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The Calhoun Times.
Volume T.
Tin; CALHOUN TIMES.
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B A IT.BOADS..
i " Western A Atlantic.
% JJJOHT PABSBXUBB TRAIN—OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta jo’ls a m
Arrive at Calhoun A ’ “•
Arrive at Chattanooga B A> M
DAT PASSBNGtR TRAIN —OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta *l9 «;i t l
Arrive at Chattanooga 4.20 p. m.
ACCOMOD TION TRAIN OUTWARD.
I.e.r. •“»
Arrive at Dalton 8.30 p. u.
NIGHT rASSENGBR TRAIN —INWARD.
Leave Chattanooga -7-50 P. «
Arrive at Calhoun P * **’
Arrive at Atlanta a. m.
DAT PAS9INGBR TRAIN—INWARD.
Leave Chattanooga 7.00 A - **•
Arrive at Calhoun A * M ‘
Arrive at Atlanta 8.27 P. M.
ACCOMODATION TRAIN—INWARD.
Leave Dalton 200 p m
Arrive at Atlanta h.OO a. m.
Georgia Railroad.
DAT PASSENGER TRAIN.
Leave Augusta. 7,15 a. m.
Leave Atlanta. 7.00 a. m.
Anive at Augusta. 5.45 p. m.
Arrive at Atlanta. 7.10 P. m.
NIGHT PASSENGER AMD MAIL TRAIN.
Leave Augusta. 9-50 p. m.
Leave Atlanta 5.45 P. M.
Arrive at Augusta. 4.00 a. m.
Arrive at Atlanta. 8.00 A. m.
Macon & Western.
DAT PASSENGER TRAIN.
Atlanta. 7.55 A. m ,
»rrive at Macon. 1.40 p. m
»ave Macon. 7.55 A. m
Arrive at Atlanta. 2.20 P. m
NIGHT EXPRESS PASSENGER TRAIN.
Leave Atlanta 7.18 p. m.
Arrive at Macon 3.23 a. m.
Leave Macon 8.50 p. m.
Arrive at Atlanta 4.46 a m.
Rome Railroad.
DAT TRAIN.
Leave Rome 10.00 A. m.
Arrive at Kingston 11.30 A. m.
Leave Kingstou 1.00 p, m.
Arrive at Rome 2.30 p. m.
Connecting at Rome with accomodation trains
on Selma, Rome and Dalton Railroad, and at
Kingston with up and down trains Western and
Atlantic Railroad.
NIGHT TRAIN.
Leave Rome 9.30 p. m.
Arrive at Kingston 10.45 p. m.
Leave Kingston 11.10 P. m.
Arrive at Rome 12.25 p. m.
Connecting at Rome with through night trains
on Selma, Rome and Dalton Railroad, and at
Kingston with night trains on Western and
Atlantic Railroad to Chattanooga and trom and
to Atlanta.
Selma, Rome & Dalton.
PASSENGER TRAIN.
Leave Selma 9.30 a. m.
Arrive at Rome 8.55 p.m.
Arrive at Dalton 11.50 r. m.
ACCOMMODATION TRAIN.
Leave Rome 4.45 p. m.
Arrive at Rome 12.30 p, m.
Leave Dalton 10.00 a! m.
Hie accommodation train runs from Rome to
Jacksonville daily, Sundays excepted.
The through passenger traiu only will be run
on Sunday.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS:
w. s. J OiINSON, ~~
Attorney A.t Law,
CALIIOUX ; GLORGIA.
I®* Office in Southeast corner of the
jotirt House.
Au 6 n 1 ts
A C ‘ FAIN> JOS. m'connell.
f fain and McConnell,
• A t 4 . . v L c
CALIIOUX. GEORGIA.
asg* Office in the Court House.
Au gH 1 ts
07 TARVER,
Attorneyat Law,
CALHOUN ; GEORGIA.
tt®* Office in the Court House.
Aug 11 1 ts
WTJ. CANTRELL,
Attorney At Law.
Calhoun, Georgia.
in the Ch «rokee Circuit,
t in Sr' S ' Pi Btrict Court, Northern Dis
premoV , (at Atlauta the Su-
Peme Court of the State of Georgia.
E. .1. KIKER,
attorney TAm w,
r „ A . CALHOUN, GEORGIA.
Urjrf tke ° ld S(and o f Cantrell <j- Kikcr.\
\\ h r ; acti '« in all the Courts of the
"at ~ i l6 United States District Court
au g l9’7oly
r s^,oe,Ua ke r s Wanted.
1 permanent^ Bß Shoemakers can secure
by ea % ap p ii c S 0 f o —C and g °° a WageS ’
* u glO'7f)tf ELLIS & COLBURN,
1 Calhoun, Ga.
POETRY.
THE lifE BKYONd.
11Y GERALD MASSEY.
Although its features fade in light of unira
agined bliss,
We have shadowy revealings of the Better
World in this.
A little glimpse, when Spring unveils her
face and opens her eyes,
Os the Sleeping Beauty in the soul that wakes
in Paradise.
A little drop of Heaven in each diamond of
the shower,
A breath of the Eternal in the fragrance of
each flower!
A little low vibration in the warble of Night's
bird,
Os the praises and the music that shall be
hereafter heard!
A little whisper .in the leaves that clasps their
hands and try
To glad the heart of man, and lift to Heaven
his thankful eyes!
A little semblance mirrored in old Ocean's
smile or frown
Os Ilis vast glory who doth bow the Heavens
and come down!
A little symbol shining through the worlds
that move at rest
On invisible foundations of the broad Al
mighty breast!
A little hint that stirs and thrills the wings
wc fold within,
And tells of that full heaven yonder which
must here begin:
A little springlet welling from the fountain
bead above,
That takes its earthly way to find the ocean
of all love!
A little silver shiver in the ripple of the river
Caught from the light that knows no night
forever and forever!
A little hidden likeness, often faded and de
filed,
Os the great, the good All-father, in ITis
poores human child!
Although the best be lost in light of uniin
agined bliss,
We have shadowy revealings of the Better
World in this.
IF YOU WANT A KISS TAKE IT.
There’s a jolly Saxon proverb
That is pretty much like this
That a man is half in heaven
When lie has a w oman’s kiss.
But there’s danger in delaying,
And the sweetness may forsake it!
So I tell you, bashful lover,
If you want a kiss, why take it.
Never let another fellow
Steal a march on .you in this;
Never let a laughing maiden
See you spoiling for a kiss.
There’s a royal way us kissing,
And the jolly ones who make it
Have a motto that is winning,
If you want a kiss, why take it.
Any fool may face a cannon—
Anybody wear a crown—
But a man must win a woman,
If he’d have her for his own.
Would you have the golden apple,
You must find the tree and shake it;
If a thing is worth the having,
And you want a kiss, why take it.
Who would burn upou a desert,
With a forest smiling by ?
Who would give liis sunny summer
For a bleak and wintry sky?
Oh! 1 tell you there is magic,
And you cannot, cannot break it;
For the sweetest, part of loving
Is to want a kiss and—take it.
Father, Why Don’t You Go?
The Sunday School Times, 111 the fol
low incident, presents one of the best ar
guments in favor of Adult Bible Class
ers:—
‘■Father, I don’t want to go to Sunday
School any longer. Fred Jones and
Harry Smith, who are in my class, have
quit, and I want to quit, too.”
“Why, my son ?”
“Oh, because it is so dull to he con
fined to Sunday school this warm weath
er, and then I haven’t any time to get
my lessons, and then —and then—”
“Then what?”
“Why, Fred and Harry say it is all
nonsense for such big boys as me to he
tied to a Sunday school. It does very
well for our Charley, but I think I am
too old to go to Sunday school. Don’t
you think so, father ?”,
t V \.. a—
great and good institution. All our best
men are in favor of it. It k eps boys
out of mischief, Sundays. It is respect
ed too. People think more of you if you
are a Sunday school scholar. If you
wanted to get a situation in a store, to
be a regular member of a Sunday school
would be a recommendation for you.—
Then, you learn so' much that is good*.-
It is right to study the Bible, and learn*
these things. My son I think the Sun
day school is a grand thing for you. I
do not want you to stop. You are not
too old to go.”
“When shall I be, father ? How old
were you when you stopped ?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Thomas ? never
mind that.”
“But, father, if the Sunday school is
such a great thing, and all that you have
been telling me —if we were never too
old to go, vrtiy, don’t you go? I’ll agree
to it, if you go with me.” [Exit Tom.]
“Well, he caught me this time; turned
my own sermon upon myself. I don’t
see but that I must agree to the bargain.
I shall feel rather strange at Sunday
school, for, to tell the truth. I have not
been for twenty years. People will stare
a little at first, but if it will keep Tom
in school and out of mischief, I will go.”
An evil conscience is a great plague.
CALHOUN, GA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1870.
MISCELLANY.
A Race for A Bride.
BY THOMAS A. POPE.
It has been but a short time since
Esquire Shelton, the man who has mar
ied more people than any other person
in the United States, gave up the pleas
ant business of marrying people and
watch trading, and retired from his
sphere of usefulness on this planet for
ever.
Notices of the man which I have seen
since his death recall to mind a bit of
history, in the consummation of which
lie played an important part. But let
me tell the story from the first.
Among the Federal officers stationed
in Kentucky, in 1864, was a brigadier
general who, for the present, we will
call Ripley. This officer’s family con
sisted of his wife and one child, a beau
tiful girl of seventeen summers —and as
in*i"y ttlntt/io likewise, I presume— —
though from her joyous nature it did
not seem as though she had ever seen
anything but sunshine and flowers. 1
have said Alice Ripley was beautiful—
she was more —she was attractive. You
could not know her without loving her.
The fortunes of war had made me an
inmate *of Gen. Ripley’s mansion, and
thus I had every opportunity of meeting
and admiring Alice, and, 1 might add,
of loving her, though fortunately for
myself I never had the audacity to de
clare my love. Albeit under the same
roof, our stations were apart. I was
simply a soldier and special detective;
she the daughter of a General, who was
a proud, haughty, wealthy man.
Alice had many suitors, and, though
she treated all very kindly, she seemed
to give preference to none.
Rut at last her hero came, and, strange
to say, he came from the ranks of those
who were at war, if not with her, those
most nearly related to her. He came
in this wise:
In September, 1864, a company of
cavalry, which I was guiding across the
country, encountered a small body of
Confederate soldiers, twelve in number,
and captured the entire party. They
proved to be a scouting party command
ed by Lieut. Scott. Capt. Burns, who
cammanded our detachment of cavalry,
concluded to take the Confederate sol
diers on with him to Camp Nicholas,
and send Lieut. Scott back to Gen. Rip
ley. “ Pope,” said Burns to me, “ I
have no men to spare; will you take the
reb-to. Gen. Ripley. It is only 40 miles
to bis headquarters, and .you know the
way.” I announced my willingness to
take charge of the prisoner. 111 a few
minutes I was ready to start. They
brought Lieut . Sfcott to Lie. He
handcuffed and tied to his saddle. “As
you are going by yourself. I thought it
best to make your prisoner, who, I am
told, is a desperate fellow, secure,” said
Capt. Burns, as he rode away to join his
departing company. I was now alone
with Lieut. Scott. He was a fine look
ing soldier, and I could see by bis
countenance that ho felt keenly the in
dignity with which Capt. Burns had
treated him by putting him in irons.
“ Well, Lieutenant,” said I, “ I am com
missioned to take you to Gen. Ripley.
I don’t like to see a man in irons, and if
you will promise not to try to get away
I will free you from your bonds.” “ I
promise nothing, sir,” said the soldier,
with all a haughty Southron’s pride.
I looked for a moment at the man be
fore me, and then determined to free
him. lie had refused the promise I
asked, and I was glad. X was satisfied
he was above treachery.
“Then you,” said Scott, “you are
kinder than that brutal captain, who I
hope to meet once more.”
This was said with a quiet menace
that boded no good for Capt. Burns.
It was about ten o’clock when wc
took the highway for Richmond, the
headquarters of Gen. Ripley. Lieut.
Scott soon lost his reserve, and we spent
the long ride in pleasant converse. By
the time we got to Richmond, p. m., we
were on good terms, considering our
different positions.
1 reported to Gen. Ripley, who im
mediately ordered Lieut. Scott into
close confinement.
“ He is a spy,” said the General, “ we
will have to deal promptly with these
guerrillas.”
1 was sorry for the prisoner, but
knew that anything: said in his favor
w *4" no ;ao I delivered
him to the Provost Marshal. I visited
him often in his prison, and did what I
could to make his confinement endurable.
Confinement to a spirit like his was
very irksome. Two weeks after enter
ing the prison he made a desperate effort
to escape.
He knocked doivn the sentinel who
guarded the door, and rushing out seiz
ed an officor’s horse and, before a hand
could be raised to cheek him. he was in
the saddle and gone. r It was broad-day
light, and a hundred soldiers witnessed
the act of daring recklessness. A hun
dred shots were fired at the fugitive, one
of which struck his horse, though at
first it did not seem to check his speed.
Half a company of cavalry were soon in
pursuit, and. after three of their
numbers, succeeded in shooting him
down. It was the only wjy they could
capture him, as every time they asked
him to surrender he answered with the
revolver he had taken with the horse.
He was carried back to Riedmoud and.
while insensible, was again thrown into
prison. I now went to Gen. Ripley and
asked, and after some difficulty obtained,
permission to take him from the prison
to a building used as a hospital for the
officers of the Federal army. The
“ Yankee ” ladies in the town often vis
ited this hospital* bringing delicacies to
the sick. One day, while I was sitting
by the bed-side of Scott, Alice Ripley,
in company with another lady, entered
the room. Not having seen Lieut.
Scott before, they of course must know
all about him. I told them of his gal
lant defence when first surprised, and of
his subsequent daring attempt to escape.
Ladies always like brave men, and the
sympathies of Alice and her young
friend were quickly aroused in favor of
the wounded man. They gave me liber
ally of the fruits and cakes they had
with them. When Scott awoke I pre
sented him what they had left, and told
him who left them. “ Many thanks to
them,” said he; “ they have more gene
rosity than I gave the Yankees credit
for.” “Alice Ripley is an angel,” I re
plied. Two days afterward the same
ladies made another visit to the hospital.
The first call they made was in the ward
where Lt. Scott lay. I happened to be
with him again. I introduced fwTadjes
to him. They conversed a few minutes
wliK Lim, uiitl tken presented liim a
basket of wine and cakes. Their story
was brief, and their conversation a mere
nothing; but when the ladies were gone,
I noticed that the Lieutenant seemed
much better than.; be, was before their
visit. “ That Miss Ripley is a beautiful
girl,” said lie to me. “ l T es, and as good
as she is beautiful,” I replied, and then
I began to give him a catalogue of her
many good qualities.
The Lieutenant looked at me with a
smile, and said ; “ Stop, Pope, or I shall
think that these presents were for my
nurse instead of me.” I stopped con
fused, for I thought he saw that I loved
the lady that had pleased him so much.
In the afternoon of that same day I re
ceived orders to start at once to New
Orleans on some business of Gen. Rip
ley’s. I hastily made my preparations
to start, and, while the clerks were pre
paring papers for me, I visited Lieut.
Scott and told him I was going to his
home. He lived in New Orleans. He
was highly elated that he could send
home, and hear so direclty from there.
So he gave me a half a dozen commis
sions to execute among his friends.
I was absent from Richmond four
weeks. Upon my arrival, I reported at
Gen. Ripley’s office, and was informed
that he was not in town, but would be
in next day.
I then went down to his residence,
and entering the house went direct to
the library, where all the letters that
came for me during my absence were
always placed. The door which T open
ed made no noise and. without closing
it, I started across the room, but soon
stopped in astonishment—for there be
fore me, seated side by side, were Alice
Ripley and Lieut. Harry, Scott, C. S. A.
! •" ,lv 1 , fciUqi
conversation that they did not notice
my entrance. “In the name of won
ders !” I thought to myself, “ How is
this ? A rebel officer in this stern old
puritanical General’s library with his
daughter.”
I turned to leave the room, when Miss
Ripley noticed my presence, and sprung
to her feet with a cry of surprise. She
evidently did not expect any one to see
her here, I thought.
She was reassured when she saw who
the intruder was. In a few minutes I
went up town, accompanied by Scott.
“ How is it, Scott,” said I, “ that you
are free, and at Gen. Ripley’s?”
“ Well, in answer to your first ques
tion, I am on parole; as to your second
question, I may say I visit Gen. Ripley’s
because —well, because I like his daugh
ter.”
“ I neet not ask if Miss Ripley re
ciprocates the dike’; but about the
General.”
“I have not taken the trouble to as
certain Gen. Ripley’s mind upon the
subject,” replied the Lieutenant.
During the next two weeks the two
lovers, Alice and Harry, had met often.
I did all I could to bring them together.
My reason was this: Capt. Burns was a
suitor of Miss Alice, and the one which
Gen. Ripley had decided she must mar
ry, whether she wanted to or not. This
Capt. Burns I cordially despised, and I
determined that if I could prevent it he
should never marry Alice.
One day Miss Ripley was at {he house
of one of her friends, and Lieut. Scott
happened to be there too. Thinking
themselves secure from interruption,
they indulged in that sweet nonsense so
interesting to lovers, so foolish to any
one else. But, very unfortunately for
their future peace, their loving glances
were seen and their loving over
heard by one who from that ifoTment be
came tlieir bitter foe—that was Capt.
Burns. lie did not disturb the lovers,
but reported to Gen. Bipley, and the
result was that when Alice came home
she was met by a torrent of reproaches
from her father and a strict conmand —
“ Never to speak to that vfle* rebel
again.” He was also kind chough to
inform her that in one month she would
become the wife of Capt. Burns, a weal
thy officer, and Gen. Ripley’s Aery dear
friend.
Time passed away rapidly. The pre
parations for Alice’s wedding lad been
going on for some time, and nofr it only
lacked three days of the time appointed.
Meanwhile the lovers had not leen idle,
as on the 22d of December Liint. Scott
came to me with n request thatfastonish
ed me. “I am going to run sway with
that old Puritan’s girl, and J want you
to help me.” Assisting a rebel officer
to elope with my commanders daughter
was a serious piece of business, so I did
not readily comply. Rut my hatred of
Capt. Burns, and my desire to baffle bis
plans, and thereby save the beautiful
Alice from a life of misery, decided me.
I therefore told the anxious lover that
I would do what I could to aid him in
his plans of love and revenge. He lovt and
Miss Ripley, and he owed Capt. Bums
no good will.
The programme of departure was
quickly made. I was to secure a pass
for a gentleman and his sister to leave
Richmond and cross the Ohio river.—
Then I was to assist Miss Ripley out of
her father’s house, where she was almost
a prisoner, and escort her to a carriage
which Scott would have in readiness
near by. The first part of my mission
I easily executed. The time of depart
ing was set for midnight, December 23d.
On the morning of that day I received
an order to go at once to a town twenty
five miles distant, and was not expected
back before next morning. I was back
in Richmond, however, by 10 p. m.,
23d, as I told Scott I would be. I went
at once to Gen. Ripley’s house, and for
tunately gained admission unobserved.
I managed to notify Miss Ripley of my
presence, and v also that at midnight I
would escort her from the house. I
then secreted myself to await that time.
Alice S luum tejronoxl mio ike rmm o
hall which the library did. At the end
ot this hall was a door opening- into the
garden. At the oppointed time Alice
came into the hall, and we started to the
door; just as w r e reached it, the library
door opened and Gen. Ripley came di
rectly toward us. There was no light
in the ball except what came from the
open door of the library. As the G en
eral approached us, we crouched in the
corner behind some coats which hung
there. Gen. Ripley paused a moment
at the door within three feet of us—then
opened the door and passed out, locking
the door on the outside. Escape from
that door was now impossible, neither
could we go out at the front door, for
a sentinel stood there. The only way
left us was to go into my room, and
thence into the street through a window.
We passed back by the library door, and
saw Capt. Burns there, smoking a cigar,
and no doubt thinking of the happiness
that awaited him on to-morrow. AVe
did not disturb his meditations, and in
fifteen minutes Alice was beside her
lover and leaving Richmond. AVhcn
passing through the hall, Miss Ripley
dropped a letter which she had received
from Scott. An hour after her depart
ure, Gen. Ripley picked up this letter
and read it. Enraged at its contents,
he sought his daughter’s room, to find
that she was gone. Immediately the
house was aroused. The General at
once came to the conclusion she had
left with Lieut. Scott.
I was near the house, and seeing that
A1 iss Ripley’s departure had been dis
covered, I rode up to the house and de
livered my dispatches to Gen. Ripley.
Without looking at them he demanded
if I had met his daughter. I, greatly
astonished, of course., told him I had
not. He then told me what he suspeetd,
and I informed him that I had met a
close carriage going toward Richmond.
As I hoped, Capt. Burns declared that
lie would follow that carriage which I
had seen leave Richmond an hour be
fore, containing a couple of Federal
Officers, the gallant captain hurried
away to find his missing bride. Mean
while Gen. Ripley sent messengers in
all directions to find the fugitives. At
three o’clock one reported that they
passed the pickets on the Marysville
road about midnight. Ascertaining be
yond a doubt that they had taken that
direction, the General sprang into his
buggy, and, calling me to join him, we
were soon traveling at a rapid rate over
the road which I knew ‘the fugitive
lovers had just passed over. By 10
o’clock we had traveled forty miles, and
we learned from a soldier we met that
we were near the objects of our pursuit.
AVe stopped a few moments to give our
horses some water and repair our car
riage wheel.
While the General was at the house
near by, a darkey, riding a splendid
horse, came along. I halted him and
found out his destination; then I wrote
on a piece of paper : “ Scott, hurry up.
Gen. Ripley and myself are in close
pursuit.”
This I gave to the darkey, and told
him to ride swiftly and deliver it, and
I made my command important by ad
ding a ten dollar greenback. The dar
key came up to them in five miles, where
they had stopped to get dinner, not imag
ining such close pursuit. They imme
diately, of course, pressed forward.—
Scarcely had they gone "when we came
to where they had stopped. The road
was quite level and straight, and not far
ahead we saw the runaway carriage.
Then commenced an exciting race.—
Both parties had splendid teams, but
Scott had the heaviest carriage. At the
end of five miles we were within a hun
dred yards of the lovers, and were rap
idly filling lip that space, when I took a
piece of paper, and putting some lead in
it, threw it in front of the horses. The
General did not notice the act. The
horses sprang aside from the paper, and
as the}* did so they broke the tongue
from the carriage and sped away, leav
ing Gen. Ripley and myself in the car
riage. The only resort was to walk to a
village, two miels ahead, and there get
other horses. Just before we reached
the village. Capt. Burns overtook us.
Hearing what had transpired he press
ed on without waiting for us. AA’e got
fresh horses in the village, and mounting
them pursued our way toward Marysville.
Seven miles from the Ohio river we
found Capt. Burnc3 lying by the road
side, almost senseless. AVe soon revived
him, and he told us that he had overta
ken Scott while he was fixing something
| about his carriage, and fearing to shoot,
i had rushed up and grappled with him.
, The tebel officer proved himself the best
! in the struggle, and had left the gallant
Captain senseless by the wayside, and
. went on his way rejoicing. Assisting
the Captain oh his horcs > which was
near by, we continued the pursuit. AVe
arrived on the banks of the Ohio in time
to hear the splash of the oars of the boat
which conveyed Harry and Alice across
the river; we could not soe them in the
dark. I rushed down to the water’s edge
ahead of my companions, and found a
boat there. I took the oars and drop
ped them into the water, and reported a
boat without oars. After an half hour’s
delay, we found some more oars and
crossing the river we found ourselves in
the “Gretna Green” of America, and en
quiring of a late pedestrian, were direc
ted to the residence of Esquire Shelton.
Reaching the house designated, the Gen
eral rapped furiously on the door aud
demanded admittance. He was answer
ed by a lady who looked out of an upper
window and inquired what was wanted.
“ I want my daughter, who has eloped
with a villian and come here to he mar
ried/’ “ Oh, you are at the wrong place.
You will find Mr. Shelton’s by going
down thissrteet three blocks, then turn
ing ouo block to the right—a large white
house,” replied the lady. Without ques
tioning the information, Gen. Riply hur
ried away to the house designated. Burns
and myself following. Wv,
house and soou roused Air. Shelton, who
came to the door. “ AVlmt is wanted
gentlemen,” he inquired. Gen. Ripley
repeated the demand he had made at the
other house.
“ You are mistaken in the place, gen
tleman,” said Air. Shelton. “Aly name
is Shelton, but not Esquire James Shel
ton ;” and he proceeded to direct us back
to the same house from which, ten min
utes before, we had been dismissed. Fo
raged beyond measure, the father and
baffled suitor rushed back to Esquire
Shelton’s. This time that gentleman
answered the summons himself. ‘ Where
is my daughter and that rebel villain ?”
imperiously demanded the General. “I
do not know who you mean,” said Air.
Shelton. “ Miss Ripley and Harry
Scott,” I suggested. “They are gone,”
replied Air Shelton. “Did you marry
them? demanded Gen. Ripley.
“ When the North and South are as
firmly united as the couple you seek,
there will be everlasting pc&ce and un
ion,” replied Air. Shelton.
Burns drew a pistol, and would have
shot the old man if I had not snatched
it from his hand. AATth a glance of
scorn at the would-be-assassin, Air. Sliel
tou bade us good night, and closed the
door.
AVe next went to the hotel, where we
learned that Harry Scott and his wife, in
company with a few others, had gone to
the landing to meet the steamer passing
down. It was useless to try to catch
them before they got to Louisville. It
was imperatively necessary that Gen.
Ripley and Captain Ruins should return
to Richmond, so 1 reeieved orders to fol
low and arrest Scott. Three days after
wards, I found him in Louisville. His
mother, just from New Orleans, was with
him.
I told him of my orders, and he said
all right. His wife went with his moth
er to New Orleans to remain until the
war was over. AA’hen I arrived in Rich
mond I found that Gen. Ripley had gone
to AA r ashington. He never met his son
in-law. Lieut. Scott was exchanged,
and was with Gen. Lee in the closing
campaign of the war. In some of the
last battles, Gen. Ripley was killed.
After the surrender, Lieut. Scott hur
ried to the Crescent City to meet his
wife and the host of friends who welcom
ed him. Not long afterwards, Alice’s
mother came to live with her, and then,
as now, Alice Scott was, and is, the hap
piest wife in New Orleans, by no means
regretting the fact that the day she was
to marry a Federal Captain saw her uni
ted forever with a brave Confederate.
—
To Young llouskeepers.—Be satis
fied to commence on a small scale. It
is too common for young housekeepers
to begin where their mothers ended.—
Buy all that is necessary to work with;
adorn your house with all that will ren
der it comfortable. Do not look at the
richer homes, and covet their costly
furniture. If secret dissatisfaction is
ready to spring up, go a step farther,
and visit the homes of the suffering
poor; behold dark, cheerless apartments,
insufficient clothing and absence of all
comforts and refinements of social life,
and then return to your own with a joy
ful spirit. You will then be prepared
to meet your husband with a grateful
heart, and be ready to appreciate the
toil of self-denial which he has endured
in the business world to surround you
with iho Jolighte of home; and you
will co-operate cheerfully with him in
so arranging your expenses, that his
mind will not be constantly harassed
lest his family expenditures may en
croach upon public payments.
Be independent; a young housekeeper
never needed greater moral courage
than she does now, to resist the arm- j
gance of fashion. Do not let A/s and
B.’s decide what you shall have, neither
iet them hold the strings of your purse.
You know best what you can and ought
to afford. It matters but little what
people think, provided you are true to
yourself, to right and duty, and keep
your expenses within your means.
—
A Gentle Hint. —AVe know a min
ister who was generally able to keep his
congregation wide; aivake. but who on
one occasion—it was a sultry summer
day observed numbers of them asleep.
He resolved to nip the evil practice in
the bud. So taking a good survey of
the scenes before and around him, he
exclaimed, “1 saw an advertisement last
week for five hundred sleepers fora rail
road. I think I could supply it with
fifty, and recommend them as good and
sound.” It is perhaps, needless to add, j
that supply in fantiy vanished.
jJs’iiniliex* 5.
Startling Effect of a Hymn
in a Gambling Hell.
A Hung Kong correspondent of tho
Boston News tells an interesting inci
dent. He had been intrusted with
packages for a young man from hi*
friends in the United States, and, after
inquiry, learned that he might probably
be found in a gambling house. 11a
went thither, but not seeing him, deter
mined to wait, in the expectation that
he might come in. The place was *»
bedlam of noises—men getting angry
over their curds and frequently coming
to blows. Near him sat two men—one
young, the other forty years of age.—
They were hotting and drinking in 2
terriway, the elder one giving utterances
continually to the foulest profanity.—
Two games had been finished, the young
man losing each time. Tho third game,
with fresh bottles of braudy. had just
begun, and tho young man sat lazily
back in his chair, while the elder shuf
fled the cards. The man was a long
time dealing the cards; and the young
mau looking carelessly about the room,
began to hum a tune. He began to
sins* the bountiful lln/va of Plinphi' Gnrv •
“One sweetly solemn thought
Comes to me o’er and o'er,
I'm nearer to my father’s house,
Than I've ever been before.
“ Nearer the bound of life,
Where we lny our burdens down,
Nearer leaving my cross,
Nearer wearing my crown.”
At first, says the writer, these words
in such a vile place made me shudder.
A Sabbath school hymn in a gambling
den 1 But while the young man sang,
the elder stopped dealing the cards,
stared at the singer a moment, and
throwing the cards on the floor, exclaim
ed:
“ Harry, where did you learn that
tune ?”
*• What tune ?”
“ Why, the one you have been sins;-
• V 0
mg.
The young man said he did not know
what he had been singing, when the
elder repeated the words, with tears in
his eyes, nnd the young man said he
had learned them in a Sunday school in
America.
“Come/’ said the elder, getting up:
‘ come, Harry here’s wlmt I’ve won
from you; go and use it for some good
purpose. As for me, as God sees me, I
have played my last game and drank
my last bottle. I have missed you,
Harry, and lam sorry. Give me your
hand, my boy and say that for old
America’s sake, if for 110 other, you will
quit this infernal business."
The writer says these two men leave
the gambling house together, and walk
away arm-in-arm.
3,000 Confederates oo'Dry
Tortugas,
The Abingdon A irginian a
letter from Saltville, Virginia ■* vfhleh
contains a surprising statement, imsJv’on
the authority of Edward Parker, repre
senting himself as a Lieutenant in Cap
tain Kelly's company, K.,4oth North
Carolina Regiment. Parker says he
was taken prisoner at Ckickamauga, 12th
June, 1862—sent from thence to Camp
Chase, and from there shipped to Dry
Tortugas. The correspondent says :
His tale is a strange one, but I am
forced to believe every worcl of it—and
so would you if you could see the man—
and it may be of some interest to some
of your readers. lie says there are still
about three thousand men on the Island,
who have no means to pay their passage,
and no way to make money enough to do
so. Among those still there, whose names
he remembers are: James Grady, Thos.
W. Stinson, William Stinson and Geo.
Taylor, of Washington county; Thomas
Carter and Jesse Carter, of Russell; Jno:
Black and William Black, of Scott; Jas.
Higginbotham, Thos. W. May, Jesse T.
May and William A. May. of Tazewell
county. Parker says that the prisoners
were all released at the close of the war,
but they had no means of communication
with their friends, and they are still
there iii a most wretched condition, their
only means of support being derived from
labor at the levees at fifty cents per month,
and by begging He worked over five
years at fitly cents per month and saved
thirty dollars and 30 cents, with which he
paid his tare to New Orleans, from which
place he has walked since the 7th of
June, and begged his way. He is in a
most pitiable condition, being entirely
blind in one eye and very near so in the
other—caused by exposure—and very
lame and crippled up from long walk.
He is on his way toTiis home in Hopkins
county. North Carolina, having walked
up the Mississippi to the mouth of the
Ohio, up the Ohio, and through Ken
tucky. several hundred miles out of his
way, owing, he says, to his ignorance of
the country, and the ignorance of those
who gave him directions. He says the
poor fellows on the Island are praying
for relief fr.»m their friends, but he does
uot know how that relief can be afforded,
as he seems to be entirely ignorant of
the means of communication with the
Island, and only knows that vessels go
there for coffee.
Definition of faith. —A little girl
five years of age, on being asked what is
faith, artlessly replied; “It is doing
just what God wants us to do. and ask
no questions about it.” This covers the
whole field : perfect trust combined with
implicit obedience.
An old farmer said to his sons:—
“Boys, don’t yoo ever speckerlate, or .
wait for sunthin, to turn up. Yoo mite
jist as well go an’ set down on a stone in
the middle of a medder, with a pail
atwixt your legs, an’ wait for a cow to
back up to you to be milked.”