.
So, wandering nmotig her imaginations,
slumber fell upon her eyelids. It was
midday when she awoke. The excitement
of the past night had had the effect of
sending her intoa profound sleep. Gabri
elle stood by her bedside.
“He is very ill,” said this strange wo
man, her white lips trembling.
“Not dead 1” exclaimed Euphrosyne.
“Not dead, thank God ! \Vhat do you
mean ? Why should he be ? Eu
phrosyue, you won't betray me ?”
Euphrosyne held silence.
She followed Oabrielle De Vincy down to
her husband’s room, where he lay, an
ashen gray color on his face, his eyes star
ing vacantly.
Then the wife suddenly assumed a man
ner which showed her a finished actress.
“Euphrosyne,” said she, in alight tone,
very different from the horror-stricken
whisper in which she had just been speak
ing, “Mr. De Viucy feels poorly. Do tell
me what you think is the matter. See if
you can get him to speak to you. I have
sent for a doctor."
Euphrosyne looked, and pity for the
stricken man struggled with the horror
and reluctance she felt. She drew nearer
timidly, and peersed into his face.
“Can I do anything fur you ?" sheeuun
ciated, slowly ami distinctly.
“No use, no use,” he murmured feebly,
anil turned his face to the wall.
Then the doctor arrived. As Euphro
syne passed out of the chamber Gabrielle
grasped her hands.
“O, darling,” she said, “go in again,!
while 1 wait here. Tell me what he says.
1 am doing of remorse, to think that 1
should have brought him (o this. I never
was unhappy before; I thought myself
miserable; hut this is worse, worse, and all
my own work. Jealousy is very wicked,
Euphrosyne. Never indulge in it.”
Euphrosyne laughed a scornful sort of
laugh aud went m and stood by the bed
side.
“In danger ?” she asked of the physician
with a silent motion of her lips.
He shook his head doubtfully.
“There has been some terrible shock,”
he said; “a full or blow, perhaps. Mis.
De Vincy does not seem able to enlighten
me. The patient cannot or will not ex
plain. l’eopie should be frank with a
physician, if they wish him fo do any
good."
All this was prowled in an undertone.
Euphrosyne considered. What did sin
know? Absolutely nothing. That a mur
der had been attempted; that the victim
had revived from seeming death, lint, tin
means, the weapons used of these, noth
ing. Again, the patient might recover— 1
probably would; that raised anew com
plication. He might or might not wish
others to know.
“Silence is golden !" sho whispered to!
herself, “i'll hold my peace for the plus
cut."
Whatever Gnbrielle had been heretofore,
she was now a faithful wife, sitting by her
husband’s bedside, caring for his wants,
until she dropped down from sheer fatigue.
William Itawdon occasionally came aud
snt beside her. Then Kuphrosyim’s Very
flesh quaked with indignation. She turn
ed an ice-cold shoulder upon her recreant
lover, and left his presence. Sho felt, it a
painful duty to remain in the house while
the wife’s repentance, if real, might turn
to some less Christian feeling, while the
husband's life still trembled ill the balance.
Two weeks that were years to this watch
er, then the sick man sat up in bed ami
said: “Gabrielle, I think I’ll have a beef
steak. ”
A flush of genuine delight ovorspread
the woman’s face. She gave the order to
a servant and came back, stooped down
and kissed the thin hands that lay upon
the coverlid.
“You forgive me, Gerald I” said she.
Euphrosyne picked up her ears, meta
phorically speaking, and drew near. She
felt she had quite a right to the confidences
that were coming.
“For killing him I” whispered Gabrielle.
“Yes, dear. It was a great shock. One
thousand four hundred pages written, and
the book will never be finished, I fear, not
as it should be. He was a splendid speci
men, and rare.”
Euphrosyne gave a great sigh cf relief.
Here had been much ado about nothing,
■indeed. But she could not understand it
all yet.
•‘l’m awfully sorry,” said Gabrielle; “I
know I ought to have been ashamed of
myself, I had a dreadful time with the
thing, Gerald. He reared up and looked
me in the face when I struck at him. O,
what eyes ! I thought he spoke. I sup
pose 1 was nervous, but I really seemed to
hear words. I think I said something of
the kind to poor Euphrosyne when I wak
ed her out of her sleep, dear girl.”
“I’m sorry, Gabrielle, but I'll bear it
with all the philosophy I can muster,”
said her husband.
“May I work with yon when you are
well ?” asked Gabrielle.
“I hope yon will, my dear; bnt the work
has somewhat lost its interest. I am iu
tered in another specimen now.”
“Are you my love?” cried Gabrielle,
vivaciously. “I havn’t seen it, but I’m so
glad ?”
“It’s a human specimen, dear, with a
heart, emotions, sentiments, passions—one
evil one, fearfully developed, that of jeal
ousv. You really made me believe yon
had” taken a fancy to William Itawdon. It
wasn’t so ?”
“You thought that,” said Gabrielle.
“You never let me guess it ?”
“I also thought it was scarcely a proper
th ; ng to speak of. But it troubled me.”
“If you had only spoken—but bush!
There is William Itawdon to speak for
himself.” Euphrosyne’a delicate cheek
burned and her hand yielded, just a little,
to the pressure of William’s, yielded it-
Huif, entirely, a little after.
QUITMAN, GA„ SATURDAY, AUGUST 8, 1874.
PRIVATE LIFE OF ACTRESSES.
The marriage of actresses, especially
j when they are united to men outside of
their profession, are frequently iuharmon
j ious. Nor is it strange, since the theatre
has a world of its own—very different from
the real world—and forms views and fixes
j habits not likely to be understood by per
- sons of other training anil experience.
The fault is not with the player, bnt with
i her conditions, inevitably opposed to such
|ns commonplace matrimony requires. IJer
| sons joined in wedlock should have much
jin common to begin with; a thousand cir
icu instances arc liable to come between
i them subsequently, even when they are
| favored of the connubial gods.
A mau in other pursuits who weds an
actress with the expectation of entire con
cord, is generally as unwise as she is to ao
cept him, hoping to make him happy by
her self disposal.
A case in point is that of Louis J. Jen
nings, now of the Times, and Miss Henri- ’
ques, who for several years was the lend-!
ing lady at Walhick’s Theatre. Mr. Jen-!
{ iiiugs fell in love with this comely actress |
j while ho was correspondent for the Lon-1
i don Times, and duly espoused her. A \
j brief taste of matrimony, and she again 1
appeared on the stage. This gave rise to
! many rumors. She played hut a short
| time, when she retired permanently.
Though still engaged, sho lias lost much
of her freshness aud beauty, since sho is !
the mother of four children.
The redoubtable Ben Butler chose his i
consort from the stage. Sho was a Miss J
Hildreth.
Rose Eytinge, who has been playing the
leading part in the highly successful “Led
Astray,” at the Union Square Theatre,
has not been without her connubial expe
rience. She was married some years ago
]to a Mr. Barnes, a journalist iu the Times
! office, who finally separated from her, with j
1 entire satisfaction to both parties,
j George Butler, a nephew of Benjamin, |
| also became her wedded lord just before
lie went as Consul-General to Egypt. A
paragraph to that effect was printed at the
time in some of the city papers. Butler!
denied its truth, and the marriage license
was then published, which was at least
strong corroborative evidence of the fact. !
i The newly-appointed official then asserted J
| that lie had no recollection of the perfor
| miioco of the ceremony an indication of
Ids intimate acquaintance on that occasion 1
with a very popular though impersonal la
dy, known as Widow Clicquot. The un- !
; ion, if not delightful, was certainly brief;
; its duration having been variously estima- '
ted at from twelve hours to twelve weeks, i
Poor Matilda Heron, the once famous I
i Camille, could novel have been a favorite I
l of Juno, who, ill the mice lit mythology, !
‘ is presumed to hav e presided over lnarri
age. Her alliance with Hurry Byrne, of
j San Francisco,- was not divulged till she
! went there not long ago to claim property !
jas his widow. The court decided against
| her on tlie ground that she had another
■ husband, Robert Stoepel, formerly the
! leader of the orchestra in one of the thea
tres hero. She lias a distressing story to
tell of her inhuman treatment by the mu- ,
sieian ; of his getting possession of all her J
property; of his outrageous abuse of her, j
and of his driving her to the verge of dis- j
traction. Those claiming to know, say her !
story is true. Sho is a sad wreck of what i
she was. Unquestionably, she has been!
for some time insane. She is poor, friend- J
less, prematurely aged, absolutely broken
hearted—a melancholy sight to those who
j knew her in her days of pride and fame.
! i) tiring the war, Jean Mario Davenport
j and General Lauder were made man and
| wife. Their happiness did not last long,
| for he died of a wound in the second year
' of the rebellion; while sho served the Un
ion cause most zealously, going into the
| hospitals at Washington, and giving her
' time aud money thereto. Sho so impair
jed what was once, a handsome indepen
dence that she was afterward compelled to
! return to the stage, where she has been
j nearly as successful as in her early days.
! Fanny Morant, at present u member of the
1 Fifth Avenue company, is really Mrs.
j Smith, and has been for some time; her
| iiego being a good-natured, easy-going
Rhode Islander. Clara Jennings, now a
| part of the company at Wallack’s, adopted
the profession because she had been left a
widow with two children, and had no other
means of support. Miss Agues Ethel, who
gained much fame by representing Frou
Frou and Fernando, represented tbo his
trionics of clothes, making it a part of her
j profession to appear iu each act in au en
| tirely new gown. Conjugal disharmony
! was the cause of her adopting the stage, in
which sho has had extraordinary prosperi
ty, though interrupted by the unflinching
resolution of a Mr. Tracy, a rich lawyer of
| Buffalo, to convert her into Mrs. Tracy,
jHe succeeded, and again Agnes is buried
!in the limbo of matrimony. Mrs. John
| Wood (who used to boa vivacious and
I pleasant actress of the burlesque school)
| cured all her admirers during her last visit
to this country; having become decidedly
j prosaic and coarse—perhaps from long
dwelling in England. Hardly any one
j ever heard of Mr. John Wood, who was
probably dead and embalmed in his wife’s
j name. .She has recently taken anew hus
band in the person of Stephen B. Fisk,
formerly of the Herdbl, and now editor of i
the Hornet, in London, where be has re
sided for four or five years.
Adelaide Neilson. from the fact of being !
j rather comely, has beeu quite successful ou '
the stage. She is a Mrs. Lee; Mr. Leo
enacting the part of traveling companion
and looking after baggage. He is said to
I be a good sort of follow, but so thoroughly
English, and, of course, so ignorant of
j America that all sorts of jokes tiro played
upon him by native wags.
I wonder why husbands of his order do
; not take the stage names of their consorts
! for the sake of preserving their identity.
It is said that an admirer of Neilson,
calling on her one day, was introduced to
Mr. Lee, and failed to form au exalted idea
of the gentleman.
The next day the admirer made another
j visit to the fair Adelaide, and inquired,
I "Who is that muff. Loo ?”
“Oh, never mind him,” was the answer,
“he is nobody but my husband,”
Maggie Mitchell is Mrs. Paddock, and
the mother of two children. Still she
plays Fanehon and other girlish parts, and
is likely to continue to play them for the
next twenty years. It. is a little singular
j that a woman of forty should be enabled to
j represent sweet sixteen, but she does so
j acceptably, and if her audiences favor the
i illusion nobody else has cause to complain.
Mrs. Hoey, long the leading lady at
j Wallaok’s, is the wife of John Hoey, the
superintendent of Adams Express. Few
women have beeu more attached to their
: profession. She was the first actress in
the city who made elaborate dressing a
conspicuous feature. She spared no ex
| peuso in her adornment. Her salary is ro
! ported to have been So, ooo a year, and sho
, expended more than twice as much. 01-
j ivo Logan was for somo time the wife of
! Henry A. Delille; but they grew heartily
tired of each other, and they had no diffi
culty iu living apart. Mrs. Delille that
was, waited until Wirt Sykes, who had
long been her puffer-general, could be le
gally released from his wife and children,
when she espoused him and so confused
the nomenclature of the tamily that it is
impossible to tell whether sho is Mrs.
Wirt Sykes or he Mr. Olive Logan. The
general result is that the majority of ac
tresses who are wedded to outside barbari
ans have brief matrimonial engagements,
and their return to the greenroom with a
now sense of freedom and an added love
for the stage.
. ———
[From l!m N. Y. I>nv-Uuk.]
THE CO UR TU Y MO I ING.
•‘W , li"t Supremacy” is getting to boa
more advanced and pronounced question
than that of .finance. The negro-voting
power unchecked, reforms of all other
' character go for naught. If the stream be
poisoned at its source, what folly to at
tempt o purify it at its foot! Let the
“Fourteenth” and “Fifteenth” Amend
ments of the Constitution be practically
1 accepted by the people, and this Republic, j
can no more be reformed into stability and !
! health, political and commercial, than a !
tottering building can he securely propped
by iron pillars under its first story, with
the foundations of that building on quick
sand. ‘ Negro suffrage" will undermine
j this nation and topple it to chaotic ruin,
j unless it is abrogated. No matter liow it
; is done, whether by tho States, as the su
preme power, or by Congress, this negro
! suffrage must be revoked.
But “White Supremacy” is making it
| self hoard now, directly nil over tho South,
and indirectly in certain localities in the
North, AU resolutions condemning the
| Civil Rights bill are declarations in favor
|of the white raeo, and foretells the final
revocation of tho negro suffrage clause in
tho Constitution. It must come to this,
and tho sooner it does tho sooner will a
grave disturbing element in our body poli
tic be removed. The white race of thirty
I millions in the United States will never be
| dragged into political aud social perdition
by the negro raeo in its midst, if these
! two atrocious amendments were intcrpolat
!ed into a thousand Constitutions. Men
{ are human, and humanity makes, and that
| was as grave a mistake as the old fanatical
i Puritans made when they hung the
“witches” in Massachusetts. The ballot
] box power of tho negro must be taken from
| him at the very earliest moment possible.
: The people are moving in this matter. In
| Maryland a large party are endorsing the
white man’s platform of the Hon. Benja
min G. Harris, who is a candidate for
t Congress under the White Supremacy ban
' ner. Will any true patriot, any intelligent,
j fair-minded man of Maryland, who has
| looked upon the social horrors in the South
: for the past eight years, tho fruits of “ne
■ gro equality,” hesitate to support Mr. Har
ris ? We think not.
J The New Orleans Bulletin oi last week
says:—
“By degrees tho negroes have invaded
every department of tho State, the Execu
tive, Legislative and Judicial, arid now
they are clamorous for tho exercise of oth
!er privileges, which if conceded w ill give
' them entire possession of all places of
! amusement, hotels and saloons. This
once secured, and living in this city or
j even in the State will bo unbearable. Ig-
I norance and corruption will control the
j government; prostration in business, per
! sonal bankruptcy and general destruction
i will everywhere predominate. This is
what we l ave to fear from the aggression
of the negro and liis invasion of the high
places of government. This is the danger
to bo apprehended from the great strides
! taken by the negro, and unless they are
checked, and that promptly, too, this
country wd> bo uninhabitable for the j
■ white man. When wo find the African, !
from a condition of servitude, suddenly
elevated to n political level w ith his former
master; from the plow to tho pulpit; from
the cotton field to tho Legislature; from
the barber-shop to tho Bench, and from
the kitchen to the Executive Chamber, it
behooves us, as the part of wisdom, to look
to it that we are not entirely swallowed up
in the vortex of this revolution that has
brought to this country such fearful chan
ges, nnil threatens now to give the negro
unlimited control of the fairest section of
this once happy and prosperous country.
Tho future rule of tho negro, then, must
end, and the white people must again as
sert their right of power and demonstrate
their superiority of race, their higher
claims to govern, and their entire ability
to sustain their good name for industry,
intelligence and honesty."
The future rule of the negro will only
end when tho “Fourteenth” and “Fif
teenth" Amendments are repealed by Con
gress, or, when tho rights of States are so
far recognized that they alone are allow ed
to decide who shall and who shall not vote
within their precincts, Federal enactments
to the contrary, notwithstanding. Here
are mutterings of the fearful outbreak
which the diabolism of the negroes is in
viting. The Natchitochoes (Lit.) Vindicator
says:
Ou all sides we hear the cry and din of
armed forces. This week that 300 stands
of arms had been passing through Clou
tierville for this day to equip tho negroes
aud protect them in their rights, which are
being seriously menaced by the just do
main! of the whites for their privileges;
and has it never occurred to our people
how far severed are the rights of the white
man and the black man ? Wo are totally
opposite in our opinions of liberty, of jus
tice, of privileges, and when the black man
legislates, he does so actuated by his own
ideas and for his own benefit. These are
truths that are self-event, and tho course
of tho negro legislators in our State for the
past six years is proof ns strong as “Holy
writ" of thoso statements. The white peo
ple have become convinced that such is
the true, condition of affairs. We have
begged and entreated tho colored man to
“go with us” in the redemption of the
State; have pictured to him the happiness
that would engender to him and his should
lie assist ns to pass and enforce good and
wholesome laws, to provide for and foster
public works of great utility to all, to sup
press crime and courage honest toil; and
with what answer have our appeals been
met? Few, but, very few, have even con
descended to listen tons; the mass of them
have regarded us with suspicion, and from
their conduct have led us to believe that
anything which tends to prosperity, law or
order will he considered as depriving them
of some vested right. Wo have appealed j
to the Congress an i President of tlie Uni
ted .States for succor from the effects of
your ruinous legislation; we have supplica
ted t'.ie Northern people to interfere and
protect ns from your rash and headstrong
conduct. All these supplications and ap
peals have been unheeded. Wo have
nothing left but to submit and bo destroy
ed, or to appeal to that inherent right the |
God of nature has implanted in every!
breast. Despair has raised tho lion in our j
nature, and that race, the Caucasian, which
has eotaquoWd slnco tho foundation of the
world, which be the power with which you
will meet your destruction.
Another Louisiana journal says:—
Tlie negroes are not only organized se
cretly but they form the bulk of tlie Kel
logg militia, having under their control
nearly all tho improved arms which bo
long to the State. These arms they can
obtain possession of at any moment, und,
if they see no counter organization on the
part of tho whites, they may, for any fan
cied grievance, or in time of any great po
litical excitement, conclude to use them
against us.
The Democratic Central Committoo of
that State declared last week that tho Uni
ted States Government belonged only to
the white race. A New Orleans journal
says:—
The platform it puts forth is broad anil i
comprehensive enough for all the parties
opposed to Radicalism to stand upon. It
recognizes the superior claim of the white
man, favors the doctrine of repudiating
the fraudulent State debt, and proposes to
redeem Louisiana from tho condition of
ruin, desolation and distress to which it
has been brought by the corrupt, imbe
cile and maladministration of the govern
ment by ignorant negroes and debased
carpet-baggers. Under this broad and
catholic creed the White League, tho
Bees, the Grangers and Democrats can all
combine to meet tho cohorts of the Repub
lican party iu the approaching contest.
A late meeting of tho Democracy at In
dianapolis, Indiana, (an account of which
will be found ou oiir second page,) pro
nounced upon the infamy of tho Civil
Rights bill, and announced open war upon
negro equality in any and every shape.
Thus it is seen that the doctrine The. Day-
Book has ever uphold, when it had not tho
support of a single journal in tho entire
North, is now, by tho logic of events, be
coming the dominant political truth of tlie
Democratic campaign. Now, let every
whiteman lend his individual,aid to its
growth and strength. Find, each and all
of you, new ground for The Day-Book.
Get up clubs of eight, and thus spread the
true sentiments which alone will save the j
country, by making a public opinion for j
the Presidential canvass of 187(1, which
will insure a victory for the Deniocratlif
ticket, and tiring the nation back to the
glorious states ol 1800.
A WHITE MAN'S GOVERNMENT
THE ORDER OF NATURE, AND
THEREFORE THE WILL OF
GOD.
W hen will the Northern people awake
to tho fearful crimes they are so bliudly
committing at tho South—crimes that, in
their recoil, from necessity, must involve
themselves in bankruptcy and chons,
sooner or later ? This horrible state of
things has gone on for uino years, and
not only utterly running tho negro as a
laborer but so corrupting vast masses of
these child-people that any hour thesoeues
of San Domingo may lio repeated on a
scale that will shock the world for centur
ries to come. The worst men in tho coun
try have seized upon tho "Republican”
organization, most of the present leaders
being men like Butler, Logan, Grant, ie.,
who, in the days of Southern prosperity,
were tho “sound men," and the most
clamorous for “Southern rights” in the
North, and now, when the South lies pros
trate’ bleeding and dying, these ancient
“dough-faces,” with au army in their
hands, transform the negro into a voting
machine, and use him not only to plunder
the Southern people, but to hold on to
their ill-gotten power and rule the north !
Aud thus it must go on until tho finances
break down aud tho whole land is plung
ed into choas, unless tho Northern peo
ple come to their senses, and rising up rn
masse, take out of the hands of these
dangeioils men the horrible instrument
through which they nro able, under the
mockery of the ballot-box, to do such un
speakable evil. Negro suffrage—partner
ship with negroes—in a word, the attemp
ted amalgamation of races—is a sin
against God and crime against nature that
is beyond expression. Think of it—left
to liis own volition, the negro necessarily
returns to his own original Africanism,
while the white man marches forward
to indefinite perfection, and therefore,
sooner or later, they must, of necessity,
exterminate each other. Wlmt a fearful
sin, therefore, for the man of tho North
to thus force this awful doom on his
brother of tho South -a doom that com
pells him to massacre tho poor negro to
save himself ! Meanwhile this awful col
lision is daily warded off by a standing
army under the shadow of which the
most vicious and debased white men tho
world ever saw—Northern carpet-bag
gers and Southern scalawags—use the
debased aud miserable negro as nn
instrument for plundering and poverish
iug tlie people ! A great many wollmean
ing but ignorant people suppose that,
because there is still a largo cotton crop
the negro labors. Of course ho labors
but there is no profit in it, and probably
two thirds of the crop is raised by the
white people, tender women aud little
children, going into tho fields though it
shortens their lives, and iu the end, still
more impoverishes tho South. But
leaving the South out of view, think, oh
think of the the near future of the work
ing people of tho North, and tho proba
bility that, iu tlie coming winter, a million J
of them out of employment must noeds I
be on tlie verge of starvation. And tho
remedy for all there impending horrors is I
simple disbandment of tho army in the
South and restoration of the rule of the 1
white man, as God anil nature, and com- j
mon sense have eternally decreed ! Shall
we not, then, men and brethren, rise up
like true Americans and stop ibis enor
mous devilment at the South, and savo
ourselves our wives and little ones from
the recoil of such a mad afid monstrous
crime ? Shall we not form clubs, nssoeia
lions or leagues evi rywhere in the North,
and especially iu New York, with this one
simple supreme, God-imposed duty of a
white government, leaving each State to
deal with the subordinate negro element
in its midst as its own well-being and hu
mane feeling Warrrant ? A million of true
men thus organized th is pledged to this
sacred and imposing duty can soon place
everything right in our great country, and
fulfill a mission for humanity aud civiliza
tion grander than ever before witnessed in
human annals save that of 177 G. It only
needs a few bravo and earnest men to load
off in tlrs glorious work and millions w.ll
respond to a cause so grand and yet so
simple and so benificent to all mank’ud
to tho poor subord unite negro as to our
selves.
Child Etkamno.—A Philadelphia cor
respondent of the World writes:
The theory that the abduction of Mr.
Ross’ child was the work of an organized
gang bunded together for theprosi cution
of this nefarious business may not be very
far wrong after all. There have been sev
eral attempted cases of kidnapping re
ported, but none of them seemed to be
genuine. To-day, however, an actual at
tempt was made in West Philadelphia.
Two little children were plnyiug near the
residence of their parents on Bridge street
when a strange man came along, picked
up the younger child, a bright, pleasing
little girl between three and four years of
age, and started to istike off with her.
II r little brother wept bitterly and soon
attracted a crowd of youngsters, whocried,
and yelled and hooted while they pursureil i
the kidnapper. Finding that it was im
possible to get away with tho child and
cover up his trucks ho put tho little oue
down und took to his heels. The locality
chosen for this attempt was in all essential
respects similar to that chosen for the Ross
case—a quiet noigborhood in a suburban
section of the city.
4*
A greenhorn sat along time vciy atten
tive, musing upon a cane-bottom chair At
length he said; “I wonder what fellow
took the trouble to find all Hie in ur holes
and put straws around 'em ?"
MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS.
Injustice is very hard to hear. Yrt, wtf
must all learn to uxpeet it, and Ur suffer it
as calmly us we can.
Wo ihoflld live wit ii iur means,
# i)ii if we nave to boriow motley to do it
with.
Home persons nro capable of making
great sacrifices, but few are capable of
concealing how much the effort has cost
them, and it is this concealment that con
stitutes their value.
If you desire to enjoy life, avoid un
punctual persons. They impede business
mill poison pleasure. Make it your own
rnlu not only to ho punctual, but a Jiitlo
before hand.
Every one owes obedience to tho laws,
but a still higher obligation is due Ur mor
tality; and if it so happen that both cmittot
he complied with, it is better Ur do an |hf
gal net than au immoral one.
Misery lias many bitter moments; but
the first iiwtikonilfg alter any great sorrow
is the ono of its most utter agony.
Admiration profits not so much the ob
ject as the subject of it. While lvjoiein..
that a man is great, we have also reason to
rejoice that we are able to appreciate his
worth.
A Kalamazoo widow, who is not one of
of tho despairing kind, has the photo
graphs of her throe departed lords in a
group, with a vignette of herself in the con
ire, and underneath is the inscription,
“The Lord will provide.
NO. 14.
A California man tied one end of a rope
around his wai t, and lassoed a cow iv.:b
the other. He thought he had the cow,
but i t the first half n i'e he began to sus
pect that tho cow had him.
rieasnnt faced people are generally the
most welcome, but tho auctioneer is always
pleasant to si e a min wl o e countenance
is for bidding.
’1 he Sioux City Journal describes one of
t! e bel'oi of a b ill room as • u graceful I t
tle toad. ” She mu t shown particularly
in the hop.
Nothing so tyrnnizes over one ns the
habit of ji sting and contempt, real or as
sumed. Success iu the use of sarcasm anil
ridicule rarely fails to make its practice
more frequent and its application inure
wide than is either justifiable in itself nr
agreeable to listeners.
‘Mn, lnm aunty got bees in her month?”
No; why do you ask me such a qiustionF
"Cause that loetle man, with a heap u, lc.ir
on his face, cotchedhold of her iinilsniil he
was going to take the honey from her lips,
and she said, “Well make haste!”
Not many years ago n Hartford man was
drowned, and friends brought home the
dead body to his afflicted wife As they
came to the front door with the corpse,
the new made widow appeared and sadly
remarked: I guess you lmd better take him
round to tlie back door, so ho won’t drip
on the carpets.
The fashion of wearing the wedding ring
ou the finger next to the little linger origi
nated in an ancient superstition that there
was a mysterious connection between that
finger and the human heart.
Beautiful souls have benttiful thoughts,
anil beautiful thoughts make beautiful
fai oi. Our looks are governed almost en
tirely by our thoughts aud actions.
An Irishman found a Government blank
et recentlv, and rolling it up put it under
his arm an 1 walked off, saying: “Y ~
that's muine—U for IhitinicK, anil S for
Mol arty; bt me sowl, but this Joamiu’ is
a foine thin , as the fuythes would say; for
if I hadn't an cdic ition I wind In’t have
been afther Ai din' mo blanket.”
The Saratoga Rowing Association is
largely in debt on aeoonnt of the late re
gatta, and a resolution has been adopted
by the members declaring tluit henceforth
no efforts will he undertaken to secure and
cai.y on any enterprise of this sort until
tlie moil ‘j* to meet the necessary expenses
is raised. They have also resolved to em
ploy counsel to prosecute the extortionate
Imi kmen who broke their agreement in r. -
Intiim to the price to 1m charged for trans
portation to hike and buck.
A young lady in Council Bluffs, who
informed by her supposed layer that la
wns going to cease his suit, eowhiiled him
U n'ouml tho room, and, as ho disappear
ed from tlm window, declared that sh i
would teach him to be careful how he tr. -
tied with u gentle and loviug heart in fu
ti-e,
Afar-sighted fellow at Bristol, Eng.,
wrote to his fiancee: “I wish, my dailiug,
that you would not write mu such long let
ters. If you were to bring an action for
breach of promise against mo the lawyers
j would copy the correspondence between ns
i and ohargo fonrpeuce for every folio of
seventy-two words. Tho shorter )h ) letters,
the more wo save from the lawyers.”
It is related that nn old English primer
was printed, and the whole of the first
edition sent out, in which, by theomissinii
of the letter cin a single place, a solemn
stanza was made to rend as follows: when
the last trumpet simndetli we tlinll not all
die but we shall all be “hanged” in the
twinkling of an eye.
The Cameo and the Milt.eh On
night a miller was waked up by his camel
trying to get his nose into the tent. “II ’ i
very cold out here,” said the camel, “r
only want to put in my noso.” Tlie mill r
made on objection. After a while the
camel asked leave to have his neck in,
then his fore feet; and so little by little,
crowded in its whole body. This, as yon
may well think, was very disagreeable to
the miller, and he bitterly complained to
the forth-putting beast. ' “If yon don't
like it you may go,” answered tho camel.
“As forme, I,vo got possession aud 1
shall stay. You can’t get rid of mo now. ”
l)o you know what that camel is like ?
Bad hubits: little sins. Guard against tlm
first approaches, tho most plausible e.i
discs, only the nose of sin. If you do net
you uru overpowered before you kuow it.
No two members oi tlie human family
excel in “logical illustration” as do tl
colored race and tho Irish. Here are veil
table instances:
RATHER HOT.
A negro preacher in Virginia was lately
trying to impress upon his bearers a eorreoi
idea of tho general uneomfortnbkness of
tho lower regions.
“Brtiderin,” said he, “yon’s quainted
will Mass Carpenter!afurnace ain’t you ?”
A general chorus of “Yon's right 1” “Ob
corse wo is 1” convinced him that they
“were not anything else.”
“Well,” continued ho, “You know ilat
ilc iron runs out ob dut same as water,
doesn’t you ?”
The “ayes had it,” again, so he conclud
ed with—
“ Now L's toil you brudciin, dat if a sinner
was took out oi> Hull and put in de middle
of Massa Carpenter’s furnace, he's dun
a wine to hah aolull anil a shakin’ agy right
'li —dais shu os j.in's norm '