The Nation. (Richmond, Tex.), Vol. 4, No. 33, Ed. 1 Friday, February 27, 1885 Page: 1 of 4
This newspaper is part of the collection entitled: Texas Digital Newspaper Program and was provided to The Portal to Texas History by the The Dolph Briscoe Center for American History.
Extracted Text
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
1
• k- '
• • • • •
v^*« ' fTr """ T'-T"
-IP --r.tWB ilCi,
• «M • M I
• ••
©
• • ••
.\
V /
x-
o
© o
O •
V
The N !a_tiohs¡.
•-'i' ■
i. H. WALFORD, Publisher.
RICHMOND, FORT BEND COUNTY, TEXAS. FRIDAY. FEBRUARY 27. 188S.
'M
MKN OP LETTERS AS PREACHERS.
The Habitud Tendency of Certalu Authors to
Moralise.
Our own age diffors from those
that proceded it not least in the pecu-
liar character of its moralists. In
former times the minister of religion
wis usually the solo recognized mor-
alist. Here and there scientific mor-
rlistshave had considerable intluonce
upon the moral practice of small
groups of educated men. Both these
classes of moralists we still have with
us, although at present under an
eclipse. Neither the clergy nor those
whom they address are quite clear as
to tho bias of theological doctrine pre-
suppose .1 in all moralizing from tho
pulpit. The scientific moralist can
not directly address a public so enor-
mous, so ill-cducated, so scant of leis-
ure, and so eagev 'or cxcitoment as
the public of modern Europe. Never--
thelcss, mankind continue to have
an appetite for^luit moral exhortation
which they denounce by rote as dry
and insipid, while cousuming it in
great quantities, ¡mil with little regard
to quality. Tlicy have founij now
preachers among the people who write
essays, novels, and . poems, who have
long been accustomed to make re-
marks upon life and conduct, but have
been esteemed not very successful in
thecondnct of their own lives. By
v'ommoii consent these gentlemen have
been inducted into the vacant cure of
souls. The literavy man has become
the.one universal and impressive mor-
ilist, so that it is well worth while to
trace the eflect of literary modes of
thought upon ethics, as well as the
effect of constant ethical purpose up-
on literature.
Our literary moralists have naturally
imparted to modern morals a literary
linge Thn most fashionable virtues
iiiv the virtues of the literary spirit.
Thus inii'i'iitice is pru-cminently a
literan v.i tuo; anil our age is very
tolerant, tolerant not only in the
domain «if thought, but also, if in a
less degree, in ¡lie domain of action.
Another literary virtue is humor, a
quick am! scornful perception of what
is ugly, exapiiorateil, ami insincere.
This virtue lias passed from hooks into
our con cience, has made us feel tho
vices that cling to our very virtues,
and has made tho best of us almost
weakly shy of avowing their* own
goodness. The openness and flexi-
bility of mind, the delicacy in discri-
minating, the patience in hearing all
sides, the indulgent kindness in judging
which, above all other good qualities,
complete a lini-hed literary character,
can never indeed be of much account
in popular morality; but they are
of more account now than they ever
wore before. All this, of course, is
duo to many causes, such as the social
changes of the last hundred years; but
it is in part duo to tho literary influence
lipon conduct, tho intluonce of such
writers as Thackeray and Carlyle,
Victor Hugo and George Sand.
On the other hand, gome of the most
notable weaknesses of our generation
are literary weaknesses. Morality as
taught by literary liien has lost as
much in deliniteness as it has gained
in expansion. Being practical, it
should speak forcibly, unless it speaks
clearly. It may speak clearly in one
or two ways. It may lay down in <log-
m.itic fashion a series of short, sharp
rules, apparently without vital con-
nection or ground in reason—rules
which arc not to be questioned simply
because the questioner will bo pun-
ished. Again, it may express tho
net result of serious ¡jnd scientific
thought about the universe and man's
place .in it—that is to say. it may bo
definite because it is philosophic. Now,
the literary moralist is usually not
definite either in the one way or in the
other. Ilis wisdom flashes out from
time to time in orilllant intuitions, in
tho intervals too often emitting no-
thing but unsavory smoke. His
teaching is a series of acute observa-
tions, searching parables, or moving
pictures. Such teaching exactly suits
the palato of an age too critical for
dogma, too impatient for philosophy;
but it wants unity, it wants consist-
ency, it wants force—wants very ill-
guppliód by passion of feeling and
glow of imagination. So that when
we read the literary moralist for any-
thing beyond literary pleasure we
commonly end in downright bewilder-
ment.
Thus every serious reader of Car-
lvle's writings must bo a good deal
perplexed by his presentation of
virtue, now as purity and now as
power. Is the groat man always the
good man? In what sense can it be
onestly said that might is right?
Carlyle nowhere clearly answers these
embarrassing questions, or, at most,
gives us in equally positive terms two
answers which seem to contradict one
another, and are really very dificult
to harmonize. Turn and twist tho
matter as we may, the ideas of Calvin
are not the ideas" of Goethe, nor can
the modern scholar look upon this
world with the eyes of one of tho apos-
tles. Carlyle would no doubt have ad-
mitted tliis; and yet he would have
gono on exhorting us to do the thing
the most angrily and righteously de-
nounced, to close our eyes to facts and
masquerade in the old clothes of the
Cromwellian republic.
Or, listen to ThackerayV perpetual
denunciation of worldliness. On every
other page he exhorts men and women
to marry without much consideration
of wnys and means. On every other
page he twits them with their base
greed, with their anxiety to get on,
to make money, and to rise in the
world. He might as we' exhort the
wolf to have cubs'and n prey for
them. For the stupidest reader who
reflects can see that all this tugging
and lugging, all this shoving and
scrambling to get a subsistence, comes
from the difficulty of subsisting, and
all the difficulty of subsisting from the
mult'«lude of those who compete with
us and of those who depend upon us.
How often do men and women bow
the proud neck and silence every gen-
erous beating of the heart in order
that those whom they love and who
will despise tl«m may lie spared the
long-MiIlering iinil humiliation that
hnVv lil'ed (¡"•If "'V!> lives? Ah. ii is
lice.Mi; -•* so runny I vi-Hnre starved and
clirive''
llV ill (,
of most that makes possble the self-
respect of some. It ¡«tho score of nig-
gards who make possible the one gen-
erous man.
The moralist who doclinos to fact-.
| facts may denounce sentiment, nut is
I sentimental still. His doctrine, being
sentimental, can be reduced to no
plain or inteligible principle; and as it
does now consist with itself, it would
fain muke amends by boing angry like
an illogical man or tearful like an il-
logical woman. But no tears or curs-
es tell so much as a lucid indication of
facts. All of us feel tlio mystery of our
situation, and all would liko to liavo
even the least light thrown upon it.
Merely to show us an enormous spec-
ter of * tho Brocken which mimics all
our struggles is not showing us the
way over the hill. Anybody who is
good for anything has quite enough
fermenting in hisinsiile. It is wisdom,
not oxcitement, that he wants from a
teacher.
Sentimental moralizing always tends
to paradox, and the moralizing dono
by mon of letters is no exception to
the rule. Liko other preachers, they
must live; they must live by moving
their hearers, and they can best move
their hearers by means of the fresh and
wonderful to which their own eager
and mercurial temperament inclines.
Thus the new priesthood is not less
sorely tempted than '.vas the old; and
less than tho old. If loss bo conceivable,
is tho now priesthood expected to
practice what it preaches. How often
of lato have wo seen men, themselves
tho artificial luxuries of a most luxu-
rious and artificial society, advocate
innovation * which would make all
Britain a le3s comfortable place than
any Benedictino monastery! A3 those
men do not lack imagination, they
must needs lack seriousness. Nor is
it a light matter that wo should read
their discourses merely as we would
listen to a prima donna. Nothing
more demoralizes than a sermon deliv-
ered bv a man who is sure that it will
not be acted upon ti. men who do not,
mean to act upon it, anil know that,
if they did, the person most confound-
ed would be the preacher himself.—
Pull Mall (Jazctte.
"BILBOA."
With tolling stops a tipil re slowly crept
Up a steep mountain side, till on it* i-rown
He stood, anil from tac summit looking down
With falcon eye u mtglity sccne o'ursivept. "
A world of waters far as eye could reach;
The blue Pacific rolled for leagues away,
Soft blending with the dim horizon's gray,
And dashing up upiiust tin: lonely iieach.
And there was naught of man to rudely mar
'I his splendid majf'-tv, no sail nor mast;
The snow-white gulls" came flying slowly past,
And disappeared on wheeling wings afar.
All riderless the billow-coursers fled
In white-inaned troops alone the boundless
deep,
With foam-fleck'd sides, resistless in their
sweep
Unbridled and untamed eiifli tossing head,
—i'rnat McOaffey.
SUMMARY JUSTICE.
W hiit,, Felix Did.
Years before there was n society for
checking cruelty to animals, an Irish-
man living in London, used to distin-
guish himself by defending horses
from ill-treatment. Felix McCarthy,
for that was his name, stood six feet
livo inches in his stocking feet.
Though priding himself on his giant's
strength and that the purest blooil of
the Mac's and O's flowed in his veins,
yet he put both blood and brawn at
the service of dumb, defenceless
animals.
Meeting one «lay a carter, who was
beating his horse because the poor
boast could not draw tho ovcr-lo.ided
cart up a steep hill, Felix ordered the
man to desist. Tho carter replied by
striking Felix over the head with his
heavy whip.
In an instant a blow from tho giant's
list laid the human brute iu tho street.
Tho Irishman then seized tho carter,
lifted him up, tossed him into his cart,
i and drove to tho police court, where
the man was fined.
In defending his favorites, l'elix
knew neither high nor low. He once
saw a noble lord beating tlio lino horse
ho was riding about tho head with a
stick. The indignant Irishman seized
the bridle and raising his right arm in
a threatening gesture, said:
'•Desist from bating your horse, or
I'll make you!"
The nobleman jumped oft' in high
anger demanded to know "tho name
of the scoundrel who dared to dictate
to him."
Here is my card," said Felix, thrust-
ing one into tho nobleman's hand,
"ami if you will step aside, I'll give
you any explanation you may require;
but you shall not hule this animal as
long as I have an arm fo defend him."
Felix was a parliamentary reporter
on a Loudon paper.—Youth s Compan-
ion.
Tho early sun was just gilding the
mountain tops with splendor, whon
the mining camp at Roaring Crook
had begun its daily labor.
Pans were rapidly emptied, and dis-
appointment or joy shone in tho faces
of tlio owners as tho "find was larger
or smaller than their oxpociAtion.
Three months before Roaring Creek
had sparkled in the sunshine, dashing
its clear waters over untold wealth,
and the tiny gleams of gold had re-
flected the* sunlight for ages, secure
from the grasping hand of man.
But one lucky day a prospecting
miner had discovered tho place, claims
were staked off, and the quiet vale be-
came a busy camp, whilo tho creek
swept its muddy waters sullenly away,
and eager fingers found tho hidden
wealth.
Ono day there came slowly up the
valley a thin faced, solemn man, who
located a claim upon tho outskirts of
Iho camp—a poor, despised place,
where, as Bill Seriggins said, "A fel-
low might shako tho pan a week an'
not find a penny's worth of dust."
But the "man was quiet enough, &nd
minded his own business, apparently,
so they lot him alone, and he was
known throughout tho camp as the
"Parson."
As the days passed each miner's
face grow joyous, for his stock of dust
steadilj' increased, anil the oastorn
home seemed nearer and nearer, with
its circle of loved ones, as ho worked
with redoubled zeal.
Suddenly there was a panic. A rob-
ber was at work in their midst. The
Parson was the first loser.
One morning, as they had just be-
gun work, he came rushing down tho
hill, his thin faco showing more ex-
i citcmcnt than they had ever seen there
before, and waving cxcitcdly an empty
canvas bag. They showed him a minor's
sympathy—substantial sympathy, al-
ways found in tho gold mines—and as
ho went slowly back up the hill, Jim
Haines remarked, jokingly:
"Shouldn't wonder cf he had moro
dutt than he lost.« Poor cuss. Ireokou
ho needs it, though!"
I But that rt'ns "hot the last robbory !
In less than' a week, nearly every
i miner had lost his treasured store.
Even Jim Haines, who owned a great
yellow bullilog, and boasted that no
one' could rob him, camc down to tho
claim one morning with a woeful face
and an empty canvas bng.
After talking matters over awhile,
lie and Bill Seriggins shouldered their
tools and went slowly up tho bed of
the creek on a prospecting tour, leav-
ing Scoot, the great yellow bulldog,
When the
7
d,
were
cau-
I fetched y o up
I rockon," re-
Mental Phenomena Reduced to Figures.
Any physician, wo apprehend, wili
consider it quite within tho bounds of
probability that 1 per cent, of the pop-
ulation of the country is subject to re-
markably vivid dreams, illusions, vis-
ions, etc. This will"make half a mill-
ion people in the United States. Each
of these persons may bo, supposed to
have titty friends or relations, of whom
1 per annum dies. If Ihey are subject
to a dream or vision once a week, there
to guard their camp
Well out of hearing, Jiui sal
tiously:
"What d'ye think
hero for, Bilí?"
"Ter look for dust,
plied Bill.
"Not by a long chalk. I've spotted
tho robber," said Jim, triumhpant'.y,
as he laughed at his comrade's aston-
ished face.
"Go long ! You hain't now?" ejac-
ulated Bill.
"Yes, 1 hev, though. Did ye over
see this trinket afore?"
And lie placed in Bill's hand a gold
shirt button of peculiar pattern.
"Whow !"
Bill gave a prolonged whistle.
"Diayc ever see it afore?" repeated
Jim.
"Yes, I hev," he answered, as he
turned it over and over, and gave Jim
a knowing, wink.
" demanded his comrade.
Parson's shirt front," he
'Where*
"In the
answered.
"That's
'bout the size of
IU ■ uivivill y>k v ioiv/u wiivv/ «• n vun) iuviu « . . •<
is one chance out of seven that they emphatically,
have ono on the same day that the r"""
friend dies. Let us suppose that it
takes a combination of eight separate
and indepenlent points of resemblance,
between tho vision and the circum-
stance attending tho death of the
friend, to constitute a remarkable coin-
cidence, and that each of these has a
probability of one-half. Wo shall have,
in one case out of 256, a remarkable
combination of coincidences. Putting
these results together, wo may infer
that, as a matter of fact, some extra-
ordinary coincidence between the.
circumstances of death and the dream
or vision by a friend of tho dying per-
son does occur somewhere iñ the
country nearly every day iu the year.
—Science.
pard,
an' the Parson's the thief. I found
this 'ere trinket side of ray dust bag,'
and Jim slapped the other's shoulaer
She Enjoyed Cold Weather.
The recent spell of weather call*
attention to a recent nrticle in LittelVs
Living Age called "A Lady's Life in
Manitoba." The writer says she bought.
frozen milk by the pound all winter;
mustard froze in the 'mustard-pot,
which stood afoot from the kitchen
stovepipe and twofeet above tho stove,
where there was a blazing fire all day,
The kitten's ears froze, and broke off.
so did the ears of a neighbor's pony.
A pail of water left in the kitchen all
night would freeze solid before morn-
ing. When she had been ironing the
top of a pocket handkerchief the lower
part would freeze on the table. The
thermometer went to 68 degrees below
zero. This is commented on at con-
siderable length, and then comes this
It's all plain cs tho
noso on ycr faco, an' now wo must
trap him. Not a word ter tho rest of
'em, till we find out sartin."
"Here's my hand, old boy. I'm
with ve thar," said Bill, as he ex-
tended a horny hand for the shake
that sealed the bargain.
I That was two days before the open-
ing of my story. The night before,
; the camp" had been told every circum-
stance, for the Parson's guilt was
proved, and Jim had beggeil them to
keep at work as usual, until he and
Bill could bring tho robber to them for
judgment, that his suspicions might
not be aroused.
Since then, neither Bill nor Jim nor
the Parson had been seen, and a
| strange spirit of unrest brooded over
the camp—a premonition of coming
evil, or something they knew not
what.
i The sun rosg higher, ita golden
beams falling lower and lower along the
mountain side, until Pyramid Peak
was indeed a pyrmid of golden light,
and the valley's shadows crept away.
High up on its rocky shelf, the "Dev-
il's Pulpit" hung above over tho dizzy
abyss, clearly defined against the black
mouth of the cave behind it. For yeari
it had overhung tho yawning chasm,
and strongest nerves wonld tremble at
a glance downward from its narrow
foothold.
Suddenly there came a loud report,
a tiny wreath of smoke was seen
against the black mouth of theeave; a
wild, deep barking was heard, and a
dark form shot headlong from the
r .«art i i' .J, ,)o Ser teTv that brink of the precipice.
« «i r1/í.tr „«í i« wi L o ¡ "It' thePW." said TomLawson,
!,^U"hLf.rV.^L,!"i^.,.' ,L° , In a hushed voice. "They couldn't get
the prairie
| | ., mor." Wor.-
i tip f lieri' and there a few cojd, til confinement. and the wholo
to li.Ot iii and Mpreud them-j ea tegory-of winter, is the mosquito,
In Manitoba than one sum-, • - Klf
than all tho freezing, the h*Sr^ppT.'.ff thllf/pan^ they aU hu'r-
Hlve> in the sun. It {• the degradation j abo nxyu.~U<*rtforU Conrant.
riod down ihe creek, where' the body
lay, with mora curiosity than sorrow;
for human lily WW pot ivy
ly h p*lV<!
a thii I was
r. 4
at that time,
bad as a mur-
upturned face was
highly 1l pal$<*nia
and a thii | was as
dcrer,
But the ghastly .
not that of the Parson. It was that of
Jim Haines,Jfcheir.leader and comrade,
the best man in the eamp.
With dark, scowling faoes they gath-
ered around It and muttored vows of
vengeance.
Bill Seriggins eamo down tho rocky
path behind them; and was greeted
-with questionjugjiilence.
"Tho Parson done it," ho said, hur-
riedly, "an' SJeoot has got' him in the
cave up thoro now. Wo found him
a-packin' up the dust ter leave, but
he's done fer poor Jim."
"Come, boys!" 6aid Tom Lawson,
"you all know what a murderer de-
serves. Get yur shootin'-irons ready,
an' we'll ga*HP nod hold court over
that fellow^^1 / -.•£.* -
Each man knew what ho «li.iftix, but
there was no hesitation.
With revolvers tightly clenched, and
stern, set faces, they followed Bill, as
he silently led the way up tho winding
path; and, as if in uiiison with man's
wrath, dark, hurrying clouds over-
spread tho fair sky; the low, distant
rumble of thunder was hoard, and it
was evident that ono of California's
rare thunder-storms was at hand.
As they neared the cave tho dog
could be seen, his eyes gleaming, his
lips dri>wn book from his sharp white
teeth, as with low, angry growls ho
guarded his master's murderer; and
inside, outlined against tho blackness,
the Parson stoo l like a lion at bay, his
dull eyes flasl j ft, his thin faco flushed,
and wearing i ¿sperate, defiant look.
Tho wretch knew that he had played
his game anil—lost; knew whatfatoho
must expeot at the hands of tlio angry
miners, who would form a vigilance
committee, and judge him intheirown
quick, decisive way.
A few paces from tho cavo thov hatt-
ed, and Tom Lawson said, iu a touo of
command :
"Parson, come forward ?•'
One glance at the muzzles of tho fif-
ty revolvers that covered him—ono
glanco at tho «soluto unpitying faces
above them—and, dropping his own
weapon, ho obeyed tho order, cowed
superior nura-
ieaths; Í have no wish J?*- }***■ *ho*mh
iS«i^^-s(Stasswr! u
p<
and oewildereil by the
bers opposing him.
Out-into tho light ho camc, knowing
well that he would never seo the dawn
of another day, and acccptingjiis fate
in sullen' despair.
He looked at tho little strip of blue
sky that remained unclouded—at the
black, inky billows that wcro swoop-
ing over it—at the dog that jealously
guarded him—at tho storn faces of liis
judges, and at the yawning aby«s,
where, a thousand feet below, his vic-
tim lay, with vhito upturned face
Away to tho loft the lightning
flashed incosi^ntly, and tho thunder
was a conliVwu*jarring roar,'seeming
to shako the mountain to its founda-
tion. Evidently tho coming storm was
no ordinary ono.
"Now, Parson, what hov ye ter say
for yourself?" demanded'Lawaon.
Tho wretch folded his arms, and an-
swered only by a half defiant smile.
Of whdt "use was it to say anything
for himself. Thcro was nothing to
say.. Inside of the cave lay a pile of
dull, yellow dust—his plunder—half
concealed in tho canvas square in
which ho had thought to tio it up. At
tho foot of the precipice lay his victim,
and before him stood his judges.
"What hov ye ter say why we
shouldn't pass jedgetncnUmyer sins?"
continued Lawson.
"Nothin'," answered tho man, sul-
lenly, and a «lull rod shot across his
palo faco, while a shudder ran through
his frame.
"That's sensible. Now, Jjoys, wo
might as well hev this business over
with lirst os last."
Lawson spoke as carelessly as though
"this business" was an everyday af-
fair, and they withdrew some ten
paces to decido upon the way to do it;
that alone was to be settled ; his fate
was certain.
While they woro debating, somo for
one way, some for another, but tho
majority in favor of throwing him
from tho hill, the rapid clatter of
horses' feet souuded along the rocky
path, plainly heard above tho roar of
the thunder.
A horso, flecked with foam and cov-
ered with dust, camo around tho bond,
and upon his back a beafded man
leaned forward and eagerly surveyed
the group by thé cave as he urged on
his flying steed.
His face was like that of an exultant
fiend, as his glance rested upon the
cowering wretch, guarded by the huge
dog.
"Ha, ha ! I've found you at lastP"
he cried, as he flung himself from his
horse and stn/d9 fwnard, unheeding
the miners, who wonderingly made
way for him. "Do you know me,
John Hanson? Are you glad to see
me?"
The man glared at him with wide*
open, terrified eyes, but answered no
word, only retreated backward, as
from noma hideous specter of the past,
until he stood upon the very edge of
the "Devil's Pulpit," and tho stranger
as silently followed to the brink of the
precipice, even the dog recognizing
his superior, mysterious right to tho
prisoner.
There he pauMd, and looked back
at the miners.
"Ho murdered my sister and robbed
me!" he said in simple explanation.
"Then I reckon you've the best
right ter him," answered Lawson.
"Ain't it so, Jioys?"
And as the chorus "Yes, yes!" an-
swered him, the stranger turned to
his victim with a queer smile, and said,
slowly:
"John Hanson, for four years I have
tracked you like a hound, but always
too late. Now you are in my power,
and if you escape at all, it will be by a
full oonfession of your crimes. Whore
did you bury my sister's body?"
"At the fool of the great oak in the
garden where we lived," groaned the
man.
"Ah, you did kill her thenf Too
confess It?"
And great drops of agony glistened
upon the stranger's face, but he con-
trolled his feelings and continued:
"In what bank did you plaoe the
I should not ahoot you as you stand?"
asked tho stmngor, coolly drawing a
revolver from his bolt.
Tho first, fast-falling drops were
spotting tho rocks, and' tho thunder
roared with torrific strength, whilo tho
black clouds hid Pyramid Peak from
view, and tlio waters of Roaring Creek
foamed and ihuihcd along a thousand
feet below tho coworing wrotoh, who
soemod but a speck 'twixt heaven and
earth.
"Spare mo, Benton! I'll give it all
back. 1 never'll cross your path
again!" shriokod tlio wrctchod man, as
bo foil upon his kuoos.
"Did you sparo my only sister wheu
she knelt to you? Monstor, can you
rostore hor to mo?" asked Benton,
sternly. "However, I'll givo you
your choice of deaths
to murde*f
Jmv wtt* "Clt — — . -i j f
tó'dóbuAÍ'.'J I
So saying, ho turned anil walked
back several paces to where tho miners
stood, watching events; then faced his
shuddering victim, and waited iu si-
lence, even-smiling at his prayers and
entreaties.
His face was as cold and immovable
as though chiseled from solid marble,
and liis eyes never left tho watch on
which ho' countcd the seconds of a
life.
Thero camc a blinding flash,u crash,
a jar, a piercing shriok of agony, and
tho narrow ledgo of rock, with its
kneoling burden, disappeared from
sight.
Tho choice was made, but not by
man! Tho thunderbolt had boen the
executioner.
Two hours later, tho stranger was
slowly returning to his homo. His
weary search was over, and his sister
avonged.
Pyramid Peak aroso fair and glitter-
ing in tho sunlight; each tiny loaf
glistened, and earth smiled with an
added beauty after the terrible tem-
pest.
The sun shone upon tho miners, who
reverently buried tho bodies of both
murderer anil victim, and tho sky
was as serenely beautiful as though
no such tiling ascrimo had ever marred
tho loveliness of earth life. —Fred
Small, Jr.
AN INCIDENT OF THE WAB.
money yon stole from me?"
••The Miner's Bank."
"And wltftt reason can you urge why
Bow a Body of Cadets Cngagd the Federal
Cavalrv.
It was late at night on tho lltli of
April, 1865, two days after tho surren-
der at Appomattox', that a strong body
of federal cavalry, numbering, it is
said, no fewer thau 1,700, dotachcil by
Geq. J. H. Wilson, then on his march
from Tuscumbia, in northwestern Ala-
bama, to Macon, in Georgia, struck
tho Black Warrior river at the littlo
town of Nortbport, direotly opposito
to Tuscaloosa, which lies upon tho
southern bank. Tho objoct which Gon.
Wilson had in view in ordering this ox-
pedition was to seize or destroy a do-
pot of military supplios said (truly)
to have been formed in Tuscaloosa;
a point of no
VOL. IV —NO. 33.
through the olty in all directions, and
booamo separated from their offl-
The Fighting Ships of the Fnture.
The London Post protests strongly
•igainst building any moro iron-clads.
It enumerates tho disadvantages en-
tailed on tho British navy by the appli-
cations of armor plates to tlio sides or
batteries of line-of-battlo (or fighting)
ships as follows: 1. Tho expenso of
iron or steel armor adequate to resist
tho over increasing power of artillery
is simply monstrous. 2. All liro from
shipboard is known to bo more or ia«s
innctrnufc^cuiiil-t-tro-ehww slúp
being struck in a vital part aro very
small indeed. 3. But if tho armor-
plating of a ship's battery or turret be
struck, and if it bo not wholly imper-
vious to tho shell striking it, the'effect
of the blow is onhancoil, and tho
shield actually becomcs an instrument
or rendering tho blow more deadly
to tho gunners behind it. 4. A ship
has a certain tonnago displacement,
•according to which her weights liavo
to bo arranged. Hence, every ounce
of armor weight decraeses tho gun
weight or coai weight that she can
carry. 5. Iron-clad lightening ships
are necessarily of such a prodigious
.size that to possess n numerous navy
and to conduct a groat naval war on
tho principles that must bo followed
if we are to maintain a dominant posi-
tion on tho seas—that is, as a war of
aggression—is a financial impossibility.
(J. It is almost ccrtain that tho bulk
of the educated naval opinion of tho;
present day favors tho view that tho
skillful use of the ram will bo the
guiding objoct iu future naval engage-
ments. Now, a modern iron-clad is
about as handy an instrument for use
in ramming maneuvers as—well, let
us say an old cow at a pump. 7. Noxt
to tho ram tho torpedo, or torpedo
vessel, is probably tho most efficient
naval fighting weapon. But an enor-
mous iron-clad is singularly open to
attacks from torpedoes, and its size
gives it no particular advantago in
directing such attacks. 8. The groat
size, draught, and cost of iron-clads
inevitably tend to lednccthe feeling
which should bo uppermost in any
captain's mind, that lie "can go any-,
whero nnd do anything" with his ship.
In fact, it renders him cautious—a
deadly quality for naval minds. What,
then, should wc substituto for these
gigantic armored floating machincsP
To us it appears that the typo of first-
class fighting ship which most nearly
meets the requirements of tho day is
as foli tfi<j: An ui)pi«a^c>/l corvette
without sails, of two thousand to four
thousand tons displacement, possoss-
ing good sea nualities, an armamont
of maximum weight and power, an
underwater steel protecting deck,
great capacity of coal stowage, handi-
noss, facilities for ramming and tor-
pedoing, and as much snood as can be
given Her. Such vessels would cost
comparatively small sums, and we
could maintain many squadrons of
them.
A Greyhound's Long Leaps.
Capt. Ed Murphy has a beautiful
I ; - .•
V "Iw1:
■ ■ .K,
: 1
Y.>
mm?
■P p.
_ hound. Recently Capt. Murphy
paid a visit to relatives at Urbana and
took his hound along for the purpose
of having a littlo sport. In company
with somo of his friends, he went out
bunting, and near a lane, whic|i was
thirty-three feet wide and bordered
on both sidos by a stake-and-rider
fence, got up a rabbit. The hound
gave chase anil the rabbit ran nnder
the fence. Th« first jump the hound
made it cleared twenty-five feet, going
over one of the fences and landing in
the lane. Without any preliminary
motion it mado the second leap, and
covered the immense distance of
thirty-three feet, clearing the fence on
the other sido of tho lane. There was
a heavy fall of snow, and it was there-
fore an easy matter to determine the
distance covered by the prints of the
dog's toft in the snow. The distance
was measured by Gapt. Murphy and
three others who witnessed the re
markablo feat, and their report made
it as slated aboye.— Cincinnati Enquir-
«r
levies or contributions from nlarge
district of surrounding eountry. Had
nothing occurred to intorfero with this
proceeding tho troops, after accom-
plishing their objoct, would havo quiet-
ly retired. Unfortunatoly thoro was
an interference, and, as tho result of
the interference, a catastropho. Right-
ly to understand what happened, it is
necessary to know that at this point
the rivor is spanned by a largo and
well-built coverod bridgo of wood. As
the hostile visit had been entirely un-
anticipated, no attonipt had been
made to destroy the bridgo, or to in-
terrupt communication betwoon tho
banks; so that the troops offocted a
crossing in good ordor,and unopposed.
Reaching tne lower terrace on the
southern side, the commander halted
his main body, and threw forward a
small squad to roconnoitcr.
Now tho tramping of 1,700 horses
a wooden bridge scvoral hundred feot
long, however quietly conductod,
could scarcoly tako place without at-
tracting some attention from the
people of a town of several
thousand inhabitants, quite with-
in earshot. Whatever, therefore, dur-
ing the time occupied by tho little ar-
my in crossing tho river was this:
Somo curious iúdividuals who, attract-
ed by tho unusual sounds, looked
down from tho brow of the hill (it was
a bright moonlight night) upon tho
formidable milatary array gathored
upon tho lower torrAco, scattered has-
tily and carriod on tlio wings of tho
wind to every cornor of tho city the
frightful intelligence that tho hated
Yankees, of whom they had heard so
much, but had as yot scon nothing,
were right on the spot at la«t. Tho
rumor reached tho university. This
institution occupied (I say occupied
advisedly, for it was soon an instance
of Troja /wit,) and I am glad to say
it occupies once more, an isolated
sight about halt a mile beyond the
chart. . A UwiUb td tho-dty. All -its
full-grown students liad long since
flung themselves into tho ranks of the
confederate armies, and theso, had
been replaced by a band of boys ¿ t ten-
der age, who woro enjoying tho com
binod advantages of military and civil-
ian education, and preparing them-
selves equally for tho pursuits of peace
ir of war. They were subject, of
course, two tho twofold rule; it was
true, novertholoss, with them, as in a
well-ordered stato, that tho military
was subordinate to the civil power.
No sooner, howovor, hail tho appalling
announcement, "Tho onomy is at our
gates," been hoard upon tho collogo
campus than this spirited powor of
juvenile patriots seized thoir muskets
(very small muskets they wero, spe-
cially constructed and proportioned to
tho feeble powers of those who wero
to bear thorn, foil into tho ranks, and
marched incontinently to the scene of
anticipated conflict, fiorccly bent on
driving thoso graccless invaders into
tho Black Warrior river at the point
of the bayonet. Whon, therefore, tho
reconnoitering party of tho fedorals
began slowly to ascend tho hill, this is
what befell:
Suddenly the word "liro" was shout-
ed in a clarion voice, and a volley of
musket balls flow over tho heads of
tho advancing troops. Tho filing was
so exact, simultaneous, and so instant-
ly in soquonce to tho order as to itu-
firess tho fedorals with tho belief that
t hail boon delivered, not by a mob of
hastily gathered civilian defenders,
but by a body of regularly-drillod and
disciplined troops. The ail vaneo party
therefore fell back and reported that
tho confederates wore beforo them in
force. It was known, indeed, that
thero had been somo rebel regiments
stationed at Groonsborough, forty,
miles below Tuscaloosa ; and it was
believed that these had been pushed
forward to defend Tuscaloosa against
this raid. The federal commander
nevertheless felt confident that he
should be able to carry the town by a
coup dc mum, and ho lost no time in
attemptin^t. Massing his troops in
solid column, he gave the order to
chnrgo up tho hill at a gallop, intend-
ing to ride down all opposition, or to
cut his way with the saber. Then all
these seventeen hundred horsemen
swept up the hill at the top of their
speed, to linil, to their astonishment,
no track of a human being—to say
nothing of a confederate army—to op-
pose tnem. It was tho firing of the
university cadets which had deceived
and mystified these troopers, and tho
disappearance of the cadets was due
to a very natural cause. Tho civilian
head of tho university, the president,
in short, had not been long in discov-
ering that his precious charge had
stolen a march upon him. He had the
sense to understand the madness of
provoking a deadly conflict between a
powerful force of veteran troops and
the handful of children which con-
stituted his whole command. He had,
therefore, in all hasto followod the
march of the cadets, and ho arrived
just in time to witness their valorous
salutation of tho approaching foe. It
waaa sublime piece of foUy, and I
make no doubt that the president (an
old friend of mine) was prond of it in
his heart, though with a great out-
ward show of indignatior he ordered
the boys instantly back to their bar-
racks ; while inwardly he whispered to
himself, in the words of the military
critic at Bal*kl*va: "<:'e*t mini,
lane, mala co n'est pas la guerre.,r
Bnt the cavalry, the cadets being oat
of the way, earned forward '
moment of their lint «jad ru«b,
soon l
cers and past 'all control. Then fol-
lowed a soono without parallel, it is to
bo hoped, in tho history of the union
arms. Thero was, indeed, no blood-
shod, no violenco to person even, and
no intrusion into private dwellings, ex-
cept in one or two instances in search
for confederate officers, supposod to
boon furlough, among their friondsin
town. But the doors of the shops nnd
warehouses wero burst in from one end
of tho town to the otbor, and all the
valuables thev contained wcro made
the subject of an indiscriminate loot.
In this pillage the present writer,
though not presopt, was himself to
somo extent a sufferer. All tho books he
had been able to gathor round him in
the previous twenty years of his life
was a comí), as 8tt educator * Wftn neon forwarded'
o bring tqgother ptfom his moro recent residence in Mis-
sissippi to this presumably secure re-'T!*"
treat, and deposited in seventeen large
cases in the warohouso of a friend. All
these oases, to the last ono, were bro-
ken ruthlessly open, and their content*
either carried away or scattered over
the floor and trampled under foot. It
is hardly to bo supposed that those
rough soldiers woro sufficiently liter-
ary in. their tastes to bo willing to in-
cumber themselves with a booty of
this description. B it uo sooner had
thoy left their prey than a lawless
crowd of negroes and othor "follows of
the baser sort" pounced upon the
spoil they hail rofused, and carried
off everything that was portable. Books
which had anything attractive in their
bindings or in their illustrations were
naturally first seized on; but others
less showy soon shared the samo fate,
so that when aftor the storm had pass-
oil by, and tho debris which it had left
woro at length gathered together, out
of tho contents of seventeen cases
thoro remained a confused mass of
rubbish sufficient nearly to fill three,
whioh, when forwarded to New York,
rccoived hero somo months later, wero
found to be hardly worth tho cost of
their transportation.—President Barn,
ard, in The Columbia Spectator.
The Age of Faith.
Rev. James Freeman Clarke contrib-
utes the following to The Christian
Life: Tho middle ages, it is said, were
the ages of faith. The mon of that day
built cathedrals, wont into monaster-
ies, and dovotod themselves to relig-
ion. All people went to church, com-
muned, feasted on Friday, anil con-
fessed thoir sins. Yos, thero was a
Í;reat deal moro of tho outside of relig-
an then; but was there moro of its
heart? Men wero moro afraid of God.
Did they love him bettor? Does lovo
always show itself in outwáril ceremo-
nies and forms? Does it not more of-
ten appear in perfect confidence, iq
app
-eJU
ear
xuaU
pei
-Xq
-«r*lRthcr or a
mother. Which do you think would
do tho most honor, and be most tc
your credit as a parent—to have your'
ohildron afraid of you, and therefore
come regularly with formal expres-
sions of respect to appoaso you—or to
retain their confidonco and to have
them trust in you wholly, lean on yoi
ibt i
°ur
help and sympathy without a doubt or
fear, and to feel always safe, shielded
by your protection and enfolded in
your love? Nothing glorifies God so
much as a child-like trust in* Him.
This spirit is that of the gospel. This
(rust in God whioh brings peaco to
man is also the best glory to God in
tho highest.
We do not now go Homuchtochuroh
to find God; but wo feel his presenoe
more in nature, life, science, litera-
turo, art. Ho is now "Immanuel—
God with us." The wholo world is his
tomple. Tho * tars and flowers sing
his praiso with voiceless lips. Yes, it
is the senso of the infinito in all finite
things; of the perfoct amid all imper-
fection; of a divine love superior to all'
sorrow and pain; of a heavenly im-
mortality conquering decay and death.
It is the sense of something permanont
amid all that there is transient, of this
steadfast, unchanging center of being
amid tho fast-flying phenomena of na-
ture which enables us to hope, and
keep us from despair.
If tho timo shall over come when the
spirit of religion shall die out of hu-
man hearts; whon men shall become
merely positive philosophers, believing
only in things scon and tomporal; in
which all faith in the unsooa, the infi-
nite, tho divino shall disappear in a
low materialism—then mon, being
without God, will also be without hope
in the world; for thero is no truer say-
ing than that of the scripture: "With-
out God in the world, and so without
hope."
Then and only then will human
progress ceaso, man's improvement
como to an end, and a pale, oold des-
pair sink like a shroud upon the dead
face of humanity. But thore is no
danger of this. Such poor materialism'
is too shallow and too narrow to sat-
isfy any human heart or mind, or to '
content the demands of silence very
long.
So far from losing God, as science
improves and the world advances, the
sense of a divino presence is coming
more and more into all of naturo an*
all of life. God does not now seem to
come in occasionallv, and at intervals,
in tho way of miracles! but He is seen
and felt in all of human life. Without
Him not a sparrow falls to the ground.
He numbers every hair on our heads.
From Him and" through Him and to
Him are all things. In Him we llva
and move and have our boing. Wo sea
Him in tho sun; we feel Himln the air;
we recognize Him in onr joy and in
our grief; we receive the new infant
as a gift from H<s hand; we dismisa to
His caro the dear friend who leave*
our side, sure that God loves him morn
than we do, and will do better for him
than we can ask or think.
There is in this ago less and lesa ol
formal religion, of ceremonial devo-
tion, of prayer at set times, but
and more of the spirit f
and love-in an 1
feot father.
■■i ■ m '■ i i
The number <
j
' J-Í&isá
m: I '.'J
Upcoming Pages
Here’s what’s next.
Search Inside
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Tools / Downloads
Get a copy of this page or view the extracted text.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Walford, J. H. The Nation. (Richmond, Tex.), Vol. 4, No. 33, Ed. 1 Friday, February 27, 1885, newspaper, February 27, 1885; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth181508/m1/1/: accessed April 26, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting The Dolph Briscoe Center for American History.