Newspapers / The Weekly Raleigh Register … / Aug. 12, 1885, edition 1 / Page 1
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gUlrigh pegistnv By P. M. HALE. i i' i ADVERTISING RATES. i . . -A4vrtiamiuta will be Inserted lor OaclUilUr per square (one tntjh) for the tlrst and Fifty Cents for each' suhReqneat publication. ' Contracts for adyeriisiug tor any space or tints may be made at tlije office of the i ' '" ' RALEIGH REGISTER, Second Floor of Fisher Building, Fayetteville Street, next to Market House. VOL. II. RALEIGH, N. C, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 12, 1885. NO. 7G. HsA orrics: V .w-ttevUle St., Second Floor Fth.'r BiiiUltujr. RATES OF SUBSCRIPTION : j i ni. rH" ue year, mailed post-paid ..... .fi OU l ine copy six uiouUiB, mailed post-paid 1 00 3T No name entered without payment, aud i.paner sent after expiration of time 4aid for. THE BIRTH OF THE FLOWERS. Maurice Egau. Thre were uo rosea till the tirst child died, So violets, no balmy-breathed heartsease, No heliotrope, ior buds so dear to bees, ihf honey-hearted wood-bine, no gold-eyed lu white-lashed daisy-flower, nor, stretching wide, ( lover and cowslip-cups, like rival seas, Meeting and parting as the young spring breeze Runs iriddy races playing seek and hide ; Kor all flowers died w hen Eve left Paradise, ".iul all the world was flowerless awhile, l uiU a little child was laid in earth ; Then from its grave grew violets for its eyes, A ml from its Hps roce-petals for its smile, Au.l so all flowers from that child's death took birth. i , . . ORTII CAHOLW1 WORTHIES. .'i' tn 1 1 -mr it t . i Two remarkable features stand out most proni neatly in the life history of . our college. First, its conception and its origin. Bora of . . . . : i : , : 3 iL.. J2... our first unnsuiuuun, ' buiiu uic utsi throes and uphouvals ef the Revolution, is it not a marvel that, the men who had but just entered upon a long and pro tracted struggle with the mother country should then have resolved to provide for a higher education-? And when, at the close oMhe war, exhtuution hail so completely done its work ; when the couBtry lay, as it were, panting for breath, pressed by want of almost everything needful for human comfort, without resource. save those ex tracted by the rudest agriculture front a virgin soil;, when the spinning-wheel and hand-card were the soks reliance fordoth inr ; without a press to deesnro the wishes or the purposes of the people ; ia it not a great marvel that the men of the Revolu tion .should, in the, t umdameatal law of an infant State. havedeclared for the estab tiVhrrient of VftlteMfy W the fcrtofl-ba-sisi of providing insucion " it all useful learning "V Does n hot tfeclare the high tat type of fortitude and manhood? Whence came this lofty purpose this love of learning and of letters? Unquestion ably it had its origin in the Scotch-Irish element occupying the midland belt of the State. The early emigrants and settlers of this people brought their, preachers, who also filled the office of teachers for the young. Tradition informs us that the most popular and beat sustained of these nur series of the young were located in the in fluential counties of Jredell, Mecklenburg, Guilford and Orange. U.was from these nurseries came the desirefor higher educa tion that formulated ,the article that de creed a State University, Doubtless the granting of a charter for William and Ma ry, unci .lor Harvard, by the royal prerog ative of the mother, country, and the re fusal of a like charter to QiUen$ College. at Charlotte, in Mecklenburg, during the (,'oloeial government, angered the hornets, fired the resentment of the Revolutionary patriots, and quickened their action in the blessings of liberty under the shield of the new-born Kepubuc. The otter feature icwiuch. I refer as a prominent one in the life of the Univer sity, is the remarkable fact that ior seventy u,itr its fortunes were for so long a period committed to the care and direction of two individuals in the persons of Joseph Caldwell and David L. Swain. DK. JOSEPH CALDWELL. For the gratification of those who never saw him (.and that embraces a very large part of this audience), I will here present it short pen-and-ink sketch of the good man, as I saw, and as I now remember him. Ur. Caldwell was introduced to the lioardTof Trustees and the people of North Carolina by Mr. Charles Harris, of Cabar rus county, N. C. Whilst he was a stu dent at Princeton he made the acquain tance of Caldwell, either as a student or a tutor most likely the latterj for their per sonal intercourse was so slight that Dr. Caldwell scarcely remembered that he had ever seen his correspondent at Chapel Hill, Mr. Harris, then a .tutor In this in fant institution To 'me this seems the most marked exhibition of Mr. Harris's estimate of worth and character in so young a man, and stamps Caldwell as a man of mark at a very early day. And to Mr. Charles Harris w;e owe a lasting debt of gratitude for such'penetration. For services so fortunate and so extended he richly, deserves ; .th4 rjqrpetuatjon, of his name and services bv a tablet on these walls Caldwell, ia asrreeincr to come to j Chapel Hill, acted on the advice of his best informed relatives and friends, and even after he had taken leave of his du ties and friends at Priaeeton, haltiag In the city of Philadelphia, he was invited by his distinguished friend, Dr. Green, a leading Presbyterian clergyman, to occupy his pulpit, and he made so favorable an impression that inducements were held out to him to remain in the city with a view to taking charge of a congregation there. He rejected it and continued his journey to his destination at Chapel Hill. There Le remained to the end of his days, ia la bors most unremitting, living a life of self-denial,, surrounded by a population ii.-t ft! synrpMBy MrRhni9.pnrsivts,-and the -tudents here assembled rude and uncul tured to a degree hardly to be believed.by urn who has not marked tie mile-tone in the progress of our education, civilization :v.A comfort. What a contrast between Ir Caldwell's life here, with his bullies mil gladiators, and Dr. Battle's orderly, gentle, well-mannered and generous youths ! ":ten have I looked on with fear and ap prehension as to the results and personal .sequences to the good President. The gf"d man was as cool and deliberate as he wa.-, fearless. I have often thought that, like Stonewall Jackson, his' 'faith in the i ' Meeting care of Heaven made him equal t 'iny fortune. JJiave old President! N hut trials be suftewd, ood. how like .a L' i ve.l father he bore himself! In look ii'L,' back, how vividly do I recall the chief " tors in some of those unpleasant up- ivals and volcanic eruptions of college f 1 1 1 1 a 1 1 t ... .. n T1 lif- 'h' names of those who so blackened their i snouia violate an prupucij we. " liege lives; bat, as a warning to others, tli. ir lot let no man choose." Neither '' public nor private life did any of them !" iin to any eminence, and at least two i "'! with their hoottvn. Here, in the then I. -cure villni'P of Chanel Hill, in such in- "bordination, he lived, a President, a iclirr, a teacher and u bachelor! Was 'i iK.t a martyrdom to duty? Marrying Hrst Miss Susan Itowan, of A li'in, us well as o au infant daughter, '; as deprived three years afterward by i' ath, subsequently associating himself in '""rriage w ith the honored name of Hoop t. lie became a land owner and a lve' bolder, thus making' his citizenship in N'Tth Carolina complete. A man small of -'ature, quick in motion light in hiastep, I ' was every iurh a 4rt born to control, ever equal to hi office and hwdiUy. From 'his he never asked relief. With his loins L'irded and his armor on, he was ever '-4ijy for his work. Did the State fail to provide funds, did the South Building stand uncovered for two years at the ec oiid Ktory, he volunteered to collect money for its completion. Not in term-time, but in the six weeks' vacation in the summer of 1811, in his stick-sulkey, ho canvassed the Stale. Having headed the list bv a substantial subscription, he brought home and paid over to the Treasurer of the Board $12,000, with which it was com pleted. . Did time allow, I could recall many pleasant memories of President Caldwell. In 1834 he was requested by the Board of Trustees to go to Europe for making ad ditions to the libraries and to the chemical and philosophical apparatus. A trip to Europe waa not then a Bummer jaunt of a week, iin hi case it consumed Dearly a year. From Newi York he, by letter, n noud the. probable day f n arrival hotmek .-A s w t teanie was resulted" e-a brilliant irlomination of the college build ings, the first and only one ever made. "It ia now a pleasant memory to recall the pro cession to his modest home and the hearty cheers that were given as be stepped-out on the floor of his back piazza, from whence he was conducted to the front of the south building, and from a stand near the well he returned I his thanks for the pleasant welcome, addressing the students with the affection of a long-absent father returned to his home aud duties. His heart was full and his emotion most manifest. His labors continued only ten years longer, and J iu unuuary, ioo.), jn uis nine vncK omce in his yard, his sufferings and his life ended. The death of Dr. Caldwell deeply moved the intelligence aud sympathy of the citi- i sens of North Carolina. All felt that a great benefactor had been removed. He was old be was a great sufferer dcatfl : Was looked for yet, when men met and looked each other in the face, came first the anxious question, " Who will tola hi piaeel" Not many men have died in this State mote honored whilst living, or rev erenced when dead ! GOVEXHOK DAVID 1.. SWAIN. The appointment of his successor was felt by the Board of Trustees as a grave and anxious duty. Gentlemen eminent for learning and piety at home and abroad were presented for the position; but, to the surprise of the 8tate at large, the Board, with but few dissenting voices, tendered the Presidency to the then Gov ernor of the State, David L. Swain, whose term of office was about to expire, and in January, 1836, he entered on the dutiesof his high office. He was chosen not for his scholarly attainments, but for the charac teritic of the man his zeal, his industry and success in all his labors, his intense devotion to the State and acknowledged executive ability. It was thought that one who had shown himself so successful in the management of Wn, would not be less so as a manager of boys. In three sessions of the Legislature he had made himself the leader of the House of Commons ; he had enjoyed a lucrative practice at the bar, and had been elected to the Superior Court Bench over ex-judges and able lawyers who were in full practice before he was burn ; he had been elected Governor of the State at an age yonger than any man who had preceded him, and ia all had sustained himself with marked ability. He entered on the discharge of his new duties with the same industry and energy that had marked him in all other departments. The Trustees soon realized the wisdom of their selection, aad the public, with his learned Faculty, recognized his capacity and pro nounced for the new President. He gave a new impulse to the institution : the num ber' of students largely and rapidly in creased ; the Faculty enlarged, the course of instruction extended, the finances im proved; large and handsome additions were made to the college buildings, with large and ample provision for libraries and society Iialls; the campus was enclosed and ornamented, by walks and shrubbery, and the village prompted to improvement in its streets, -aveuues, and dwellings all re sponded to his untiring efforts. Making himself the master of his office, his recita tion room became most attractive by the brilliancy of bis lectures, the fascinations in political economy, history, constitution al and international law. He was a great learner he made himself a great teacher. His learned Faculty and Board of Trustees seconded him in all his purposes with increasing confi dence, and all moved in hopeful har mony. It was his boast, that during the four years of war the college bell never failed i its daily calls; that the Faculty was ever in place for duty, and "that all grew fat on sorghum and corn-bread ;" that the institution was maintained in fall wvrhing order. Bat the shadows of a dark night were failing arousd him and his col leagues abd the object of his and their care. A special Providence seemed watch ful to save these old servants of our State University from the humiliation of a pain ful exile from homes, honors, labors, of fices, and altars. Professor Mitchell bad fallen cn rest in the deep and dark chain bers of the Black Mountain. Professoi Phillips had laid down with his harness on, upon the rostrum of the chapel, for his long sleep, whilst the students were assem bling for morning prayer. President Swain, ia visiting a small farm in prepara tion for thV comfort of his small family of old servants, was, by an accident, fatally injured. Lingering a few days, his useful life and well rounded labors were closed in charity aad kindness to all, but with anxious fears for the future of an institu tion that he had loved so long and served so well. He knew that new and unknown men would soon be placed in charge. Pleasant is the memory of such a man to the people of North Carolina, and they kilently rebuked the punishment of a man without a crime aad a Faculty without a stain, and in fortitude submitted to the ineritabU and passed their sons over to the care of the undisturbed institutions of learning of our ( sister, State .of Virginia. This HaTf is ereclccT "to commemorate his services and, to, stand as a Memorial to all others who have been associated with this institution, and who, by honorable service, either in civil or military life, are deemed worth of commemoration here ! Waralag to Busy Lawyers. New York Herald. I "Now then," said a busy lawyer to one of a number of waiting clients, "you are next, sir." "I'm what?" "Next." No, you don't," said the client, moving toward the door. " I didn't come in here to get shaved." Xke Small Bar Knows Bin BlidKH, New York Suu. "My little boy," said a gentleman, "you ought not to eat those green apples. They are not good for little boys." 44 They hain't, eh ? " the boy replied, with his mouth full. 44 Guess you don't know much about 'em, mister. Three of these apples 'II keep me out of school for a week," IN THE TENNESSEE MOUNTAINS. The Daudu' Party at Harrlaou'a Cove. Miss Murfree. "Fur ye see Mis' Darley, them Harri son folks over yander ter the Cove hev determinated on a dancin' party." The drawling tones fell unheeded ou old Mr. Kenyon's ear, as he sat on the broad hotel piazza of the New Helvetia Springs, and gazed with meditative eyes at the fair August sky. An early moon was riding, clear and full, over this wild spur of the Allcghanies; the stars were few and very faint; even the great Scorpio lurked, vaguely outlined, above the wood ed ranges; and the white mist, that rilled the long, deep, narrow valley between the parallel lines of mountains, shimmered with opalescent uleams. :., AU the world of the watering-place had converged to that focus, the ball-room, and the cool, moonlit pjazaswere nearly deserted. The fell determination of the " Uarrison folks " to give a dancing party made no impression oh the pre occupied old gentleman. Another voice broke his reverie a soft, clear, well-modulated voice and he started and turned his head as his own name was called, and his niece, Mrs. Darley, came to the window. "Uncle Ambrose are you there? So glad! I was afraid you were down at the summer-house, where I hear the children singing. Do come here a moment, please. This is Mrs. Johns, who brings the Indian peaches to sell you , know the Indian penches?" Mr. Keuyon knew the Indian peaches, the dark crimson fruit streaked with still darker lines, and full of blood-red juice, which he had meditatively munched that very afternoon. Mr. Kenyou kuew the Indian peaches right well. He wondered, however, what had brought Mrs. Johns back in so short a time, for although the principal industry of the mountain people about the New Helvetia Springs is selling fruit to the summer sojourners, it is not customary to come twice on the same day, nor to appear at all after nightfall. Mrs. Darley proceeded to explain. "Mrs. Johns's husband is ill and wants us to send him some medicine." Mr. Kenyon rose, threw away the stump of his cigar, and entered the room. "How long has he been ill, Mrs. Johns?'' he asked, dismally. Mr. Kenyon always spoke lugubriously, and he was a dismal-looking old man. Not more cheerful was Mrs. Johns; she was tall and lank, and with such a face as one never sees except in these mountains elongated, sallow, thin, with pathetic, deeply sunken eyes, and high cheek-bones, and so settled an expression of hopeless melancholy that it must be that naught but care and suffering had been her lot; hold ing out wasted hands to the years as they pass holding them out always, and always empty. She wore a shabby, faded calico, and spoke with the peculiar expressionless drawl of the mountaineer. She was a wonderful contrast to Mrs. Darley, all fur belows and flounces, with her fresh, smooth face and soft hair, and plump, round arms half-revealed by the flowiag sleeves of her thin, black dress. Mrs. Darley was in mourning, and therefore did not affect the ball-room. At this mo ment, on benevolent thoughts intent, she was engaged in uncorking sundry small phials, gazing inquiringly at their labels, and shaking their contents. In reply to Mr. Kenybn's question, Mrs. Johns, sitting on the extreme edge of a chair and fanning herself with a pink calico sun-bonnet, talked about her hus band, and a misery in his side and in his back, and how be felt it "a-comin' on nigh on ter a week ago." Mr. Kenyon expressed sympathy and was surprised by the announcement that Mrs. Johns con sidered her husband's illness "ablessin'. i- 'kasc ef he war able ter git out 'n his bed, he 'lowed ter go down ter Harrison's Cove ter the dancin' party, 'kasc Itick Pearson war a-goin' ter be thar, an' hed said ez how none o" the Johnses should come." "What, Rick Pearson, that terrible outlaw!" exclaimed Mrs. Darley, with wide open blue eyes. She had read in the newspapers sundry thrilling accounts of a noted horse thief and outlaw, who with a gang of kindred spirits defied justice and roamed certain sparsely-populated moun tainous counties at his own wild will, and she was not altogether without a feeling of fear as she heard of his proximity to the New Helvetia Springs not fear for life or limb, because, she was "practical-minded enough to reflect that the sojourners and employes of the wateriDg-place would far out-number the outlaw's troop, but fear that a pair of shiny bay ponies, Castor and Pollux, would fall victims to the crafty wiles of the expert horse thief. "I think I have heard something of a difficulty between your people and Rick' Pearson," said old Mr. Kenyon. "Has a peace never been patched up between them?" "No-o," drawled Mrs. Johns; "same as it always war. My old man '11 never be lieve but what Rick Pearson stole that thar bay filly we lost 'bout five year ago. But I don't believe he done it; plenty other folks around is ez mean ez Rick, leastways mos' ez mean; plenty mean enough ter steal a horse, ennyhow. Rick my he never tuk the filly; say he war a-goin' ter shoot off the next man's head ez say so.. Rick say he'd ruther give two bay fillies than hev a man say he tuk a horse ez he never tuk. Rick say ez how he kin stand up ter what he does do, but it's these hyar lies on him what kills him out. But ye know, Miss Darley, ye know yerself, he never give nobody two bav fillies in this world, an' what's more he's never goin' ter. My old man an' my boy Kossute talks on 'bout that thar bay filly like she war stole yestiddy, an' 't war five year ago an better; an' when they hearn ez how Rick Pearson hed showed that red head o' his'n on this hyar mounting las' week, they war fightin' mad, an' would hev lit out fur the gang sure, 'ceptin' they hed been gone down the mounting fur two days. An' my son Kossute, he sent Rick word that he had better keep out 'n gun shot o' these hyar woods; that he didn't want no better mark than that red head o' his'n, an' he could hit it two mile off. An' Rick Pearson, he sent Kossute word that he would kill him for his sass the very nex' time he sec him, an' ef he don't want ajmllet in that pumpkin head o' his'n he Ked better keep away from that dancin' party what the Harrisons hev laid off ter give, 'kasc Rick say he's a-goin' ter it his self. an' is a-goin' ter dance too; he ain't been invited, Miss Dflrley', but Rick don't kecr fur that. He is a-goin' ennyhow, an' he say ez how he ain't n-goin' ter let Kos sute come, 'count o Kossute's sass an' the fuss they've all made 'bout that bay filly that wnr stole five year ago 'twar five year an' better. But Itick say ez how he "Is Tint TENNESSEE Mountains," by Charles Egbert Craddock (Miss Murfree): ninth edition: Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.; New York, 11 East Seventeenth Street ; The Riverside Press, Cambridge. 1885. 16mo. clotb, tl.25. For sale by all booksellers, or mailed by the Publishers on receipt of the price. is goin', fur all he ain't got no invite, an' is a-goin' ter dance too, 'kase you know, Miss Darley, it's a-goin' ter be ia dancin' party; the Harrisons hev determinated on that. Them gals of theirn air mos' crazed bout a dancin' party. They Jaia'tjbeen a bit of account sence they went ter Cheat ham's Cross-Roads ter see thar gran'mother, an' picked up all them queer new notions. So the Harrisons her : determinated on a dancin' party ; ah' Rick say ez how he is goin' ter dance too; but Jule, th say ei how i she know thar ain't a gal on . the mounting ez would dance with him; but I ain't so sure 'bout that, Misa Darley -r gals air cur ous critters, ye know yerself ; thar s no sort o' countin' on em ; they 11 do ; one thing one time, an' another thing nex' time; ye can't put no dependence in 'em. But Jule say ef he kin git Mandy Tyler ter danee with him, its the mos' he Jtin. uo, 1 an' the gang '11 be no wbar. Mebbe he-kin; git Maady ter dance with him, 'kaae the the buys ay ez how none o' them is a- goin' ter ax her ter dance, 'count o the trick she played on 'em down ter the Wilkins settlement las' month, war it! no, 't war two month ago, 'an better; but the boys ain't forgot how scandalous she done 'em, an' none of 'em is a-goin' ter ax her ter dance." "Why, what did she do ? " exclaimed Mrs. Darley, surprised. "She came here to sell peaches one day, and I thought her such a nice, pretty, well-behaved girl." " Waal, she hev got mighty quiet say uuthin' sort'n ways, Miss Darley, but that thar gal do behave ridiculous. . Dowb thar ter the Wilkins settlemint ye know it's 'bout two mile or two mile 'u a half from hyar waal, all the gals walked down thar ter the party au hour by sun, but when the boys went down they tuk thar horses ter give the gals a ride home behind 'etii. Waal, every boy axed his gal ter ride while the party war goin' on, au' when 'twar nil over they all set out fur ter come home. Waal, this hyar Mandy Tykr is a mighty favorite 'mongst the boys-rrthey ain't got no sense, ye know. Miss Darley an' stiddier one of 'em axin' her ter ride home, thar war five of 'em axed her ter ride, ef ye'll believe me, an' what do ye think she done, Miss Darley 1 Shetole all five of 'em yes; an' when the party war over, she war the last ter go, an' when she started out'n the door thar war all five of them boys a-standin' thar waitin' fur her, an' every one a-holdin' his horse by the j bridle, an' none of "em knowed who the I others war a-waitin' fur. An' this hyar Mandy Tyler, when she got ter the door an' seen 'em all a-standin' thar, never said one word jest walked right through 'mongst 'em, an' set out fur the mounting on foot with all them five boys a-followin' an' a-leadin' thar horses an' a-quarrelin' enough ter take off each others' heads 'bout which one war a-goin' ter ride with her, which none of 'em did. Miss Darley, fur I hearn ez how the whole lay-out foot ed it all the way ter New Helveshy, An' thar would hev been a fight 'moigst 'em, 'ceptin' her brother, Jacob Tyler, went along with 'em an' tried ter keep the peace atwixt 'em. An', Miss Darley, all them married folks down thar at the party them folks in tbe Wilkins seHlemiat is the biggest fools, sure when all them married folks come out ter the door an' see the way Mandy Tyler had treated them boys, they jest hollered an' laffed an' thought it war mighty smart an' funny in Mandy ; but she never say a word till she kern up the moun ting, an' I never hearn ez how she say ennything then. An' now the boys all say none of 'em is a-goin' ter ax her ter dance ter pay her back fur them fool airs of hern. But Kossute say he'll dance with her ef none the rest will. Kossute he thoaght 'twar all mighty fanny, too he's sech a fool 'bout gals, Kossute U but Jule, she thought ez how 'twar scandalous." Mrs. Darley listened in amused surprise ; that these mountain wilds could sustain a first-class coquette was an idea that had not hitherto entered her mind ; however, " that thar Mandy " seemed, in Mrs. Johns's opinion at least, to merit, the unenviable distinction, and the party at Wilkins set tlement and the prospective gaycty of Harrison's Cove awakened the same senti ments in her heart and mind as do the more ambitious germans and kettledrums of the lowland cities in the heart and mind of Mrs. Grundy. Human n at are is the same everywhere, and the Wilkins settle ment is a microcosm. The metropolitan centres, stripped of the civilization of wealth, fashion, and culture, would pre sent only the baive skeleton of humanity outlined ia Mrs. Johns's talk of Harrison's Cove, the Wilkins settlement, the enmities and scandals and sorrows aad misfortunes of the mountain ridge. As the absurd re semblance developed, Mrs. Darley could not forbear a smiie, Mrs. Johns looked up with a moBMafasry CKpresiat4fi sur prise; the story presented no humorous phase to her perceptions, but she too 's'miled a little as she repeated, "Scandalous, ain't it ? " and proceeded in the same lack-lustre tone as before: ' ' Yes, Kossute say ez how he'll dance with her ef none the rest will, fur Kossute say ez how he hev laid off ter dance, Miss Darley ; an' when I ax him what he thinks will become of his soul ef he dances, he say the devil may crack away at it, an' ef he kin hit it he's welcome; fur soul or uo soul he's a-goin ter dance. Kossute is a-fixin' of hisself this very minit ter go; but I am verily afeard the boy '11 be slaugh tered, Miss Darley, kase thar is goin' ter be a fight, an' ye never in all yer life hearn sech sass ez Kossute and Rick Pearson done sent word ter each other." Mr. Kenyon expressed some surprise that she should fear for so young a fellow as Kossuth. " Surely, ' he said, " the man is not brute enough to injuro a mere boy; your son is a mere boy." "That's so," Mrs. Johns diawled. " Kossute ain't more'n twenty year old, an'. Rick Pearson is double that ef he is a day but ye see it's the fire-arms ez makes Kos sute more'n a match fur him, kase Kossute is the best shot on the mounting, an' Rick knows that in a shootin' fight Kossute's better able to take keer of hisself an' hurt somebody else nor ennybody. Kossute's more likely ter hurt Rick nor Rick is ter hurt him in a shootin' fight; but ef Rick didn't hurt him, an' he war ter shoot Rick, the gang would tear him ter piecea in a minit; an' 'mongst 'em I'm actially afeard they'll slaughter the boy," Mr. Kenyon looked even graver than was his wont upon receiving this informa- j tion, but said no more; and after giving Mrs. Johns the febrifuge she wished for her husband, he returned to his seat on the piazza. Mrs. Darley watched him with some lit tle indignation as he proceeded to light a fresh cigar. " How cold and unsympa thetic Uncle Ambrose is," she said to her self. And, after condoling effusively with Mrs, Johns on her apprehensions for her son's safety, she returned to the gossips iu the hotel parlor, and Mrs. Johns, with her Eink calico sun-bonnet on her head, went er way in the brilliant summer moon light. The clear lustre shone white upon all the dark woods and chasms ana flashing waters that lay between the New Helvetia Springs and the wide, deep ravine called Harrison's Cove, where, from a rude log hut, the vibrations of a violin, and the; quick throb of dancing feet, already min gled with the impetuous rush of a moun tain stream close by, and the weird night souads of the hills; the cry of birds among the tall trees, the stir of the wind, the mo notonous chanting of frogs at the water aide, the long, drowsy drone of the noc turnal insects, the sudden faint blast of a distant hunter's horn, and the far baying of hounds. 'Mr. Harrison had four marriageable daughters, and had arrived at the conclu sion that something must be done for the girls, for, strange as it may seem, the pru dent father exists even among the " moun ting folks." Men there realize the impor tance of providinff suitable homes for their 'daughters as men do elsewhere, and the rat eiigroie youia is as nignty esteemed in those wilds as is the much scarcer animal at fashionable watering-place. Thus it jrasjtatMr.. jjarrison had " determinated on a dancin' party." True, lie stood in bodily fear of the judgment day and the circuit-rider ; but the dancing party was a rarity eminently calculated to please the young hunters of the settlements round about; go he swallowed his qualms, to be indulged at a more convenient season, and threw himself into the vortex of prepara tion with an ardor very gratifying to the four young ladies, who had become im bued with' sophistication t Cheatham's Cross Roads. Not so Mrs. Harrison; she almost ex pected the house to fall and crush them, as a judgment on the wickedness of a dancing party; for so heinous a sin, in the estimation of the greater part of the moun tain people, -had not been committed among them for many a day. Such trifles as killing a man in a quarrel, or on suspi cion of stealing a horse, or wash-tub, or anything that came handy, of course, does not count; but a 'dancing party! Mrs. Harrison cowld only hold her idle hands, and dread the heavy penalty that must surely follow so terrible a crime. It certainly had not the gay and light some aspect supposed to be characteristic of such a scene of sin: the awkward young moontaiaeers clogged heavily about in their uncouth clothes and rough shoes, with the stolid-looking, lack-lustre maids of the hill, to the violin's monotonous ite- j ration of The Chicken in the Bread irougn, or ine rtaooit in tno fea-.Patch, all their grave faces as grave as ever. The music now and then changed sudden ly to one of those wild, melancholy strains sometimes heard in old-fashioned dancing tunes, and the strange pathetic cadences seemed more attuned to the rhythmical dash of the waters rushing over their stone barricades out in the moonlight yonder, or to the plaintive sighs of the winds among the great dark arches of the primeval for ests, than to the movement of the heavy, coarse feet dancing a solemn measure in the little log cabin in Harrison's Cove. The elders, sitting in rush-bottomed chairs close to the walls, and looking on at the merriment, well-pleased despite their re ligious doubts, were somewhat more lively ; every now and then a guffaw mingled with the violin's resonant strains and the dan cers' well-marked pace; the women talked to each other with somewhat more anima tion than was their wont, under the stress of the unusual excitement of a dancing party, and from out the shed-room adjoin ing came an anticipative odor of more substantial sin than the fiddle or the grave iiggling up and down the rough floor. A little more cider, too, and a very bad arti cle of illegally-distilled whisky, were ever and anon circulated among the pious ab stainers from the dance; but the sinful vo taries of Terpsichore could brook no pause nor delay, and Jogged up and down quite intoxicated with the mirthfulness of the plaintive old airs abd the pleasure of other motion thaa following the plow or hoeing the cora. And the moon smiled right royally on her dominion : on the long, dark ranges of mountains and mist-filled valleys between ; ou the woods aad streams, and on all the half-dormant creatures either amongst the shadow-flecked foliage or under the crys tal waters; on the long, white, sandy road winding in and out through the forest; on the frowning crags' of the wild ravine; on the Ifttte3 Widge at' the entrance of the gorge, across which a party of eight men, heavily armed and gallantly mounted, rode swiftly and disappeared amid the gloom of the shadows. The sound of the galloping of horses broke suddenly on the music and the noise of the dancing; a moment's interval, and the door gently opened and the gigantic form of Rick Pearson appeared in the ap erture. He was dressed, like the other mountaineers, in a coarse suit of brown jeans somewhat the worse for wear, the trowsers stuffed in the legs of his heavy boots; he wore an old soft felt hat, which he did not remove immediately on enter ing, and a pair of formidable pistols at his belt conspicuously challenged attention. He had auburn hair, and a long full beard of a lighter tint reaching almost to his waist; his complexion was much tanned by the sun, and roughened by exposure to the inclement mountain weather; his eyes were brown, deep-set, and from under his heavy brows they looked out with quick, sharp glances, and occasionally with a roguish twinkle; the expression of his countenance was rather good-humored a sort of imperious good humor, how ever the expression of a man accustomed to have his own way and not to be trifled with, but able to afford some amiability since his power is undisputed. He stepped slowly into the apartment, placed his gun against the wall, turned, and solemnly gazed at the dancing, while his followers trooped in and obeyed his ex ample. As the eight guns, one by one, rattled against the wall, there was a star tled silence amohg the pious elders of the assemblage and a sudden disappearance of the animation that had characterized their intercourse during the evening. Mrs. Har rison, who, by reason of flurry and house wifely pride in the still unrevealed treas ures of the shed-room, had well-nigh for gotten her fears, felt that the anticipated Judgment had even now descended, and in what tetrible and unexpected guise ! The men turned the quids of tobacco in their cheeks and looked at each other in uncer tainty; but the dancers bestowed not a glance upon the new-comers, and the mu sician in the corner, with his eyes half closed, his head bent low upon the instru ment, his hard, horny hand moving the bow back and forth over the strings of the crazy old fiddle, was utterly rapt by his own melody. At the supreme moment when the great red beard had appeared portentously in the doorway and fear had frozen the heart of Mrs. Harrison within her at the ill-omened apparition, the host was in the shed-room filling a broken-nosed pitcher from the cider-barrel. When he reentered, and caught sight of the grave sun-burned face with its long red beard and sharpbrown eyes, he tod was dismayed for an instant, and stood silent at the op posite door with the pitcher in his hand. The pleasure and the possible profit of the dancing party, for which he had expended bo much of his scanty store of this world's goods and risked the eternal treasures, laid up in heaven, were a mere phantasm; for, with Rick Pearson among them, in an ill frame of mind and at odds with half the men in the room, there would certainly be a fight, and in all probability one would be killed, and the dancing party at Harri son's Cove would be a text for the bloody minded sermons of the circuit-rider for all time to come. However, the father of four marriageable daughters is apt to be come crafty and worldly-wise; only for a moment did he stand in indecision ; then, catching suddenly the small brown eyes, he held up the pitcher with a grin of invi tation. " Rick ! " he called out above the scraping of the violin and .the, clatter of the dancing feet, " slip round hyar ef ye kin, I've got somethia' for ye; "and he shook the pitcher significantly. Not that Mr. Harrison would, tor a mo-rt ment have thought of Rick Pearson in a matrimonial point of view, for even the sophistication of the ros .Bonds hd set yet brought him to the state of mind to consider such a half-loaf as this better than no bread, but he felt it imperative from every point of view to keep that set of young mountaineers dancing in peace and quiet, and their guns idle and out of mis chief, against, the wall. The great red beard disappeared and reappeared at in tervals, as Rick Pearson slipped along the gun-lined wall to join his host and the cider-pitcher, and after he had disposed of the refreshment, in which the gang shared, he relapsed into silently watching the dancing and meditating a participation in that festivity. Now, it so happened that the only young girl unprovided with a partner was " that thar Mandy Tyler," of Wilkins settlement renown; the young men had rigidly ad hered to their resolution to ignore her in their invitations to dance, aud she had been sitting since the beginning of the fes tivities, quite neglected, among the mar ried people, looking on at the amusement which she had been debarred sharing by that unpopular bit of coquetry at Wilkins settlement Nothing of disappointment or mortification was expressed in her countenance; she felt the slight, of course even a "mounting" woman is susceptible of the sting of wounded pride; all Her long anticipated enjoyment had come to naUgut Dy vms iuuuhuu ui jn.-mutc lui her ill-timed jest at the expense of those five young fellows dancing with their tri umphant partners and bestowing upon her not even a glance; but she looked the ex press image of immobility as she sat in her clean pink calico, so carefully gotten up for the occasion, her short black hair curl in r about her ears, and watched the un ending reel with slow, dark eyes. Rick's glance fell upon her, and without further hesitation he strode over to where she was 8ittirtg-and proffered his hand for the dance. She did not reply immediately, but looked timidly about her at the shocked pious ones on either side, who were ready but for mortal fear to aver that "dancin' ennyhow air bad enough, the Lord knows, but dancin' with a horse- thief air iest scandalous!" Then, for there is something of defiance to es tablished law and prejudice in the born flirt everywhere, with a sudden daring spirit shining in her brigntening eyes, she responded, "Don't keer ef I do," with a dimpling half -laugh; and the next minute the two outlaws were flying down the middle together. While Rick was according grave atten tion to the intricacies of the mazy dance and keeping punctilious time to the scrap ing of the old fiddle, finding it all a much more difficult feat than galloping from the Cross Roads to the "Snake's Mouth " on some other man's horse with the Sheriff hard at his heels, the solitary figure of a tall gaunt man had followed the long winding path leading deep into the woods, and now began the steep descent to Har rison's Cove. Of what was old Mr. Ken yon thinking, as he walked on in the mingled shadow and sheen? Of St. Au gustin and his Forty Monks, probably, and what they found in Britain. The young men of hia acquaintance would gladly have laid you any odds that he could thank of nothing but his antique" hobby, the ancient church. Mr. Kenyon was the most prom inent man in St. Martin's church in the citv of B . . not excepting tne rector. tnj ui u ' , rr -e He was a lav-reader, and officiated upon occasions of " clerical sore-throat," as the profane denominate the ministerial summer exodus from heated cities. This summer, however, Mr. Kenyon's own health had succumbed, and he was having a little "sore throat" in the moun tains on his own account. Very devout was Mr. Kenyon. Many people wondered that he had never taken orders. Many people warmly con gratulated themselves that he never had ; for drier sermons than those he selected were surely never heard, and a shuddering imagination hhrinks appalled froca the problematic mental drought of n.ia ideal original discourse. But he was an integ rant part of .St. Martin's; much of his Eiety, materialized into contributions, was uilt up in its walls and shone before men in the costliness of its decorations. Indeed, the ancient name had been conferred upon the building as a sort of tribute to Mr. Kenyon's well-known enthusiasm concern ing apostolic succession and kindred doc trines. Dull and dismal was Mr. Kenyon, and therefore it may be considered a little strange that he should be a notable fav orite with men. They were of many dif ferent types, but with one invariable bond of union ; they had all at one time served as soldiers; for the war, now ten years passed by, its bitterness almost forgotten, had left some traces that time can never obliterate. What a friend was the dron ing old churchman in those days of battle and bloodshed and suffering and death ! Not a man sat within the walls of St. Martin's who had not received some signal benefit from the hand stretched forth to impress the claims of certain ante-Augus-tin British clergy to consideration and credibility ; not a man who did not remem ber stricken fields where a good Samaritan went about under shot and shell, succor ing the wounded and comforting the dying ; not a man who did not applaud the in domitable spirit and courage that cut his way from surrender and safety, through solid barriers of enemies to deliver the orders on which 'the fate of an army de pended ; not a man whose memory did not harbor fatiguing recollections of long, dull sermons read for the souls' health of the soldiery. And through it all by the camp-fires at night, on the long white country roads in the sunshiny mornings; in the mountains and the morasses ; in hil arious advance and in cheerless retreat; in the heats of summer and by the side of frozen rivers, the ancient British clergy went through it all. Andy whether the old churchman's premises and reasoning were false, .whether his tracings of the succession were faulty, whether he drop ped a link here or took in one there, be had caught the spirit of those staunch old martyr9, if not their falling churchly mantle. ' ' The mountaineers about the New Hel vetia Springs supposed that Mr. Kenyon was a regularly ordained preacher, and that the sermons which they had heard him read were, to use the vernacular, out of his own head. For many of them were accustomed on Sunday, mornings -to oc cupy humble back benches in the ball room, where on week-day evenings the butterflies sojourning at New Helvetia danced, and on the Sabbath metaphori cally : beat their breasts, and literally aypwed that tbey were "miserable sin ners,"' following Mr. Kenyon's lugubrious lead. : The conclusion of the mountaineers was not unnatural, therefore, and when, the door of Mr. Harrison's house opened and another uninvited guest entered, the music suddenly ceased. The half -closed eyes of the fiddler bad fallen trpoa-'Mr. Kenyon at the threshold, and, supposing him a cler gyman, he immediately imagined that the man of God had come all the way from Sew Helvetia Springs to Stop the dancing and sniteb ta revelers from th jaws of helL The rapturtras- bsipaused shudder ing pa the ; string, the dancing feet were palsied, , the pious about the walls' were racking thefr slow brains to excuse their apparent conniving at sin and bargaining with Satan, aad Mr. Harrison felt that this was indeed an unlucky party and it would undoubtedly be dispersed by the direct in terposition of Providence before the shed room was 'opened and the supper eaten. As to his soul poor man ! these constantly recurring social anxieties were making him eallous to immortality ; this life was about to prove too much for him, for the forti tude and tact even of a father of four marriageable young ladies has a limit. Mr. Kenyon, to6, seemed dumb as he hes itated in the door-way, but when the host, partially recovering himself, came forward and offered a ohair, he said with one of his dismal smiles that he hoped Mr. Har rison had no objection to his coming in and looking at the dancing for a while. 4- Don't let tne interrupt the young people, I beg," he. added; as he seated himself. The astounded silence was unbroken for a few moments. -To be sure he was not a circuit rider, but even the sophistication of Cheatham's Cross-Roads had never heard of a preacher who did not object to dancing. Mr. Harrison could not believe hi 8 ears, and asked tor a more explicit ex pression of opinion. " Ye say ye don't keer ef the boys an' gals dance?"! he inquired: "Ye fion't think it's sinful?" And after Mr. Kenyon's reply, in which the astonished "mounting folks" caught only the surprising statement that dancisg if properly conducted was an innocent, cheerful, and healthful amusement, sup plemented by something about dancing in the fear of the Lord, and that in all char ity he disposed to consider objections to such harmless recreations a tithing of mint and anise and cummin; whereby might ensue a neglect of weightier mat ters of the law ; that clean hands and clean heajtsyhands clean of blood and ill-gotten goods, and hearts free from falsehood and cruel intention these were the things well-pleasing to God after his somewhat prolix reply, the gayety recom menced. The, fiddle quavered tremulously at first, but soon resounded with its former vigorous tones, and the joy of the dance was again exemplified in the grave jog gling back and forth. Meanwhile Mr. Harrison sat beside this strange new guest and asked him questions conoeratDg his church, ,baiag inBtantly, it is needless to say, informed of its great antiquity,-f tRe joaynrgJof St.'Augus tin and his Forty Monks to Britain, of the church they found already planted there, of its' retreat to the Tiills of "Wales under its oppressors' tyranny, of many cognate themes, side issues of the main branch of the subject, into which the talk naturally drifted, the like of which Mr. Harrison bad never heard in all nis days. And as he watched the figures dancing to the vio lin's strains, and beheld as in a mental vis ion the solemn gyrations of those renowned Forty Monks1 to the monotone of old Mr. Kenyon's voice, he abstractedly hoped that the double danee would continue without interference till a peaceable dawn. ' His hope were vain.1 It so chanced th&t Kossuth Johns, who had by no means relinquished all idea of dancing at Harri son's Cove and defying Rick Pearson, had hitherto been detained by his mother's persistent entreaties, some necessary atten tion to his father, and the many trials which beset a man dressing for a party who has very few tlothes, and those very old and eftrf f ateMssfsteriff faw. had been most kind and cpmplaisan, putting ih '"ft" button hereV'sewing u'p'a slit there, darning a refractory elbow, and lending him the one bright ribbon she possessed as a neck-tie. But all these things take time, and the moon did, not Ught Kossuth down the gorge until she was shining almost ver tically from the sky and the Harrison Cove people and the Forty Monks were dancing, together in high feather. The ecclesiastic dance halted suddenly, and a watchful light gleamed in old Mr. Kenyon's eyes as he became silent and the boy stepped into the room. The, moonlight and the lamp light fell mingled on the calm, inexpressive features and tall, slender form of the young mountaineer. " Hy 're Kossute ! " A cheer ful greeting from many voices met him. The next moment the music ceased once again, and the dancing .came to a stand still, for, as the name fell on Pearson's ear, he turned, glanced sharply toward the door, and, drawing one of his pistols from his belt, advanced to the middle of the room. The men fell back; so did the frightened women, without screaming, however, for that indication of feminine sensibility had not yet penetrated to Cheat ham's Cross Roads, to say nothing of the mountains. , . "I told ye that yc warn't ter come hyar," said Rick Pearson, imperiously, " and ye've got ter go home ter yer mam my, right off, or ye'll never git thar no more, youngster." " I've come hyar ter put you out, yc cus sed red-headed horse-thief 1 " retorted Kos suth, angrily. "Ye had better tell me whar that thar bay hlly is, or light out, one." It is not the habit in the mountains to 1 parley long on these occasions. Kossuth had raised his gun to his shoulder as Rick, with his pistol cocked, advanced a step nearer. The outlaw's weapon was struck upward by a quick, strong hand, the little log cabin was filled with flash, roar, and smoke, and the stars looked in through a bole in the roof from which Rick's bullet had sent the shingles flying. He turned ia mortal terror and caught the hand that bad struck his pistol In mortal terror, tor Kossuth was the crack shot of the moun tains and he felt he waa n'dead man. The room was somewhat obscured by 6mokc, but as be turned upon the man who had disarmed him, for the force of the blow had thrown the pistol to the floor, he saw that the other hand was over the muzzle of young Johns's gun, and Kossuth was swearing loudly that by the Lord Almighty if he didn't takf it off he would shoot it off. "My young friend," Mr, Kenyon began, with the calmness appropriate to'a devout member of the ope Catholic and Apostolic Church; but then, the old Adam suddenly getting the upper hand, he shouted out in irate toues, "if you don't stop that noise, I'll break your head ! Well, Mr. Pearson," he continued, as he stood between the combatants, one hand still over the muzzle of young Johns's gun, the other, lean and sinewy, holding Pearson's powerful right arm with a vise-like grip, 41 well, Mr. Pearson, you are not so good a soldier as you used to beyou didn't fight boys ir the old times. " , Rick Pearson's, enraged expression id denly gave way to a surprised recogu,on 44 Ye may drag ;me through hell art1 beat me with a soot bag ef hyar ain't the old fightin' preacher agin ! " he ried. "I have only ione thing to say to you," said Mr. Kenyon. " You murf go. 1 will not have you here shooting boys and break ing up a party."; Rick demurred. ' See hyar, now," he said, "you've got no business meddlin'," " You must gp," Mr. Kenyon reiterated. - "Preachin's yer business," Rick contin ued; rrlpeaa like ye don't 'tend to it, though." - "You must go?i" , l to. T . : tr . 'i , nuraoreaiy ; "l s pose yc a say ye d make me." "You must go," repeated Mr. Kenyon. "I am going to take the boy home with me, but I intend to see you off first." Mr. Kenyon lhad prevented the hot headed Kossuth from firing by keeping his hand persistently over the muzzle .of the gun i and young Johns had feared to try to wrench it away lest it should discharge in the effort. Had it done so, Mr. Ken yon would have been in sweet converse with the Forty Monks in about a minute and a quarter. Kossuth had finally let go the gun, and ihade frantic attempts to borrow a weapon from some of his friends, but the stern authoritative mandate of the belligerent pesjee-maker had prevented them from gratifying him,, and be now stood empty-handed beside Mr. Kenyon, who had shouldered the old rifle in an absent-minded mnnner, although still re taining his powerful grasp on the arm of the outlaw. "Waal, parson," said Rick at length, 'Til go, jest ter pleasure you-uns. Ye see, I ain't forgot Shiloh." "I am not talking about Shiloh now," said the old man. ' 'You must get Off at once all of ypu," indicating the gang, who had been so whelmed in astonishment that tbey had not lifted a finger to aid their chief. ; 4Ye say ye'll take thajtthat" Itick looked hard at' Kossuth while he racked his brains for an injurious epithet "that sassy child home ter his mammy?" "Come, I am tired of this talk." said Mr. Kenyon, "you must go." Rick walked heavily to the door and out into tLe moonlight. "Them was good old times," he said to Mr. Kenyon, with a re- . gretful cadence in his peculiar drawl ; "good old times, them war days. I wish they was back agin I wish they was back agin. I ain't forgot Shiloh yit. though, and I ain't a-goin' tei;. But I'll tell ye one thing, parson," he added, his mind re verting from ten years ago to the scene just past, as ne unnitcned hiss horse and care fully examined the saddle-girth and stir rups, "ye're a mighty queer preacher, ye air, a-sittin,' up an' iookin' at sinners dance and then gittm' in a fight that don!t con sarn ye ye're; a mighty queer preacher ! Ye ought ter be in my gang, that's whar ye ought ter be," he exclaimed with a guffaw, a9 he put his foot in the stirrup; "ye've got a damned deal to much grit fur a preacher. But I ain't forgot Shiloh yit, an' I don't mean ter nuther." A shout of laughter from the gang, an oath or two, the quick tread of horses' hoofs pressing into a gallop, and the out law's troop were speeding along the nar row paths that led deep into the vistas of the moonlit summer woods. As the old churchman, with the boy at his side and the gun still on his shoulder, ascended the irocky, precipitous slope on the opposite eide of the ravine above the foaming waters of the wild mountain stream, he said but little 6f admonition to his companion; with the 'disappearance of the flame and smoke and the dangerous ruffian his martial spirit had cooled; the last words of the outlaw, the highest praise Rick Pearson could accord to the highest qualities Rick Pearson could im agine he had grit enough to belong to the gang had smitten a tender conscience. He, 'at his agef using none of the means rightfully at bis command, the gentle sua sion of religion, must needs rush between armed men, wreach their weapons from their hands, threatening with such vio lence that au outlaw and desperado, re- cognizing a parallel of his own belligerent and lawless spirit, should say that he ought to belong to the gang ! And the heaviest scourge of the sin-laden con science was the perception that, so far as the unsubdued old Adam went, he ought indeed, , He was not so tortured, though, that he did not think of others. He paused on reaching the summit of the ascent, and looked back at the little house nestling in the ravine, ' the lamplight streaming through its open doors and windows across the path among the laurel bushes where Rick's gang had hitched their horses. "I wonder," said the old man, "if they are quiet and peaceable again; can you hear the musUxand dancing?" "Not now,!' said Kossuth. Then, after a moment, "Now, I kin," he added as the wind brought to their .ears the oft-told tale of the rabbit's gallopade in the pea patch. "They're a dancin' now, and all right agin." , As they walked along, Mr. Kenyon's racked conscience might have been in a slight degree" comforted had he known that he was in some sort a revelation to the impressible lad at his side, that Kos suth had begun dimly to comprehend that a Christian may be a man of spirit also, and that bravado does not constitute bravery. Now that the heat of anger Was over, the young fellow was glad that the fearless interposition of tne warlike peace maker had prevented any killing, "kase ef the old man hedn't hung on ter my gun like he done, I'd have been a murder st like he said, an' Rick would her been dead. An' the bay filly ain't sech a killin' matter nohow ; ef it war the roan three-year-old now, 'twould be different." One of the World's Way. . . lAUgustaXGa.) Chronicle. :1 We understand that numerous farmers favor prohibition because they believe that negro labor is demoralized by country stores that sell liquor. These farmers do not, as a rule, intend to' quit 'drinking themselves, but desire to compel negroes by law to b sobei . If some of our church friends are, right, , this is an attempt to make negroes better than white people.
The Weekly Raleigh Register (Raleigh, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Aug. 12, 1885, edition 1
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