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VOL. XIX.
Tombar, or the White Dove.
By W. T. Dumas.
Ha looked every inch a prince, did Tombar.
Indeed,' according to his own testimony,
which no one thought it worth his
while disputing, he did have royal
blood in liis veins, being the son and
lieir apparent of a powerful African king. Ho
could remember the time, when a child of
seven years, he with his father, mother and a
band of armed warriors, had made an expedi
tion to the coast for the pttrpose of procuring
that article indispensable alike to the civilized
and the savage—salt.
It was on the return journey that their
camp was one night surrounded and, after a
desperate battle, his father, mother and most
of the warriors were slain. He was found
clinging to the bleeding body of his mother,
and with the rest of the survivors was carried
away captive.
Ho could remember seeing men with red
coats on and a great ship. He, with others,
was packed, like sardines, in the noisesome
bold. He could recall the stench, the thirst,
the fever, the agony of the voyage; the pitiless
sea beneath, the pitiless men in red coats
above. At last, after what seemed an eternity
of misery, the slaver anchored; he was driven
down the gangway and onco more breathed
the pure air of heaven —no longer a captive but
a slave.
He was bought by a Georgia planter who
carried him to his plantation near the coast.
Owing to his tender years he had little to do
except to do odd jobs and engage in the sports
of his dusky companions. But their pastimes
and gambols had few charms for him, al
though he excelled them all in activity and
endurance. He was distinguished for a gravity
far beyond Ids years, being usually moody and
isilent and consequently rather unpopular with
this playmates. Their aversion was, however,
born of fear rather than of positive dislike.
Ho would seclude himself whenever ho could,
and grieve and stretch his hands toward the
east and utter words in an unknown tongue.
All bis life seemed to go out in regret for
the country that was to be his no more. Hence
the rest of the plantation darkies, ’with the
superstition of their race, regarded young
Tombar as an uncanny being in league with
the evil one.
Ho was, himself, tho victim of a Strang.)
fancy, childish but poetical. Through the edge
of tho plantation ran a large river,on the banks
of which it was Tombar’s delight to stroll in his
aimless fashion. Ho was seen, one summer’s
afternoon, to plunge into its waters. Being
an expert swimmer, it was supposed that lie
was amusing himself by indulging in that ex
ercise, but as he rose and sank, making no
effort to sustain himself, one of tho field hands,
working near, jumped in and rescued him.
“Not,” as he afterward explained, “fur de
sake of de nigger hisself; he mout er drowned,
God knows,biit case Marse. George moot er
raised . nlcbbil erlong er me fur a lettin’ of
him do it.”
When restored to consciousness and asked
the cause of his strange conduct, ho pointed
towards the ocean, saying that if he could but
sink in the river, it would carry him to tho sea,
and the sea, in some unexplainable way, would
bear him under its waves to his loved Africa,
and ho would awake there as from a dream.
After this ho was watched closely, and when
ever he exhibited any tendency to submarine
transmigration, which, for a long time, he fre
quently did, lie was subjected to tho overseer’s
whip and put in solitary confinement. The
latter punishment seemed most effective, as he
would receive the former with sullen endu
rance and an air showing plainly that his spirit
was unconquerable.
Tombar grew to be a great man, stalwart,
broad-shouldered and proud in his bearing.
His superior intelligence, strong, almost Cau
casian features, proclaimed .him to have no
kinship with the ordinary Guinea negroes
with whom the plantation was stocked. His
physical peculiarities, coupled with his own
story, indicated that he belonged to some in
terior tribe remote from the coast. He never
did anything to incur the charge of voodooism,
yet the mere fact of his being an African was
sufficient to make tho simple negroes regard
him as a mighty conjurer who could, if he
chose, at any moment put them under the in
fluence of tho evil eye. On winter nights,
when grouped around a fire of blazing logs,
relating stories of ghosts, goblins, witches and
other monsters known to their folk-lore, Tom
bar was always associated, somehow, in their
minds with the eerie portion of the narrative.
His silence, rarely broken, and the fact that
never, in all his life, had he been known to
Smile, intensified their belief in his su
pernatural powers. They would not have
been surprised at any time to have seen him
disappear in sulphurous flames or metamor
phose himself into a huge black snake and be
gin his diabolical mischief by swallowing all
the little negroes on the place. Consequently
none were surprised at what happened in the
sequel of this storjr.
It was on a hot summer afternoon that
Tombar stood in the lot grooming his master’s
horse. It was a work of which he never tired.
He seemed to find more congenial company
among God’s dumb creatures than among his
fellow slaves, who feared and respected but
could not love him.
As he'.stood with one hand resting fondly on
the horse's mane, there suddenly appeared, in !
the air above him, a pure, snow-white dove. It
circled around and around, as if seeking a rest
ing place, its wings gleaming in the sunlight,
and finally, as softly as a feather, it lighted on
Tombars’s head. After perching there for an
instant, it fluttered fondly about his breast, j
then, cooing plaintively, it mounted straight |
up and out of sight in a moment. The negro ■
seemed dazed; a vacant, far-away look camo
into his eyes, and he stood as motionless as if
the current of his life had been suddenly ar
rested by some powerful enchantment.
What was it? Whence did it come? Where
had it gone? What did it mean? These were
some of the questions that were in tho minds
of tho bystanders when they were capable of
reflection. Never before hail such a bird been
Seen in that neighborhood.
When tho dazed negro came to himself,
which he did with a start, ho said solemnly,
almost mechanically, to his master who was
standing near and had witnessed the occur
rence: “Good-bve, Marne George; Tombar's
done be ’n sent for; Tombar must go.”
“Where are you going, Tombar?” asked his
master. But tho only reply that ho could
elicit was: “J’s g“in’ to the lan' of tho lion.”
His master laughed at him for his supersti
tion and before night had forgotten the cir
cumstance.
The rest of the day, Tombar moved about
as one in a dream. Ho evidently regarded tho •
incident as a premonition of approaching :
death, but, if he did, ho exhibited neither joy j
nor sorrow at the prospective occurrence.
Tho next day, at noon, the overseer reported
that ha had a largo quantity of fodder hanging i
in the field, perfectly cured,: ml that hr- would !
need all the spare help on the place to get It ■
snug in tipie to escape the rain whieii he pre
dicted would como In tho afternoon. Gonso- I
qucntly the cook, stable boys, all the picka- '
ninnies from the quarters, and the house girls
oven, were ordered to ti.o field to help harvest
the forage. Among the rest wont Tombar, 1
who worked more Kre an automaton than a
man. Ail hands worked fast ami furious as
the storm, which the over ;.-r r’s weathi r wis-
Aom had f reset a. wi.?>■■;• ral liwjp pj Sf]
with thunder and hanging out its banners of
lightning.
Just as the last k indle had been thrown
upon the stack, and a victorious shout ftomtbo
I
light-hearted crew announced the completion
of their task, tho rain began to fall in great
. sheets, and the thunder teemed to shake tho
hills. Every one. except Tombar, ran for
home, less than a mile distant, knowing that
tli« rest of the evening was theirs, and what
indoor jollity would reign in the quarters.
Tomb ar was seen to seek shelter under a tall
pine that stood near tho center of the field.
Night came, but Tombar did not. His ab
sence, however, was not noticed, as ho was
supposed to be somewhere on the premises,
his strange ways and solitary habits having
gained him no little liberty in this respect.
I Ho was not at breakfast next morning, nor
could any one remember having seen him
sineo tile previous evening in tho field. The
ov< rscer, suspecting him of having run away,
whistled his hounds and, with his assistants,
went again to the scene of yesterday's labor.
vV hen within about a hundred yards of the
tree, under which Tombar had taken refuge,
he was seen standing close to tho trunk, but to
tho overseer’s admonition to “stir up your
stuuins. you lazy nigger, or it will be worse for
you,” there was no response. On going closer,
and wi-athfully raising his whip for the pur
pose of chastising him for his stubbornness,
his hand dropped nervelessly to his siuo. To
those crowding around, the reason was soom
apparent, for there erect, rigid, with a face of
awful serenity turned toward the cast, stood
Tombar—dead. Tho treo against which ho
was leaning, was riven from top to bottom. A
single scorched spot on his breast told how
swiftly and surely the lightning had done its
work, and those who bent over him remember
ed the White Dove.
> COWED THE HENDERSON GANG.
A’l Incident in the Life of a Tavern Keeper
in up Ohio River Town.
' From the New York Suu.
“Speaking about nerve,” said Brooks, as he
sat at a table in the office oi the Commercial Travel
ers’association, “the bravest man I over met was
one Prescott, of Evansville, Ind. He was a daisy.
I often stayed at his place—a sort of tavern, saloon,
billiard room and dance hall combined. It was like
tli’s: There was a bit of property which had been
idle for years. All sorts of men had tried to run it,
but they had to get out. They lacked the required
nerve. T.ie bloods would cross over from Hender
son, Ky., and make it disagreeable for the landlord.
They would play his billiards and drink his whisky,
and then when asked for pay would set in and clean
bis shop ou‘. Finally this man Prescott heard of
this property ft r s de, found the price low, and so
bought it In. But I don’t suppose he knew just what
ailed the property, for he was from New Hampshire.
“I just wish you could have seen the cuss! Why,
he didn't look big enough to whip a cat. He was
one of those Slim Jims, with sandy hair and weak
legs, a sallow-faced, light, watery blue-eyed fellow.
I was travelling Utfouah there at that time, and I
happened along X week or so after Prescott got
started. He had fixed the place up in style. I drove
up at dusk, put out my team for the night, and,
after a drink, prepared to go out for the evening. I
noticed ten strapping young bloods in' the billiard
room. They were dressed well, and had gold
watches with long chains. There didn't seem to be
anything the matter with .them, and t left Abera
playing Uftfcmlt and smortng notf *n 1
then a call on the bar. when T got back to the
tavern, after a while, the same crowd was there,
and there didn’t seem to be anything the matier
with them then. But Prescott said to me, (I was a
Vermonter, and he and 1 felt some what acquainted):
“ ‘l’m afraid these boys will give me trouble.’
“ ‘Why?’
“ ‘Well, this is that Henderson gargthat I’ve heard
so muc’.t of. They're all rich n e i’s sons, and think
they can run things. Their game is to get all they
can and pay nothing lb.- it. But they will have to
pay me for what they get before they get out of
here!'
“He said it all as qu’et as if he lai just remarked
he thought it would r..i i next day. I sat smoking
near the stove, where 1 could see the young bloods
in the billiard rot m. I declare they seemed to be
very decent young m n. They had been to the bar
petty often, and they were a trifle lively in their
play, and may! ea bit loud in their conversation,
but th it was all, and why Presco't was afraid of
trouble I couldn’t for tie life of me make out,
“But pretty i oon they began to show their band.
First, two of them took a good stiff drink and a
cigar apiece, and then jo ked their thumbs over
their shoulders as they moved toward the door.
“ ‘The other fellers’ll make this all right.’
“‘Prescott said‘Very well,’and then he bowed
them out like a prince of the royal line. Then a
couple more took a big drink and the best cigars,
and out they went.
“ ‘The other boys in thar’ll settle the score?’
“ ‘Th re were now half a dozen big ones left in
side. Pretty soon they came out, too. They ranged
along the bar, filled two or three times around, and
then started for the door.
‘“Stop."
“They paused, then looked around mildly re
proachful at Prescott, who stood behind the bai.
One ot the party said:
“ ‘Well! what d’ye want!'
“Prescott, with his thin, white face, showing no
more emotion than a brass kettle, remarked:
“ ‘Gentlemen, you've forgotten something. Please
to pay for what you've had.’
“ ‘Wall—we’ve got no money. Pay yer some
other time.’
“Then something happened. The little white
livered cuss of a Prescott sprang over the bar like a
cat, his long, white apron Hying between his legs;
and before the Kentuckians comprehended what
was to happen, he iiad his back against the doo ■,
and the six toughs covered with two big horse
pistols. His face was us white as eha!!:, but I tell
you his blue eyes blazed. In an instant, after recov
ering from their surprise, tho gang reached for their
guns. But Prescott had them too well covered.
He said:
“ ‘The man that attempts to draw his shooter gets
a hole through him as big as a barrel. Not a man
shall leave this room till Tie had what's due me.’
•‘lt lo kel very mu :li like blood there for about a
miuute, but Prescott’s blazing eyes nnd his ugly
looking guns took the starch out of the toughs, and
pretty soon they tried to slink out of range. One of
them said:
“ We left our money home. Let us out and we’ll
fetch it to yee.’
“ ‘No—you—don’t.'
“Tills was Prescott’s de'erminedanswer. Indicat
ing one of the party with a pistol, he said:
“ ‘You put your watch on the cigar ease,’
“Ho did us directed. It was a gold repeater.
“The big hone pistols were lowered.
“ ‘Now, gentlemen, come up and have something
on me.’
S'Prescott said this with all tho suavity Imagina
ble, as ho resumed his place behind the bar, and
pretty soon the Kentuckians were lifting in liquor
as naturally us If nothing unusual had occurred.
"Money? Why, that gng was full of It. They
stood up and culled for round after round, and paid
for It, and refused to take any change. Os course
after awhile tl.ey got tire land wanted to lean up
against the furniture, while one of them insisted on I
kissing the bartender. Finally they went offloaded
right to the muzzle, but perfectly gool natured.
They took t'.o gold watch along, of course. But I
they left about a hundred collars of good Kentucky I
m n y in t ie place of it.
“A year later 1 stop; e l at Prescott s again.
"'Well, Prescott, have the Henderson boys cleaned
“He smiled. The most profitable customers h
bad were tl.osc wild Header, on l.o; s. They knew
nerve wix: they saw it, and they liked it."
T/ .’/; "It’s an 111 wl d that blows nobody I
‘ r 1110.I 110 . ! .-„..‘.-S. r -4..u.. J . iqj..,.
i.a- '. hw "fi f - ,
'! I The Indians l ave taken so
sniokin : • garet ■ . K v let them stand ar iund ■
lbe rrol ' km ;
ATLANTA, GA., TUESDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1887
A HOLIDAY PASTIME.
New York Fireside Companion.
i A shock of red hair, a pair of the lightest of
blue eyes, a dawning, sickly mustache, and
bands and feet of ample dimensions,Phil Dodd
certainly did not very closely resemble Apollo,
or nny other of those ancient models of manly
[ beauty. But his homely face beamed with per
petual good humor, and his big hands wore
brown with honest toil.
On this particular afternoon ho was weeding
in the front garden, with occasionally an ex
pectant glanec down the country for the stage
coach. For tho Dodds had been making prepa
i rations, for a week past, for the reception of
summer boarders, who were to arrive that
afternoon in tho shape of two young ladies.
Phil, the only son and heir of tho Dodds,
had nt first decidedly objected to “bavin girls
posterin round tho place.” But he had boon
! so far won over by liis sagacious mother’s rop
■ resentation of tho profits to be reaped tliere
-1 from as to help forwarding the preparations,
even going to the extravagance of painting
tiie buggy and whitewashing tho front fence.
Now, as ho stood awaiting their arrival, with
an eagerness which ho would not have betrayed
for worlds, lie was picturing to himself bow ho
would receive them. He meant to adyanco
gracefully to the stage and assist them to alight,
with a bow and a few polite words of welcome,
just as he had seen tho city chaps do at the
now hotel.
But, alas! for human resolves! No sooner
did the lumbering old stage appear on top of the
hill than his courage completely forsook him,
and he ignominiously retreated to tiie rear of
the house. Thence, from a screened retreat,
he watched rough, honest old Ephraim Dodd
assist two visions in bright summer costumes
and lace parasols to alight while Ma Dodd,
fresh from the kitchen, stood in tho doorway,
arms akimbo, to receive her guests.
"What a domed fool I atn,” was Phil’s men
tal comment; thinking consolingly, however,
that no one but himself know of his defeat.
But his next thought was, how vtis he ever
to face them at tea? He would have kept a
fast that night, rather than go through that
ordeal, but ho kew ho could not escape his anxi
ous mother’s inquiries as to his non-appear
ance.
But there was some latent heroism in Phil,
ar knowing that the worst must come, be
summoned all his courage and marched boldly
into tlic dining-room at his mother’s summons.
“This is my son, Phil,” announced the
proud mother, with an air which plainly said,
“and I reckon you ain’t seen many like him.”
“And Phil this is Miss Lorraine,” indicating a
quiet, lady looking girl, who merely bowed and
murmured some words of greeting. “And this
is Miss Vernor,” continued tho worthy woman.
A white bund was extended, which ho
grasped almost mechanically in liis big, brown
paw, and a pair of blue eyes glanced coquet*
islilv at him, as Miss Vernor said, sweetly:
“Flow do you do, Mr. Dodd.”
Mr. Dodd! It fairly took his breath away.
.Sure she must have meant “dad;” but tho
young lady evidently know Vi hat she was say
ing as she also addressed “dad” as Mr. Dodd.
That meal which Phil liail so dreaded passed
off in an extremely satisfactory manner. M iss
Vernor completely won “Mann” Dodd’s heart
by the praises she bestowed on her biscuit and
butter, and strawberries; and she so complete
ly bewildered poor Phil by the bowitelling
glances she bestowed on him that he lost his
appetite entirely.
In the long summer days that followed, tho
city girls explored tho farm, sketched fin tiie.
woods, nnd expressed unbounded delight and
astonishment at everything they saw.
And Miss Vernor insisted on pressing Phil
into her service. He must go witli them to
show them where tiie nicest ferns grew, and
tho best streams for fronting, and a thousand
and one other things. It mattered not to tho
despotic little lady that it was the busiest part
of the haying season, and Farmer Dodd’s dis
gust and chagrin at liis son’s shirking clear of
the work “to dance round after a couple of
gals” were alike unheeded by her. As for
Phil—would he not have gone to the north pole
at the bidding of these l ine lips, or at a glance
from those wondrous, violet eyes?
His life was a feverish dream of biiss and
fortune. Ho thought how tamo existence had
been before her coming, but he dared not think
what it would be like after her departure.
The money ho expended in hair oil and per
fumery almost rendered him bankrujtt.
The two girls were seated in the “best room”
at the close of a sultry August afternoon, Miss
Vernor vigorously using her fan.
“So this is our last day here,” she remarked,
languidly. “Well, I have rather enjoyed rus
ticating, and shall go back to city fortified for
any amount of dissipation.”
“Yes, Ido think the worthy people have
dune their best to entertain us,” said her
friend, absently.
“Especially Phil,” said Miss Vernor, with a
soft little laugh ; “helms really proved inval
uable. Do you know, he has asked mo to go
for a drive with him tonight.”
"Well, do you think it is quite right to lead
him on as vou are doing?” said her friend, so
berly. “lie is so innocent—or perhaps you
would term it ‘verdant’—that I believe ho
thinks you aro in earnest.”
“I lead him on 1 Why, May, what are you
thinking of ?” said Miss Vernor, with a pretty
assumption of surprise.
“Yes, any one can see that he is head over
ears in love with you. But then I believe you
would flirt with a gorilla if nothing more
available came in your way.”
“You astonish me, May, by your profound
insight into human character,” said her friend
with a languid smile. “But there is tho bug
gy at the door, so I suppose I must make liasux
and not keep my cavalier waiting,” and gay,
heartless Nell donned her most coquettish hat
and tripped down stairs.
How peaceful everything seemed,
“With distant echo from the fold and lea,"
ns they bowled along tho smooth country road.
There was nothing very poetical in Phil’s
composition—lie was much better versed in
horse-lore than in analizing nature’s moods;
but he felt, in an indefinable manner, the con
trast between the claim of outward things and
his own inward, feverish unrest.
For Phil had resolved to learn liis fate to
night. He had brought Miss Vernor out lor
the express purpose of asking her to share bis |
name and fortunes. True, she did seem rather i
above.him; but then, had she not given plain
proofs of her attachment to the country anil of
her preference for himself?
Besides, he was consider! d rather a “ketch” |
with the farmers daughters round about. .
There was “Mariar" Black, who would give |
hl ■■ eyes to be mistres.iof the Dodd farm. But :
“M ariar’s” charms paled immeasurably before i
those of his brllliaat companion.
“>So this ia my last evening at Peunyville,”
Miss Vernor’s dulcet tom-; were saving. “J .
know y. u must be glad, Pliil, wo have been
such a bother to you.”
J Giro was his opiiortunity.
“I didn’t know- -1 -I thought tnnylx.- you’d I
coieJmlo to stay
meirrir-
“O, tint would lie impossible," she said, with j
an irrepressible giggle.
The bare thought of spending the r' st of h<a !
gayety-loving life with bustling “Marm”
Dodd so appealed to her of the ludicrous ,
that she sunk back in her seat shaking with
suppressed laughter.
“O, when I axed you to stay. I meant, of
course, for you and me to git hitched,”-said
Phil, eagerly, plunging boldly into tho matter.
“You must have seen that I like you a heap
better than any of tho gals round here,” ten
s dorly, attempting to embrace her.
1 But Miss Vernor’s self-possession had re
; turned, and thinking her dupe had gone far
enough, she said icily:
’ “I think you aro very presumptuous, Mr.
r Dodd : what right have you to talk in that way
tome?”
) Phil stared at her aghast.
“What right!” he cried, in a passion of dis
r appointment and pain: “why, hain’t you
' given mo reason enough to think that you
sot something by me? Couldn't 1 ha* got, as
5 likely gals as there was in tho hull Country
side, only I'd rather take you, it you bad been
I a beggar, than any one else with the best farm
t in the state.”
Tho awkward boy was gone, and a man with
a passionate, wounded heart sat there in liis
’ stead.
I “I am surprised that you over thought it
i possible I could care for you,” she returned,
Coldly. “I never dreamed that yon would so
misconstrue my friendship.”
Truth to tell, the petted Miss Vernor felt
’ just, a little embarrassed at liis just wrath, and
1 the rest of the drive was performed in uuediu
fortablo silence.
i She said nothing to Mayot this episode, fcel-
I ing in no mood fur reproaches. Besides, sotno
j thing in Phil’s face made In r conscience give a
few unusual twinges; so, with a feeling of re
lief that she was so soon to leave the farm and
> ,ifs.ininatos she fell asleep.
, How long slia slept slio knew not. but she
s awoke with a suffocating feeling and n sense of
impending danger. She groped her way to the
p door and opened it, when a volume of smoke
and fiamo rolling up the stairway drove her
’ back, half fainting with terror. At the same
> time the sound of excited voices and cries of
[ “fire!” from below told her that the household
( had also discovered their danger.
j They called wildly to her to come down, but
when she again tried the stairway, again the
flames drove her back. She sunk down with a
> moan of despair, but some one dashed up tho
, burning stairs, wrapt her hastily in a blanket,
and bore her out of the room.
Down tho blazing stairway, as through a fur
nace, they passed. They had reached tho hall;
' a few steps more and they would gain the door;
but, overpowered by tho deadly heat, her pre
r server sank.on one knee with his almost lielp
i less burden.
I “O, God!” cried I’hil's voice; "we shall
die!” And then Nell lost consciousness.
When she again opened her eyes she was ly
ing on the grass, with May Lorraine’s anxious
face bending over her. Dark figures were liur
' lying hither and thither, and the whole sconce
1 was lighted up by tho glare of the burning
’ building.
. But whose was that dark, motionless form
> borne along on a shutter, with features burned
, ami blackened horribly?
■ With a terrible instinctive knowledge, tho
gay city belle covered her face with her hands
to. shut out the sight.
*- She knew tho whole story afterward—how
ho had rushed through almost certain death to
save her, and had died with her name on his
lips.
Her remorse for her heartless conduct toward
him was keen and sincere. She remembered
no mure bis homely features and ungainly
ways; she thought only of tho hero's soul that
burned ip that rough frame.
It was no longer the heartless flirt, that re
turned to her gav city home. The pa:,time of
breaking men’s hearts had lost its old charm
for Nell Vernor. And if ever she did feci
tempted lo trille with an holiest affectum, tho
sight of Phil's white, despairing fa; , mi tho
evening wlion she had crushed his hope, rose
up before her with startling distinctiveness,
and checked that folly at which the world
laughs.
——————
L'on M. Dickinson's Nerve.
Correspondence B >ston Globe.
The continued rumors of Don. M. Dickin
s-n s appointment to L- postmaster puicriJ annoy
(ho countless fricn ls of Fiust Assistant roshnnster-
Gcnend Stevenson, than whom there is no one
whom the democrats of tiie country
would rather ace promoted. Mr. Dickinson
Is a very sharp citizen. He ,captured tho ad
ministration ut lirst sight, and his grip has not
weakened since, although the democratic congress
men from Michigan have done all they could to
shake it.
An incident of the democratic convention nt
Grand Rapids last August furnished an illustration
of a leading e’ara tisic of the new statesman
from tii.i Wolverine state.
Rev. Mr. Tilden oj ened tiie proceedings of (he
convention with a prayer, in which he invoked
biesulugs on Jefierson, S. J. Tilden and others, but
failed tomention President Cleveland.
M I) rkinson then ir> cto address tho convcn
tior. A hush fell on tiie great gathering, as with
lie. d erect and flashing eyes, lie said:
■ M . Chairman and (icntlcm n »t the convention:
I libtened with bowed head rnd reverent heart to
tho eloquent invo< aon of th,, r verend genfl man
with the s tcrod nam ”. II oliicc here wa to voice
to prayer the hearts of the members of tho convi n
tlon, but J rnis el in his utl'.ramts that sentiment
which J b<d e .od to be uppermost in every breast in
this body, and with the uttermost rev rmco I can
speak that sentiment.”
Then with uplifted hands aid with full and
solemn voice headed, ‘God i.i .s and mvc and
keep the democrat of democrat.*-, then b t > them
all, Grover 0 vcland, president o the U i
T iis charming nerve Inoe’red the kickers out.
and not only was there not a whisper <d’« rii i» i m
utte red against the administ ration d-G ini' i o con
vention, biitu strong ind'jrsement <i. C evelaiid went
through without udls-.cnting voice.
-—— - -♦
Signs uud Omens of Negroes.
When er crane Uy over de roof nv de cabin
cn call “corpse! corpse! corps-!“ ar’B er death
wamdiu’!
When wilo birds takes t»jr flutterin’ on flittering
’ronn’ er house Homcbo ly in dot housegwine jrijikij.
Ob, Jx>’d, dig de grave when de crow lights on de
' roof er de house.
Hear er whip po’-will in day time is death sign for
some pusson, en dut pussou ain't gwine die in de
bed.
Squlnch-ow 1 shivers for somebody's death-call.
Wood peckers come peekin’ at trees 'bout de cabin
do’—de sho' is nailin' cuiiiu lids fur some pu son in
dat house.
When er rooster turn ho face to'ards do house cn
cr<>w inter do do’, death gwine e nuo in dat do' cn
take out who he want.
Chickens den tgo ter rwst ’fo’ sundown lessen
some death lx.* cornin' nigh.
When t>>e Hot Scot Nought to Kiss ffer»
I From the Nineteenth Century.
Several years ago the wife of a scientific
man was seized with what is called “hysterical’'
paia!ysis of the lower limbs. She was informed
I the h T Inability to walk was not the r ;ilt ;of any
I organic Change, but merely of nervous debility,
• and bhe received the usual routine advice/ vk.: that
i “she might tight against her f-. Jlbgi an 1 make
constant ctrorts to overcome the pandy kby force
! of will.” She followed this advice for a long time,
’ t'fort’pts at walking and resigned her.ulf to th • igno
j i/.’.ny of a bath chair. After mouths of r< s. the uno
I of her limbs was Mildcnly rcstor.,l to her. On
J.iw.Ute v •■rt-,-' rr r . "*i. ‘v. p•’
! per. During hh itVx.nc j a half intoxicated high
j iande. approached the Indy and thrcatGiiod to kiss
j i»4f. in terror she jumped from thi bath chair and
■ made off in search of her Lu-.tiand. From the
date of that incident she gradually recovered her
j power of locomotion.
THE COLONEL’S TALE.
From All Year Round.
It was late—after midnight—nnd as wc got
up from the whist table and gathered around
the lire, Colonel Thornton said: “If you men
are not too tired, and don’t mind sitting up for
another half hour, I think I can tell you a
good story.’’
Wo protested wo were never less tired, and
could sit up till morning if necessary. So tho
colonel began:
“My father, as you Know, was a parson, but
lie took orders late in life, after having been
fifteen years at tho bar, and the events of
which I am going to tell you he, himself, told
mo as having come directly under his eye
when he was a barrister,
“It was at the Monmouth assizes, in 18—,
that a case was tried which became tho talk of
the m ighborhood and country for years after.
My fntlior was sitting in the court of the as
sistant judge, when a note was brought to him
from a friend in tho adjoining court, asking
him to come and hoar n case of more than
usual interest, the facts of which wore these:
“Some time b(‘foro a farmer’s horse near
Monmouth had been broken into and robbed
by men disguised and masked, tho farmer
murdered and his servant shockingly ill-treat
oti. Among other things which were stolen
wore two old-fashioned silver brooches, curi
ously inlaid with malachite, heirlooms of tho
family ; and although unremitting search was
made, and the description of the lost articles
made widely known, no trace of the mur
derers could bo found.
“A month or two after the murder, how
ever, a police oilicer, in going through a com
mon lodging house in Bristol, noticed a dissi
pated looking sailor lying on a pallet and resting
his head on a small bundle. I lo asked him what
it contained, and was told that, it was ‘only his
kit.’ Tho officer, not satistied, opened the
bundle, and almost tho first things to fall out
were the two brooches made of silver and
malachite. Struck by their curious beauty,
and wondering how such a wretched looking
fellow could have become possessed of them,
ho suddenly remembered the advertisement
and description of the stolen articles.
“‘How did you come by those?* bo in
quired.
“The sailor replied: ‘By cluirce. When I
camo .ashore some limo ago with plenty of
money in my po kct. I mot an old seaman who
was down on his luck, and ho offered to sell
mo these things, which had belonged to his
mother. I was pretty flush, ami gave him a
good price for them, although tln v were use
less to mo. And that’s all about it?
“The police officer, still dissatisfied, took
him into custody. Ho was sent to Monmouth
gaol, the brooches wore identified, and he was
committed for trial at the assize on the charge
of theft and murder. And.” continued the
colonel, imuD'ssively, “ a t my father entered
the court, Un.j man was being placed in the
dock.
“Tall then average height:
and gaunt, with Un unkoot board, ami an evil,
yellow eye, and though evidently suffering
from his long imprisonment, he yet presented
a powerful and imposing front. The trial had
begun, and he hud just been asked tlie usual
cj'.ioKtion: ‘Arcyou guilty or not guilty?’ and
had answered in a hollow voice: ‘Not guilty,
my lord,’ when the entrance of one of the
court officials with a, gentleman stopped the
prone Klings for a while. And here 1 must ex
plain th is intei runt ion.
“A few days before a quiet, gentlemanly
man, a Captain Forsyth, of his majesty’s navy,
had arrived ut the chief hotel of the town on a
fishing excursion; but the weather had been
so adverse that he was obliged to look else
where for amusement. Tuininjj to tho land
lord for information, he was told of this trial
ns exciting considerable interest, ami so it
came. (.> pass that, ns the prisoner took his
place at the bar, Captain Forsyth sent his card
to the judge, who gladly allowed him, us was
then the custom, a sent on flu bench.
“Tim <-as? proceeded'; witnesses were called
to identify the bro<»ches, the servants swore to
the figure of the prisoner as resembling that of
the murderer; no u itnessos were called for his
defense;—no one defended him; everything
pointed to his guilt, ami the jury retired to
their room. In a few minutes they returned,
and, amid the breathless expectation of the
crowded Court, tho foreman announced their
opinion that the man was ‘Guilty.*
“Din < tly this word wamt tored, the prisoner,
Who hud been leaning as if for support against
tho side of the dock, raised himself to his full
height, stretched out both hi c hands above his
head, ami, looking up, exclaimed in a broken
voice: ‘.sot guilty; not guilty,*
“The judge then asked him, as was usual, if
ho had anything to say before sentence should
he pronounced, ami the prisoner< riod hoarsely,
‘ Not guilty, my lord, not guilty ; before heaven
ami man lam innocent of this crime. 1 never
set iny eyes on the murdered man ; I did no
murder. Oh! captain, captain— ? in his vehe
mence ho addrc.jsed the judge as if he wr?rehis
officer ‘f am as innocent of this crime as the
babe unborn.’ lie paused, then suddenly, in
a voice choking with feeling, ho exclaimed:
‘'Yes, yc , only one man can save me now; but
he ran do it, swear what you may. The Lord
be thanked, that man is here.’
“A buzz of astonishment ran round the
court; tho feeling of awe that had held the
audit neo <d:an;,c<i into one of amazement.
“ 'joint him out to inc,’ said the judge.
“ ‘The man who can save me,’ replied th©
pr loner, ‘bits there beside you,’ pointing to
the astonished ('apdain Forsyth.
“The judge turned to Captain Forsyth and
raid; 'This man appears to know vou. Is it
tlmc.se?’
'•‘i; lainiy not,’he replied, much surpris
ed’ ‘1 mA or saw him before in my life.’
“ ‘Oh, < aptain,’ broke in tho prisoner; ‘yes,
you m rded start, I know you, Captain For
syth. Vou are never going to swear away an
innocent man's life like that?’
“‘it is curious, my man,’ the captain re
plied. ‘that you know my name; hut I repeat
that I never saw you before in my hfo.’
•“What? Not know John Williams of the
Neptune? Tho coxswnim of tho captain’s
cutter?’
“ ‘ Y(is, J know John Williams, but you aro
not he. John Williams was the smartest man
that ever served under me, and never likely to
stand where you uro now.*
“ Captain,’ rep'-ated the prisoner, ‘I tell
you Jam John Williams. A long illness, a
hard Ismt of drinking and this cursed impris
onment have made me what lam And I will
prove it captain, I will prove it if you will
only listen.’
“The sensation caused by this dialogue was
immense. Tho judge, the members of the bar
and tho spectators were equally astonished at
the curio.is, tin n ti.o affair had taken, and,
though believing the man to he guilty of a des
perate deceit to save liis life, were eagerly
awaiting what should come.
“ ‘Captain,’ continued the prisoner, ‘I am
accused of murder ng a man here on June
25th, more than nine months ago. Now, tell
me, sir, was not John Williams--your cox
swain invalided home from the West African
station on the last of that month ?’
u ‘What tho man says,’ remarked Captain
Forsyth to the judge, ‘is p rfectly turn. His
majesty’s ship, tho Invincible, sailed with our
invalided m<n for England on June
■‘•-'i.'.-. •p<; ;’Wt th ’»n r* ‘'Y'cTTaii’.l *1 urrive 1
in England at the end of July, weak ami ill,
and getting my prize money, went and drank
It all away. And that’s bow it was I was
found at Brhtol, wh re I had gone for another
ship; ami ever since then I have been in
this accursed jail.’
“ ‘The follow is plausible enough,’ again re-
PRICE FIVE CENTS.
marked Captain Forsyth. ‘Ho is certainly
about the height of Williams. Well, my
man, I suppose you can prove what you
say ?’ J
“ ‘Av, ay, captain! Do you remember, on
tiie 10th of last Juno, giving orders for a night
raid on the native town off which we lay look
ing out for slavers?’
“ ‘Yes, I do, to be sure?
“ ‘Ami that we were live boats in all. And
the first to beach was tho captain’s cutter.
And the fiast man to jump out of it was youu
captain?’
“AV ell, this is is the most extraordinary
thing I ever hoard’’ Ami, turning to thn
judge, the captain said: ‘Every word of thia
poor fellow’s narrative is true, my lord. Ha
may have picked it up somewhere; but 1 can’t
help beginning to think there is soim thing be
hind. My ship is still on foreign service, and»
1 have only returned to take charge of an«
ot her one.
“ ‘Well, go on, man.’
“Om‘ word more, captain, and maybe you
will believe me. As wo were lighting in the
town, a great nigger came behind you with his
ax and would have cut you in half before you
saw him had not a man rushed between and
.‘‘topped him with liis cuthiss; and yctnotquito
stopped him. for that infernal nigger’s ax
slipped down the cut hiss and gashed the man’l
head open. , Who was that man. captain?’
”‘John Williams,* was tho reply, ‘the cox>
swain of my cutter.’
“ ‘Ay, ay, canta n. and here is the cut which
that ax made, ami, Lending down, he lifted
with one hand his long, untidy hair, and with
the other pointed to a huge, and fearful scar
running for several inches along the side of
his head.
“Captain Forsyth leaped from his seat.
“ ‘Good heavens, you are right! But how
you have changed ! My lord, this poor fellow
had not sailed from the African coast when
the murder was committed; it is imposeibla
that ho could bo guilty of it. Williams, you
savod my lite : I thank God 1 havo been abl®
to save yours!’
“At (Lose words everybody in tho court stood
up and cheered the prisoner with tho wildcat
excitement and enthusiasm; the judge said, iu
discliarging him, he must at the same time
compliment him on his gallantry; and the
foreman of the jury then and there started a
subscription for him, which came up tonoar
Captain Foray th ordered u chaise to taka
him post-haste to London, for tho purpose of
removing Williams from a place with such
horrible associations, and of getting him an ap
pointment from the admiralty. The peoplo
insisted on dragging tho chaise out of town
with their own hands, the horses wero then
put to, and amid deafening cheers they drove
off—and wero never heard of again.
“Why was that?” some one asked, os the
colonel paused.
“Because it was a hoax!”
“What!” we all exclaimed. “A hoax!’*
Wc had listened breathlessly to the tale.which
the colonel certainly told admirably, tho per
spiration standing on his forehead as with
horrible reality he personated the desperate
sailor.
“V es,” be said, “u hoar, it wai all » precon
certed arrangement; the captain was merely
a cbwer who played such parts for
those of h!S (WSbciatefc fn crime who camo near
receiving their reward. This was probably his
biggest performance; but though it answered
well enough then, in these days of teiegraphio
communication and multiplied navy lists, it
would bo simply impossible.”
WILD ELEPHANT HUNTING.
From Harper’s Bazar.
The village of Kottiar lies in the center of
Tiimblegan bay.’on the’northo.ist coast ofCeylon, and
it was here, nn ler a tamarind tree, which stUl
stands, that Knox, with his sou, Captain Robert
Knot, “the historian, *’ an I his ship’s crew, in tho
year I<>VJ, were betrayed by the Kandyans, and
thence carried prisoners to their mountain strong
hold to remain in captivity fora period of twenty
vear.4, by order of Rajah Singh 11.
A neat little government rest-house for the use of
ravoler.-i, built In tho time of tho Dutch
ic < close t > the Landin * place, and is at present In
charge of a piece of ebony called Mr. Lignum Vltie.
A small charge is ma le to uh who occupy It, to as
sist hi defraymg'oxponses.
We commenced our journey up river, but not
lielng able to obtain suiheient canoes, the (Odles
had t-j walk up the banks, and to encourage them
through the jungles wc each took it hi turn to wulfc
with them. By recent heavy rains up country the
river had unfortunately greatly swollen, and the
banks In many places were overflown, also, tbs
surrounding flat country; what were or ginnlly rivu-
I ts running Into the Ganga now became flowing
rivers, aqji our progress under the circumstances,
was much retarded. Most of the hlml’ low streams
were got over but many deep and w I lo ones bud to
be crossed and this was‘lone by cutting a fairly
straight youn/r tree an I placing It between the
forks of two others on eith r bank, then making a
bun 1 rail of jungle rope, and in this way we hod
Utile difficulty in crossing several of the worst
streams. In one imtancc.only the hand ru.ll broke,
prJclpitatlng a coolie with a ch eof our precious
provision.' into the running stream, which was of
course*lost forever an«l curried away by the cujreut
The cool c was luck Hie saved.
Having arrived safe and sound at Kauda Kadti,
wc pitched our tent, changed into dry clothing, fix
ed our camp beds, lit a roaring tiro, roasted the fat
ted calf, ami dined “truly rural” on tho tut of the
land, and soon retired fur the night. Rising early
next morning from a most refreshing sleep, we
found our trackers already on the alert, also a Ved
<lnh tone of the aborigina l or wild men of the
woods) who Offered his services, which were accept
ed. After seeing to our guns nnd ammunition, and
taking with us a few refreshments, we began our
march alter the rogue who Lal bet u reported ta
have committed all sorts of depredations tn the
nelgbborhKid of late, nn I eou!d not then be very
far ulf, as he had paid a visit during the night to
oneof tho vlllnger.fi’gardens not two miles away,
, and had torn up nearly nil bls I amimi trees.
After nearly three hours wading through the Jun
gle, with water up to our waists, wc came upon our
game, and had only just time to Hlip behind one or
two g(xxl trees when the elephant suddenly made
his iiop -aruiice, making straight for us. I took thy
first shot, and giving him the c intents of my 12 lx>r®
rifle at 12 |>acesiust over the eye, he threw up hU
head, turned tail and fled, trmnp' ting, smashing
and leveling everything in bis headlong career, it
was ImpoHsibie then to give him a second shot,
owing to the large volume of smoke, which would
not r.so. the atmosphere being tix> damp, but we
immediately gave chase, and after a most exciting
run of twenty minutes came iq>on him again in Jar
better Jungle. 1 was again lucky enough to be first
In the licl'l, nnd with a well directed shot, placed
just behind the ear, tho ponderous brute tupplod
over. dead, close to a jungle palm. Alter taking the
brush we d auk our very good health, and were not
al all sorry for a refresher alter so long and exciting
a chase under the lays of u tropical sun.
'fo r< turn to our camp. To save lime and dl»-
tance in retracing our step? we decided to cross tho
river, so wo sent off our trackers to cut decayed
jungle trees. Having done this, and brought tho
trunks lo the river's side, we lashed them together
and m idea raft,and then launched it Intot ho river
No Msmur bud we done so than a loud bark and a
h]*lh b came from a group of mangroves on the op
puslte side. We looked ut each otner, and all knew
well what those omlnlous splashes meant: but nev
ertbelors we had made up our raft and minds also
to (r >ss.
The ferryman, or Kanda Kada. who accompanied
us, aby no means inferior tracker, and known to
most S|K>rUunen who have travelled in this part of
the <^untry, was a very strong Moor, as plucky aa
they can bo made, mi 1 a perfet t fsb In Die water.
Having place I the guns and ammunition on th®
raft, he boldly phingci into the river, regurdlcMl of
the cio 'odlh s and sai m acro.s with it audits con
.leutb tw the-cti.c •idr, undr L-.-.rug- wViy* landed *
the cur-», trought tho raft back s r u«, maklna a
noise tho white something like thu! thu! to drive
away hD amphibious friends. The eldest member
of our party had thew at of honor on the raft, and
the other two not llklnz to I c outdone by the old
ferryman, agre ed to a Lt their c jmrsd® over on this
occasion; we plunged In also in our hunting at
tire. and after tome time our minds w reset at rest
by touching ground oh the opposite bank.
!