THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCEP.
PUBLISBED EVERY WiDREEIDAT BY
H. G. SMITH & CO
A. J. STEINMAN
11. G. SMITH
•
TERMS—Two Dollars per annum payable
In all cases In advance.
THE LANCASTER DAILYINTELLIGENCER IS
published every evening, Sunday' excepted, at
$5 per annum in advance.
OFFICE--Sotrrit WEST Con:clip. OF CEXTILE
SQUAIut.
Voctrp.
A YOUNG 11.1.31,11A.'S LAYIENT
Not long ow' I used to sing,
And donee, and feel so gay:
lint now this little baby thing
Has stol'n my youth away'
I'm not oil, at least In years,
My hales not streaked with gray,
No wrinkle on my face appears,
Awl yet.—“l've had my day !"
How Irwi zigly my heart did bend
Ti Charlie, when lie came!
I never dreamed Itwould put an end
To parties, amid Ouch game.
Before the bridal charm tools flight
A novelty I seemed,.
And when I danced and felt Ho bright
No harm was ever dreamed.
But by and by niy baby canto,
A na up sprung In my heart.
A huly, louder, cleuthless flume,
If iv Rich my Ilfu suunted purl
Ilul sparaling eyes, stud sunny mall°
VI h dimples dta•p and rare,
In lathy farm cannot. beguile
The 11.0. uf Fitshlull fair.
They rldieule such Joys as mine,
l'hey VII, for me ßio more,
My husband's ceased to be divine
My baby's thought tt hare.
SO now they never ask me out
They have no room they say
Fir people all about
Their dancing MOMS so gay.
811 l ill lllu "Gerlllllll . S .. III:1M! and glet
Th.• 01.1., sholltd 'War 1111111nd,
The very tidings that 1)11.11h:11,d tne,
They", trying hard In find!
11321:11111
I Ililnlc Irue love Iv never blind.
Ilia rather hring, nn n.,11,..1 light ;
An Inner Vl.lon nutel, to Ilnd
The Iron, I'ollllll,ll Sight
I=IIIIIMENZ=II
. .
An.a 111,',1511411. , t, 11.0.1v , t part
Savo I linal.:11 1111110iophy
1.,v11,4 wkdoni a the !wart.
Y.ll, unanollilvil •Itall rttl I
Ohl tvh.t tills my s.ttli wit h light;
Sim .11, 11./t Net• 11 . 11,11 ttil,
what hitt, froth Your sight.
i h.• haa that fain to alla
11111 tilt• licit turn astray
I saa the .5 nalhtrattal, sallii1110:
Von, hat tin gamic ut, ttial the clay
st..• IL lborlal,
t•L'or by th.•
I LIP iwrlec•tecl,
row•li th.. sILLIALL . L..If a gIll!.
I/1111 , 10 , 1 I Stiml4l. I,IIIIIW yon stad,
Till an nlna•cyci, with toorla, rNrol•L
1,ovl•, dellvertn . , lull Ills 11111111,
Allll III! I x•or1111p IllritVeL!
4+l(sccllanrotts.
Deaf Smith, The Celebrated Texan Spy
A tuna two years after the Texan rev
olution, a ditlieulty occurred between
the new government and a portion of
the people, w h ich threatened the most
serious VI/lISCIitIVIICVS --C VOll the blood
shed and wrn)rs of a civil war. Brief
ly, the eause \Va. , : The constitution
had fixed the city or Austin as the per
manent ':capital, oiler,. the ',oldie ar
ehives were to be kept, with the reser
vati,m, however, or a power in the Pres
ident to order their temporary removal
in ease of danger from the inroads of a
foreign enemy, or a force of a sudden
insurrection.
Conceiving that the exceptional emer
gency hail arrived, as the Comanches
frequently committed outrages within
sight of the capitol itself, Houston, who
then resided at Washington, on the
Brazos, dispatched an order command
ing his subordinate functionaries to
send the State Records to the latter place
which he declared to be, pre., tempure',
the seat of governinent.
• It is impossible to describe thestormy
excitement e hirh the 1)1,11111IgatiOld of
this jita raised in Austin. The keepers
of hotels, boarding house:, groceries and
faro lianks were thunderstruck, mad
ihmeil to frenzy ; for the measure would
he a deathblow to their prosperity in
business; and accordingly they deter
mined at WIC(' 10 hake the. IleCeSSary
steps to avert the danger, by opposing
the execution of llouston's mandate.—
They called 0 meeting of the citizens And
farmers of the circumjacent country,
who were all nmre or less interested in
the question; and Oiler many fiery
speeches against lb asserted tyranny
of the .01miuistration, it was unani
mously resolved to prevent the removal
of the archives by open and armed re
sistance. To that end they organized a
company of Four huikdrea men, one par
ty of whom, relieving the other at regu
lar perio,ls of duty, should keep con
stant guard around the State House un
til the period passed by. 'clic comman
der of this Puree was one Colonel MOr-
LOH, who had achieved considerable re
nown in the moor for independence, and
Lad still more recently displayed des
perate bravery iu two desperate duels,
in both of which he had cut his antago
nist nearly to pieces with the bowie
knife. Indeed, from the notoriety of
his character for revenge, or courage, it
was thought that President Houston
would renounce his purpose touching
the archives, so soon as he should learn
who was the leader of the opposition.
Merlon, on his part, whose vanity
fully equalled his personal prowess en
couraged and justified the prevailing
opinion by his boastful threats. 1 - ic
sward that if tile President did not suc
ceed in removing the records by the
march of an overpowering force, he
would then himself hunt him down
like a wolf, and shout him with little
ceremony, or stab him in his bed, or
waylay him in his walks fur recreation.
tic even wrote the hero of San Jacinto
to that effect. The hitter replied in a
Hole of laeonie brevity :
"I f the people of Austin do not send
the archives, I shall certainly come and
take them ; and if Colonel Morton can
kill me, he is weleifine to my ear-cap."
On the reception of this answer, the
guard was • doubled around the State
I[ott 'hosen sentinels were station
ed along tile road leading to the capital
the military paraded the streets front
morning till night, and select caucuses
held permanent session, in the city hall.
hi short, every thing betokened acom
ing tempest.
One day, while matters were in this
precarious condition, the caucus at the
city hall was surprised by the sudden
appearance of a stranger, whose mode
of entering was as extraordinary as his
looks and dress. Ile did not knock at
the closed door—he did not seek admis
sion at all ; hunt climbing unseen a small
bushy-topped live oak, which grew be
side the wall, leaped without sound or
warning through a lofty window. He was
clothed altogether in buckskin, carried
a long:nal very heavy ripe ill his lewd,
Were it the bottom of his left. suspender
a large bowie-knife, mid had in his
leather belt a couple of pistols half the
length of his gun. lle was tall, straight
as :in arrow, active as a panther in his
motions, with darkened complexion
and luxuriant jetty hair, with a severe,
iron-like countenance, that seemed
never to have known a smile, and eyes
of inten.ic vivid black, wild and rolling,
twit piercing as the point of a dagger.
Ilia htrange advent, inspired a thrill of
involuntary fear, and many present un
consciously grasped the handtcs of their
side-arms.
" Who :we you that thus presumes to
intrude among gentlemen, without in
vitation?" demanded Colonel Morton,
ferociously - essaying to cow down the
stranger with his eye.
'rite latter returned his stare with
compound interest, and laid his long
bony linger on his lip, as a sign—but of
what, the spectators could not imagine.
" Who are you? l4peal: ! or I will cut
an answer out of your heart ! " shouted
Morton, almost distracted with rage by
the cool, sneering gaze of the other, who
now removed his finger front his lip,
and laid it on the hilt of his monstrous
knife.
ger, and was in the act of advancing
upon the stranger, when several caught
him and held him back, remonstrating.
" Let him alone, Morton, for hod's
sake. Do you not perceive that he is
crazy?"
At that moment Judge Webb, a man
of shrewd intellect and courteous man
ners, stepped forward, and addressed
the intruder in a most respectful man
ner—
" My good friend, I presume you have
made a mistake in the house. This is
a private meeting where none but mem
bers arel admitted.''
The stranger did not appear to com
prehend the words, but he could not fail
to understand the mild and deprecatory
manner. His rigid features relaxed,
and moving to a table in the centre of
the hall, where there were materials
and implements for writing, he seized a
pen and traced one line : "I am deaf."
He then held it up before the spectators,
as a sort of natural apology for his own
want of politeness.
Judge Webb took the paper, and wrote
a question. " Dear sir, will you he so
obliging as to inform LH what is your
busluess with the present meeting!"
The other responded by delivering a
letter. : lnscribed on the back, "TO the
citizens of Austin." They broke the
seal and read it aloud. It was from
(I.tit 1 1. )ilt/gotet ..srt.tgviligiat?,et.
VOLUME 71
Houston, and showed the usual terse
brevity of his style ;
" Fe //ow citizens :—Though in error,
and deceived by the arts of traitors, I
will give you three days more to decide
whether you will surrender the public
archives. At the ends of that time you
will please let me know your decision.
SAM. HOUSTON."
After the reading, the deaf man wait
ed a few seconds, as if for reply and then
turned and was about to leave the hall,
when Colonel Morton interposed, and
sternly beckoned him back to the table.
The stranger obeyed, and Morton wrote:
"You were brave enough to insult me
by your threatening look ten minutes
ago.; are you brave enough now to give
me satisfaction 9"
The stranger penned his reply : " I
am at your service?"
Morton wrote again : " Who will be
your second ?"
The stranger rejoined : " I am too
generous to seek an advantage ; and too
brave to fear any on the part of others;
therefore 1 never need the aid of a sec
ond•"
• • .
Morton penned: "Name your terms."
The stranger traced, without a mo
ment's hesitation : "'Time, sunset this
evening ; place, the left bank of Colora
do, opposite Austin ; weapons, rifles, and
distance, a hundrad yards. Do not fail
to be in time !"
lie then took three steps across the
floor, and disappered through the win
dow as had entered.
"What!" exclaimed Judge Webb, is,
it possible Colonel Morton, that you in
tend to fight that num / lie is a mute, if
not a positive maniac. Such a meeting
1 fear, will sadly tarnish the lustre of
your laurels."
"You are mistaken," replied Morton
with a smile; "that mute is a hero,
whose fame stands in the record of a
dozen battles, and half as many bloody
duels. Besides he is the favorite emis
sary and bosom friend of llouston. if I
have the good fortune to kill him, I
think it will tempt the President to re
tract his vow against venturing any
more on the field of honor.
"You know the man then. Who is
he? Who is he asked twenty voices
together.
Deaf Smith," answered Morton,
coolly.
" Why, no; that cannot be. Deaf
Sniith was slain at San Jacinto," re
marked Judge Webb.
"There ' again, your honor is mistak
en," said Morton. "The story of Smith's
death was a mere fiction, got up by
Houston to save the life of his favorite
from sworn vengeance of certain Texans,
in whose conduct he bad acted as a spy.
I fathomed the artifice twelve months
since.
"If what you say be true, you are a
madman yourself!" exclaimed Webb.
"Deaf Smith was never known to miss
his mark. He has often brought down
ravens in their most rapid flight, and
killed Comanches and Mexicans at a
distance of two hundred and fifty
yards f'
"Say no more," answered Col. Morton,
in tones of deep determination; "the
thing is already settled. I have ready
agreed to meet him. There can be no
disgrace in falling before such a shut,
and if I succeed, my triumph will con
fer the greater glory!"
Such was the general habit of thought
and feeling prevalent throughout Texas
at this period.
Towards evening a vast crowd assem
bled at the place appointed to witness
the hostile meeting, and so great was the
popular recklessness as to affairs of the
sort, that numerous and consideable
sums were wagered on the result, At
length the red orb of the summer sun
touched the curved riot of the western
horizon, covering it all with crimson
and gold, and tilling the air with a Hood
of burning glory; and then the two
mortal antagonisis, armed with long,
ponderous rifles, took their station, back
to back, and at a preconcerted signal—
the waving of a white handkerchief—
walked slowly and steadily off in oppo
site directions, counting their steps Un
til each had measured fifty. They both
completed the given number about the
same instant, and then they wheeled,
each to aim and tire when he chose. As
the distance was great, both paused
for some seconds—long enough fur
the beholders to (lash their eyes
front one to the other and mark the
striking contrast betwixt them. The
face of Colonel Morton was calm and
smiling, but the smile it bore had a most
murderous meaning. On the contrary
the countenances of Deaf Smith was
stern and passionless as ever. A side
view of his features might have been
mistaken for a profile done in east-iron.
The one, too, was dressed in the richest
cloth, and the other in smoke-tinted
leather. But that made no difference
in Texas that ; for the heroic courage
were all considered peers—the class of
inferiors embraced none but cowards.
Presently two rides exploded with
simultaneous roars. Col. Morton gave a
prodigious bound upwards, and dropped
to the earth a corpse. Deaf Smith stood
erect, and immediately began to reload
his rifle; and then, having finished his
brief task, lie hastened away into the
adjacent forest.
Thrue days afterwards (len. Houston,
accompanied by Deaf Sudth and MI
more men, appeared in Austin, and
without further opposition removed the
state papers.
The history of the hero of the forego
ing anecdote vas one of the most extra
ordinary ever known in the West. He
made his advent in Texas at an early
period, and continued to reside there
until :his death, which happened sonic
few years ago; but although he had
many warm personal friends, no one
could ever ascertain either the land of
his birth, or a single gleam of his pre
vious biography. When he was ques
tioned on the subject, he laid his fingers
on his lips; and if pressed more urgent
ly his brow writhed, and his dark eyes
seemed to shoot sparks of livid lire. lie
could write with astonishing correctness
and facility, considering his situation;
and although denied the exquisite pleas
ure and priceless advantages of the sense
of hearing, nature had given him ample
compensation, by an eye quick and fur
seeing as an eagle's and a smell keen
and incredible as that of a raven. He
could discover objects moving miles
away in the far-oll' prairie, when others
could perceive nothing but earth and
sky ; and the rangers used to declare that
he could catch the scent of aMexican or
Indian at as great a distance as a buz
zard could distinguish the odor of a dead
carcass.
It was these qualities which fitted him
so well for a spy, in which capacity he
rendered invaluable service to Hous
ton's army during the war of independ
ence. He always,went alone, and gen
erally obtained the information desired.
His habits in private life were equally
singular. He could never be persuaded
to sleep under the roof of a house, or
even to close a tent cloth. Wrapped in
his blanket he loved to lie out in the.
open air, under the blue canopy of pure.
ether, and count the stars, or gaze with•
a yearning look at the melancholy moon.
When not employed as a spy or guide,
he subsisted by hunting, being often
absent on solitary excursions for weeks
or even months together in the wilder
ness. He was a genuine son of nature, a
grown-up child of the woods and prune,
which lie worshipped with a sortof Pagan
adoration. Excluded by his in firmi-
ties from cordial fellowship with his
kind, he made the inanimate things of
earth his friends, and entered by the
heart's own adoption into brotherhood
with the luminaries of heaven. Where
ever there was land or water, barren
mountains or tangled brakers of wild
waving cane, there was Deaf Smith's
home, and there he was happy; but in
the streets of great cities, in all the great
thorougfares of men, wherever there
was flattery or fawning, base cunning
or craven fear, there was Deaf Smith an
alien and exile.
Strange soul ! he hath departed on the
long journey, away among those high
bright stars which were his night lamps;
and he has either solved or ceased to
ponder the deep mystery of the magic
word, " life." He is dead;. therefore let
his errors rest in oblivion, and his vir
tues be remembered with hope.
Dttrnt Want toMorry
It is no doubt wrong, but it is perfectly
natural, to laugh at a certain man in Riply,
Me. This unhappy person was about to be
married, and so distressed was ho at the
prospect that he took two ounces of lauda
num to avoid the calamity. But the ex
pectant bride (who was probably a widow)
was promptly on hand with a doctor, and
the poor creature was pumped into a fit
condition for the altar. Only a fortnight
before the victim tried to hang himself, but
was saved for the joys of the honeymoon
by timely cutting down. This wretched
gentleman had better give it up so, and
submit to his fate, for he can no more escape
the noose than could honest Jack Bunaby
after ho was led captive by Mrs. McStinger.
A Romance of the Docks.
For a month or more previous to the
day on which they first become of in
terest to any particular reader, two ugly
uncouth vessels have been towed, and
pushed and anchored, about the piers
and wharves, making a horrible, bust
lingdin and clamor in the daytime, and
awkward, angular shadows In the night.
One is a ponderous box with a cabin aft,
a small donkey-engine in the center,
and two huge teethed beams standing
upright, forward, with a pulley at the
top, and a heavy ladder reaching from
the deck upward. The other is also a
box, but a square one, and much larger.
It has a more powerful engine, higher
beams, a net-work of heavy chains, a
braced and bolted cross-timber, to which
is hung an enormous yawning iron box,
which is also bolted and barred, and
which, with the hanging chains, give
out:a fitful, dismal chorus over the si
lent wharves, deserted and damp, now
that the night is setting in.
The two machines have been dredg
ing and thundering in the docks, and
are now drawn up together to rest,
moored to the piers and quite motion
less, except when the slow, incoming
swells lifts them, chafing and grinding
together. Nobody is about within speak
ing distance, though there are dim
lights to be seen in the small windows
of both the crafts. It is damp, steam
ing and noisome, •ulthough the sky is
starlit, and it is not yet so dark but that
one may see the figure of a man labori
ously el inib from the cabin of the smal
ler vessel,and also be able to see to some
extent what sort of man he is.
lie is tall, broad-shouldered, but a lit
tle bent, as if lie were a hard worker,
with a narrow chest, a lagging gait, and
an irresolute air. He wears a flannel
shirt, a belt with it:sheath knife behind,
his trousers thrust into his heavy boots,
a slouch hat, and a set of heavy, tangled
whiskers, and a shock of hair. He takes
a step or two, stops, feels for the wind,
hesitates, and looks over the side into
the water, then to the sky. A few inure
steps, and lie feels for the wind again.
Then he goes hesitatingly to the oppo
site side of the deck, and after a mo
ment of doubt, kicks the side of the
other vessel several times with his boot.
He listens a little and kicks again. Pre
sently there is a rattling of chains and a
man's head appears, which he hails,
and which hails back again ; whereupon
he wheels about and goes forward by the
upright beams, where he awkard ly seats
himself with his feet hanging over and
touching the water. Soon the other
man followed him. He appears to be
much younger, and, though as roughly
dressed, is springy and elastic in his
movements. lie seats himself 5(1 ((lose
to the other as to appear to be in his
confidence. A moment elapses, which
the elder man seems to occupy in think
ing• while the other glances at him from
the corner of his eyes and impatiently
taps his boots against the woodwork.
Finally he speaks hastily :
" Harker, what are you glum
about? Hits it been going on again to
day the same as the rest
Yes," replies the other, glancing be
hind at th e cabin-windows, and speak
ing under his breath, "yes, just ;is al
ways. They was sweeter at it than
ever."
" By—"' mutters his companion,
striking his knee with his list, " how
mad it makes me to think of it:"
" lie was here, sure enough, as hand
some and laughing as ever. She came
out of the cabin and stood over there
against the railing, talking and chat
ting like a magpie. They didn't mind
the men wino saw, nor the anise and
dust. lie brought her a bunch of flowers,
and was telling her about them, and
she's got them stuck in a tumbler very
careful."
" Why didn't you stop it ? Don't you
see the way it's going? '
" Because I ain't a fool, that's why.
If I were to let in a word against him,
or to warn her that he is fooling her,
would she take it meek and mild 1 No,
she wouldn't. I daren't breathe to her,
nor look at her hardly, though she is
my baby. And what are you so hot
about ; is it my daughter ? No, it ain't.
It's your chances with her that fetches
you to me with such long faces. Why
don't you march square up to her and
tell her plain, instead of going unhappy
and miserable about your work, because
she can't tell you're loving her when
she don't set her eyes on you the live
long day ?"
" You ain't going the back track?"
asked the other, anxiously.
" Not a step. I'm a better friend to
you than you are. I'm in hopes you'll
get her, for you're smart, and you're
one of her kind, and the other ain't."
" No, he ain't," broke in the young
man, sharply. "He's handsome he's
a notch above her, and he's playing
with her, d—n him!"
" What sets you a think i ng that Daw
ley !" His voice was a little thick ; he
looked hastily behind him again.
"Are you stone blind'.' Don't you
see that she's poor and pretty, that he
is a smooth-talking one and handsome;
haven't you watched them gm iv to
know each other, until to-day it's got
to flowers, and to-morrow it'll be brace
lets, and the next day dresses and fin
ery? Don't you see that you'll be get
ting edged out of her fancy as he edges
in ? She won't put up with a homely
cabin along the docks with a rough man
to love her, when she's been told that
her pretty hands, her sweet voice, her
dearest love, is wadrd on such as you.
gospel ain't truer than that, Harker."
Dawley caught the arm of the other
tightly at the elbow and twisted him
around.
"I tell you the gospel ain't truer.—
Haven't you read the same things since
you were a baby? Haven't you heard
it in books and stories? It is a little
cheating, a little smiling, a little money,
and years on years of heartbreak and
misery. Think of her drawn away out
of your sight with a pack of lies, and
then of meeting her skulking, spoiled,
nod shameless, like one of them." Here
he pointed up along the edge of the
dusky, shadowy wharf, where there
were faint, whitish figures moving
slowly about with the dress and gait of
women.
The large man shuddered and turned
away with a swallowing movement of
his hairy throat, and a muttered protest
at the words of the other.
"Don't, Dawley, don't. She ain't to
be spoke of so."
" Ain't to be spoke of Sur hAepeat
ed, excitedly, and drawing nearer with
a closer hold upon the arm. "What's
that, to using of her so? If you're
scared to think of being robbed of her
brown face, her bright eves, and sweet
voice, how will you stand it when you
feel them slipping out of your way; and
perhaps may come across the self-same
floating about in the dirty water sonic
day, where she thing herself, desperate
and tired?"
" Stop, Dawley. Stop man ! It can't
COMA! to that."
" lint it is , Harker, it's very nigh to
it.. She's nothing but a woman, and he's
artful. It's an old game with him, most
likely. Come, brush up! look at me,
what will your do to stop it? I'm ready
to turn my hand to any thing, and I'm
not her flesh and blood. 1 only wor
ship her, that's all; I ain't her father,
she don't rennin(' me of any wife, or
don't eat at my table ; she don't put her
arms around my neck ever, nor nurse
me when I'm sick, nor cheer me when
I'm tired, and yet you see what I'd do
for her; l'd ." Hero he stretched
out his hand with the fingersapartland
then slowly curled them back into his
palm, clinching them so tight that the
tension of his muscles made his arm
quiver to the shoulder. His lips parted
over his set teeth, and to the irresolute,
shrinking man by his side, he seemed,
for the moment, to be the impersonation
of hateful malignity. A moment of si
lence, and mute glances exchanged in
the dark, and then a stealthy secret
drawing away on the part of Harker,
almost imperceptible, but still eloquent.
The hand of the other remained out
stretched in mid-air until a hooded and
shawled figure, which had been stand
ing behind them for some moments,
bent down and laid a hand on the shoul
der of each.
" Father and you," it said, looking
front one to the other, " get up and come
into the cabin." Without a word the
two slowly clambered to their feet with
hanging heads, making an awkward
pretense of ease, and picked their way
over the cables and chains after the girl,
who went rapidly on before. She halted
by the little companion-ladder, and let
them pass her, and, after they had
groped a difficult, noisy way into the
bowels of the vessel, she followed, mop
ping her eyes hastily with her shawl,
and drawing a deep breath, while mak
ing a quick gesture from her lips toward
the city with her hand.
The two men sank hulkingly into
some seats, and put their soiled hats
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING AUGUST 3, 1870
carefully upon the floor. The younger,
Dawley, was, however, a little quicker
with his eyes, and a little readier to be
come self-possessed. He looked like a
man ready to take fire, and he followed
the girl with the closest but most covert
looks. She passed them, throwing off
her hood, and stood beside her father,
with a hand upon his head.
" Jacob Dawley," said she, half re
flectively and half directly, " I won
der if you meant well by me when you
sat taking all that to my father, up
there
" You know I could never mean harm
to you, Aggy," replied lie, thickly,
" though you do treat me so miserable."
The girl flushed a little, and the tears
started again.
"But was it all your true belief; did
you think it? do you?
"May I be struck dumb and blind!"
cried the other, stamping upon the
floor, as a flood of morbid thoughts
rushed back upon him, "what business
has lie to hunt in these parts ? If lie is
going to fetch shame and sorrow among
you two, I say, tell him to keep away,
not to show his devlish face here, and
to keep his foot off your father's deck,
and his eyes (Ala you. Don't you say
so Harker."' He turned savagely on
the other man, with the same extended
fingers, looking eager to make the same
significant gesture that lie had made
before.
"Maybe," growled the father eva
sively. "Maybe."
The girl caught her hands together in
front of her, and, fixing her bright eyes
upon him, regarded him with a statute
ike steadiness, and an almost statute
like paleness.
" Who knows but you see all you
heard me say, Aggy cried he, leaning
forward, questioningly. " Per'aps you
have the head to bid hiln to stay away,
but not the heart, eh '?" He hesitated
waiting for an answer, but none came.
" Would you let me warn hint to keep
oir front you ? Say, Aggy, would you?"
There was something of a softness in
his tone, and, for a bare instant, her eye
faltered, but she answered promptly
with a resolute shake of the head, and
a calm voice:
" No. I want him to come ; he's com
ing to-morrow."
Harker let his hands fall outward up
on the table, while he turned a working,
sickly face upward, to look at her.—
Dawley labored to his: feet, breathed
heavily through a pair of dry, contract
ed lips. He pointed his forefinger at
her, which trembled from his agitation.
'Aggy, Aggy darlin', what are you
saying?' His fettering words fell upon
the little cabin as
. 11 stone on a narrow
pool—disturbing, distracting all within
it. To outward appearance, all three
were calm and silent, but within them
selves there were tumults of thoughts
which had never been before. "And
you're bent on going to—to the bad,
Aggy, is that it?"
His eyes eagerly caught the sight of a
whitening, furious anger wldch swept
over her face, and saw it in a good hope
for his purpose. It appeared to him
that she was true in her intent, but
wrong in her judgment. It seemed to
be a matter of view, and he rushed on,
seeking to convert her to his, but man
like, began with upbraiding her.
" 1 don't know why I'm called upon
to talk to you ; there's your father there,
whose heart you're breaking, per'aps he
would say a little to you if lie was tit to
speak. Hut he's choked, don't you see ?
It would make him right happy if you'd
pull out your hair by handfuls and show
you're crazy. You are crazy. It would
lie better if you'd spoken your last word
and looked your last look than to live
overnight till to-morrow comes. I'd
rather see you take a knife and cut your
pretty face out than to have hint look at
you again! Ile has no business with
you but evil. If you don't tell me to
keep him away, you're lost; you've no
right to I iNT among honest folks. You re
one a them that—"
say, Dawley, hold up, man !"
thundered I larker, leaning over the ta
ble with a warning hand. "'f'ain't for
you to say that, d'ye hear? Clod knows
there's mischief enough to come, but
Pam not the one todrive her to the river
if she's going to be drove."
Oh oh, my poor father," cried the
girl, throwing her arms around his
neck, " has he cheated you, too !" She
muffled tier voice upon his rough face,
while her ever-ready tears burst forth
again, the ever , gratelul vents of unhap
piness. " Has he mode you believe it?
It is not true. He is honest with me,
I)awley. Oh he could not lie."
"How 110 you know he could nor.'" ,
demanded Dawley, fiercely.
" Because I live," she retorted. "If I
dreamed that he could fool me, I should
die. I feel it in the memory of his face,
his touch, and dress. Ile lie! Alt never!
Ile is too noble. Ile is too gentle. Do
you see my flowers!" She pointed
to a trifle of a boquet floating in
a glass of water. "Well, that is a
heliotrope. It means a message to
me front hint. It is my sunshine, and,
without it now, I should feel so dreary
and tired. But with it"—she cried, with
glowing face—"but with it, I could do
so much and so well. You are nothing
to me, Jacob. 1 never led you on, for
you are too tierce and too easy to anger
—l—l—oh, don't look at me so—don't
Jacob. Do not torment me ;go away
for to-night ; lucre is my hand ; good
night—good—"
He brushed her hand ofr his shoulder
with an oath, and siezing his cap, ran
furiously to the ladder, upon which he
stumbled, too blinded with rage to watch
Ids footing. He struggled up, and burst
ing the lock apart, forced his way into
the murky darkness; and they heard
him quit the deck with hurriedstrides.
Frightened fur the moment, the girl
remained silent, and then turned with
a scared face to her father, who had
folded his huge arms, with their veined,
browned hands, before him, and laid
his shaggy head upon them.
" You're not doubting me, father, are
you whispered she, stooping.
" May God fetch you through all
right, Ag,gy," answered lie, brokenly,
" and keep this boy's heart clean toward
you."
Would you give him work, father, if
he ennit , for it?
" W"rk, child! What does he want
with work?" 'l' he nutn raised his head,
wonderingly.
sake," replied she, slowly, with a sor
rowful face, and slipping her hands
caressingly over the shock of hair.
Anil so, Aggy, here comes the bitter
fruit dropping already. It's all wrong,
wrong, wrong. Jacob would have been
true, though he's much rougher."
I lere there came a silence, and for an
instant the hand stopped, but soon it
went on again with its soothing, until
its wordless, saddened possessor went
her usual round of the locks and bolts,
and soon after all within was dark and
quiet.
Without, too, it was also dark, and,
barring the noise of a heavy, regular
footfall, which echoed dismally among
the wharfs and shipsides, it was also
quiet. Around the deck of his dredger,
of Which he was owner and master, from
the Windlass aft, along by a narrow skill
turned bottom up, to the great, oily,
sturdy mast, with its gallows-like beam,
then - by a heap of muddy cables and
anchors, and back to the windlass again,
walked Hawley. His driver anti spirit
was Jealousy. It whipped him into
speed when he hurried furiously past
the shadowy way-marks, stamping with
his feet, and beating his breast with his
clinched hands, or lulled hint into a
thinking, pondering face, with drooping
head and long breaths; and the last
seemed more dangerous and malignant
than the first.
The people who slept beneath looked
out and begged him to stop and go down;
the watchmen on the wharves hailed
and warned him ; the loud voices calling
and expostulating aroused the dogs on
guard on the neighboring crafts, and
the foggy harbor became discordant and
alive with sounds. The men came and
stooped over the edge of the piers above
him, and turned their lanterns upon
him ; they called his name, but he did
not answer, but went on with his walk.
They whispered together among them
selves, and then went away and left
him.
Nothing interrupts him or his thoughts;
they slip from her to him, and then
back again,_ catching fragments of fire
as the go. Soon they fix themselves on
one of the two, and the other slides away
leaving him alone with his rival. Over
this subject he hovers, vulture;like, and
plunges upon it, vulture-like. He rends
and analyzes with a morbid persistence,
turning all into fuel to feed his consum
ing hate. As his walk drives his
blood, so it drives his fury from his
heart to his fingers'-ends, where it
changes its character for that of re
venge. As it reaches this point he walks
slower for it has reached the puzzle of
how to take it. The question of, shall he
or shall he not, is long since settled ; and
with his hands grasping his surtout at
the lappel's, his eyes turned downward
and his step grown moderate, he walks
his ceaseless round fur into the night.—
He turns occasionally, as if measuring
and looks up at his far-reaching cross
beam, with its ponderous Lox and
chains, and then at the spot on deck of
the other craft where he always stands,
laughing and chatting, and where he
will stand to-morrow. Then to his walk
again ; then another look. The watch
men come, as their rounds lay that way,
and watch him curiously, and fruitless
ly call him. As the clock strikes twelve
they find them there; also at one and
two; at three, however, they nibs him ;
and, laughing among themselves that
he is lovestruck with Harker's pretty
daughter, they conclude that he has
turned in and gone to bed.
The truth is, in fact, that he has mount
ed the wharf and gone to a drinking
place close by, where lie arouses the in
mates and demands something to quiet
his nerves, and lie then goes to sleep
upon a bench, where he stays for twen
ty-four hours, debauching himself in
his endeavors to get himself up to a cer
tain point; he does not reach it, and
still drinks, and, as it happens to be
Sunday, they do not miss him much
aboard of his craft.
As the girl Aggy promised, Suffern
Caine in the morning, but with a stimu
lated elation in his face and step. He
whispered that it was all over with ;
that there had been an outbreak, and
that he was homeless; work with her,
in sight of her, was now his object ; and
for her it would be a greater pleasure
than he had ever had. Her tears and
sorrow availed nothing; they could
change nothing; for huhait made up
his mind; and he turned to Harker.
Harker's keen eyes gleamed with sus
picion, but they found nothing but
frankness, honesty. and a resolute will.
They turned upon his daughter; there
they found something to fear in her im
petuous face, and he felt that the ques
tion before him was an ultimatum
which presented either the acceptance of
Suffern's labor or her instant quittance
of him, with its attendant loneliness and
misery ; and so, with a lurking fear and
a lurking dread, he gave the boy his
hand.
He reluctantly leddiiin about, pointing
out his rough duties; the piles to be
driven, and where, the working of the
engine, the hoisting and the precipita
ting of the guillotine-like fall, and where
he might be expected to help. The
workmen in their holiday dress looked
curiously at the sight, but Ilarker, with
the vision of his daughter before him,
kept on with his task, until all was
shown.
The young man was stout, full-faced,
and handsome. To any other but his
father he would have been all that was
true, but for the time he became a hy
pocrite, and sometimes worse, for the
words of Dawley were neither lightly
spoken nor lightly meant. lie beheld
him standing in the sunlight all the
long afternoon, side by side with Isis
daughter, with a growing fear and dis
trust. To eyes of such a color, nothing
itself becomes a monster, and a caress
and glance the hateful indicators of a
thrice cursed intent.
The day was spent in brooding and
watching, and, when the night came
again, and with it the departure of Suf
fern, he lay stretched upon the warm
deck, harrassed by the memory and im
port of the parting kiss. To him, as
with Dawley, Suffern and notlhe girl
bore the burden of his thoughts. And
such a burden ! Cruel, ungenerous, vin
dictive. They burned with him, so that
he began to dream of taking her, his
only treasure, and of secretly Hying oil
out of the way to some spot where the
spoiler could not penetrate, and of giv
ing his life to winning her back. She,
so beautiful, so trusting, to be torn from
him, to be petted, then thrown worth
less, alike to lout and all the world, to
be a wretch, a preacher's text, and the
abhorrence of her kind! (hod forgive
him, but what would he not du to save
her.
As lie lay, groaning and sighing, he
caught the sound of footsteps coining
over the planked wharf. This could be
no one but Sulrern, for Suffern was up
permost in his mind. lie watched
greedily, but not savagely. He saw the
figure grope down the rough ladder hes
itatingly, and emerge from the pitchy
blackness into the faint starlight; he
slid not hail it, but lay still watching it.
It stopped as it unused to the spot, and
looked about. It was indistinct, but
still he could follow it. It crossed the
dredger's leek and stood upon the rail ;
another step and it stumbled, it caught
wildly at the sides, but missed every
thing, and fell into the water, with a
little noise and no outcry. Harker, as
all men would do, leaped to his feet.
He listened, there was no noise of run
. ning help, nobody saw him, there were
a few faint plashes and struggles. Suf
fern in the river! Well, let him stay
there. Ile sank cautionsly3;down again
with beating heart. He listened; the
struggles lessened, and grew less fre
quent: he was being freed! Presently
he started again; his keen ear caught a
painful, hoarse whisper:
" Har—Harker ! Oh, Harker, Hark
er!
It was Dawley
Like lightning and human like, with
a hurried prayer, he grasped a boat-hook
and jumped to the side, and, with en
couraging words, th rust it into the water.
Quiet, llawley, boy, quiet; don't
move ; I have you."
He threw himself flat upon the deck,
and fumbled about with his hands, and,
with a powerful arm, brought the man
to light, weak and shivering.
He struggled with his heavy body,
and laid hint, a leaden weight, upon the
deck. Weakened but sober, Dawley
gazed thankfully but vaguely around,
while Harker bent over him. His eyes,
glancing upward, caught his face, and a
fierce smile gathered 'moulds weazened,
colorless lips. lie struggled to speak,
and for a moment in vain. Presently
he succeeded.
" I saw you there, Harker."
No answer but a gulping movement
of the throat, which the half-drowned
man watched eagerly.
" You thought it was him—Sulfern ?"
A motionless pause, and then a fright
ened glance downward into the horri
ble, purple, cadaverous face turned up
ward, and after tint another wait—a
Lime seized by llawley to read, to doubt,
and be reassured of the temper of his
scowling savior. He raised his drench
ed arms out of their pools of water, and
rested them across his breast for an in
stant. Suddenly he raised them, drip-
ping, and threw them about Harker's
neck, and drew him down with all his
weight, and pressed his cold lips to his
ear.
"Would ye do the like for him
again?"
He released him and sank back upon
the deck, as if his question had a recoil.
Had his own spirit put the interrogation,
Harker's lips would have whispered a
savage "Yes," but now they muttered a
scared "No, no, no! not that way, Daw
ley."
And he stooped and seized him in his
arms, and carried hint to his cabin,
where lie laid him in his batik, and,
kneeling beside him, told hint of the
events of the day.
Ii was afterward that Dawley put
himself the question, concerning this
moment, whether Harker was acting
the part of a subtle coward, or that of an
overburdened man who sought to lessen
his load by imparting all he knew and
felt to another. As lie remembered his
own unbounded fury, the strengthen
ing of his frame with the infusion of new
draughts of jealousy and envy, the de
fined and iuflagging wish and intent
which were born of that news, lie was
ready to believe that Harker told it him
to stimulate and egg him on ; but, when
he recalled the sight of the bowed head
the broken voice, the tears, he was ready
to think it but the overflowing of the
cup, the awkward, but innocent search
for sympathy. Possessed of the intent
by these and infuriating causes, he
dreamed of it, or rather tossed and
groaned under it, as a nightmare, and
then, Laggard, alert and unrelenting, he
arose with it in the morning. His first
thoughts concerned it, his lirst move
ment lay toward it, his first wish for its
consummation. Calculating and dog-
ged, he subordinated his men, their hi
bor, his previous plans, to its working.
It was while in the very act of giving
his strange directions to his astonished
helpers that Suffern crossed his deck
smiling, happy, and in earnest. He
gave him a nod, which Dawley was too
honest or too absorbed to return, and
passed on to Harker's craft.
As the early hours wore away, and:the
time for work was at hand, the pile
driver warped into its position close by
a row of half-submerged timbers, and
securely anchored. Suffern lent his
hand bravely, despite the novelty of the
work, and the scowling, heavy face of
his employer. He often nodded and
smiled toward a happy, brown eye that
looked proudly upon him, though it
would sudden and fill at times (1.9 the
woman overrode the lighter thoughts of
the girl, and she beheld the sacrifice.
Full of his intent, careful and cool,
Dawley worked his engine into the
place which he had chosen with con
summate skill. In doing so, he had cal
culated an angle, a curve, a force, a mo
tion, and a distance. With his own
hands he belayed the lines. He looked
aloft at his far-reaching yard, with its
festoons of slippery, blackened chains,
its yawning, monster dredge, pending,
and gaping for its feast of river mud ;
from thence to the clear deck of his
neighbor, thirty feet distant, and so near
that his chief assistant comes respect
fulty and says he hopes that there'll be
no danger of the dredge swinging out of
their control, for it might do damage,
meaning to give a warning; but Haw
ley tells him to mind his business,
and orders work to begin., It does,
and Dawley pretends to find employ
ment in the roar and bustle which en
sue. He fumes and domineers more
than usual, to show them that his mind
has no other occupation than in filling
the floats from the river-bed. His heart
seems to be in the rattle and noise, the
surging and boiling of the muddied
water, the clanking of his engine, the
cries and halloos of his men, but it is all
and wholly on one sweeting, brave
hearted lad, who is toiling for love's
sake thirty yards away. His evil eye
watches his slightest movement, his
coming and returning, and especially
greeds upon the gay gesture which is
made now and thou toward a blithe
some figure aft. His hate of inns has
reached a point so low that it can go
no further; it settles as it were into a
pool, smooth and calm, but deep, very
deep.
His intent, now defined, changes its
place, and a chance is now what lie
waits for. lie looks aloft and then at
Ids enemy. Suffern comes aft occasion
ally, and Hawley breaths thickly to see
him so near, but he returns immediately,
and is again out of reach. The morn
ing passes and the chance has not
yet come. At regular intervals
the huge arm, stretching far over
the water, swings away to the left,
plunges the great box into the seething
river until the slacking chain shows that
it has touched the mud. The little en
gine then groans and slowly sways the
bolted arm to the right, and the dredger
drags its way and fills itself, is raised and
emptied while in the midst of its midair
flight around a circle about its mast,and is
caught and held by a tetherof ivindlassed
rope. Should the windlass give or the
rope part, the dredger would lle round
and round until t-he engine could be made
to whip it up to the beam, and the force
spend itself. No one knows this better
than Dawley. He waits patiently for
his chance. At live in the afternoon, as
the shadows lengthen and creep over
the waters, it comes. Suffern conies aft,
• tired, weary, but as much in earnest as
' ever, and stands by a huge cleat, talking
and laughing with the girl, who seems
happy but anxious. She looks at ins
hot face, and flicks the dust from his
clothing, allowing her hand to rest an
instant, in spite of the daylight. Daw
ley sees it, he needs no pretext; for he is
filled with hate, from his dry lips to his
wet hands, and, like lightning, he meas
ures with his eye; he sees everything ;
lie vanishes for a moment, and then re
appears, a furnace within, an iceberg
without.
The enormous dredge swings to the
left. The two still stand. Dawley is
calm and carries his hands in his pock
ets. lie conjures the visions of the dim
figures of the women on the wharves
which he and Harker saw two nights
ago, and then the face of Aggy. lie
sees the dredge move to the right, plow
ing and straining. it seems to have
twice its force. lie can not help a gasp
as he sees it rise. The two are still si
lent. L'p it conics. Itsways, is caught,
is emptied. but does not stop; it flies
away bustling through the air, the wind
lass shifts the tether, and the men shout.
A swift-moving shadow falls athwart
the deck. A scream rings out wild
and piercing. Thirty men fling down
their tools and stare with pale faces.—
Dawley turns. The girl is unhurt, but
in agony, and a body falls plashing into
the water bleeding and heavy, fifty feet
away, Dawley, with Ids fierce heart
and fiercer face, makes a pretense of
moving, and steps away a little. It was
a splendid aim ! Suddenly a din of
voices arises. All of them about glare
at him and motion wildly with their
arms, and scream. lie does not under
stand. He trembles. A something
comes between him and the sun. lie
turns. lie shrieks. lie cannot even
step or fall. The dredge! The gaping,
horrid, yawning dredge ! A half glance
at the world about 'din and it is upon
him. It ingulfs and batters him down,
and all is over.
In a sunny, breezy room of the hospi- I
tat they lie together. Pain has long since
fled, and both are mending—one in
body, and, one in soul. One draws in
the grateful air, the sight of flowers ' the
sweetnesses of sympathy, as a thankful
man only can do. The other, crushed
and broken, is looking beyond all men
and things of men, and on this day sees
further and deeper than before. They
gather solemnly and slowly about him,
at his left, leaving the side toward Suf
fern free and open. There are ghastly
traces of deformity distinguishable even
through the white linen, and those
about * him shrinkingly look upward to
the face where there are none, and they
find instead, in the set of the thin lips,
the wavering smile, the instant's glance,
a purity and beauty which attracts from
all that lies below. The purity be
comes purer, and the beauty more
beautiful, as the sunlight grows richer
and redder with the passing moments.
They hold their breaths, and glance
covertly at one another. As his lips
move, they stoop to listen, but catch
nothing in sound ; but the frightened
girl at his side, kneeling close to him,
looks up quickly and catches her father's
eye, who nods. She then raises her
hand warningly above her head toward
Suffern. He turns about - and she WiliS-
. _
pers sobbingly in the man's ear, and
touches his cheek with her hand ;
smile overspreads his face, and he turns
about slowly, with his eyes still closed.
They watch him with beating hearts.—
An instant passes, fraught only with the
singing of birds and hum of the insects
among the flowers arranged on the win
dow sill. His eves slowly open upon
other eyes eager and soft with tears.
His thin, weak hand lifts a little, while
she smiles again, and it clings longer
about his lips as the other whispers,
"Good-by, Dawley, l led bless you, God
bless you."
They watch for the face to turn back,
but it never does. It rests there, and
the work begun a month before is
finished. They draw the linen sheet
up higher, and, in doing so, they cover
all, and, without its face, the mishappen
pile loses all semblance to a man.
Then they pass by and go to the other.
Crippled, maimed, helpless, he hopes
to be nothing but a burden. The fond,
trusting girl prays to him to let her
work for both; he half yields, but a
flance downward at Ilk horrid bandages
orces him to shake his head firmly.
She Weeps, she implores, and buries her
head in his bosom. It is useless. The
resolution which made him seek her,
also bids her turn her face away and
save herself from misery. Full of ago
ny she obeys, but haunts the place.
One day they discover that he may
mend and walk again. She looks upon
the operation they perform dauntlessly,
for through it and in it is her true life.
The strength of her presence, the cheer
of her eye, and the food which he finds
in her touch and smile, make him pow
erful, and bring him through his subse
quent strait. They set him upon his
feet, lie gropes, he totters, he hobbles,
and as days pass by, he walks again—
other days come, and finally that upon
which they cheerfully say he may go.—
He looks about for the last time, gladly
at one cot and mournfully at poor I)aw
ley's. He then takes her arm and they
pass out together, and Harker meets
them cheerily at the gates.
Err=
The New York Commercial finds a bad
account for wine-bibbers in the conflict in
Europe. Patriots and not peasants, says
the editor, now promise to gather the grapes
of the Rhine districts, and the German and
French vintage will be quaffed from tin
canteens and not silver goblets. The ad
vance in drinks in New York indicates that
importers and restaurant keepers are alive
to the above fact, and propose to husband
their stock on hand. It is fearful to contem
plate the amount of dilution which will now
be indulged in, and the varieties of stuff
which will be palmed off as imported wines
A Visit to Bull Run
A correspondent of the Chicago Tri
bune, lately visiting Bull Run. writes as
follows:
This is the ninth anniversary of the
battle of the first Bull Run, July 21st,
and I write these opening lines at the
Robinson House, where the hottest bat
tle was concentrated. How time files!
It is a beautiful day, not quite so warm
as the day of the battle, and we
are all looking at maps and eating soft
boiled eggs under Robinson's shed, with
old Mr. Robinson looking down at us
benevolently.
" Mrs. Robinson," says one of the la
dies, "were you frightened when you
saw they were going to tight a battle
round your house?"
" Dear, dear, honey, says Mrs. Robin
son, "I was so frightened that I can't
tell you nothing about it. ' Peared like
I had done so many sins, they sent
all their armies after roe a purpose that
blessed Sabbath day. I jist got in the
cellar and prayed, and the ore man he
got under a bridge, and I 'speet hepray
ed too. Thank the Lord for these bright
Sundays now-a-days."
We paid twenty-live dollars fora title,
showy, solid team and two horses and
left Washington with four persons, one
of us acting as driver, on Saturday af
ternoon at 4 o'clock. Country roads of
a fair sort led us by Ball's Cross Roads.
Upton Hill, Falls Church, and across
the shallow branches of the Accotink
to Fairfax Court House—fully eighteen
miles—where we put up for the night an
the clean and not expensive tavern of
Major Tyler, a c o usin of the deceased
President, John Tyler, and formerly
commandant or marines at 'Washing
ton Barracks.
Centreville is one of the most ruined
of all hamlets. There were originally
about thirty houses in it, a majority of
which are now mere chimneys standing
erect among weeds, and several of the
houses which remain have been patch
ed up with logs and planks, so that what
stands is, if possible, more forbidding
than what is destroyed. At present the
oily signs of life about Centreville seem
to be one store, one shop, one new
church, and one Methodist Sunday
School. There is no tavern in the place
and there seems to be no wells of water
in the vicinity, and all the water is
pulled from the branch, a half-dry arm
of Bull Run. The site of Centreville Is
one of the noblest in Virginia, standing
upon the tall spine of a long, crescent
shaped ridge, which bristles with dry
forts along its whole profile, and makes
against the sky a battlemented horizon,
which might almost give suggestions to
an architect. Seven ditli.rent roads meet
at Centreville, and in revived times it
ought to be a busy place.
One naturally expects as he approach
es a celebrated field soon after the event
which commemorates it that he will ob
serve many vestiges of the action.—
There are but two battle-fields I have
seen which bear out this character—
Waterloo, where the loop-holed brick
walls of the orchard remain its they
were on the day of the tight, as well as
the blackened ruins of the Chateau of
Hougoi intuit; the other battle-field is
Bull Run, which is full of ruin, and the
signs of ruin begin from the time you
quit Fairfax Court House, following the
path of the Northern army. In the
first place, there is Fairfax itself, partly
pulled down ; the court house, which
wan loop-holed during three-fourths of
the war, still showing the fresh bricks
in it; the jail, also loop-holed, and just
on the outskirts of Fairfax a few bricks
are lying upon each other to tell where
existed the hamlet of Germantown.
About a mile past Fairfax the good
turnpike runs off to Chantilly, the scene
of Pope's lilt defeat, where Stevens
and KC: gave up their lives. Leav
ing this turnpike our carriage descended
into what is, above all other highways
known to man, a road of ruin—the road
to Centreville. A forbidding and a
lonesome look marks this wide road
from a far distance. Like all the old
turnpikes of Virginia, it had been built
in a staunch mariner, with a hard, high,
limestone pavement in the middle of it;
some of the stones white and some red,
but all large, hard, and set up endways;
and, formerly, this rampart of rock was
covered with clay, sand Will gravel, so
that it made the broad area of the road
level and like a parade. Now the ma
terial hart of the road in the centre has
been washed free of all the gravel and
the clay, so that it looks like the naked
skeleton of a blasted highway, the lorries
of a road once merry with life and
tinkling with teams. The only way to
travel it at all was to take the side-paths,
or what are called here the summer roads,
which sometimes run pleasantly for
little skips, and then suddenly come to
little promonotaries of trap rock and out
cropping limestone, at which we could
see the ladies looking alarmed from a
distance, and nervously holding tight
their seats. 'lids lonely, this desolate,
this battle-accursed road runs from Fair
lax due west for 13 miles, passing
through Centreville, and a short distance
from Stonebridge it is barred across its
whole length by rail, for Stonebridge is
still a ruin after live years of peace, and
all wagons have to take to the fields,
making at long detour, and fording Itull
Run at a point where the long, aged,
roots of the oaks, cline and hemlocks
form a danteseque bank against the ford,
while the other is a dark, succulent and
snaky copse, with swamp, grape vines
and Wild mixtures of dogwood, willow
and Virginia creepers. Through this de,
tile, worthy of the pencil of Salvator Rosa,
our city made carriage moved like a
London shop hunting in a Bengalee
jungle, and directly we plunged to the
hubs into Bull Bun, a pretty stream of
reddish gray color, inclined to be mud
dy, with swampy banks, and crops of
earn growing closely up to the margin.
Below and above, the stream made an
aisle of black light under the arch of the
trees, and in the current grew bunches
of duck-weeds, blue stalked flags, and
other aquatic leaves, the appearance of
which indicated snakes beneath them.
We made another long detour on the
other side, and came to a pair of bars,
which again admitted us to the turn
pike, and here we made inquiries at the
Van Pelt House, and then retraced,
over the truck taken by Tyler's divi
vision to the celebrated stone bridge.
The turnpike was grown up into long
green grass, and before we got to the
bridge we saw a snake wriggle off be
fore the horse's hoofs. Close by the
bridge we took the horses out of their
harness, decended beneath the abut
ments of the bridge, and proceeded our
selves to cross the stream by certain
stones and fish boxes which span it.
We had nosooner put our feet on the first
stone than three black water snakes
dropped noiselessly into the water and
swam away. A black boy coming
by, told us that the stone bridge had be-
come a spot where you are always sure
to see snakes, and that sometimes they
lie up on the tail red abutments, and
throw themselves with a lifeless splash
into the water.
I sat by the single areh of red lime
stone—broken, grass-covered, the pura
pets of the approaches overgrown—and
heard the dark waters sing and curdle
along under the natural ledges of rock,
and saw the turnpike barred by worm
fences and deep with grass, where once,
in times of peace, the young men rode
courting, the buggies rolled to church,
the runaway negroes slipped northward
by night, the cattle and sheep limped in
dusty groves to slaughter, and finally,
where great guns rumbled and the
troops stacked arms to rest and thought
of death close by. All these images were
faint by the light of this highway oh
desolation, and these appealing abut
ments stretching toward each other and
seeking to span the river. What a little
stream to be known round the world—
fordable every few rods, not above sixty
feet wide, yet withal a stream of dignity
and austerity! The timber that grew
along the half morasses here and there
upon its borders was high and branching;
the morasses themselves were full of
rank grass, and the movement of the
water was sullen and dull, as if it loved
to tarry in the dark pools and draw back
from the light. To left and right the
woods closed In upon the visitor, and
over these tree tops careened the tall
hills, with but one house in sight, and
a vague suggesti on besides of Robinson's
shanty in some huddling fruit trees,
which carried a human intimation.—
Looking back toward Centreville from
the bridge, a group of negro quarters and
a small house stood oil one side in an
out field, and a new negro hut, solitary
in a corn field, on the other, both backed
by wood. Down this road the half will
ing troops of Tyler hail moved at day
light, blocking up the way, delaying
Hunter's men, and these last had finally
reappeared across the bridge, their ad
vance measured by the ohm& of dust
NUMBER 31.
which were denser and higher than the
cannon's smoke.
We followed up this turnpike to where
the Ludley Ford road crossed it at right
angles, down which, marching south
ward, the flanking divisions of Hunter
came, and by the white cabin of Mat
thews it unfolded from column to line,
stretching three-quarters of a mile, and
staking a fringe of skirmishers to the
front. All the forenoon the contest was
to carry the turnpike, and release the
divisions behind the stone bridge. By
beating Evans and Bee this much was
accomplished, and then the battle was
transferred to the other side of the turn
pike, where one long, oval hill, the pro
monotory of a high plateau, stretched
front the turnpike to the Ludley road,
and on this exalted cape the first armies
of civil war fought what was the real
battle of Bull Run, on a space of ground
not above two hundred acres in area.—
The shape of this hill is defined by two
rivulets tributary to Bull Hun, that in
front called Young's Branch, which
erossess the turnpike, once at the cross
roads and again near Bull Run, crossed
in the latter case by a small wooden
bridge. The back side of the hill is
covered with small wild timber, oak
and pine, which leaves the summit and
the slopes toward the roads nearly bare.
Upon the bare parts the fiercest battle
raged for three hours around two small
common farm houses—Robinson's near
est Bull Run, and Henry's near by
Ludley road. The Federal troops -were
strongest along the latter half-sunken
country road, and they formed a line of
battle like a carpenter's square, while
the rebels made a Hue like a crescent
iu the edge of the low woods, which
half covered their battalions. The
length of the line of battle was about
half a mile or less, and the Confederate
batteries were massed on their right,
and the Federal batteries on their own
right;respectively. Upon this oval sum
mit a 'fight:as desperate as any of the
war took place, fiercest around the
shanty called the Henry House, confin
ed almost. to the musketry and artillery
and the hotest contests were for the
batteries, whose horses had been quick
ly killed.
At present this hill is marked with a
few gullet's, where the ruins have wash
ed, and by many excavated pits where
the dead have been disinterred. The
country for many miles hereabout is
plainly revealed, the monument at
Groveton on the second battle field of
Bull Run, showing distinctly, and
Manassas Junction, a tine white village,
ve miles away, is seen through a fissure
the timber.
=EI
I ascertained these foots about the
persons who occupied the dwellings on
the battle field of the first Bull ]tun:
The first house on the Warrenton turn
pike, to the right hand, after passing the
stone bridge, is occupied by Mr. Dona
hue, who lives in the house of the widow
Van Pelt. This house isa pleasant frame
dwelling, surrounded by tall and um
brageous trees, and it was the only
house in sight from the stone bridge on
the day of the battle. All the buildings
stand, though the barn was shelled
through and through, but on this par
ticular farm no lighting was done, yet
across it hundreds of troops retreated to
recross Bull Run.
The second house to the right is that
of Gus Van Pelt, in which Bob Payne
now lives ; this house shows marks of
the fight, and the farm was well' fought
over on the morning of the action.
The third house on the right of the
turnpike is a very peculiar one, and no
man who ligured in that action can well
forget it. It is a large, oblong, red lime
stone house, built of large blocks, audit
stands nearly at the junction of LlMley
road. It is owned by Mr. Starbuck,who
was a sutler in the Federal army, and
who keeps a house of entertainment
there now. This house was well riddled
in the battle with shell and ball, and
was set on fire sonic time during the day,
but the neighbors, in a very neighborly
manner, overcame their fears so far as
to rush in and put the lire out. All ac
counts, even the most moderate, agree
that the Northern troops, put the high
est construction on the crime of treason
on the day of the battle of hull Run, and
gt fire to whatever would burn.
Turning to the left of the turnpike,
the first place beyond the stone bridge
is the celebrated Jim Itobin::on's farm,
which was one of the centres of the
elliptical battle of the afternoon—the
other centre being a farm of the wido w
Henry, just to the right of it about a
water of a mile.
I walked to the widow Henry's over a
part of the field where most terrific
fighting happened, passing tlw spot
where the two rebelgenerals, Bee awl
Bartow, were struck dead. A. block of
marble was set up to Bee's memory after
the first battle of Bull run, but when
Joe Johnson deserted Manassas, in the
spring of northern soldiers cracked
the stone to pieces and carried oil the
chips for relies. Bee was an able officer,
raised by the United States, and it was
he who gave the name of "Stonewall"
to Thomas Jonathan Jackson, as the
latter came to his support in the action.
"There stands Jackson," he said, "like
a stone wall."
•
As we approached the Henry }louse,
we saw a woman, dressed in black, pick
ing flowers in the field. She was a
daughter of the widow 11 en ry, who suf
fered a cruel death in her own house.
She was aged and an invalid, and when
the full hurricane of the action burst
right round this old shanty, the unfor
tunate woman was cut all to pieces with
shell, hall and bullets, and the house
itself was torn to !finders ; they could
MN=
fury of the figtit was over.
The Henry House is now replaced by
a small frame dwelling painted blue,
with end chimneys outside, and in the
yard of this dwelling stands, in the open
sun, a small monument made of red
limestone, from the banks of the Bull
Run, two miles away; the monument
is about sixteen feet high, and is capped
with a large rifled projectile, while
round the carriers of the base four other
cones of stone and exploded shell are
raised, the whole edifice standing upon
a mound of sod which has given way, so
that it is probable the whole thing will
tumble down within a few years. A
white stone says, in crudely carved let
ters, " Honor to the Patriot Dead ! "
But round the monument are neat little
wooden signs on each of the four sides,
which tell the story of the surround.
ings. One says that near that spot were
captured parts of Griffin's, Hickett's and
other batteries. Another sign says that
Bee, Bartow and other good officers of
both sides were killed here. Another
sign says that Stonewall Jackson was
wounded hard by, and that here he got
bis historic appellation. The fourth
sign says that twenty-four Federal sol
diers lie beneath.
The monument is lean lug, (rum de
feetive foundations, and will soon tum
ble down.
The number of people lost in the bat
tle of Bull Run attests, and by its equality
as well, that it w•as a well maintained
conflict. The rebel killed and wounded
numbered 1,557, one-fifth of them slain.
The Federal killed and wounded were
1,492, one-third slain. These official fi
gures are probably too low on both sides.
About one thousand persons gave up the
ghost on this field. The Federal loss in
all was ten cannons captured, besides
seventeen others abandoned, and four
thousand muskets thrown away. Nearly
one-third of the men afterward promi
nent in both armies fought in the first
battle of Bull Run as subordinate of
ficers."
Why Grant Hankers After Salt Fish.
When President Grant was in Connecti
cut ho had a taste of salted shad, and it hid
such an effect upon his palate that he order
ed a barrel for consumption at the White
house. We mention this fact so that all
the aspirants for office may know what sort
of fish to lay in. Shad salt passably well,
but it is far inferior to mackerel or salmon.
The shad is a fish of such a delicate fibre
t a largo quantity of salt is necessary to
c re it. Consequently it requires so much
freshening to fit it for the table that there is
not mnch flavor left. Perhaps, however,
Gen. Grant intends to use the lish as a pro
vocative, after the fashion of an honest cit
izen who desired to drink more than he had
a natural relish for, and so resorted to salt
fish to produce an artificial appetite. Ile
was a naval officer, in command of the old
steamer Fulton, and he invited an acquaint
ance to make a trip with him. The first
day out he had soused fish for breakfast,
and it was cooked without being freshened
at all. A piece of rock salt, powdered with
Liverpool blown, would have boon quite
as palatable. The friend tried in vain to
swallow it. " Why Jim," said ho " how
can you eat such horrible stuff?" "Sir,"
replied the captain, "I have a design in
it. By eating my fish in that condition, I
got a thirst on by twelve o'clock that I
would not take ten dollars for."—N. Y. Sun.
A little boy in lowa has committed
1400 Bible verses to memory and died of
brain fever.
RATE OE-A.EVERTISING
BUSINESS ADVERTISEMENTS, ,12. n year per
aqure of ten lines; $S per year for each addi
tional square.
F.B4TIt ADVEUSI, 10 cents a line for
theflnit, and 5 cerith Yoreach riub,equen.f. In
insertion.
URN ERA T. A DVERT !SI NO, 7 Centr. a nue for the
find, and I cents for cacti anbacquemt In er•
SPECIA t. NuTICIN inserted In Local Coluumn
15 cents par line.
•
SPECIAL, NOTICE'S preceding niarrin.es and
deaths, 10 cents per lino for nrst Insertion II
and 5 cents for evury imbsequent 11,:ert1011.111
LEGAL AND OTHER NoticEs—
Executors' notices 1: ou
Administrators' notice ..: . - ol
Assignees' notices 2 53
Auditors' notices 2 15;
Other ' Notices," ten lines, or less, I z j; 5
three times
E=l
N law YORK, July '27.—The announcem rut
of the Cambria 's arrival treated great ex
citement in this city, the colors of the yacht
being promptly displayisl from the city
hall and her victory announeed by the
tiring of cannon in City I tali l'ark. Ito
Cambria proceeded up the bay, flying the
stars and stripes at her fore and attended
by numerous tugs, yachts and craft Of
various descriptions, 111111 e3lllO to nntl un •
Stapleton, Staten island, at half-past
four.
Her progres: till the harbor was greeted
with demonstrations or wotrouut from .11
passing and accompanying vessels which
the Cambria acknowledged In - her colors.
The Cunarder, Scotia and Cuba, or the same
line,
.just entering port, tired salutes as they
passed the Cambria. The Lowg Branch
steamer, Plymouth Rook, however, made
no recognition of the winning' yacht. A
number of tugs and yachts, gaily decorated,
went down to the Cambria from the city,
and hearty and cordial congratulations eS
changed with the victors.
The sailing mash, +4 the Cambria says
that the yacht never sighted the Dauntless
after the night of the start. She reache•l
Cape Race in eighteen days, had heavy fozs,
and saw many icebergs. The greatest run
in any one unit - was 20s sh e
Sandy !look lightship one hour thirtN
minutes ahead of the Dauntless. Th,,:tif
ing master also says the t ':nutria
pilot boat last night, and the Dawitle—
passed the same vessel, w Licit rein:tined
:liana stationary twelve hours al'tertc:u•d.
ht, NV, a passenger in the
Dauntless, report: that she tin. one
overboard, and spent two hour, and a half
in vain etiort to pick them up. The Cam
bria proceeds to the navy yard to-toorn , w
to lnr overliatileil. It is tualerstodd she will
go to the \Vest Indies :tiler the regatta in
this harbor.
•
The Cambria passed Sandy I fool:. at ro. I
and the Dauntless at I'. M.
Tho log of the Cambria states that the
yachts lost sight Of each other at eight P.
NI. July -I, when the t'aniliria made out the
Dauntless two miles 011 the Ira bow;
5, at 1.30 A. M., the Cambria tacked, hiving
her course N. \V. by N. ; at 110011
Wiles 5011ti1 , V,4 1 4 . Cape CIOIIe / at eight I'.
M., reefed mainsail; very heavy sell run
ning, anti ship behaving nobly; 6--tvotither
moderating, Mit thick, eleutly and rain;
distance run, 179 miles; .luly 7—tvetither
improved; clear at four I'. :M.; distance
run 112 miles. July S. Becalmed ; at
3.30 feretepsall bacl:sttlys gave
way, causing foretopmast to go ever
the side, carrying away foretopsail
and jibtopsail; all hands emplovis I in
clearing Wreck and getting sail aboard. --
.July 9—Signalled Anchor Lino steamer;
distance sailed, 220 miles; July lo
apparently approaching, and l'oretopmast
was !mused; distance sailed, -17 miles;
July I I --heavy sen, ',hipping great, quanti
ties of water ; at times 1111011 and ferosails
double reefed; inaintopmast liteise.l and
everything snug; yacht behaved nobly;
distant, sailed, 13:3 tulles; JulylS—we;lher
inn-hanged ; distance sailed, lie miles; .1 My
13—weather moderate; distance sailed, 111
miles ; July 11 - at 1111011 tnrkrd Ship ; 1/11511.
10ng..12. 25; distance sailed, 171 milt,.
July IS, weather thick ; distanced sailed.
211 miles. July If,, disc inceti sailed, 92
tulles. July 17, weather extremely veld;
passed sevornl icebergs; distant, sailed 61
miles, July IS, sighted St. John light; at 1
A. Al., tacked ship; alit I'. M., sighted Cape
lance; distance sailed, 150 mil,. .July 19,
thick fogs; distance sailed, 109 mints ; at
6 I'. 51,, foretoptilast went over side, tar
rying uavuy forehmsail and jilittipsail
July 20—Light tun! clear. Carpenter em
ployed in scraping remains of two /MI,
1111/StA ready to 6o prepared fee an
other break; distance sailed 151 miles;
July2l, sent second uuaintnpsail !loft; dis
tant, stilled, 169 miles. July 22, distance
sailed, 155 miles. .July 213, distance sailed,
71 miles. July 21, tacked .ship; distant,
sailed, 158 miles. Judy 25, at 7;50 p.
pilot came 011 loan': Nantucket lightship
25 miles miles N. W. by N. at 10:30; dis
tance sailed, s 5 miles. .liily 26, di/41111, ,
sailed, 82 miles. Jiilv 27, at II a. in., head
still' breeze, which brought. us to Sandy
Hook at :4:30 p.
The leg Of the Dalllltle/. /.110 \VS- -.filly
sth, run 103 mile., fresh ‘vesterl%; wind,
hazy; 6th-90 miles, variable winds, licary
head. swells, cloudy ; 7th—Lill tulles, heavy
gales, S. S. \V. lost Charles Scmtt and Al
bert Deena' oi . erboard, whilo furling !ly
ing jilt; have to 2 hours; gel nut boat ; re
luctantly compelled to give the!. up; sth
210 miles ; fresh gales :untiring:l! sea,which
moderated to ntnlrrute breezes;
101.11-112 !tilts ; night squally ; heavy head
sea; split forestaysail ; broke jibisstni ;
hove to over all lour; IR], —155 miles; 12th
miles; 1301--1:10 miles ; lath-155
miles; 151.11-11'i Ioth--150 miles
17th-70 miles; 15th—Gs miles; 19th--11:,
miles; squally • 20th--225 ; pleasant
weather; 21st :110 miles; 22,1-191 miles;
2:1,1—.52 miles; calm and fuggy; 24111--120
miles; variable weather; 25th 7:1 miles;
foggy at 3 P. Ti!.; sounded itt In lathems;
2601-95 miles ; passing Sandy Iltsok light
Shit/ at .1:47 I'. Al.
'For Ames-Huller Wedding . .
The New York papers sire snaking almost
as great a sensation on the marriage ssrm iss
Blanche Butler to tleneral Asielbert Anus,
in NI assachuselts, as they diet of the lamssus
Oviedo " disLmsind wodsling" in New York
some years ago. Under the term of the
" bride's trosseau," the reporters uud CO,
respondentv have given in minute detail
the number :end quality of every article of
the bride's clothing, all of which is repre
sented to he (ir the finest texture and Paris
make. Passing over the greater pert of
the catalogue, we give the following sketch
of the lady's tras cling costume for the
bridal tour:
Among the most markedly striking is
the traveling suit of China silk of ti,, new
tea lOW, Shalill erns,, The lower skirt iv
trimmed with deep ruffles and putts, and
in length just touches the floor and the
back, and reaebes to the instep in front,
just clearing the foot. Tho overskirt is
rather long and quite bus/Irani, trimmed
with rullles of the same :mil a Cluny lace,
an inch said a half in width, exactly the
shade of the dress. 'the jaeket is a grace
ful, half-lifting aintir, with loose sleeves,
trimmed to en rrespsmd with the upper
skirt. A fall of valenciennes lace is fast
ened into the sleeve and drops over the
hand.
The hat is a jaunty little soft-crowned
thing, made of the same material as the
dress, of a nondescript shape, utterly un
like anything yet seen in America, and iv
trimmed with green ribbon, plaited quite
full around the crown, and completely
covering the very narrow brim. A rosette
is placed at the left side, and that consti
tutes the whole trimming. It is very sim
ple and girlish, and exceedingly becoming
to the face of the wearer.
The boots, too, are like the dress, with
square, rather broad toes and high heels,
nearly in the middle of the foot. Ti,,, boot
is lower than those that have been warn
for ONO or three years past, being 011iy
about seven Sashes ill height.. They ars•
buttoned with tiny gilt buttons.
The parasol is quite a new idea, and is
what young ladies call " perfectly stun
ning." The handle, which is quite heavy,
and covered with green Russia leather,
forms a wal king stick. The head is a horse
shoe of French gilt, which surrounds a
tiny looking-glass. The shade is of core
Chien silk, lined with green, and erne
mentos' with heavy erre eord and tassel.
The fan is of sandal woad and ecru silk,
with the 1110110gralll B. B. painted on it in
green.
•
During the hotly contested canvass for
the Republican Senatorial nominations in
Crawford county, E. Montague, of Con
neautville, uttered $.5 ti S. D. Neal, of rho
same place, to vote for Delttmater. Neal
took the money, in the presence of wit
nesses, one of whom was the Postmaster,
but, becoming dissatisfied because some of
his neighbors had received better pay, lie
violated his pledge, and on the day of the
primary election both worked and voted
for Anderson. Montague was, of course,
very mad, and, as only an angry or silly
man would do, lie brought suit for the sum
at Meadville. Neal was prepared for the
fray, and, in defence, brought a bill against
Montague, as "agent," for three day's elec
tioneering, at per day, making in all
$3O. On this tie allowed the received as
credit, leaving the tunount due $2. - t. In or
der to sustain his claim, Neal proposed to
introduce witnesses, showing the standard
sum paid in the section for electioneering
services during the canvass, but Montague
found that he had " caught a Tartar," and
paid the costs and withdrew the complaint.
eal is not satisfied, however, and, by last
reports, intends to bring suit against Mon
tague for the recovery of the balance claim
ed. Both men are pre-eminently "loyal,"
and chief among the sachems of that hot
bed of "great moral ideas."—Eric Ob.yerrer
It is estimated that over 100,000 emigrants
have entered Texas within the last twelve
months, and during last December over
1500 persons came daily into the State. The
crops this summer, it is believed, will he
double those of last year. The hilly
regions of the western part of the State are
very healthy, but the persons who settle
on the low, flat lauds, and use the water or
the streams, are liable to chills and fevers,
and the inhabitants of the coast cities are
subject to yellow fever. Labor is in 'great
demand in the agricultural districts, and
farm hands receive froth $l5 to $2O a month,
and their board. During cotton-picking
season they aro paid front $2.50 to $3 a day,
and board. In the cities journeymen me
chanics are paid from $3.50 to $5 a day.
A Murderer Shot and Captured.
LEAVENWORTH, July 27.—Malone, the
murderer of Col. Buell, was pursued and
captured yesterday. Ile was driven from
his hiding place when he ran to the river,
Jumped in a skid' and pushed across. On
reaching the Missouri shore ho was stop
ped by two mon, who tired their revolvers
and wounded him. At the last accounts
he was still alive in the guard house, but
was not expected to survive. •