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SO M® XXI. 11,000 ill Christinas Presents. (Sbb last column of sixth fact.) When you SUBSCRIBE TO TIIE CONSTITUTION YOU C3F.T THE BEST AND CHEAPEST PATER IN AMER ICA. On its merits as a newspaper it has CROWN FROM 9,000 TO 112,000 CIRCULATION IN THREE YEARS. IN TAKING IT YOU GET THE Best and Cheapest Paper. Besides this. YOU GET A SHARE IN OUR “CHRISTMAS BOX” OF Presents of SI,OOO cash. If you sub scribe NOW YOUB NAME GOES IN THE BOX, WHICH IS SHAKEN UP OS JANUARY 1, AND ONE MASK DRAWN OUT BY OUR AGENT. Til AT KAME GETS SSOO, THE NEXT S2OO, AND SO ON ’JCHBOUGB THE LIST. Some subscriber wilt, get the SSOO os Januahy 1. Why not YOU? Out of the BOX OF SUBSCRIBERS’ NAMES, ONE NAME WILL COMB FIRST. Il MAY BE YOURS. If SO, YOU GET SSOO AS A PRESENT. THE NEXT GETS S2OO, and so on. Subscribe at once. For every' KF.W SUBSCRIBER YOU SEND IN YOUR NAME GOES IN AGAIN. GET UP A CLUB. 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®.