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VOL.XXII
SWAMPY;
A Tale of the “Black Cybress.”
l’>y Kirk Munroe, Author of DoryinnleH,
Cuuipmatns, Etc.
From a dense thieket of jupon, over
vith a yellow jasmine had clambered
so luxuriantly, and hung such a wreath of
sweet scented Hower bells, as to form a
screen almost impervious to light, a crouch
ing figure peered eagerly out.
The form was that of a boy perhaps six
teen years of age, but with a face so thin
aud shrewd that it might have belonged to
a man of sixty. It was tanned, freckled,
and weather-beaten; and was shadowed
by a thatch of sun-bleached hair, that the
boy every now and then pushed back from his
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SWAMPY.
eyes with an impatient gesture. The gray
eyes had a stealthy and hunted look like
those of a wild animal.
lie was barefooted and bare headed,
while his only garments were a blue cotton
shirt, uif u pair of coarse trousers much
toe large/ for mm ami turned up al the bot
toms. They were supported by a leather
belt, still showing patches of tawny hair
and into this was thrust a knife.
This box- was known fur and wide as
“Swampy, ’ and if he had ever borno any
other name he, as well as ad others, had
forgotten it.
He was the outcast of that thinly settled
southern neighborhood, his band was against
nil men and to him was credited till the
mischief and tueiving of the community.
tie was rarely seen by daylight; but at
night he prowled about the country side
and shadowy ghmp- es of him were always
followed by the discovery o' looted chick
ens roosts springhouses or melon piiteh-s.
fruit -■ tr p was set for him,
and he had eluded many a ho; chase- He
laughed to scorn ali efforts to bring him to
justice, and defied his pursuers from the
trackless fastnesses of the great swamp, in
which he always found a secure retreat.
It was generally km wn ‘.hat somewher<
within it:- black depths, amid whose tangled
canebrakes panthers, b ars and ■wildcats
roamed unmolested, whore water moccasins
and alligators abounded, and where tempting
beds of greenest moss concealed deadly bits
of shiny ooze, old .lake Minders ha i for
years maintained a moonshine still, though
Hu living man had ever visited or seen it;
and that here Ins son. ihe bov only known
as “Swampy,” had remained al inc ever since
the disappearance oi the old mam who,
either dead • a fugitive from justice, had
flow bee:: missing ior ma ay m-mths.
flow Swampy lived none kww nor eared.
His neighbors only swore whenever they
spoke of 1 im, and wine 1 he would cease to
live at all or would follow bis father to parts
unknown.
Even Swampy wondered why b<‘ stayed
where he did. The only r< :i-<on lie could
five to himself was that he knew and loved
the Black Cypress, wit:: a knowledge and
love b- longing only to t hose who have passed
their lives in a single house. Amid its
gloomy shadows he had dwelt ever since ho
eouil remember, am! tor aught he knew he
had been born in tiie swamp.
fils life was as cheerless and lonely as can
well be conceived, but. although he never
worked and knew not the meaning of the
word “study,” it was a fairly busy one. He
had a living to get as well as tiny one else,
nnd he got it by hunting, ti ipping, iitshing
and stealing, ali of which were to him per
fectly legitimate occupations. He had never
been taught that stealing was wrong, though
he had received from ids father many les
sons of a nature that lie was not likely to
forget on the enormity and disgrace of being
caught at it.
Thus when the boy was thrown upon his
own resources he stole whatever he consid
ered necessary to his comfort as naturally
as he breathed or slept, and was mere than
proud of the knowledge that ho had never
Leet caught at it.
The principal scene of Swampy’s depreda
tions was Cypress Knoll, a pl.intation that
bordered on the swamp iu which he made his
home.
It was near by. abounded in the very
things ho most nee,! !, mid was less care
jo iy guard'd than other places whose own
ers lived on them.
Its owner, whose name was Addis, was
compelled by business to spend most of his
time in a d.-tant city, but tiie planiati- i. 1 .(.
hi charge of an overseer, was Ju-pr up after
a fashion, principally, so Swampy was
pleased to fancy, tor bis especial benefit.
Although tlu re was much thieving on this
plantation of which Swampy was both inno
cent and ignorant, ti was all credited to him
iu the reports made to its proprietor.
About a week Imp lt th,- lime with which
this storj pens Jlr. Addis, aceoxnpaiiied
I-;, his wife and their only child, a little
five-year-'.; 1 dangh: r, arrived unexpect'-<!-
1 at Cypress Kneii, on a visit of inspec
tion.
'1 he prepr! dor soo.n «lm-ov.T«-l that he
ba-i been systenmti -.i’b' robb 'd on ail sides,
but .-<• far as he non. 11. id out every one
xvas honest and innocent save “Dat tievi';’
y<>ung dobicl of a Swampy. Tell yo' sail,
him so k»:.-n ter stealin’ d; ■ lie steal de
t<x>f out' yo’ head, an’ nebb'-r get eoieh
es yo’ air t look out. Yes, sah! pears like
him plottin’ fer to carry off Her whole
plantation ’fore him dim got troo!”
So against Swampy was the proprietor’s
wrath directed, ana vowing to bring the
young rascal to justice before he left the
neighborhood he laid many plans for the
lad’s capture.
Os all this the boy remained in such ig
norance that he found no reason for ceas
ing his stealthy visits to Cypress Knoll,
'.whenever his hunger or other necessities
seemed to demand them.
lie even began to visit the place by day
light and more frequently than ever, for
he had learned that it posscssd a new
attraction for him, and one so fascinating
that he conic! not resist it. Dainty little
Mildred Addis, with her happy laughter,
and bewitching ways, was a revelation to
the young outcast of the swamps, and to
lie hidden in some tangled thicket from
which he could watch her. became his great
est pleasure.
He soon discovered the favorite haunts
to which Mrs. Addis, always accompanied
by Mildred, took her work or book on
warm, drowsy afternoons. Near one of
these he would wait for hours, and when
they appeared would watch with almost
breathless delight the butterfly-like move
ments of the child.
Swampy had never heard of angels: but
he was intimately acquainted with birds,
and to his untutored mind the little one,
with her brightness, daintiness ami inces
sant motion, was like one of the exquisite
ruby-throated humming birds that flashed
to and fro among the jasmine flowers and
to himself he called her “humming bird.”
On this particular afternoon Alts. Addis
had sought the shade of a giant liveoak,
beneath which she sat absorbed in a book,
while Mildred played near her, and Swampy
from the thicket in which, crouched like a
wild animal, he had long waited for their
appearance, watched her with a swelling
heart and a strange longing to be in some
way different from what he was and more
like the people whom this child could know
and love.
At times the child came so close to gather
the yellow flowers that hung about him
that he could have touched her, but he
crouched low and she did not discover his
presence.
Suddenly on one of those occasions a half
grown Newfoundland pup appeared from be
hind a clump of shrubbery, aud with awk
ward gambolings ai;d loud barkings male
straight for the little kid. With a fright
ened cry she ran toward her mother. Au
instant later Swampy, fancying that the
child was in danger and naturally hating
dogs because they wore always set onto
him, had sprung from his concealment,
seized '.he animal’s throat in his sinewy
young bands, and would have choked it to
death had he not in turn boon grasped from
behind and forced to loose his hold.
Mr. Addis and the owner of an adjacent
plantation who had been but a few steps
behind the dog, and who misunderstood the
cause of Swampy’s attack on him, had
sprung t l.i :.s'n ■.
“Who are you? Yon young villain! What
lire you doing bore? And what, do you mean
by this outrage?” demanded Mr. Addie
sternly, as ho tightened his clutch on the
lad's arm and slightly shook him. To these
questions Swampy, angry and sullen, made
no reply.
“I i’s that young cub of old Jake Minders’s,”
exclaimed the other gentleman, with a keen
look at the boy’s face. “The most audacious
young seoundrol in all these parts, and one
who ought to have boon sent to the chain
gang long ago. Swampy, they call him,
and —”
“Swampy!" interrupted Mr. Addis, “why
that is the name of the thief who has been
robbing mo right and b'ft for some years
past. 1 was going to ask you to help me or
ganise it hunt for him. Well, thi •. is a bit
of hick. Aha, you young villain! So you
thought you'd kill my dog. did you, for fear
he'd interfere with your thieving? His ser
vices won’t be needed now. though, for to
morrow I’ll put you iu a place •where you
won't have a chance to steal anything more
for some years to come. In the meantime
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sm: \\ '.S SAI'E AND UNHARMED AS WHEN LAST HELD IN HER MOTHER’S ARMS
1 guess ihe smokehouse will be «i good
enough place for you to spend the night in.”
Si the imhappj Ind, still <l< ggedl.t sil mt.
and leeling humiliated as never b 'lore in L.s
life, was p i away and turns' into toe dark
ness of tb‘‘ stout leg smokehouse. the heavy
d 0,.- of which was securely padlocked be
hind hint.
For the rest of the afternoon he remained
tln-rc. and kite at night the negro who car
ried him a supper of corn bread and a jug
of water reported that he was still safe.
In the morning when they camo to take
him to the county jail he had disappeared.
A hole burrowed as though by a fox through
ATLANTA, GA., TUESDAY, APRIL 4, 1593.
the solidly packed earth underneath one of
the wall : showed how he had escaped.
Not only had he departed, but. every ham
and side of bacon that had hung in the
smokehouse had gone with him.
When this was reported to Mr. Addis that
gentleman's chagrin knew no bounds, and
he vowed he would not rest until Swampy
was again a prisoner.
By noon messengers sent far and xvide
had summoned to Cypress Knoll half a dozen
neighboring land owners, as many servants
and a score of dogs. With this assistance
Mr. Addis proposed to draw the swamp cov
ers and hoped to speedily run this human
fox to earth.
After lunch as the hunt was about to start
the shouting men, neighing horses,. loud
tongued dogs, created a merry contusion on
the broad lawn that sloped down from the
house to the very edge of the great swamp.
“Remember,” called .Mr. Addis, “the thief
must surely be taken I his time. He is the
curse of this community, and deserves no
m< re mercy at our hands than the beasts
with whieii he shares his hiding place.”
“Aye, aye! We’ll have the young cata
mount before night, never fear! was
shouted in reply as the noisy cavalcade
dashed away.
Their leader was the last to mount; and
as he did so, little Mildred, joyously ex
cited by the confusion which bad no mean
ing to her beyond tiiat of a frolic, darted
from her mother's side and begged her papa
to take her with him.
Laughing at. the child’s request and in
spile of her mother’s protesting exclamation
the indulgent father swung his darling up
on to the saddle in front of him, put spurs
to his horse and was off like a shot.
At. the bottom of the lawn he set the
little one gently down and bidding her run
back to her mother plunged into the gloomy
shadows of the swamp, amid which his
companions had already disappeared.
It was dusk ere the weary hunters, an
gered by failure, b-gan to straggle back
from the dim glades among which their
unsuccessful quest had been made. Men,
horses and dogs wore alike covered with
the ooze and slime of the swamp. All
wore scratched and torn by the thorns of
briars and ty-ty bushes, wait-a-bits and
wild, rattan.
Mr. Addis was among the first to
emerge hito the open, and as he did so he
was met by a group of frightened women,
one of whom sprang forward crying sliril
ed at. one another with blanched faces.
“What do vou mean?” demanded their
leader, huskily. “The child has not been
with us. 1 sent her back from this very
spot hours ago.”
He had hardly spoken, and had no time
to spring to her aid. ere his wife fell sense
less to the ground.
Quickly and far the dread news spread.
Mildred Addis was lost!
Fearful concerning her fate, dismayed
and helpless as they were, they were also
prompt to act. and as quickly as torches
could be brought they plunged again into
the weird darkness of the vast swamp.
Within an hour, and less than a mile
away they found the child, sitting between
two buttresses of a great, mosshung. cy
press and sobbing a though her little heart
would break. Her dainty dress was torn,
ly: “Mildred, my baby! where is she?
Give her to me ni. once! Oh. it was err >’
cruel! to take her into that awful place!”
The hunters reigned sharply up. and gaz
mudstained and thickly spattered with
blood, although she herself was as safe ami
unharmed as when last held in her mother’s
arm.
Directly in front of her. and barring the
recess formed by the projecting butfi'osses
of the tree lay a confused mass, which, as
the torches wore held lower for a closer in
spection, resolved itself into two dead
bodies.
One was that of a huge panther, bleed
ing from a dozen wounds and with the knife
that had dealt them driven deep into his
heart.
The othoi; indy, frightfully torn and mat>
gled. but xvith a hand still the
death-dealipg knife was that of a mere lad.
As one of* he men turned it over ami re
vealed the xvhito set face, he started back
v’th an oath. “By me.t. it's Swampy!
and we’ve hoen a’hunting him, while he’s
been here fighting to the death to save the
child!”
They laid Swampy away the next day in
! the family burying ground of Cypress
; Kroll. The place from which he had been
I driven was proud to receive him. From
I ili-.s who had scorned hin ho had won the
‘ homage one only such as are willing to lay
j down their lives for their fellows.
■ A!1 this happened many years ago. Rut
I to Ibis day no stranger is allowed to pass
through that section without listening to
the story of Swampy. the young outcast of
the Black Cypress.
Anxiety at New Orleans for the missing
steamer Stnra is increasing. She is now 113
1 days overdue.
MY CHUM.
From Tho Cincinnati Commercial Gazette.
There might have been two hundred of
us at Tribulation gulch xvhen Johnny Clem
arrived, blvery miner was free to come
and go as he liked, but at the gulch we
kept a written record of the claims staked
out. That record was a miner's warranty
deed as long as he chose to remain, and
a new arrival who should attempt. to
“jump” him would have the whole camp on
his back. 1 was keeping the book of record,
and the entry in the case of Johnny Clem
read:
“.inly 14, 1858 —Johnny Clem, first <3O
feet front west of Jack Davis.”
The new arrival was a young man about
twenty years old. lie was short and light
and his hands were small, though sun
browned and calloused. There wasn't any
thing unusual iu the sight of a boy among
the diggers, but this young chap was a bit
different from the common run. lie was
quiet spoken, bad no cuss words to throw
around and didn’t, seem to want to mix up
much. I took a sort of liking to him from
the very si art, and it was at. my sugges
tion that he entered the claim he did.
There was room on th<‘ high ground for
another tent, and 1 had him pitch his nest
to mine. Indeed, 1 asked him to bring
his traps and share my shelter, but the
offer was declined.
Every man in a mining camp has a
partner unless he happens to be a mighty
mean man. I had lost mine by death,
ami it, soon came about that Johnny and I
were known as “pards.” That means
more than appears on the surface. It
means a' fair divide of work and income;
a confidence in each other; strict loyalty.
If you injure a miner, you also injure his
“pard.” If you kill one, the other 'is
bound to hunt you down. In the old days,
when every camp was a law unto itself
nnd civilization xvas a thousand miles away,
tlie ties xvere stronger than now.
Johnny Clem was an enighia to me from
the very outset. His quiet ways and his
gentleness struck me as peculiarly strange.
Ho had handy ways about, cooking and a
“knack” about arrlffiging bis tent and re
pairing his clothing which were new to
me. He wasn’t given to story-telling or
joking, and now and then, when 1 coaxed
him to sing, his songs were all sad ones,
and there was something in his voice that
made me homesick, and brought a craving
to throw away pick and shovel and head
for the states. I often wanted to ask him
to tell me of his past, but that, was a li
cense even a “partner” dared not assume
without encouragement. So much as you
xvished to tell was listened to and kept
sacred. Beybfld that you were asked no
questions unless you wanted to tell.
Some of_the miners were rough and rude
fellows, and there were five or six in camp
who were always chaffing at Johnny on
account of his stature and weight, and be
cause he was a bit awkward with his
working tools. The boy never seemed
much put out at the sarcastic flings, but
on two or three occasions I picked up the
challenges and battered the heads of the
challengers. They were my enemies after
** 1 M course, though hiding their real
feelings behind a mask of companionship.
One day along in November 1 went up to
a store at Pawnee Benfl to buy flour.
When I got back, about 4 o’clock in the af
ternoon. I found all the men in camp in a
circle am] inside the circle were Johnny
Clem and a burly big fellow called “Boss”
Skinner. Each had a knife in bis hand, and
it was to be a fight until one or the other was
down. I’d have broken into the ring like a
wild buffalo, for my box'- partner xvas no
match for that burly ruflian. but they held
me back. I realized almost at once. too.
that if Johnny' had any earthly show I
should spoil it bv raising a roxx' and getting
j him rattled. They told me that us soon
I as I bad gone the “Boss” began flinging
! out. his taunts and trying to pick a fuss.
The boy made no reply until the man began
to ridicule and insult me. Then he flared
up and defied the other to a fair tight xvith
knives. A part of the men cried out
against it, but the majority favored,a fight,
and it xvas about to begin as T arrived.
Both men xvere stripped down to shirt
and pants. The “Boss” loomed up like a
giant, while Johnny Clem appeared like a
child in comparison. Poor boy! I stood
there xvith mv heart in my month, not even
daring to call out to him. and the only con
solation 1 had xvas in the knowledge that
the “Boss” would have to tight me next,
and that 1 stood a pretty even show xvith
him. When the xvo>- ( ] xvas given and they
sprang forward I shut my eyes ami groan
ed. I beard them moving about and I
caught the “ohs!” and “ohs!” of the men,
but I saxv no more than ns if I hud been
blinded. Tt lasted about three minutes, as
they told me. Thon some one shrieked
out the voice of a woman not a shriek of
pain, but of fear and horror, and it brought
me to myself. The “Boss” xvas down with
a knife in his heart and Jolmny Clem was
sitting down with bis hands over his eyes.
“He's a woman—he's a xvoman!” shouted
fifty men in chorus as they rushed forward,
and they were right- That shriek hud be
trayed my partner. She had fought the
“Boss” as a man, but when her knife struck
home she had given way to her feeiugs as a
woman.
What more? Very little. On my honor a s
a man I had never suspected such a thing. 1
asked for her story, but she would not give
dt. Brom a xvord dropped here and there. I
concluded that, she had come out to the
mines in search of a lover and had thus far
failed to find him. but she xvas very close
mouthed. We took up a collection and sent
her away to Sacremento and 1 never heard
of her after she left eamp. She couldn't
go without a“ thank you” and a hand shake,
but she xvas shy and ‘lignified. Even in her
parting xvith me. who had been “pards” xvith
her for long weeks, she simply said:
“You have boon square and honest and
kind. God bless you!”
The boys had many :i sly dig nt mo after
xvar 1 about “Johnny Clem." but I hax’e tob!
you hoxv it xvas. While his ways puzzled
me and while ho always kept mo wondering
xvherein he differed from a man, the idea of
his belonging to the other sex never entered
my mind.
A "Roinrt’ico of tbe IVar.
! From fl’lle New York Herald.
With. General E. Kirby Smith, who died
I on Tuesday at his home in Tennessee, the
I last of the full generals of the confederacy
i passes away, lie xvas a thoroughly equip
ped soldier and rose with amazing rapmity
from the rank of lieutenant to the eminent
position occupied by him soon after the
battle of Lynchburg.
There is a. romance in his eventful career
which ought not io be forgotten—his xvound
gave him his xvife. When the battle of
Bull Bun begun. Smith xvas full thirty
miles away. On receipt of the news he
covered the distance xvith his troops by a
forced march ami arrived just in time to
be of signal se& ice to the southern troops.
While making a charge at the Head of his
force he was so severely wounded that little
hope was entertamed of his recovery. He
was carried, however, to the house of Col
onel McDaniel where he received the at
tention xvliich his desperate case required.
It is more than probable that he would have
succumbed but for the careful nursing of
the colonel’s daughter. She watched him
night aud day and her efforts were repaid
at last by the patient's full recovery.
Os course there could be but one denoue-
ment to this little drama. The soldier and
his nurse fill in love with each other. He
signed a marriage certificate and received
liis commission as major general on the
same day, and. ns the fairy tales go, “the
couple lived happily forever after.”
There xvere scores of such instances dur
ing the war and they are all interesting.
SHE WAS FAITHFUL.
From Short Stories.
On the right bank of the James river
stands the ruin of an old
church draped thick with ivy
and _ rank, wild vines, while be
hind lies a churchyard where weather-stain
ed tombstones are half hidden by tangled
briars.
This is all that remains of the first Eng
lish settlement in America.
By tlm door of this church on a Sunday
of 1676, a man and a woman met. The
evening service xvas over ami the* congrega
tion dispersed, but the maiden had lingered
long at her prayers, and the man had waiv
ed outside until the short spring twilight
was merging into night.
As tho girl stepped from the low arched
door, the man removed his high-crowned
broad-brimmed hat and approached her xvith
an air of deep respect.
“Sweet Mistress Nan, the humblest of
your servants craves a word xvith you. 1
have xvailed long for the chance.”
‘I know not what .Master Bacon could
say to Governor Berkeley’s daughter that
should justify this unseemly interruption
on the Sabbath eve,” she answered, with
great stateliness. “I pray you, sir, to keep
your conversation for more appreciative ears
and let me pass.”
“Not until you havy heard mo,” returned
the man passionately. "Madam. your
father’s injustice I have borne with much
patience as 1 might, but yours, 1 swear, I
xvill not and cannot bear. You shall hear
me aud do me right before we part.”
“Patience! Truly, you have borno your
self with right, rare patience and humility!”
cried the girl, with bitter emphasis. “A
rebel in arms against the royal governor,
the representative of your king!”
“A rebel your father hath proclaimed
me, but that makoth me not one verily.
1 am in arms to protect the women and
children of this settlement, whom your fa
ther's weak and wavering policy would de
liver to tho torch and scalping knife of
the merciless savage. To protect you your
self. Mistress Anno—”
"Enough, sir." she interrupted haughti
ly. “Sir William Berkeley’s daughter
wants no protection from her father’s
enemy.
"Oh,” she continued, xvith sudden pas
sion. stretching her arms toward him, “now
I xvept, how 1 pleaded, for the sake of our
love, for tho hope or onr liitiipiness, not
to thwart my father, to bear with the
forwardness of the proud old man, even
because he was my father! But you prized
ambition more than love, and heneefottn we
arc strangers. Farewell, Master Racon.
Never more may Anne Berkeley's lips
speak words to you. And so—God keep
yon.”
“By heaven we part not thus.” said Ba
con, throwing his arms about, her.
The girl struggled violently and would
have screamed, but her wimple was wrap-'
ped so closely round her face that she
could scarcely breathe, and raised in the
strong arms of her captor she was bt rim
rapidly away.
They passed through the churchyard be
hind the church, and almost immediately
the forest shades received them. 'They
had not gone far before a man advanced
from behind the trees and challenged.
Bacon gave the countersign, then added:
“How goes it?”
“Famously, captain. We have followed
your orders to the letter. ’
“How many have you taken?”
“Twenty at least. Come and nee.”
Bacon followed him and they soon reach
ed the rebel camp. About one imndred
I stalxvart youths of the province w< -e biv
: ouneked under the trees. These hardy
woodsmen had no tents and needed none.
Under a widespreadiug oak xvas gathered
a forlorn group of women, some twenty of
the xxives and daughters of the principal
burgesses of Jamestown. Toward those
Bacon advanced and sat down, Anne in
the midst.
“Fair mistress,” he said, removing tbe
wimple from her flushed face and disorder
ed hair with a gentle courtesy strangely
at variance xvith his recent violence, “and
you, fair dames and damosels, pardon 1
pray you, the rude deeds which nothing
But extremity of need could justify, ion
will be kept as hostages only until our
moderat'' demands are satisfied by the gov
ernor and council, and then returned in
till honor and safety to your homes.”
Flushed and disheveled as -lie xvas,
Anne Berkeley bud lost none of her high
spirit. She looked her father’s true daugh
ter as she faced her captor xvith flashing
eyes.
"Others may forgive, Nathaniel Bacon;
I neve:- will- For former love receixm my
hate aud scorn. And if my father avenges
not this outrage his daughter will.”
Bacon strove humbly but vainly to miti
gate her displeasure. Before he had spoken
long a. scout came in hot. haste to announce
the governor's approach.
“We may not. fear this army of grey
beards, eh, my lads?" cried Bacon scornfully.
“The lusty strength and spirit of the pro
vince are with us; the governor has but the
less. But we must meet them and perchance
light.”
A guard xvas detailed for the prisoners
and the rest hastened to repel the coining
foe. Soon musket shots ami shouts of an
gry combatants were ringing through the
wood. But tile sound grew gradually
fainter, proving that Bacon was driving the
royalists back.
Suddenly it red light shown on the horizon.
It spread, it deepened till the whole heavens
xvore a crimson dye. Jamestown xvas burn
ing.
The din of battle had long died away,
the red glow had faded from the sky, when
in the pale light rtf daxvu a band of meu
came sloxvly through the xvood bearing a
burden which they laid silently at Ann
Berkeley’s feet. An agonized fact' looked up
to hers, xveak hands xvere clasped implor
ingly and lips whereon the death dew gath
ered fast whispered “I’ardon!”
And where was now Mistress Berkeleys
angry pride? Gone! She xvas no longer an
insulted lady. _ She was no I niger Sir Wil
liam Berk'-'ley’s daughter. She was a w-;-
man; simph a xvoinan, xvho saw her heart’s
best love 'lying nt her fed.
Forgetting alike her station and the look
ers on, she knelt on tho ground beside him,
laid his head upon her breast, xviped xvith her
xvimple tho death dew from his brow and
the bloody froth from his lips, lavished on
him kisses and xvords of fond endearment.
Xot all in vain. No mortal haul might
stay the coming death, but she had robbed
d’-iith of its sting. A smile of exceeding
peace lit up the pale face as the brave, if
erring, spirit passed to its own place.
The seat of government was moved to
Williamsburg and there in after years Anne
Be -kcley shone the bright star of her father’s
court. But though many rich and noble
suitors. English and colonial, sought her
hand, she remained forever faithful to the
first xvild love of her youth.
IJecliuoil the Test.
From The Washington Star.
During the war a contractor made to
Secretary Cameron a proposition to supply
breastplates to the union soldiers nt so
much a thousand. After he had used up
much valuable time in expatiating on the
PRICE 5 CENTS
merits of his protective armor, the secret
tary said:
"Yon xvill guarantee it bullet proof?”
“Absolutely so,” replied the applicant fog
a contract.
“Very well, then,” said Mr. Cameron,
“just put on the sample you have been
showing me. and stand on the other side of
the room xvhile 1 try a fexv shots at you
xvith this pistol. If you remain unhurt, 1
shall be convinced of the usefulness of
you r breas t plate.”
Strange to say, the contractor refused to
accede to the suggestion, and no armor was
provided for the federal soldiers.
PROSPERITY TO POVERTY.
Statistics Showing the Extent to Which th®
South Was Crippled by the Eate War.
From Tho Engineering Magazine.
_ In 1861) the assessed value of property
m the south was 95,200,000,tKM) out of a
total of .812,000,066,000 in the entire
country, or 44 per cent. In ten y< ars
there was a startling change. In 1870
the south had only 8'3.000,000.0(if) of as
sessed value, while th.- total of the whole
country xvas $14,170,000,000. While th«
south grew poor, the north and west grew
rich as never before. In 1860 the assessed
ya£ue _of proper!.v in Massachusetts was
$7Yi. 150.0tX) compared with ss.2t»!),<KK),O<h)
in jhe s<.mb: in IS7O Massachusetts ’had
I'l.-iOl 1,000,(HX) of property’ and the south
S3,OOO.iHtO.OiM). Such was tho poverty of
the south that the one state, Massachusetts,
listed lor taxes more than one-half as much
property as the fourteen states of that sec
tion could show.
1 'lhe assessed value of property in New
! York and Pennsylvania alone in 1870 w.-is
greater than in the whole south. South
Carolina, which in 1860 had been third
in rank in wealth, in proportion to tho
numoer oi her inhabitants, had dropped
to be the thirteenth; Geo;-gia had dropped
fr<nn the seventh to the thirty-ninth;
.Mississippi, from tho fou.rtli place to tho
thirty-fourth; Alabama, from the eleventh
to tho forty-fourth: Kentucky, from the
tenth to txventy-eighth; and the other
southern states had gone down in the same
xvay, xvhile the northern and western states
had steadily increased in wealth. In IS6(>
the assessed value of property in South
Carolina, according to the census, was
b IT'S.bOO.ttt.X), xvhile the combined values in
i Rhode island and New Jersey aggregati d
,$121,600,006, or $65,(K)6,000 less than
South Carolina's: of course the true value
is alxvays greater than the assessed value.
In 1876 the combined value in Rhode Is
land ami Nexx- Jersey amounted to $868,-
0(M>,000, and the value in South Carolina
was $183,000,000. Thus, while South. Car
j olina had $68,000,000 more assessed prop
t erty in 1860 in these two states, in 1870
j their wealth exceeded South Carolina’s
: by $685,000,000. Notwithstanding tho
i mighty industrial advance in the south dur
: ing the last ten years, the building of
I 20,000 miles of railroad, and the increase
in agricultural production, the assessed
value of property is not yeti
i as great as it was thirty
I years ago, and Maryland—a border state—
I and Florida, aud Texas are the only states
xvhich have as much assessed wealth now
I as in 1860.
Slow I F it VTxen I Shot.
: From Tho Forest ami Stream.
Discovering no bear, I advanced sloxvly and
I cautiously. Suddenly I perceived a rank peculiar
ordor; it reminded me of that I encountered At
the zoo in Philadelphia, in Gsl, xvhile I stood con
templating some bears in the pen below. I now
! knew I was very close to a bear, and that from tho
i location it must be a grizzly. O! how frightened
' 1 was. I had never met a grizzly; what I should
. do I hardly knew. The thought of being alone, too,
j ar;! out of sight and hearing of itank, all made
, me quiver and shake like an aspen.
While thus meditating, and looking in every di
' rection, and trembling from head to foot, I soon
i saw the cause of the odor, standing on all-fours
' with its tail toward mo quielj’ digging in a hill
' side. My heart went like a trip hammer, I could
| hear the blood rushing up through my carotids,
and feel its impact against tho base of my brain;
; my throat was dry, and my hands trembled as I
I grasped my rifle.
I surveyed tbe huge brute a few seconds and saw
that he was about eiglithy yards away. I stood on
a hog-back, or ridge, and between the bear and
myself was a ravine thirty feet deep and filled
with a thicket of underbrush.
The grizzly stood on clear ground. It did not
take me long to see that I bad tbe advantage; ti ts
was tiie head of the canon ; to my right w is a black
; thicket of pine, in front was the z.nimal, to my
I left the canon stretched away to the take. A small
sapling grew wh“re 1 stood ; I let myself down ou
' my knees and toes, and projected m piece over a
; branch of tin-sapling. I was waiting fortlie bear
| to give me an exposure of its siuo. The wind
j blowing briskly from it to me gave it no opportu
nity to scent me. My sensations were those of re
' signation to my fate. I t'elt as I imagine a soldier
feels on the eve of his first battle-only more so.
I realized fully what a small tiling I should be in*
hand-to-hand conflict xvith that wounded and in
furiated monster; but I wa-; determined to fight
if it cost me my life. I remembered my ten weeks
of typhoid fever at Garfield hospital in Washing
ton, i>. when I thought my time had come.
By this time I had become more composed; my
nerves had resumed their usual tranquillity; I was
thinking of what an everlasting shame it would
be to my conscience to steal away and let that
magnificent beast get otT with its life; and while
thus cogitating the bear slowly moved into tho
position I desired, and when there, with a steady
nerve 1 glanced along the bine barrel of steel and
fixed the sights on a line with a spot about where
1 thought its heart lay, held it there a second and
pulled tho trigger. B ing! went tho magnificent
arm, and simultaneously tlie grizzly leaped into
tho air, uttering a loud, prolonged cry of pain.
Through the smoke I saw it fail on one side aud
quickly recover Itself; its head was toward me;
xvith mouth wide open and bend erect it began tho
charge. I threw another cart, dge into the barrel.
1 looked, and it had reached tho bottom of tho
canyon amt xvas making its w:tv through the brush,
bloving and siiitling. 1 coolly awaited its emerg
ence, but it never came out. Midway the thicket
1 could see some of its branches quivering, but
could not see the bear.
At this juncture another grizzly, larger than tho
one shot, came out of the pine thicket to my right
and bounded down to tho spot of the quivering
hushes In the bottom of the canon,and xvasalsolost
to sight; 1 did not have tune or opportunity to
shoot it. Immediate!-.' behind me in the timber I
heard tho cry cr wail of still another bear. This
again terrified ino beyond expression. I se.v there
gazing at that thicket one hour by tiro watch, 12 :3d
to 1:30 p. m., October 19, 181)2. r.nd no bear appear
ed. All was still as death, and from inaction I
began to got chilly. No amount of money could
have induced me to venture down to those two
mammoth brutes in that canyon. I did not even
know that one was dead, and was painfully aware
that one at least xvas untouched. So believing that
a skillful retreat is as good or better than a poor
victory. 1 decided to return and get reinforce
ments in the shape of Hank.
1 did so, and when we reached the spot wo ad
vanced abreast, tjuecn in terror at our heels, into
the thicket. We found one bear stone dead, but
the other had gone.
Whiskers Cost Something.
From The Philadelphia Call.
“Stamps, please,” curtly said the young
ladv.
"With or xvithout?” queried tho facetious
drug clerk.
“With or without! Without what?” was tbe
indignant inquiry.
•'■Whiskers, inii'utn, Ouo-centers has no
whiskers ou Columbus. lhe two-ceuter«
tmva.” »
