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robt.nix, desSer.
B. F. Sawyer in Youth’s Com; anion.
It was a rough cabin homo, squatting, as if
to hide its squalor, in a straggling grove of
Scrubby oaks. Its outside appearance denoted
,thriftless poverty. The tumble-down cowsheds,
the dilapidated corn crib, the broken fence,
with corners choked with briers, and the drag
ging gate told of a shiftless master.
its interior, however, presented a different
aspect. The rough board floor was scrubbed
White; the scant furniture was scrupulously
Clean, while pots and pans and the little store
■of crockery was as bright as soap and water
tad busy fingers could make them.
The immaculate whiteness of the drapery,
arranged with a certain unstudied grace, spoke
as plainly to the credit of the mistress, as the
Outside did to the discredit of the master.
Sain Nix and his wife were an ill-mated pair.
They had nothing in common, except the hard
fortune that linked their lives together and pov
erty. He was hard, uncouth, cold; she, gen
itlo, refined and sweet. Not even in regard to
their children were they sympathetic, for while
She loved them both devotedly, and especially
her bright-eyed, manlyJgy,he cared hardly so
much for his son as hb did for liis favorite
hound.
It was in the spring of 1863, the third year of
the war. The first wild storm of passion that
Swept over the land had exhausted itself, and
furiously blind before, had begun to real-
Many men who in the delirium of a patriotic
■frenzy had rushed into the field, impatient of
:|ts tardy glories, had found the realities of its
■duties stern, unsentimental; and not a few,
even of the bravest, were, to tell the truth,
Jjomesiek.
‘ .Among those whoso devotion to his state
Was the first to take fire and the first to evapo
rate was one George Calioule, a young man,
the proud, petted son, of a proud, but not
Wealthy’, father.
■ From the time he could cry, his every whim,
(that the foolish fondness of his mother and the
means of his father could gratify’,
■bad been indulged. Accordingly, when, catch
’tng something of the spirit of patriotism that
•excited the breasts of braver and bet
ter men, ho offered to volunteer, as soft a place
,fts possible was obtained for him. Not much
.could be done, however; only a non-commis
sioned officer’s berth was secured. But ho
took that, and in high feather marched away,
la commissary sergeat in the Thirty-fourth
(regiment of Alabama Volunteers.
> For a time ho found life in the camp a pleas
ing routine of light duties. But after a while
’the restraint of the service began to vex him.
and he longed for the abounding freedom of
home.
Thon came the battle of Stone river, and
though he was safe in the rear with the cooking
detail. an erratic shell came screeching through
the tree-tops dangerously near his precious
.head, and he wrote at once to his mother to ar-
Irange, if possible, for his discharge.
* “This thing is getting to be a bore, any way,”
Be wrote, “and it is no longer a place for a gen
tleman. There are poor trash enough to do
the fighting.; they are fit for nothing else, and
II don’t see the use of a gentleman wasting Ills
time or endangering his health for nothing,
‘yell father to send mo a substitute right
. away.”
I But a substitute was not easily found. The
Conscription act, enrolling every white male
citizen between the ages of eighteen and forty
five, had been passed and was being rigidly en
forced. and where every man had to answer for
himself, there was no one to answer for poor
• eorge Caloule.
“But there is old Nix’s boy; couldn’t they
fake him? he is not of age yet but is large
enough to pass,” suggested the anxious mother.
“I am sure he is better able to stand it than
poor dear George.”
“Yes, he will do—a fine, strapping lad. I will
see old Nix and give him two hundred dollars
to let him go, if only for sixty days, and then
»vc can rope him in for good,’’"said the old gen
tleman.
Nix needed the money, and when to the two
■tiuiidred dollars was added ten pounds of fine
.plug tobacco and a herd of goats that ran on
Jlie mountain behind his lots, the bargain was
made, and the unloving wretch went home to
prepare his son for the sacrifice.
>• Robert Nix, the boy, not yet fifteen, was not
mnwillingtogo. With the enthusiasm of youth
’lie had read of battles and wished himself I
man that ho might share in their glories. His I
fjnotber, howevar, and his sister, were not so |
enthusiastic, and with unavailing tears pro- i
tested against the cruel bargain.
“It he had to go, if his country needed him. I
it was to fill his own place, I would not mind
it. I would bo proud to give my boy to my
State, but to go as a substitute—a hireling slave '
*—to take the place of this cowardly Calioule I
'is a dishonor, and I cannot bear it!’
“Yes, but I need the money, and I’ve got the
•‘tohio ker, and I’ll git the goats; ami it's only I
for sixty days any how, so it’s no use a-kiiking !
pp. Get his clothes ready by day after tomor
' row. I got him a now fi.j and a pair ol shoes, j
And von can patch r.n the balance’. Judge Ca
honlb will go with him, himself, so that settles ;
The mother wiped lu-r eves, ami c’.okiii” 1
Wk her feelings as well a- -Io c hi, went
busily to work to arrange for his going.
The next day after, Judge Calioule came by
in his buggy for the boy. The mother, making J
the b 't of the cruel circumstance , had tricked
.him out in Id- ,-martest clothes, ami a, he stood
•arrayed in Lis best, a military jacket, gray |
jean trousers with a broad black stripe down |
the legs, and the jaunty new hat, he looked a I
splendid specimen of y oung American man- |
\ “JL* a good boy, Bobble," said his mother to ■
| him, “and don't forget mother.” Then she
kissed him and let him go.
i The army was encamped in the wintry woods
| around Shelbyville. The prospect was cold j
and dreary enough, but the novelty of the
scene, together with the cheery bursts of mar
tial music from the bands, had a charm for the
boy, and when ho was brought before the colo
nel of the regiment for muster, lio tried his
best to look every inch a soldier.
When questioned as to his age ho hesitated a
moment, but remembering his mother, he an
swered, a little timidly’, as if ashamed of his
youth, “Fshall be fifteen next March.”
“Ho is too young, Judge Calioule. lam very
sorry, but it would bo unlawful to enlist him,
and especially as a substitute for a strong, able- I
bodied man,” said the colonel.
“Ah. but lie is well-grown, strong, active as
a' cat, healthy and true grit,” insisted the
judge.
“I will venture this much, as a personal fa
vor to you and George: I will muster him in
for sixty days and give George a furlough for
that time,’’ compromised the'colonel.
“Very well; a half-loaf is bet ter than none,”
acquiesced the judge, and Robert Nix was du
ly’ enrolled and ordered to duty in company C,
I while George Calioule, shaking off the
shackles of the army, hurried back home on
the next train, to tell to admiring cars the
wonderful stories of battle.
The sixty days were soon out, and George
Calioule wasresolved not to return to thearmy.
Nix needed money, as he always did, and an
offer of one thousand dollars was sufficient to
persuade him to let Robert stay in thearmy.
He went himself with the judge to headquar
ters, to assure the colonel than it was all right
and that ho gave his consent. So the substi
tute was made permanent : Robert Nix was
enlisted, and George Calioule was discharged.
The spring and summer campaign opened.
Bragg retreated back to Chattanooga, sullenly
giving way, inch by inch, while Itosecrans as
stubbornly followed. During this time Robert
Nix stood to his post like a veteran. On the
toilsome march by day, or the lonely, watch
ful picket post at nightj he never once failed.
A brave, handsome boy, he became the pride
of his comrades, and pet with his captain.
But an evil day came, a day of battle, of
dcatii mid of mourning—Chickamauga, tho
dark “river of death.”
On Friday skirmishing began, on Saturday
afternoon the battle opened,and on Sunday
morning, a calm Sabbath morning, both ar
mies wore marshalled in line, face to face,
ready to cast tho fatal die.
Up to that, time, the last critical moment,
Robert Nix had stood in line, elbow to elbow
with the foremost file, and then ho disappeared,
silently, mysteriously, no one remembered
when or how.
It was not until roll-call after the battle that
he was missed.
“He was in lino when wo started; bnt he
must have been killed,” was the report of tho
orderly-se rgea n t.
It was nearly two months afterward when a
guard arrived from Atlanta w : th a sound of
prisoners, deserters arrested at. homo by the
conscript caxairy, and brought back for trial.
Among these, with a. puzzled look of inno
cence in his eyes, was Robert Nix.
Without explanation ho was sent to the
guardhouse, and charges of desertion in the
face of the enemy were preferred against him.
In the regular r< utiuo of events a court-mar
tial was c >nveuod and he was duly arraigned,
barbarism and ail its adjuncts arc cruel. But
little mercy, then, could be expected from a
court in which the responsibility of conscience
was divided, and could bo shifted to other
shoulders. Slight chance was there for tho
youth and artless frankness of the prisoner to
avail him in the trial.
The judge-advocate was a lawyer, with all a
lawyer’s instincts for distorting' tho evidence I
to suit his case. But the evidence needed no |
distortion, it was fatally plain and to the point. |
Lieutenant Snow testified that the prisoner, |
private Robert Nix, was present in line of bat- I
tie on the morning of September 20th, 1863, I
and that before or during tho engagement that |
day ho disappeared, without leaveorauthority,
and was not heard of again until ho was
brought back to his command, under guard.
Sergeant Bliss, acting orderly of Company C,
with a soldier’s bluntness of diction, corrobo
rated the lieutenant’s statement.
Captain Earle, of the conscript service, tes
tified, “that, having been advised by Judge
Calioule, a citizen of Alabama, of the where
abouts, he proceeded to tho house, and after a
strategic investment; of tho premises, he suc
ceeded in arresting him, and finding him with
out leave of absence or written order, ho se
curely tied him, and brought him back to the
front.
This closed the testimony for the judge
advocate.
“Now, sir, what have you to say?” asked
the president of tho court.
“If you please, sir, here’s a paper Mr. Phil
Wood wrote for me, ami told me to give it to
yon,” presenting a closely written scrawl.
The president read it. It was a fatal confes
sion of guilt, and appeal to the clemency of
tho court.
The president was a just man, though some
what callous, and seeing the ignorance of the
prisoner, tore the paper into shreds, without
submitting it to his court.
“This paper docs not effect tho case in tho
least. Yon must answer mo now for yourself.
How old are yon?” ho asked.
“I shall be fifteen in March.”
“How came yon in tho army?”
“My papa hired me to Judge Calioule, to take
the place of his son, Mr. George Calioule.” I
“Did you want to come?”
“ Yes, sir. for a little while; I only come for i
sixty days, to give Mr. George a furlough. ' j
“And when the time was up, you went I
home?”
“O,uo,sir: Mr. Calioulegive papa a thousand I
dollars to make tne stay all tho time. I beg
ged to go home, but Colonel Mitchell said my ■
papa had a right to do as ho pleased with me, j
and I had to stay.”
“Well, what made you ran away from Chic- ;
amauga?”
“I didn’t run, sir,” with a proud flush and ■
an unconscious straightening up.
“How did you get away, then?”
“I was shot, sir, ami I hopped back on my
gun to the hospital, u.m the doctor sent me off ;
to Ringgold, on a wagon.”
“You say yon were shot?'
“Yes, sir, I was shot in the leg, I can show ;
you the scar.”
“Let us see it.”
The prisoner rolled up his trousers, and dis- I
played an ugly scar in the calf of his left leg.
“That will do. Now tell me how it happen- ;
i ed that none of your command saw you.”
“Well, I’ll tell you all about it. You see. we '
; wanted watc: ,a lof us,and a; we were standing
I in line, waiting for the word, 1 asked Captain
Rich if I monghtn’t run back and git a drink,
■ and he told mo, yes, to make haste ami get back,
; ami so 1. run back as hard as ever I could ; but ■
' the creek was further than I thought, and afore ■
I got ba k, the fight had 1, gun and the regi
ment was gone, and tho provost guard they ■
: picked me up and put mo in a squad with I
I Trigg’s Virginia regiment, and wo sailed in,
' and I li>; first thing I hnowed I felt my leg
i knocked out from under me, and when I tried '
I to get up I fell and found that 1 was hot. and
lite inri ’"r of the rcgiinCTif told inc to get Ixt/ k. :
it I could, ami if I eoull'm't, to holler lor the !
“Hut i could hop by using my gun, and so I i
' just hobbled back, but 1 oehi t run a step. I
i wouldn't'a'run like a coward for to “ate my I
life, for my mamma told me never to dej that. ■
Y'on may all -hoot mo if you want to, but I |
1 aiiit no coward.
“You say Captain Rich told you to go after |
“Yes, sir, he did.'’
“V> !;’■■” is Captain Rich?”
“He’s dead, sir. He was killed that day, if
ATLANTA. GA., TUESDAY, OOTOJJE1? 11, iss?
j he was alive ho would tell you so.” • |
! “Well, but how did yon get home, and how j
was it that the conscript cavalry got you?'' :
I “Well, I’ll tell you. You see, when I got to ’
Ringgold they put inc on the cars and sent mo I
along with tho other wounded, to Atlanta, and '
from there they sent mo to Montgomery, and j
as we was a passing Notasulga, 1 thought I’d |
just get off and get out homo. It was oulv I
five miles, and so I got off; the boys helped I
me, and Mr. Mims sent mo out homo in his 1
buggy.”
“And when, you got well, why didn't you I
come back?”
“Well, I was n-coming, and I wont to Mont-
I gomory, and Major Calhoun give mo transpor- i
I tation back, and I come back as far as Notiisnl- I
ga. and only stopped a day, to run out home to
get a coat my mamma was a-making for me.
and that very same night the cavalry come and
arrested me like a runaway nigger and brought
mo back, without even letting mo got my vit
tles nor my coat.”
“Well, is that all?”
“Yes, sir, all as I knows; only if Captain I
Rich hadn’t a got killed, 1 wouldn't ’a’ been in
this fix.”
’■You say Major Calhoun gave you transpor
tation from Montgomery back to the army?”
“Yes, sir, he did.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s at home in my ’tothor briches’ pocket.
If you’ll write to mamma, she will senditto
you.”
“No, never mind, that will do. Gentlemen
have you any questions to ask?”
“No.”
The prisoner was marched back to the guard
house, and tho court proceeded to make a
verdict.
There was no discussion, each member ot
the court being simply asked, “What say you,
is the prisoner guilty or not guilty?”
It is the rule, in all military courts, for the
junior officer, in rank to vote first, and then i
the next, and the next, in an ascending scale. '
This is done that tho opinions of the seniors I
may not affect the jticlgnient of tho juniors.
The vote is viva voce, and as one by one was
asked, the answers came, “Guilty.”
“Tito vcnlii t is unanmiotis as to tho guilt of
the prisoner. Now. gentlemen, we will pass
upon the sentence.”
This matter involved a long discussion, ama
jority contending for whipping on tho bare |
back in tho presence of his lommand, and ■
branding in palm of his right hand with the I
letter 1). I
To this tho president dissented.
“No, gentlemen,” ho said, “there is but - no ;
adoquato punishment for the offence of doser- ’
lion in the face of the enemy, amt that is death. ,
“If this boy is guilty, as you say he is, let i
him be shot. If lie is innocent, as I feel in my •
soul he is, ho should go free. Having found I
him guilty, our duty is'to sentence according to I
the findings, ami the penalty for this offence is !
death. The rest we can leave to the command
ing general.”
So poor Robert. Nix was condemned to lie ;
“shot to death, at such time and place as the .
commanding general may designate.”
The president, bluff old Colonel Zachcry, ;
added to the official report, “In consideration ,
ot the extreme youth ot the prisoner, the mail- ;
ifest illegality of his enlistment and his uni
form good conduct as a soldier, previous to this '
offence, I respectfully commend him to the
mercy of the commanding general, and would
ask that lie be discharged from custody and re- <
known, until the action of the general was re
turned. Imt in some wav it leaked out, and
flow, with tiio instinct of bad news, to the cars
of the mother at home.
For a i’ow moments, after hearing it. she
stood dazed, then, creeping in to her room, she
knelt, by her bed, and poured oat her sorrow in
tears and sobs and prayers.
At last, gathering her womanly courage with
I her womanly wits,'she arose anil commenced
i a buried preparation fora journey.
“But wher'll you got the money, Mary?”
i asked her husband, as she told him of her
purpose.
I “I will sell the cow. That will bo enough to j
carry me there.”
“But how’ll you git back?”
“If I can save mj’ child, I can walk back; !
bnt if they murder my darling, I shall not care !
ever to come back; I shall pray to die too.” j
Tho cow was driven to tho village and readily I
sold, and on the next train tho heart-broken ;
mother was on her way to offer her own life for >
the life of her son.
She was a timid woman, modestand reserved, '
but her great anxiety made her courageous.
Arriving at Dalton, around which place the
army was encamped, she made her way to the
regimental headquarters, and received from
the colonel a confirmation of the story. He told
her that the matter was in tho hands of Gen
eral Johnston, first, and as a last resort in the
hands of President Davis, and offered to go
i with her to tho general.
It was late in the. day, but there were no
“office hours” in the army. It they could
reach headquarters before the general retired
to bed, they would be in time.
They found him at supper.
“Will the lady oat something?” was the hos
pitable invitation.
“No, thanks. I camo to tell you of my son.
There is some mistake, a cruel mistake, I
know. My boy is not a coward He is not a
deserter. I don’t know what they proved
against him, but it is false that he ran away
i from tl*e field of battle and camo home with
; out leave. He was wounded, sir, badly shot in i
I the hg. 1 know, for I nursed him myself. If J
. yon will see him, sir, lUfid bet him tell you, yon .
I will know tho truth, for 1 have taught him not I
> to tell a lie,even to save nis own life.”
“Ah, but who is it? Ido not know to whom |
I you refer,” said general, puzzled at the lady's
■ earnestness.
“My son, Robert Nix, whom they have false- i
' ly accused of desertion, and condemned to ho i
i shot.”
“General Brent do you know anything of
i tho ease ?’’ turning tohisadjutant-gencrul and i
i chief-of-staff.
“J have had it under review today. It is a |
peculiar case, and I intended calling your at
; tention to it in the morning,” answered Gen- i
i cral Brent.
“We will go through it now. My good lady i
you must wait here, until 1 examine the mat- i
! ter.”
“O, sir, I beg that you will let me explain” ;
! —she interiupted.
"No, bo seated here. If I need you I will I
call you.”
The poor lady sank down on a camp stool, I
and as tho general wont into thcoftieo with his j
adjutant, she slipped to her knees, and in silent
| prayer awaited the issue.
I She had not long to wait,'although it seemed
an age to her. The general himself came back, j
holding in his hand un order.
“You tell me that your son was wounded?” i
. “As (led will judge me in the day I sland .
before Him, I tell son the truth. He camo j
: home to me wounded in the leg.”
“And this story he told the court was true ?” 1
“ I know not what he told the court, only this, ■
. if ho t<>ld anything at all, ho told the truth.”
“Madam, I Isilicvo you and I believe him. '
Here isan order for hi-, release. I will send an
orderly with you to the guard, or else haye ;
him conducted to vou at your quarters: per- '
haps that w<. I<l be bw-t.”
"No, no, let mo go to my son where ho is. |
Anil, oh, sir, I. do wish I was able to than I. yon. ■
: but 1 am not, my heartis too lull. God bless’’ I
: —and too mi;c)i overcome for further speech, j
I sht i old. only seize tho general’s hand and
I kiss it.
Then, almost tottering w ith the burden of
i her joy, she followed the orderly to the guard-
I house, lieariir.; that little slip of paper which
i saved his life and his honor.
j zii nMon Jt'/t lPa.il: Mrs. Cleveland come® up to
: Napoleon's est.mate of Josephine wheu he wild: “I
oouquer prortace* but fipephlno wins hearts. ’
EXPLORING CAVES.
■ Fascinating Work That with Precaution is
Not Very Dangerous.
| N, S. Slialcr in October Scribner's.
t The ordinary visitor to this region of cav
( orns (Kentucky) enters tho few show caves in
i tho convenient way afforded by some break of
t heir roofs or by the old places of exit of the
| caverning streams. In actual practice wo
i commend this conservative custom ; butasour
; imaginary journey demands odly ideal risks,
wo may now proceed to follow the history of
Uniprocessor cavern making, from the place
■ where it begins to tho point where the waters
; conclude tlieir underground work and enter
the open streams.
With proper prccau “0r..", the advent a r ous ex
plorer may deeend these pits with no more risk
t han he encounters in Alpine mountain work.
In this country, where untrodden heights are
not open to us, it may bo worth while for the
lover of adventure to try those unexplored
I depths. The present writer, who has'tried
both lines of exploration,is inclined to consider
the cavern work as perhaps the more fascina
ting of tho two. tlertaiuly the explorer more
quickly finds his wav into'the realm of the un
known than in mountain climbing, and is less
often met by the discouraging evidence that
after all the ground is not nut redden.
Tho first thing wo note on entering the
throat of the chasm is that, if it be warm
weather, there is a decided current of air set
ting down into tho space below; if it be cold,
there, is an ascending current of warm air from
the shaft, which condenses into mist as it es
capes from the opening. Tho meaning of those
currents wo shall see when we come to con
sider the movements of the air in< aves.
Descending a few feet into the chasm, we
note that tlie shaft rapidly widens on every
side, so that in most eases wo quickly lose
i sight of the bordering walls: the structure of
i the shaft is, indeed, that of a rude dome, of
: which the hard layer at the top forms the key
stone. After going down a little distance the
width becomes so great that the scant light of
ttsingle lantern may disclose tho sides of tho
rude areh. Al a depth of a few more leet, we
find that the pit again contracts, a great shelf
extending from the .sides to near tlie center,
through which there is a. passage rather wider
than that at the orifice. Landmgon this shelf,
I w i find it Io be a tolerably level floor, from
j which spring the walls of rhe upper dome;
< from one or more sides of it extend galleries,
■ whose floors lio on this harder layer—their
1 arches are. excavated iu tho softer 'overlying
I rock. Wo see at a glance t lint these channels
■ were once tho paths of streams, though
they have not for ages been occupied
I by* their water-. As wc follow
I down the wandering gallery wo
i find that it is . joined by many similar pas
[ sages, tho whole forming a labyrinth in
which tho unwary explorer may easily become
I i i.Hlomidcd. Each of these passages terminates
J in a vertical shaft, or rude dome, essentially
‘ like that by which wo gained access tn the
i cavern, but. generally communicating with the
external air by passages so narrow and tortu
ous that (hey do not. admit the light. Wc can
I see. that as this main channel is joined by the
. side passages it certainly increases in size,
1 until, perhaps, it attains majestic dimensions.
We may travel through it for miles, until wo
are suddenly arrested by some one of several
u 'lassesof obstacles: A. great fall of stones
iloor tho water may havo fmiml ami
enlarged a d<nvnward pasnage, creating a dome
like that which wc descended ; or, more fre
quently, an assemblage of crowded slalactitic
pendants and columns ch»so tho once open
space as with a wall of I'csplumbml crystals.
Returning to the main dome wo may cont inue
the descent toward the lower level of the
cavern. Jit the depth below the first level of
galleries we find several others, each having
the same general character, ami al), in turn,
deserted by Btrcams, each with the infinite
variety of detail given by the eddying cur
rent of the vanished streams and the trickling
■ waters which bring in the stalactilic matc
i rials. Finally, we come Io the floor of the
| cave, and commonly land in a considerable
’ pool of water, partially iiileil with angular
I fragments of Hint.
FISTff I I I S.
j How the British Nobleman Went in for it i‘n
I'oriner Times.
>\ hci) tho Grand Duke Nicholas was in
England ho Was taken the round of sporting
London—not incognito, under the protection
of Inspector X.. as a grand duke, with a cu
riosity to see the fancy,” might be even in the
present day, but with al! state and circnin
stance. Hr went, to the royal c<x:kpit to sec a
main of cocks fought: and for Ids cspe< ial de
lectation wore arranged a prize tight, a dog
tight, for a silver collar, ami a bull bailing;
from the latter he had to take Hight ratlno*
precipitately, in consequence of the tortured
animal breaking loose.
Tho English gentleman of those days was
always ready to throw off his coat and appeal
to fists with anyone from his own equal to the
commonest street ruffian. If a costermonger
jostled him in the street, n ringwould bo form- i
ed in a moment, and dandy and rough would .
never leave one another until the one had |
cried a go.
Noblemen have jumped out of their car
riages on the high road to thrash an insolent ■
wagoner who r< fused to make way for th< in. |
Oiu e. when returning from a county ball, old ■
! Earl Berkeley, leaving his lady in tlie coach, ,
alight' d into the muddy road in his silk stock- j
ings and pumps, in the small hours of the
morning, and gasc a gigantic “pike-keeper”
a terrible towelling because the latter disputed ;
having been paid when the carriage passed I
‘ through on the previous evening.
George, Prince of Wales, used to relate with
great gtee how. on the high road, he once
stripped and had a set-to with an insolent '
Brighton butcher, whom he soundly thrashed
after man.y rounds.
George Fitzciarenco had a mania for spar- ‘
ing when he was iu the Tenth Hussars. One
day ho was strolling along with some brother '
officers, when a quiet-looking man, with a |
bundle of umbrellas under Ids arm. passed
by. Ready for a tight. George knocked his
hat over his eyes and challenged him to try
who was tho betf<*r man. The umbrella doc
tor promptly n plied to the challenge and
threw oft his coat, in a very short time this <
sprig of royalty found he had eaught a Tartar,
for ho was tl .ored in the first round. He was i
up to time, however, but only again to rmas- !
1 nre his length upon the ground; and a third
| and fourth round followed wdth the same re
sult, until he frankly admitted that he had
■ found his master. Chambers’ Journal.
I’ai b’s ing With the Blind Tiger*.
From the Hawkinsville, Ch., bispnU h.
The law' has b-'m violated in Hawkinsville, |
and the grand jury failed to investigate the .
matt* r last spring.
It is trm th.it tlie mayor did goto two housoq
am! requested tlie proprietors not to sell any
liquor on Saturday while the town was full of
colored people attending a Baptist 'association. I
The proprietors, who uro very clever men,
looked at the matter in a proper way, and j
agr ><l to «di no whkky on Saturday in I
it is aid tl»<’s agr<' d to fop selling whisky at
four o’clock on Friday afternoon.
'J his concession was received in the most fa
vorable spirit by the good citizens of Haw- '
kiiisville, and they were so pleased with the
liberality of the two houses, that it was suggest- |
ed that a public meeting be held ami res<>lu
tions adopted expre-Hlng the gratitude of tho |
people for the course pursued by the two gen
tlemen who wa re suspected of selling whisky.
Suffice to say that the town was full of col
ored people on Saturday and Sunday, and not I
a drunk man was seen, not a fight <x;cuned, i
nor wm ftu arrest undo by the police.
' THE GREAT GUERRILLA
I -
A Correspondent Who Looks at
Quantrell’s Better Sid'e.
FIGHTING THE DEVIL WITH FIRE
To the Kansas City Times.
K vnsas City, Mo., September 30.-—There
is now’ going the rounds ot the newspapers an
article a column and over long whic i professes
to deai truthfully with this noted guerilla, the
most noted that ever lived to make the pages
of history splendid with unsurpassable daring
and repulsive with torrents of blood.
Tho article in question is iu tho shape of a
' coiTOspondenee'to tho Philadelphia Press from
Canal Dover, 0., where, it is reported ihat
Quantrell’s mother now lives at a great age,
reading her Bible daily and watching and
waiting for tho return of that boy whom she
idolized ami whose death she denies with a ve
hemence that bears but additional evidence to
tho old, old story of a mother’s faith and a
mother’s devotion.
Perhaps no article as long atho one to the
Press was ever tilled with more imiccuracies
and misstatements. Harsher terms for its
characterization might bo fittingly employed,
but when one proposes to dbcuss a somewhat
noted historical character from a, pnrety his
torical standpoint, there is no need for epithets.
We pass by without comment, the biographi
cal portion of the article, boeauso it is not
possible to take hold of tho fogs of the night
or the mists of tho morning, ami come directly
to the history of Quantrell, pure ami simple. I
Tho Canal Dover correspondent fir.'J; culls
him. in substance, a bandit, a highway robber,
a murderer, a butelmr. the slayer of women
and children, a devil incarnate, an atrocious
fiend and whatever else camo handy to ex press
rage, hatred ami malignancy.
Quaidrell, in accordance with an act passed
by Iho confederate eongtess providing for tho
organization ot a corps of what were called
pnrtizan rang- rs, was duly commissioned a
colonel of su< h by th<‘then secretary' of war,
James A. Sedtlon, and ordered to Alissouri to
raise, a regiment.
Be came and began to'rcmuit in Jackson
county. As is well know nby many that tho
war, as far as this portion of Missouri is con
cerned, began in 1351». Much blood bad al*
ready been shed in Kansas, and all along the
bord> r generally. Men of tho tv. o sections
hated one another to the death, slud were in a
! lit condition tn do any number of terrible deeds
when Fort Sumter was fired upon.
! Instantly there came to Quanlrcll a number
of young men eager for w ar. They know
nothing of its dangers or it . hardships, ami
they cared less. They knew' well that they
Could ride ami shoot, and that they were not
afraid. Beyond this they would hop. Other
bands of guerillas were formed in other por
tions of t he. state, and w hat was called bush
whacking began immediately.
Across tho line General James H. Lane or
ganized some formidable Kan.-as forces for ser
vice along the bonder, and over it, too, on
many memorable and bloody occasions. Os
those forces (’oioncd iTennison had a famous
regiment. In Missouri the union men organ-
Ize<l militia compaidiuuxUdircutlunß. fought- the
■ and hunted guenlw'wnrh were
anything iil<C , ‘cqnai lor an’’ad van’ug« oils en
counter. Thus a hell was organis’d iu the
border counties, which existed for four years,
ami which sent forth on either side to slay and
be slain . onn* of the. bravest, most d< adly, and
some of the most terrible men known to all
(he records of civil war.
From out this mutual chaos of waste ami
pillage, fmg smoke and bloodshed, l he guerillas
emerged. .Free, to come and go. Bound by no
enlistment and depemKnt upon no bounty.
, Hunted by one nation and deprecated by the
i other. Prodigal of lifo ami property. Fore
most in c\ery foray aa«l last in i \< ry rout.
, Content to die savagely and at hay when from
: under the dead steed the wounded ri(b*r could
i not extricate himself. Me rciful rarely and
'■ merciless often. Loving liberty' hi a blind,
; idolatrous fashion, half reality ami half super
stition. Holding no crime as bad as that of
cowardice. Courteous to women amid all the
wild li< ens<‘of pillage and slaughter. Stead
fast as faiih to comradeship or friend. Too
se.rious for boastfulness, and too near tho un
known to deceive themselves with vanity.
Eminently practical, because constantly on
a ironed. St irved today am! sea- ted tomorrow.
Victorious in this combat or decimated in that.
Receiving no quarter and giving none. As
tonishing pursuers by the swiftness ol a re
’ treat, or shocking humanity by tlie
i completeness of a massacn*. A
sable fringe on tho blood-red |
garments of civil war, or a perpetual cut-throat
in ambush in the midst of regular armies, Is it
any womb r that the guerrilla organization
i r une to have captains, and leaders, ami disu.ip-
I line, mid language, und fastness, and hiding
places, and a terrible bunm r unknown to the
! winds, ami a terriblenamo that still lives as a
■ wrathful and accusing thing from the lowa
■ line to the Pacific ocean?
i Men stood forth as leaders by the unmislak
able right of superior address ami undaunted
; courage. There was a kind of aristocracy of
i daring wherein the humblest might win a
i crown or < stabllsh a dynasty. Respect for per
| sonal prowess begat discipline, amt discipline—
; strengthened by the terrible pressure of out
i side circumstances- kepi p» ace in the midst of
I an organization ostensiidy without ;• govern
ment ami without any fin" but the black'»no. j
; Quantreß became a chb I because his intel
’ leet dominated that of all his followers. He
could not have been braver, but he might have
been ami was cooler than many of them. His
I aptitude for the warfare lie was engaged in 1
’.vas simply phenomenal. With never more
than 100 men urnh-r his cornmond, except i
i when he went to Lawn-nee, he fought, way- j
laid, ran away from, came back to, and grap
pled with incessantly, not less at anytime
. i han 5,000 pursuers. Atone period BMMXI sol- I
I dicis were after him at once. They never got !
him out of Jackson, <’a.ss ami Lafayette, coun
ties. When the deep snow’camo he went 1
south. History will not call him a bandit, be- .
cause he carried a commission from a govern- I
ment which received and granted everything I
that was amenable to the rides and regulations
of regular war. Even without his commission i
I he would no more have bwn a bandit than :
those guerrilla chiefs who fought Nanoicon in
Spain, Maximilian in Mexico, George HI. in
South Carolina, ami the federal government
in tho valley of the Shenandoah.
In this country, and where a great many of
onr people know what the horrors of this gueri
■ rilla warfare meant, tho charge that either
| Quanlrcll or any other gm rrilla, from tho
lowest to the highest, ever killed a woman or
( a child is simply a charge made by a fool or a
liar. Whatever else happened on cither side,
one thing can be truthfully said to the glory of
all female helplessness was tenderly respect
ed ami female purity held as sacred as the
< huso for which tho contending forces fought.
‘ Woe unto tho man, no matter in what army,
j who ever attempted an outrage. Onco, and
’ only onco in Quantrell’s career, a bush-hidcr
| did, and the guerrillas hunted him to his
• hath.
It depends upon what constltuteg murder
' whether Quantrcdl was a murderer or not. Ho
1 fought under a black flag, it is true, but have
j not all guerrillas in all lands since the world’s
history? Even if they had not, the necessity
! for him to do ho was imperative. Ho was out
lawed by the federal authorities. Not a man of
his was ever known to escape death at tho
! hands of bis captors. As those who fought him
j did, so did he. It was a mutual understand
i ing, and tlie killing went <+n.
I We simply narrate, unrt by w doing Strive to
-
PHICEFIVE CENTS.
vindicate the truth of history. There was •
condition of things peculiar to the border b«J
twoen Missouri and Kansas that the country
does not understand and seems not to care to
understand. So hot were the passions of men.
So fierce were the conflicts. So numberless
wore the killings. So many’ were tho personal
wrongs to avenge. So desperate had become
the strife on all sides; that to be known either
as a southern or union man was to bring death
at the hands of whichever force at the time
was uppermost. Entire neighborhoods were
depopulated; lor miles and miles there were
no houses; Kansas raided Missouri and Mis*
souri raided Kansas; tho guerrillas and the
militia butchered one another; the jawhawk*
ers and the guerillas fought backward and for
ward; regular troops came often upon the
Scone to seek out Quant veil and make a
finish of him. They saw him, felt him*
loiight him, surrounded him, and 10l ho vyiui
not there. One commander was known f«i
stop short in bis bunt and exclaim: “Os what
use to go further? Ho is the devil*?.”
After a storm has been gathering for genera
tions, of wh it use to condemn the thunder*
bolt ? Quantrell was simply the out grow th,or*
rather, the creation of a single phase of th®
civil w'ar that was desecrate beyond all the
balance, and more bloody and ferocious. If®
found events prepared for him, and he accept- 1
ed his destiny. All in al) he was tire greatest
guerilla who ever lived on earth. One of these
days history will deal with him ns lie was and
as he strove to be—a guerillachoiftan,who wa%
to the Kansas and M issouri border, what Ei '
Enipocinado, what Fra Diavolo, what Mimi,
and what El Torpetc were to Spain in her life
and death struggle with Napoleon. What:
Fodriguez, what Cortina, what Flores, ami
what Tomaso were to Mexico when the French
had her by tho throat, well nigh strangled and
bleeding at every pore. What Francis Marion '
was to South Carolina—qualified, of eourre, by.
time and circumstances— when Tarleton’s
dragoons harried all the country .side, sparing
nothing that fought for the patriot caiiMe l i
burning, plundering, and working their will'
on all who were too old or too feeble to go to
War.
Meanwhile, Quantroll will still be to th<
dime no\els, and to the dime novel wrlteni.)
like the Canal Dover fellow, tho same bloody
monster who murdered women ami children'
indiscriminately.
_ - •..
POLICE Ol’ BEISLIN.
lluw I lie Geriniiik Capital Is G uaviled Again.*
Lawbreakers.
From tlie London Tele; rapli.
Baron von Riclilofiferi, president of (lie Ber.
lln police, < onibincs iu Jit- person the duties'
which in London nmdivided betaeen tlie chief
coiuniisHionef of police and the hoard of works.;
Jle. not only looks alter the safely and health!
of the public, but has under his surveillance,
the streets, markets and buildings.
Jn relation to the Berlin municipality, whicU
by its excellent financial management, liasf
shown itself worthy of the considers bio admin
istrative economy jv.bicb ite njoy s, tlmprc idi-nS
of point 1 exercises certain riglit'sbl control. Ho
represents the state in its relations with tho
people in the first instance and is the organ of
tho executive power.
'/'lie muittipniity of tho
police expenditure, paying for tlie rtiijfojinsv>|
the. scliutzlonto and providing the building
. hl l !»e viM-ipus.lucaiitA-s vrtierc.thatore sfiition.
That of ttie.fiiy.Jirlgndo comes-oAt of the mu
nieipal fluids. iMTlnWgli the firemen, like th®
seliutzleiitc, are under the orders of tho presi
dent of police,
Thi policemen are only employed during tho
(laytime. At. night the capital is confided to
the care ol wutclimeii, who wear a distiuctiva
uniform, and are i>ruvide>l with a wlihtle and
a saber. Thtyio meh are on duty from 1(1
o’clock at night till 5 ord o'clock tho next
morning, the final hour varying according to
the season of the year. They number 500.
Tho effective strength of the police is 3,500, of
which nnrnber about fifty are mounted.
All the policemen are ,old subordinate off?,
cors of tlie. army, ami are of it certain standard
height. They must have passed nine years In
thearmy, ami employment is given only to
those who have ciisthiguislmd themselves by
good conduct, zeal and assiduity. They are re
spected by anil live on good terms with th®
civil population, altlmiigh tbeju manner occa..
slonally betrays tlieir military training and u
not exempt from biiisqueness.
The Berliner submits by fill ee of habit to th®
injunctions of the policeman,’ and on military
parade days one constable is suftieient to keep
a largo number of spectators in order.
The nmralo ol the corpse is good, liecaus®
the men know that they are supported by botll
the public and the superior authority. Tha
latter punishes all faults and negligences on
tho part of the force, and protects it when it I®
iu the right.
In addition to this out-door police, which
sees to the execution of laws and regnlatlone
ami m.iinlain order in tho streets, there is t*
police of safety, w hose mission is to discover
authors of crimes nml n i <lcmcanors and tu
keep strict watch over the dangerous chrsses,'
so us to prevent as fur as possible the perpetra
tion of offenses against, person ami property.
The head of th« polico of safety is t'onut
I’uckler. The agents of safety wear ordinary
I civil dress, uml when they visit dangorou®
qnai lcjs > airy a revolver. Thu latter privi*
lege has recently been granted Io them in con
sequence of some serious encounters with
armed criminals.
The possession of a revolver is calculated tn
give, tho agent a greater degree of assurance,
but ho is strictly forbidden to use the weapou
except in the last extremity.
Tho district agents are specially charged
with the Burveilltincn of dealers in old clothes,
pawn brokers and till suspected persons hav
ing a fixed dome He. The town is divided for
' the purposes of thisilcpattinent of the force®
i into eight districts, each of which is under th®
I direction of a commissioner.
! The division of lal«>r, which is so marked :k
i feature >t tlio Berlin jiolice force, is carried
I down »othe dangerous element.
Explaining flic Story Away.
From the Bowersville, Ga., Union.
In speaking of an argument on baptism lay
tween two preachers at this place hist week:
■ the t'lirnesville Register publishes a statement
■ which is calculated to lead to a wrong impres
l sion. Being a witness t.f the occasion, wo hard
■ no idea there was any thought of the use of »
sti> k and daw hammer in a conflict between
them, ns the Register might infer. Mr. Armi
stcad had his walking stick in his hand at th®
eonnncncenient of tho talk, and, as lie had
never mot tho other preacher before, it
could not have licon for any 111 purpose, vliilu.
Mr. Holder had picked up a hammer wbiclt 1
was lying on the table and v,ti» leisurely hand
ling it. During tho discussion Mr. Armistcatl
became somewhat Irritated, and Mr. Holder
acknowledged that he got a little excited and,
expressed bis regret to Mr. A. We make thia,
statement in justice to these gentlemen, giving
the facts in the case, and not for tho purpose
that wo desire to speak of the occurrence. 8®
you see it is not so bad after all. Humanity i®
■ prone to err, but good judgment should be as
ready to amend.
T he Doom Has a Song.
Tho Bob Lincoln boom is said to hava
reached a ii'ietic stage. Tlio Wheeling ReglsteJ
snvs that «» effort is being made to introduce
tbroush the south a travesty on the old slave w>nM
iu the following strain, emitted, "Massa Linkup*
’ Mn“sa I.lukinn's chile and chlllen,
Lord, let dis darky lib
Till hlseyes bub seen de glory
but tils’ fodder died to gib.
Massa Lin Sum up tn glory;
Lor’, how you see him smile
When ho bears u» darkles singing,
bees us votin’ for bls ctiil®.
