The Atlanta constitution. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19??, January 17, 1888, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextvA-X ( WR .-. P . .<£o^,.:-3 \W7 r<Wl. v> ? ; ? a«*T ' r,^: i&i r-- V?*. h-V* 7 1 • s ,£fii '& '-. v.-• /// fc” ■.<.=.■ .?■■. .i- -.,m ■-,%. ... ■<„ . . t -- \ k..\ <£bb ’ . .J "■' '' 'fa - ' ■■ ■ ■ ■ .: ■ W5-' < • ■ J . ' ‘•'4 '~- >■ . . , ,',•... w »■■' . :? ; XR=a.= ; Rß' : - ■ VOL. XIX. “LITTLE DAVE.” By Joel Chandler Harris. Street car No. 4 is a car that would attract attention anywhere. It is a car that is full of ■ individuality whether it is loaded down with I passengers or whether it is empty. I have paragraphed No. 4 in the newspapers before now, alluding somewhat sarcastically to its peculiarities: but these allusions have, bad no effect so far as I can see. The ramshackle old car rattles right ahead as usual, displaying its ' peculiarities at every crossing and at every | curve. One moment its movements seem to be i an aggravation of smoothness. It glides along i without jolt or jar, but, just as the sensation , becomes pleasant, it breaks into a gallop, then subsides into a trot, and so on to tho end. There are other peculiarities which I will not mention for fear that unimaginative people will say that I am somewhat eccentric tnyself. Those I have referred to can be felt and appreciated by all men. Why not make it a point, then, to avoid No. 4? perhaps you will ask. Well, some irritable people do, but, for my part, I prefer No. 4, to any other car. Its individuality is worth Studying. Even its drivers are interesting. Kit Skelton drove it a month or more, but lie was transferred to another car, and Dimmick took his place. Dimmick was a character in his way. A more accommodating man never drove on the line. As tho country advertise itnents put it, he studied to please. lie was not always cheerful, but lie was always good humored. No matter how irritable the pas sengers might be, he never lost patience. Ho Was always ready to explain or apologize, and yet he somehow managed to impress people with the idea that lie was not a man to bo im posed upon. Dimmick was a responsive per son, too. A smile or a kind word would win him at once. It has long been my habit, when the weather fs favorable, to ride on the platform with the street car drivers, and in this way I came to know Dimmick very well. He was a great talker when once started, though he rarely talked about himself. He had had a very wide experience in the north Georgia mountains, and once he told mo he had been to Albany in thestate of New York, a fact that struck him as verj' important. And no doubt it was to Dim mick, for it was easy enough in his case to con clude that he had visited Albany as tho unwil ling guest of the United States government. Such things have happened before now, and they will probably happen again. Ono who has been riding on the street cars four times a day for seven years or more, is apt to notice every little incident, whether odd ot commonplace. It was therefore no motive Os curiosity nr inquisitivejnes# that led mo to tomark what seemed to be one of Dimmiek’s peculiarities. No matter how busy he was in making change, no matter whether he was be hind or ahead of time, no matter whether the sun was shining, or whether the rain was fall ing. 1-e-would always-stop his ~uvhvTimi came to a particular corner, and look anxious ly up the cross street. Sometimes tho street would be empty, and then he would turn off tho bralres in a hurry, whip up his horses, and proceed to make up the time he had lost. But, at other times, when a thin legged negro nurse was to bo seen trying to steer a fat, wob bling baby along tho pavement, Dim mick would kiss his hand at the couple and break o:t into a hearty laugh. Occasionally the thin-legged negro nurse and tlmVat baby would manage to be near the crossing, and at such times Dimmick would Stop his car stock still, reach down for the fat baby and kiss it all over its face and eyes, a proceeding which the youngster seemed to en joy immensely, for it made a point of laughing heartily whenever this event occurred. And tho negro girl laughed, too, in sympathy, so I that the person who stood on the platform when the baby was “drug on board” (I employ Dim mick’s language) had the pleasure of behold ing a very happy trio. Which was the hap piest on these occasions I shall not undertake to say, but my impression is that Dimmiek’s enjoyment was the keenest. Ono day just before Christmas I was driving the car while Dimmu k r.te his dinner—l am a very good driver, if 1 do say it myself—when fill of a sudden 1 heard him slap the top in his little tin bucket, and the next moment he was f’y my side, putting or. tho brake. “What’s up?” said I. “There's the boy,’' said he, and, sure enough, there on the pavement, with the negro nurse trying t<> keep him sti'ady, was the little baby ih.it Dimmick had been m tho habit of stop ping for. Tim nurse was grinning ami tho baby wo -smiling, but I observed that thi jlittle fellow was not as plump as he had been, and when Dimmick lilted him up to kiss him. I no- 1 ticed that lie cougl. .1 ami wheezed when he I tried to laugh. “What y<,ur.g>t-r is th..t?” I inquired, as 1 the car v,ent swinging down the hill from Cooper street. “Ih:'.t,” exclaimed Dimmick, “That’s bis ; papp;.' buy. That' - l.irtle Dave, and a mighty • peart chap at that.” “Then he’s your boy.” I said. “V 11, sir, you hit it that time. lie’, mine, an’ I wouldn't have airy other. Ain't you been a noticin’ how cate he is? I don’t right- I ly see how you could 'a mi-sed it, bekase, whether ho's here or cm' yander, he’s in about tho bangincst chap you ever laid your two ; eyesom Why, I th ught you knowed Little Dave, sir. Here you’ve been a se> in’ m< pick Idm up day ar ter day. at.'here you’ve be.n a ' a bearin'me holler a; him, an’yit you didn't ' kn -w he was Little i ’..v<. It’s mighty funny, i Ikn Little Dave so might} well mys- if, that I’m sorter got it into my head that evei'- body oughter know him.” Seeing that J was entire)} sympathetic, Dimmick grew c< nJ.detitial. He told me his I history, and J caum.t d ■ hi tter loan repeat it in his own word-, as i; .-i-.-i, I can remember ; them. “I tell yon what,” «aid he, “you eee tno a-1 tugliiii’ an’ gwlne on, I ’. it’s all on ao<ount crl.it. Da ■•. i'ii hr.d my t.ps an'Jhad ji>\ 'c I. .’ t' ■ >v. is uppermost. Chri '.. a s tim'.iv h ■ ■ . us-soil Um: itaii' . the ■■ I .. . -i up my back. It u-<dt> an.i..:..y with we-all, an' its m gl.ty lig <!.-.• -.it, but it brnng ; inc t heap of tic." .• . . an' another. It nothin' v.-.yrld do the !• ,v bat we must make a run oi bran • . ir.it fell t.. >..0 to male it. an’ci - 1.1t.t I was a ’tin’ liTLiCi. >i tP. ' • fl G1 ■ -IZ ! I>. • ‘ j;, thin. lkm>v. ni.-y hid 1.t.1.u. ..time, an’ by the time I got my eyes rubbed good, they had me on the cars n-gwine to Atlauty. “Well, sir, that was shore enough trouble, bekaze I. know’ll that Viny an’ Little Dave was a settin’ up by the lire a-waitin’ fer me, an’ whilst the cars was a clickety-clackingalong, I ‘ could see ’em v.liar they sot. Little Dave I mought a-becn asleep, but I know'd his mam ; my was a settin'up by the tiro a-waitin' fer me, an’ I low’d maybe she had Little Dave in her arms fer comp'ny. Leastways, that's i what I'd ’a’ done. If I’d 'a' been a-settin’ tliar ' waitin’fer somcl ody ernothcr. I'd 'a' picked j up Little Dave an’ a-helt ’im jest fer comp’ny. ! j Yes, sir. that’s me, all over. I’d ’a’done that ! I very thing: I’d’a’picked up Little Dave, an’ I j I'd a-cv.ddled 'im up ag'in mo, an’ I,d a-sot I | tlmr plum tv.cl doomsday but wliat I’d a- I waited. An' that's what Viny done. Nobody liain’t told mo she done it. tmt I know in reason that that's what she done. She thes picked up Little Dave oil'n the cot. an'she says to'im, says she, ‘l’appy’s a-comin’ ther cckiy,' an ’.she sot tliar an’ rocked an’ rocked fer the Lord knows how long; an'whilst she was a rockin’ little Dave, I was a-rockin’ longto'rds Atlanty with the han’euffs on. “Well, sir, they put me up an’ they tried me. I told my talc an’ they told ther'n. I had no money, an’ they wan’t no folks aroun’ that I know'd, an’ so they hustled me off to jail. Tiies how long I staid thar I’ll never tell you, bekase I hadn’t more’n got in tliar, ’fore I was took down with a sickness that lasted me a mighty long time. I didn't know night frum day, and when I woke up, it was gittin’ along to’rds the next Christmas. “Now, s’l, then s’l, ’thar's Viney an’ little Dave a-waitin’ fer you, an’ thar’s a crop to be made. I waited an’ waited, an’ bimoby they turned me a-loose. “Well, sir, I wish I may die dead if I hadn't a-ruther they’d a kep’ mo in tho jail, bekase when I got home, they weren’t no home thar. Was the house burnt? Lord, no; but a house thes by itself liain’t no home. Tho'jail what they had me cooped up in was a house, an’ a mighty solid one, but the jail weren’t no home, an’ it could’t be made one, no matter how you fixed it. The house what I used to live in was thar, where 1 lo'ft it. but they weren’t nobody in it. Viny was gone an’ Little Dave was gone, an’ I noticed by the rain that had dripped down the chfmbly that they hadn’t been no fire in the fireplace fer a mighty long time. “Well, sir, it was more’n a mile to tho nighest neighbor’s house, bit I got over the ground mighty' peart, an’ thar I beam tell of what, kind of Christmas I’d come home to. You may not believe, sir, but Viny was done dead an' buried an’ Little Dave was livin’ round wi’the neighbor s first one, and then the yuther. I clinched my teeth, an’l says to myself that what a man can’t stan’ a ”'< ■n, and then I put out to fin’ tho baby. I found ’im—Oh, you better be lieve I found ’im I —an’ he looked lots wuss than w hat ho does now. I know in reason he must ’a’ fretted night an’ day, bekaze he was that puny yon could count li is ribs an’ geo the whelks on his backbone. Hight then an’ thar I scon that somopin better be done, an' so I up an’ look little Dave on my hip an' como back to Atlanta. An’ here we is—good or bad, here we is. “How is the baby? Why, sir, you’d admire to see how that chap's picked up. An’ if you don’t believe he’s cute you thes ast Kit .Skel ton. Kit haiiit got no babies, but, I tell yon, lie knows a cute young un when ho sees it. I’ve got’im cress yonder at a little boardin’- house, an’ when the weather’s good I make tho nigger gal what’s a nussin’ ’im fetch ’im out there on the comder whar I can see ’im time I pass. Little Dave sets out thar, an’ when he secs old Number Four humpin’ along, he ups an’ hollers like a grown man: an’ sometimes I put on tho brakes an’ take ’im up, an’ it’s all 1 I can do to keep ’im from driven "t-ht over cver’thin’ that comes in tho way. As shore’s you born, that baby is a caution 1” And I have no doubt he was. I used to sec. him playing on the pavement with his negro nurse, and 1 became interested in him, knowing his pathetic history. As Dimmick said, he was a cute baby. Ho was neither beautiful nor chubby, but he was bright looking. Kit Skelton used to say that he was the smartest baby in the land, but 1 suppose that was be cause the little chap always held up his head ami laughed when Kit’s car went rattling along. There was a scheme organized by Skelton and Piunkett and tome of the regular passen gers to lill Little Dave's stocking on Christmas morning, but just as the scheme was ripe, and just before Christmas, Dimmick disappeared, and Little Dave disappeared with him. The driver who took hi. place knew nothing about Dimmick —in fact, hud never heard ul him. All ; inquiries seemed fruitless, but on Christmas ' day big-hearted Kit Shelton put on an "extra” I and went to hunt Dimmick and Little I Dave up. lie had his pockets full of t Chri im:.> gilts and went up and down the I street wher : tho baby used to play inquiring . for Dimmick. At one place, a weak-eyed, I ’ thin-voici d wonmn camo to the floor ami said j that a baby bad died there the day before ami I was burii I that morning; but this wasall. if ' it was Little Dave that die‘l, we may be sure I his Christmas was a happy one ; but I should ; be glad to know that both Dimmick and the baby were alive ami prosperous today. I Win river they arc. 1 wi-li them a merry Christmas, and Kit Skelton says he i > willing ■ to sign his name to that statement. From I Christmas “Dixie.” JOTTED DOWN. The tremendous real <■ tato ami building I bo.-.m nt L-.s Am-'ei'.s l.a-Imluced a (.'iucnxo yank-.c I to ship ready-m»'lo houses to tho Calffornia town. ley ar , nt 1, And painted, ami any | i carpenter cun pit th on ur.. John Shea, of Palmer, Mass , was attacked i by an um:ry l all, who threw him down ami drove ' one imrn through Ids thigh. Shea wat i.i a fulr way ; I to o ki'd'.-'l, wl.en his flog came to ids rescue, and worre.-l tne bud o i erilstently that he turm.-d from SI. a, who su'.-cec'lc 1 in < ruwling a'voy A queer sight was v.itncsoidnt i'ort Smith Ark., n ■ ently. 'ii-.- i- i,afoot o.‘p:i-.f I stre • in the city, mm when It rains I’. is alnio : imi „, . lblc ! ■ ■ ■■ id. :■ ■■ «a. ■. o . : - dents J a , pair oft ul a .-kli o:m drov.-the bi'ih.s, anotb- j I.r c- 1 ti.e I !■ 1 a ’hit I manage It.. rtuM.r. ; 'i. ■■■■'■ ; 1 . : ol 01'ci0.:r..;.0 imm Tin; ■.-.hoi' pope. Aon of (,'tali is nt least tber ■ ’ o.u lie-." ’i ..eie are, orlateiy were, about . r. • b ■ :■ oi r,, ifamilies, Very nmny of I l. .e . ' . y ; J.ibltory ■ ■ ■ i : j. p: c | ■ ’ . . m . h o -ty uu i Ul, i.i, I .. t:.,.. I 1...S :i.»uoue I i ATLANTA. GA., TUESDAY, JANUARY 17, 1888. TOLD IN A DW. By Wallace F. Reed. For The Constitution. “It was madness and folly I” And as Julian | Blair gave utterance to this ct-claiuation lie j brought his hand dowiy upon his desk, with : tremendous force. The young man in his excitement rose from : ids chair and paced the floor of his office. | “I made a fool of myself,” ho said bitterly. i "Hero lam, a young lawyer, without prac i ticc, in a littlo country town, and witli no hope of bettering my condition. Instead I of waiting patiently for something to turn up 1 have bad the audacity to fall in love with tho wealthiest heiress in the. place, and to night I forever disgraced myself by asking her to marry me. Tomorrow I am to see her father. There can bo but ono result. Mr. Howard is a millionaire. Ho will ask me about my property anil my prospects. Well, I have about five dollars in my pocket and I owe five hundred. Tho old gentleman will re gard mo as a fortune hunter and request 11m to discontinue my visits. Yet, tho Lord knows I love Alice, and I would dovote my life to her.” Blair looked around tho office and took a survey of his scanty possessions. A few art . ties of furniture, and perhaps a hundred law books —this was all. “It will ho useless,” ho said, “to tell a man like Mr. Howard that I will wait for his daughter. He will simply show me tho door, and all will be over.” The young fellow’s frank and manly face wore a look of pained embarrassment. Ho had taken a leap in tho dark and was already re gretting his hasty action. The town clock struck the hour of midnight, and Blair retired to his chamber adjoining his office, and made an effort to sleep off his trouble. For some time he was wide-awake. His eyes burned and his brain was in a whirl. At last he fell into a feverish and disturbed slumber. In the course of the night a strange thing oc curred. Just how it happened ho did not clearly understand, but he had a lato visitor, who introduced himself as a lawyer from Lon don. The stranger made profuse apologies for liis untimely visit. “Mr. Blair,” be said, “I will not detain you with any preliminaries. You are the heir to the estate of John Blair, ono of your uncles who ran away from homo when a mere boy, and settled in Liverpool. Your uncle was re markably lucky, lie found friends, went into business, and in the course of time made a for tune. He died a month ago and left you half a million dollars.” Julian proceeded to ask for further i tlon, but tho London lawyer pleasantly ’re marked that good news would keep. “I must leave in half an hour for New York,” he said, “but you may expect me back in a week or so. and then the necessary ar rangements will be completed for placing you in possession of your inheritance.” With this tho strange visitor vanished, and Julian Blair as he raised himself on his elbow ami looked about the room asked himself whether lie was awake or dreaming. A sudden drowsiness overcame him, and when he again opened his eyes it was morn ing. “Was it a dream ?” he cried, ho dressed himself. “No, it is impossible. There is tho chair the man satin. I remember his features distinctly, and every word he said, and even the tones of his voice. Thank God! It was no vision; it was a reality.” Julian found, after making h’ .- tcllet. that ho was still a littlo feverish, with a strange fulness in Ids bead, but a glance at the mirror showed that he was looking unusually well. One thing startl' d him not a little in the course of the. morning. After a brief inter view v.ith ono of the bankers of the lowa, be walked out on the street with five hundred dollars in his pocket. A sudden doubt struck him as ho reached the sidewalk. Had ho ma.de a mistake in tell ing the banker of his good fortune? If the whole thing was only a dream, as he some times suspected, he had done u very bad thing. “Pshaw!” he eaid to hin.s:lf, "I am siek and nervous, flow can it be a dream?” By degrees Lis confidence was restored, and later in the day when he saw Mr. Howard his manner was well calculated to impress tho millionaire. He told the story of his legacy, and the rich man took him by the hand and t'dd him that no man in the wide world would suit him better as a son-in-law. A Wei k passed away delightfully. Blair found himself the lion of the town, but ho spent most of Ids leisure time with his affi anced. One morning the y-ung lawyer arose, cool and clear-headed, without a I race of fever, He looked Lack Upon the events of tiii; past week in amazement, lie no longer had any belief ■ in tho visit of the man from London. It was I a iL'. am, and nothing else. ‘T .mi in a dis/rai il d fix!” ho groan' 11. “I I have lied to Mr. Howard and to Alice. I have ! j borrowed money under false pretenses. Noth- I 1 ing will ever convince people that 1 am not a ; i swindler.” A . tl.c days rolled on, Julian grew thin and : pale. Hi- i.ii ild not bring him ilf to tin; point i of a confession to Mr. Howard and Alice. I i Then, too, some of his obligations were coming , due. There was apparently no way out of his ■ | trouble. 'I he thouglit of suicide took poses- ' ’ sion of his mind, and ho began to n'-rve Idm ' self for the deed. » V « • The card ill Juliun’s hand bore tho address of Henry Mo»l<‘y, Solicitor, Middle Temple, London, and as tho owner of tho card was u dimed into the offico the young lawyer looked ; 1 at him in blatiksurpri.se. It did not take long for Mr. Morley to state his business. “My young fri'.-nd,” ho said rather pompous- : ly, “it is a genuine pleasure to mo to In the b arer of g'.'-d tiding.. I have been two weeks in tbi •' iiinlry looking you up. Your uncle, I i .1 ihn Blau, died rei'.ntjy in Liverpool, where ; : lie left a large o-tatc, and there i> a cool half : mill; n for you.” ■ I-, it another dream ?” whispered Julian. , "i •’. nd ui. 1 r“ i d.” Rd tho Ei. Jisbman, ‘ > . )...• ii,y,i ..-. i. ' Thi-' is no dream; It is ' Thmrbc went on in his matter-of-fact way i I to malic everything tl' ar. “Vou Lever cancel on mo L jforo, Lave : you a .Lc I J Kan, i ‘‘Ccitainly not/’ replied fnu v? itor, ‘ I have , !ju.i f 1.. ti, and it wa, lo matter, 1 ‘ AU th;., h very Lard for me to believe/’ j replied Julian, “and it will take time to con vince mo of its reality.” “Veil, money ought to bo tangible enough,” said the lawyer. “If you feel like drawing for a few thousand now I'll arrange it for you.” Such a proposition was not, to bo refused, , and in the course of the day Julian had ten thousand dollars to his credit in the bank. And then he broke down under the strain, j For long weeks he lay either unconscious or delirous. and the watchers by his bedside wondered at his talk. “Ilis good luck turned bis brain for tho time/’ said old Mr. Howard. And this was the view people took of the ; case. Tho sober business men of tho town ! refused to believe that a penniless young man, ■ with nothing to back him but a dream, had se cured almost unlimited credit anti a rich heiress in the bargain. “Dreams don’t pan out that way,” said ono of them, and this was tho general opinion. But Julian, warned by the tricks his imagi nation had played him, lost no time in obtain ing his legacy and converting it into substan tial investments. When this was done he led sweet Alice Howard to the altar. Once ho said to her that he was indebted to a dreivm for his greatest misery and his great est happiness. This was all that he could be induced to say. He had passed through a terrible crisis, and during tho remainder of his life his greatest desire was to forget all about it. IN TIIK HANDS OF BANDITS. Story of n Ranchman Who Was Caught by Mexican Outlaws-5i,500 Itiinsoin. Metamoras, Mcx., special to the New York Sun: The Cronista publishesan interview with Juan Garcia Barrera relative to liis abduction. On Aug ust 31 he left ids ranch, the San I’edro, in Star coun ty, Texas, en route to Mier. At Ba. m., when nt La Retanioso. three nnles from his ranch, he saw near a thicket four men, whom 1 e took for rangers. He went on, and when within six jpaees of them they Covered him with firearms, and taking him into n thicket put a sentry at his back, and'inf »nucd him that in a few minutes ho was to be killed. They took the food he had provided for the and breakfasted, offering him some, but he could not eat. The captain of the bandits told him that he was sorry that they had captured him, us they had very bad information of him, and they must kill him. He then told the capta’n that in bis valise was 5200, American money, which they had found anil took. Tho party remained in the thicket until dark, when they took a pair of drawers from tho valise and covered h s face with them. He thought they were going to shoot him, ami told the captain they need not bandage his eyes. He was told to keep quiet, and was put on Ids horse on the saddle of ono of tho party, and they started off. Two hours later they arrived at the Encinal, and with HIS FACE STILL BOVM) up he v-a. 3 seated on the ground and kept until lawn, e hen the bandage was removed, lie asked for the captain, but was told that he was asleep and could not be disturbed. t).i” ol t’>e band, I’aneho Fl res, who was killed in Nuevo Leon, wanted him killed, but Gutierrez wanted. 1<»-sny? his life; — Th. n-.rn . P .ur u h-i alia" nearly fought over the. question. The next day the captain asked him what lie Would rive for his life, and he oflered the 5200 they had and 5 t'O more. The captain a>k * 1 53,000. Barrera told him he had n • such sum of money and could not raise it. Tiic cap tain then reduced the sum 51,5<J0. Barrera told him that within a week's time he could raise it. After some haggling it w;.s thus fixed. lie then wrote to his son telling him that he had be< n captme<l by onn( vvukd rsons, and that he wished sent Io Mnc rio Ramirez his draft of sl/00, to be paid without question. The bandits made him change the date on w'deb ho was captured to the Ist ami the place to the Tor recclla, near the Seahunuda, over fifty miles from where lie was actually taken. He was taken back to near liis ranch, and one of the bandits took the ! letter and delivered it to his son. lie was tlien I taken to the house of (jonzalo, where they stopped ) to sup. That night and the next day they passed in ; a thicket near Santa Uruz. Next day they went to the Patitos, where tl.ey f layed nine days in a thicket. On the expiration of the time given him j to have the money sent they gave him another week, telling him if at the end of that time the money was nut ready ms body would be sent ms family. S o:k was offered to them insfeadof money, but I ti.oy told RamireZfWho w<:.> t j' ivu them the money, , that tin y were not so foolish, and that they mu: t. . have the money in a draft on the b uikof the Rio j G rnnde. At the end of nine days the bandits told Bar | that they were j u s .c 1 and that 111 y must cross to : Mexico, wbi di tin y did, near the X'Jlarcals ranch, j at a place call*•<! Cicnaga. Three of tin? I audits I cro sod the river ami the other, with two more who : ha I Joined tiirnn, Hopped on the J exas side. They i passed six days in Cienagn. 3he money J.ad b < n ' seiit, but he was kept to sign a receipt which read j tlmt the 51,500 wa given te .‘>ive his life iind ll.atof : lifs sons and family, and that th<- party to whom it 1 was given v.as never to be revealed on pain of death to all. On tho J7tb, the money having been paid on tho Americ.iD hank of the iber nt the Gruel hi. Mai ion A . aiz ieou! > wanted to have B nn-rn killed any way. ! on the I‘Jth, after signin’ a document swearing j never to reveal tho identity of die banditg he was la';- n <*iw;iT'l R • • ma. At tl.c Brictiis the I .md.i* ! v. i 8 taken from his and at night, in front of i i Reyna \ iego, he v. a lurmdloo.se. i Mr. Barrera is 32 years ol a ■*■, an I■> j rominent , I stockman and “I on. He v.a treat-d to a great l d al of < inelty, being oLli.yd to ent theboncsof j th? badly cooke 1 mc-af t.e lanlits bad. He was ' | ti.kcn blindfold*-1 thiongh the fLicke" , Lis cloth ing was torn to fragment-:, h was o.'fi ii dr»'ii< !.■ *i with rain, and h! garments ha Ito dr. onlii.pj i f-o:;. II" was subjected to the e<m IftZ m-i;Jt . of ; the bandits who tbr dened hi lib- 'l l * m* n a!**, now, tha.’.ks to the :j*’t.i’,’ity of Gene-mi Vein, 1 i prison r. i infim bandits, Jo-.e Homa, an-1 I ran i c! < antn, Gonzalo ( m»m .i>. am! on- Rmm /, i ired yest lay pt ri r a in. | An Exct ntion in AiistrL't. i i ioi.i the London Tvb.yniph. The Austrian method of (xarntlnp elimi nate dillcr.6 greatly from ’ hat In v *. n. m Hus com - try, and though ajq arently more Jio/nbie m the : ! d'dibcratc i.:"H'*J ti.currang-j ; ! eflc- live. 1 lie/ on h-mm d nan h. p:./< *! h: .Jnst a ’ j post, at t ..e top of w hich is ah* ok arid at the b*,t --i tom a pulley A rop. ha .ng u loop at c...; end ,s j ua-e*l around the nek of the victim, anol'.er is ! ; tied about his fc* t, the end L ing j 1 thr.ug.i 1 the pulh y. Two a 1 ;.-*ant,i then H ' the n .i by ' rneansof the rop»; around Lis m-'k aU/ut "Jx Jf.','.*. , ! and suspend Mm from th''hook i t the top of the - po.it. At the safne time the other a l .! J.- t *.s j.;/l 1 with great force at the rope ntt:» cl '.*! t*> ?. <■ f b*’»jth' e ’• ally in-t .ii!an*’O'. thonMi ti ils a range from one half to two inmates in j y j Main';’d Lig moose La > f.dh n V/, FJ. Doug ! hi. •’ a v.c.i kn/ '. n hu:i -.r, hoL him not long ago up C tig’Canada !‘"r sol I */ving .a f.vc dayc 1 fie ".a. nine y* an; old, im avuicd nine f- '.tfrorn Lag? inborn-; tot. ; tip Gt bi, tab, F.'onl t'.’..;Dlv-J o j h, nds high, hey’a <dr hos i.in*-h •. b,m :*■ I : 1 m'M -ured ei'-djU/.-n f /.' f ■ an tho tip of im no.<c to • Li.-.ouUtrcUJmdLm'lfecl. A group of “sifter ” in a Norwich, Conn., ' I grocery-fo;e were d< ■- dynamite ahd aner i chi-?.-; the other night when gre <t consteTD itl*>n w. . "uused by the j?/,ion of a cji 6f p. r in.’ hethaD t ral pti so:i8 ha 1 the': clo'hh.g sm'.ar-jd with the soft con- ■ j tents A lb-, can. H NOVEL OF 1864. BY GENERAL FELIX AGNUS. From the Baltimore American. On the cold and crispy Christmas of 1864 tho army of the Shenandoah was resting peace fully in itsuinti'r quarters around Winches ter and Stevenson’s station, Snow bad fallen for many days. r l'he whole valley was a livid of whiteness. Roads Avoro badly blocked, and tho pathways I through the Bhio I’idge and the surrounding i mountains were almost impassable. Down | the valley, beyond tho picturesque Mass.mut ton group, the eon federate ;, under Early, had retired to secure quarters at Staunton. It looked like a season of quiet camping and peace. \« t the < (‘l(‘rity and watchfulness which Early had displayed at ( Odar ( reek had taught Sheridan that unvarying vigilance must be his only protection against smprise ami danger. Consequently, cavalry was used liberally in small detachments to suour the country from mountain to mount: in. It was lively work an 1 it was bard work ; but tho reports brought in by tho reconnoitering Rallies added to our satisfaction of mind ami promised us a Christ ina full of ] eaco ami ph ;ity. The indications were all against a winter campaign. (Furcstablishcdquartvi s were so v. ellknown to our friends, and were so fortunate in having rail road connection with the north, that when the Christinas tide drew near, loads of box. s full of ilaintie:; from home cam*- as hies im?; to us all. Any comrade vho failed to refuivc one of tl’.esi* substantial im ssages was made to share in tho general profusion of good things. Fellow ship is the reli'ion of army life, ana on such an occasion there was no stint in the generosity ol the men. So, ail in all, we were In for a merry Christ mas. But there was Mosby! As you know, lie and hiscavalry were the big bugaboo of the union forces in the valley. He had m-t strength enough to do us any serious injury, hut In- had that style of men that kept a <•(-nstant warfare on our way,on trains, and it looked atone time as if tho war.issues had completely changed. Instead of secession Meshy had all at once become a Jiu.ssian general, and wanted nothing but Turkey. Oh, liow wo di<l bless him on that occasion ! Wh.v couldn't he let us alone and leave us to the enjoyment of tho-e good tilings from homo? That was the question wo asked between re grets, for ho kept rm ther brigade tramping through the now. And those uho spent that cold Christina-, in the saddle will never forget their experience or forgive Mosby for his dis re. 'ard <>f their comfort. Mosby’s style of lighting was like that of the Indian He seldom attacked in large num bers; he merely pestered our ranks, and when wo pushed him closely his men would scatter k to the four winds, in numbers of three to ten, ami make successful pursuit, almost an impos sibility ; for in order to follow ami punish those small detachments the union troops wore ob lig* <1 to use the same policy ami send squads, under'both com. fceu ami ,r>is- sioned ohicers, to cover,th© country for miles ami miles. Evcrythingbad been very quiet in our front, and Fhciidan was suLLlied. J hat - Early w-milt! not bother him. Nevertheless, Mosby’s great activity kept suspii ion alive, and on ( hridmas Eve our general determined to renew his vigi lance. He order *1 another brigade on scouting duty, with dilutions to pay special attention to the mountain gaps. Rations fur three days and forty rounds of ammunition to (‘.n h man was the Christmas nuirniiu’ order. Th<i boxes from home were despoih <1 <>l th(‘ir bounty. Turkey, plea .ant (cooked ami uncook* I), dainties prepared by hiving hands, ami nbJantials without limit, were the happy lot of (he warrior bohl , and in less than a half hour the knapiael.s were packed, not with old salt army beef, but with appetizing luxuries bent from good kitclu ns and loving frit mis. ! And while, we knew m*t wln re wo would eat | our noon-day meal, we bh ssed with all our ' souls the name of him who came to save the world. After deciding upon a go< d rtst rve, the brigatle was sm! divided into regiment , am! j lli*i:< into B(|' atlrons ami iil'doon.s, and each detachment, under a reliable oliicer, felt itself thoroughly independent. A squad of troop C, of one of l>cvan’s regi ment.., wa . orth red to follow the road that led ' through the gap over the mountains, ami from ! the high cliff to take a good look over lh<- lairay Vitllej’ ( n the otlicrsido, and see if they j could discover anything that howed the pres | once of th<; enemy, in such aso son the eamp i fire was the tell-tale indication of a body of sohliers. A strong parly it was, ami full of vigor and I cheerfulness. Several small towns fell in its i way, ami ex cry house ami hamlet was -arched , far able-bodied men. 'I In yw< re ;urusted, but ’ iiou-eornbatants wore tre.ucd with unvarying ' kimhiess. Perhaps no valley in tlie world contain*, moie I of natural beauty than this sup uh slreb h of country. The outlook over the h ’.el lieldsand the rugg< , <l seem s armiinl the, bordering moun tains filled one. with admir.i'ion in spue of the cokl wind ami the univc; ;d snow. Some iif!c(!n mii*.s away the. indentation of ' the nibiiiititin indicahd t»i the tm «» J <rs the I road to tho pan. Diving the n in. to the j Fiorscs, Ih* y v.ercroon pMughiiig thiough the ! heavy drifts of snow, which ;>.t lim< v.* re so I d< i ep that they 1 hrcat< ne*i to engulf rhlcr as ' wi 11 ;:s her ,c. li v.;*s I.ml v.o/ k ami blow , pr*»,.'icami < old * hili ' played hide-an !- *ok Up and down th .'M ■ , amt thi . v>.;,s m< ri ly a i./elimin ?Ty I r*i ■ He, f ia-Ji* into |.la* • s where Mosby’s men wa re, expected to be fonml v»i*'. w-II <l<>nu, Imt whenever a j;e ;t. wa ir* h-‘ -I the bird was not Iher* ho had flown to some other hiding , Tho command di 1 not far y long,, as the day ! was short ami the main obj * t v,a to crossthe ■ g.:p ami take, peep into the J uray valley. I Ft wa imt ve y Fong before Halle, pie an<l lii.s ■ tieopers fo'ind ih< m;* I ves at, the font of flic hill. Il*- made a < irfnl survey before vcntiir- ! i.'ig into the jeip, and, bceing n*» footpath on I th* now, l.e felt, t,afe to venture without jcceanoitcring. In a short time Im f*>nml that t'm *ii>fts wore too daiigdrous and the snow was too hard frozen to j>crmit the progress of i the Lor * . ALc . plan wa . adopted. One-half of tho enmi-.ai;*! ?. is to cm son foot, and tho other hall was to remain with the lim • a. J; v.a .atougi! climb. Tim wind wa • jiiorc i y ti.o i.’.w w ■ »!■ ■p, ami < ach step was Lai li r than th* otb< r. J ilt pm ev'usm* pad In im rurl. Inks t' nml the •■■ n wore Io king ov»r the valley on the othoi side. i. ntry 1 . Hod I h A I."*’, y ( iof • *. . ami UH f *.r aithc eye could i . .. ' f *!’ J... U... ... . imln 4. n. . . ..• .-, Im a mdnu ng as ' the ’..im! , • 'i.-i t-.f a* >. . J ■ If. f• ■ ■ n m.m • G ilh to* d scan ning the ii «i ■ .i, b ’ I r '- ■ • '•> nothing lliai in*i:<’.H* ■> t! * pi- .* ; **f t ; . He ami hi m< nv. or y •- > ■ 'to tin ami to i' un t > theli Lm m.n ono of tho com called out: “ What ’h that?” They lo »k* <1 a . he pointed, ami. sure enough, ! th* y aw v. hat tijip-'; ;cd iik»; the gablo end of 1 1 a La.* n, a little to the Just am! under the cliff of thliro.nl. They moved further to tj.-o right to get a bi'tfer view. ’l'hmi t'e y, i , v/'Jiin aEt /m ’s ■ throw, ' jimlii g in a 1 vcl la id L-Jow the road, j V.h, I I.- 11, ’ .q. f! ■ Hr 1 H.'l, fin . ill ! Viq.ih; I. un v.. > , j.o ; <A ild age -nd . UilK E FIVE CENTS. the snow that tried to cover it, showed the signs of having 1 cen well built. Not far frum it flu* irrcgulaiity of (he snow inuicut d the ruins of an old homestead. It looked as if the barn was deserted. Cor taiiils its surroundings were as cheork s ami as lifeless as any imagination could picture. Captain Gaik >pm deeidi d to inve. tigat.'. fix addition to satisfying his curiosity he might find forage for the homes. He and his meu ventured slowly down (ho read and through the field. No footsteps could be seen ; not a sign of life was visible; not a sound broke tho dn ariness of tho place. But soldiers arc naturally suspicious. Tho bravest arc often the most cautious. Their oxperii'nce makes them so. (lallespio wns no exception to this rule. Ho we.s always willing to risk his life if there wm H'com|i< nse ;<>r tli<’ courage, but he was nut the ofheer to load his men into a trap. Suddenly a bit of smoko was seen curling from a side opining of the barn. 4 Gallcspic anticipated danger. He lost no time t > prepare tor it. Word was sent back for all men who could bo spared from tho horses to come, up afoot. Tho path made by the first party enabled them to arrive in ashort time. Tlo n Callespio led his men towards the bam They felt that (rouble was ahead. S» areely a dozen steps had the Advanced when tho barn door slow ly opened. , All the nien came to a halt to aw ait devcl* mf'nts. Their carbines were ready for any emergency. 'lhey expected a fcAV ••omplimonts frnni ?»losby. They certainly did not look for what they saw. Astlie door opened a plump figure in petti coats came out. It belonged to a good old c* lured woman. She put up both hands, aa if a ghost had confronted her. Ft was a sur prise on both sides. But w hat a strange incident was to bo re vealed 1 Gallcspio advanced to question her, but she hOd no time to answer him. “Be you a doctor?” she asked in anxious voice. “A doctor?” “ Ves, inassa. My missus am in dar, ’cn a chii<l am jest been horned. Oh! please, massa, ain t you a doctor?’’ It ui<l not romtiro many seconds to summon the surgeon of the command, and in a very short time he was at the sick lady’s bedside. of course there was a romance connected with the episode, and of course the men very soon knew it. It is unnecessary to tell tho story in detail, for its general interest, show's a devotion that impressed every soldier in tho « <>mmand ami stamped the experience indeli bly upon every mind. The lady was the honored wife of the colonel of a Louisiana r<‘>’i meet. 110 had been engaged in the savage light al Cedar creek on the 19111 of October, and in the midst of tho battle, while supporting Kershaw’s division, received a dangerous wound. News of the sad occurrence reached the (le voted wife in her southern home, 2,(MX) inilea away, and, although she was unlit to travel, she heroically traversed the distance in order to aid ami comfort the man she had sworn to love, and whom she did love with all tlie fer vency <4 her soul. Some of his comrades bad carried him away from tlie field of battle in hope that lie might be able to reach his sunny south; but, tho worn ids were moi-n serious than they first sup p‘»s. d, and tho continued loss of blood had told heavily upon him. T he, effort to got him ovef the mountains through this gap was unsuc< oss ful. He was growing weaker all the time, and as they passed the barn it was decided to rust him there for a few hours. But ho never borume strong enough to be moved Lil* scorned to hang ny a mere thread, ami every day promised to be his last. His wife and sister and the old faithful ser vant arrised in time, to ( are for him in bis last hours, and they did it with (bat tenderness and beauty that, make women tho mini storing angels of the world; but ho was past theit ministrat ions. A week l'l-fo’’o tho arrival of Galhspie’s uii.riy the colomd had died, and tho two con f* *lera'* ; who had remained with him dug tho gr.i\o wle iMn his remains were sorrowfully laid to rest. Alter the burial the excitement of the war compelled the, two soldiers to join their com mand. Thu ladies and the old servant wore left alone. Then the snow eame down and cut, them off from all cummuni* ation with the world. To leave the ladies in the desolate place was out. of the, question ; so wo soon had a stretcher for tln: sick mother and accommodation tor Ih<‘ 1 i.-.ler ami the servant. Our little caravan moved slowly, ami every man in the command vied with every other n.;:ii in his attentions to our nreelons burdens. When wo reached Wiii*h* ”.tcr the lit th family was placed in the hands of t|tome ; <>od people nahied Goldstar ough, w ho took the best of earc of them. I saw Mr. Gohl ,h<)rough a few years ago. 11 * told me that Ins family was still on inti mate terms with the. Louisiana ladies, and that the boy born in the barn, as the Christ* club! had been one thousand eight hundred ami sixty lour years Ik I ire, wa » a wealthy youlh. : nd that, being F-’rcnch, the family b id called him Noel Luray I’crsttval. - - 1 ♦ -——- An Enorinoun Hawk. I’iGin the Smut i Git., Republican. John Kpi'ighi. :15s that during tho last two or t.)ii( (5 months, a very large hawk has beert eating his chickens, ami even grown hens. Hu made • trap to cat* h it, ami, while in town Monday, the hawk caught a three year-old hen. It was seen when Hie swoop was made* and scared oil by Airs. Speight, but thu lonjf talons of tlie hawk had killed thu lien, it was put in the t;ap ami left. After uw'hilo the. hawk made another dash.got tho hen and wa, caught in tho trap. As Mrs. Speight waA afraid of it. she boiled water and poured ib on the bird. She tried six or seven timca before Speight, returned home, when he killed the hawk. After the bird ha*l ftiftenc'l hu 1j kd to measure it, but could not straighten; the wings, which measured four feet, four im h*’.'i from tip to tip. The claws were about an inch ami a quart* rin length and nearly aA sharp as a razor. '1 'lie Vane* (’pun 'V -üble*! l ain the ViinQ Kes p v.'ailin*/, nulling in tho wind, F.ik to the hmirt, in bitter pain, Os some frail creature that has sinned. An 1 north <>* •uth or cast or west, Whichever wuy the winds do wheel, Llk ■ ibu fi dile wind’s unryi.t, vm*- picscuts its point of steel. Bkiw north, and wild birds southward go, < . •:*[ by the snow : m.l jJcjcingt.lOit, And in the ingle nook’s brjghjglow, Bale grandsires oft-told tales repeat. Blow s kitb, ami vernal buds unclose, hi ;*. <1 by breath of Indian Heas, And bloom the jasmine and tlje rose, And pipe the birds for love of these. Bio v east, and, ah, the * hilling rains Make fl|.‘inul t.dligkt days; Whilst discord and rh*-. •• dns, The milk of Luuuin k. j a.-.• 3 Wueys. ■ 4 Biow we-‘ fi- ’a>ii? . I pray the* west, Au I i"l. bip; O''..’ clouds ;;way, tbiil Ifuits that 1 IdVe best May thmb tu hunsinne while they may. X i i '. like a creature ill at case, '1 he iJiifiln-;, i LJti;ig vane doth slow V. h’.q in*. aithy simirm r breeze, Anu wh'dre the Mforms of winter go. 0. rnAy the world Motin roaring past * >mp 'my h* art vti - arrow k n 1 .. 1, d'.’pitc each Changing blurt, T' li ", t.bc luwlyNuzurc. c. MontiucUv, Ga. —W. T. DumiA I

Georgia Historic Newspapers

The Atlanta constitution. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19??, January 17, 1888, Image 1