Decatur Eagle, Volume 3, Number 11, Decatur, Adams County, 22 April 1859 — Page 1

Tll E II EC \ T |,l I { EAGLE

VOL. 3.

TH E !■: A(i LE. FffBLISIIBD EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, BY PHILLIPS & SPENCER, nj-f an Mun Street, in the old School House, one Squire North of J. & P Crabs' Store. Terms of Subscription : For one year, $1 50, in advance; $1 75, within the year, an<l $2 00 after the year has expired. jj'No paper will be discontinued until all »rreras?es are paid, except at the option of the Publishers. Terms of Advertising; r) nf square, (ten lines) three insertions, $1 tin EmH subsequent insertion, 25 " TTNo advertisement will be considered less I than one square: over one square will be coun- j ted and charged as two; over two, as three, etc. JOB P RINTING; We are prepared to do all kinds of job work, „ sa t and workmanlike manner, on the most' reasonable terms. Our material for the compleon of Job-Work, being new and of the latest [vies, and we feel confident that satisfaction can be given. FIKE’S PEAK. The vernal rains were falling fast, As through a little village passed, A youth, who bore a hickory pole, And oxen under his control. Pike’s Peak. His brow was glad, his eyes were bright, Nor to the left nor to the right, [course, He turned, but onward kept with steady And shouted till his voice was hoarse, Pike’s Peak. He left his happy home by night, And toward the west he took his flight. Above, the moon in beauty home, And from his lips escaped a groan, Fike’s Peak. •You’d stay, some old men said, ‘You’ll surely lose your wits or head; The stormy prairie’s long and wide.’ But loud that headstrong youth replird, Pike’s Peak. ‘ a eware of swindlers, cheats and thieves, 1 Bewared those who would deceive; This was the old men’s last advice, To whom the youth said in a trice, Pike’s Peak. Atlenght the barren plains he reached. His bread ’most gone; hisform well bleech’d But still he groaned that fervent prayer, Which did not go far through the air, Pike’s l eak. A traveler by the 1 latte was found. Flat as a pancake on the ground. Still clinging to his hickory pole, And ou the grou d could scarcely roll, Pike’s Peak. There by the diggings, cold and gray, Lifeless and penniless belay. And could he speak, you’d hear him say, Humbug! When a man receives a periodical or g newspiper weekly and takes great delight in reading them bat neglects to pay for I them, [ wonder! A negro once gave the following toast; p ’Delate Gubernor of the State—him come i in wid berry little opposition, him go out "id none at all.’ .i. ■ - We don’t know what snake the devil | took the shape of whan he came to tempt t Eve, but if he wishes to facinate I ’otnanol these days, he had better come | as a hoop snake. A notice of a recent steamboat exploI stnn ends as follows; , ‘Thecaptain swam ashore. So did the I She was insured for 875,I and loaded with iron.’ hy don’t you hold vour head—up | -, n lie w °rl<J as I do?’ asked a haughty ■ ‘’’y rof n sterling old farmer, squire 1 ’ a MM the farmer, -see that field of grain; I e well filled head hang down, while I 05e on L v that are empty stand upright. | . 'Yj-’n a young man is dependent upon E is daily toil for Ins income, and marries n y wiio does not know how to make H d°-fL^. or me,, d a garment, I won- ■ er! he is not lacking somewhere, say I o ”ard the top for instance. I«„ D’d J understand you to call me a ■ P“PDV sir?’ J ■ A*'"’ g ir—[called you a puppy!' K to U • ' f° r - vou - The insult is too small ■ w'rfj'j’ Ut h af i ? ou CH Ded me a dog— would have knocked you •— -•••*«< E P Rtr ick’ asked the doctor, ‘how |],.° u ee > today?’ ‘Och doctor dear, E joy very poor health entirely. The ■ i:?V re distressin, indade; when ■ j.? 0 . P e > J l*y awake all night, and I<u ? sw ’l e 'J big as a goose hen’s egg B v,t] r . ID * ’ tan d up I fall down inomedi-

A NARROW ESCAPE. BY EMERSON BENNET. AVar is always a great evil, even when conducted upon the comparatively humane principle of a fair protecting and exchange of prisoners; but when this principle is set aside, or disregarded, as it sometimes is, even by rulers claiming to be Christianized as Well as civilized, it sinks to the level of wholesale butchery and murder; and those in authority are as much guilty of the latter crime as the vilest felon that ends his career on the scaffold The war of revolution in South America, carried on between the natives of the i country and their Spaaish masters, the j minions and tools of the crafty and vin- i dictive Ferdinand VII., was one of the most remorseless and sanguinaryi on record. All principles of humanity i were set aside by the ferocious butchers ! in i>u I o r ity, till at length,ytaerra ala' muerle, (death and extermination,) became the teartul war-cry of each haltfrenzied faction. Savages might have had some feelings of mercy and spar d ■ some of their vic ims; but the minions of a ! tyrant had none; and m-n, women, and i childern, old and young, when taken pris- ; oners, were alike decreed to death, and slaughtered in masses, and their bodies ! either thrown into a common pit, or their bones left to bleach in the open air. At the head of the Royalist forces was General Morales, as savage and bloodthirsty a wretch as ever existed; and opposed to him, as chief of the Patriots, was General Bolivar, the subsequent founder of the five Republics of Vi-nezul-a, New Granada, Peru, Bolivia and Equador.— Bolivar, being naturally a humane and magnanimous hero, endeavored to establish an exchange of prisoners; but Morales would accede to nothing having one principle of humanity for the basis, and the Patriot chief was thus forced into acts of retaliation which his very soul abhorred. On one occasion, some five-and twenty Patriots having been taken by the Royal- i ists, among whom were three or four off | icers of high rank —and the Patriots hav i ing at that time in their possession a still larger number of prisoners—Bolivar dispatched to Morales three venerable and worthy friars ot the Capuchin Order, thinking it possible under the ciicumstances for them to negotiate for a proper exchange. i But no sooner Lad these messengers of p.-ace appeared before the bloody fiend ; Morales, than he ordered them to be viz- 1 ed and hurried away to execution, along with the prisoners they had come to save, i He then had their heads cut off and de- i poseted in a bag. and the bag sent to Bolivar, accompanied with an insulting let ter, in which lie declared that every cap tured rebel should be served in the same manner. Upon this Bolivar gave immediate orders for the execution of all the ■ Royalist prisoners in the hands of the Pa--Iriots; and in return for this of retaliation ; Morales resolved up n a massacre which i should strike terror to the hearts of all. On one pretense and another, the Spanish authorities had previously caused the i arrest and imprisonment of all persons sus- ' peeled of being disaffected toward the ' government whether natives or for- ' eigners; and these prisoners, some eight [ hundred in number, were confined in the dungeons of La Guayra. To put these all to death was now the resolve of th>> incar ; nate fiend, and orders for bloody work were issued accordingly. The sixteenth day of June, 1815, is one to be mournfully remembered by the Patriots of South ’America. The morning 1 rose bright and beautiful, and nothing in , the surroundings of nature gave indications of the ‘bloody business’ to be per | formed by the puny creatures of a bemfi-I cent Creator At an early hour, a large bodv of troops; consisting of cavalry and 1 infantry, was drawn up around the for- ! tress where the poor prisoners were con- ! fined; and soon these latter—pale, emaciated, and almost naked—were marched forth in chains, and conducted to a gloomy solitary spot called Macuto some distance . from their place of imprisonment. At this time there chanced to be a Brit- 1 ish man-of-war in the harbor of La Guayra; and the commander, believing that some of his own countryman might be among the victimes, and that some good to them might be effected by his presence, resolved upon accepting the invitation gent- him bv the authorities, and being present at the execution. He according- , lv. with some of his m»n, fell into the mournful procession, and on arriving at the fatal spot, was assigned a ’potof Aom or near the commander of the bloody work where everything connected with the butchery could be plainly seen. | •This is a terriable duty that your Ex cellency is compelled toperform by order , of your Superior!’ casually observed the , British captain to the Spanish general in command. ' i *lt is always ap/easanl duty to me, - acnor Capitan to send the cured rebels ,

"Our Country’s Good shall ever be our Aim-Willing to Praise and not afraid to Blame."

DECATUR, ADAMS COUNTV, INDIANA, APRIL 22, 1859.

out of the world!’ was the brutal reply, though spoken in a tone and with an air; of polite deference. ‘ln a fair and open battle, it might alno ' be mine. General,’ rejoined the British ' captain; ‘but, pardon me, sir, if my plain-1 ness offends, when 1 say, that sooner than i execute such au order from my superiors, I would throw up my commission and retir* into private life. ‘Men differ much in their tastes and views!’ drily responded the Spanish offcer, turning aw»iv to give some n< .-essa I ry orders to one of his staff. The prisoner# were brought together i in a body, and halted upon a spot which i overlooked the place of execution Around I ' them were drawn up the cavelry, while' 'the infantry was deployed in platoons, to; ; take their turns in firing upon their fel- j low-beings. At a signal liom the com ' tnanding officer, some fifty of the victims I : of Spanish tyranny and persecution were ; selected and marched forth to the place ' jof slaughter. On their way, they had to j i pass within a few paces of the place where ! | the General and his staff and the Briti tish Captain and his officers were sta ; I tioned. ! As they moved slowly past to their fi- ! | nai doom, they presented a spectacle not easily to be forgotten. Naked all but the I beech-cloth—thin, pale, cadaverous, haggard—with long, disheveled hair, dirty beards feverish eyes, and unwashed faces —it required not a little fancy to invest some of them with their real characters, that of man of distinction in the private! and public walks of life. Some looked I downward, as if meditating upon the j great change they were about to undergo; j some crossed themselves devoutly, and j earnestly and penitently listened to the ’ words of holy consolation which fell from i the lips of the venerable priests who! walked by their sides; some looked quick- j ly, wildly, almost frantically about them; and some turned upon the group of offi i cers a bold, haughty, defiant, stare; while! j two ventured some loud and bitter male- ; dictions. i ; As soon as they had taken their sta- ‘ tion on the fatal ground, the priests slowly withdrew; while the infantry marched up within a tew paces, leveled their pieces i and fired at the word Many were killed ; outright by this discharge—many were mortally wounded, but yet lived and writhed—and a few were scarcely injur fed. None, however, were permitted to ' escape long—for amid the prayersand I groans of poor wretches, another line of I infantry took the place of the first, and! ’ another murderous volley was poured in I jto the bteasts of the wounded and dying; I and what yet escaped, were shot dead with ! pistols, or cut to pieces with swords, in the hands of the officers. It was a wui k of butchery indeed—giving pleasure to the blood thirsty Spaniards—but excit•ng a revulsive feeling of horror and disgust in the breasts of the few foreigners who were witnesses of the terrible scene. When the first fifty of the prisoners had all been dispatched, the second lot was selected and marched forward in the manner already described. As these passed j ! the general’s stand, the British captain I was pained to observe some few faces, which he could not but believe to be fellow countryman. ‘Are not certain of these men English S**nor Commandante?’ he inquired, turn ■ ing to the Spanish General. I *ll is possible, Si-nor Captain, they had Erigli->> birth; hut thev transgressed Spanish laws, and must suffer the penalty ! Would your Excellency not permit me I to intercede for them in behalf of my government?’ ‘My orders are very positive, Senor j Captain, to put all the prisoners under | mv charge to death; and the Senor Cap-1 itan is too long in the service, to require I to be told that the orders of a superior bear no equivocal construction and must !be implicitly obeyed Besides, Senor, ’ Capitan, as neither of us know the persons you speak of to be English, perhaps it - would be as well for neither of us to ask i any questions.’ The captain, seeing there was no chance ' to save the poor fellows, remained silent, I and the ill fated group moved on to meet ■ the bloody fate of those who had preceed- . ed them. The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth lots were selected, and marched forward in the same manner, to the same , bloody death and still there remained five , hundred human lives to be taken. , At length, as the eighth or ninth divi- I sion of victims was filling past, there look- < ed up at the British officers a pale, white i face, and a pair of blue eyes were fixed i searchinglv but monrnfully upon them. ( •Farewell, gentleman, and fellow coun- , trymen!’ spoke a firm and steady voice; | ■and when you return to our glorious na- j | tive isle, pray report that Lorenzo Fergu- , son, of Scotland, met his death as bec .me , a gentleman and a soldier!’ , t •Hah!’exclaimed the Captain in great I excitement; ‘there is no mistake this time c —that man is a Briton, and must be sav-' i ed' Senor Coromandate, I ask the life of c

! that man in the name of His Britanic Majesty!’ “I regret, Senor Capitan, that my duty 1 compels me to deny so natural a demand!’ replied the the Spanish General, sorae- ' what coldly. j 'What, sir! do you refuse me so little as the li'e of one single man?’ erie t the captain. flushing with anger. *By heavens, sir! you- do more than Morales himself | would dare! and to him I shall report.’ Eh ‘Hi- you name has the power ot life and ! < - .'h in his hand.-., which is uot in mine, I Senor,’ returned the officer ‘Then grant a reprieve, till yonr stipei rior can be consulted!’ rejoined the olh-r. ‘I would if I dared, Senor Capitan.’ , ‘lf you do not, Senor Commandante, I I shall withdraw from the ground and make i such a report as will give you trouble I hereafter.’ Meaniime the excitement among the , other British officers and men was becoming intense and loud and angry denunci- . ations of Spanish officers and Spanish tyI ranuy began to be spoken quite freely among them; while the priming of more . than one pistol was looked, and more than one sword was loosened in its scabbard ; The Spanish General was not a little discomposed by these unpleasant demonstrations of gathering trouble; but he still remained firm, and the procession moved on. •Genth men,’ said the British captain, addressing his own subordinate officers, •you will please suppress al] demonstrations of violence! We will remain and i wiiness the murder of that man—if these j Spaniards dare to do it in the lace of my j solemn protest —and then we will retire i and remember we begged in vain a fellow ’ countryman’s life.’ The British seamen, who were grouped j apart from the officers, seemed even more excited than the latter; and just as the j prisoners, poor Ferguson among the num- , her, had reach the horrid scene where their companions lay piled in bloody, j ghastly heaps, the attention of al! was ar- ; rested by the loud yell of an Irishman, who, springing away from his brother tars, ran swUtly down to the fatal ground, shouting at the top of his lungs— I ‘Hold up, ye cowardly up- Ipeens! , ; To the devil wid ye, now, for a set of mur- ; therin beasts! And would ye shoot a white Christian gintieman that way, now? If ve does the like, it’ll have to be through Barney O’Reilly’s body jist, so it will!' ; While all eyes were fastened upon the shouting Barney, he reached the doomed j file of prisoners, in front of the muskets I of tlie executioners; and, thowing his arms around the nect of poor Ferguson, fairly yelled out in triumph—- • Now fire away, ye valli-r nagurs! and kilt me along with a better man, if ye dare! Sure, an’ it’s the British lion ye’ll soon hear roaring around ye, ye murthe*ing thieves! and Barney O’Reilly 'll be willing to die, jist to see ye git your desalts now, so he will!’ These rather uncomplimentary remarks it should be stated, were spoken in English, and not Spanish, and were nut unI derstood by the Spanish soldiery, or it is I quite possible Mr O’Reilly might uot have lived to repeat them. •Call back your fellow yonder, Senor Capitan, or 1 will not be answerable for the consequences!’ said the Spanish geni eral to the British captain. ‘Not ll’ was the sharp reply; ‘and if a hair of his head be injured, look to it, Se-, nor Commandante, that you do not wish | that you had never seen this day! for he, | J sir, is a British subject, and under the j protection of the British flag ’ There was a hurried consultation be- j tween the General and his staff, and then an aid dashed forward, and delivered an l order to the officer in direct command ot j the infantry, who seemed to be in doubt I as to what was proper for him to do under i the circumstances. This order brought Lorenzo Ferguson from the fated file, and gave him life and , liberty; and a prouder and happier man ! was not to be found, than the gallant fel- 1 low whose daring had saved his life, and who now escorted him in triumph to his rejoicing friends, exclaiming—‘l knowed the yaller nagurs wouldn’t dare to murther two Christians in that way the spalpeens!’ Os the eight hundred doomed prison- j ers, Lorenzo Ferguson alone escaped the death decreed bv the fiendish Morales; and on the spot where they fel), many of their bones mav to this dav be seen, bleaching in the sunshine and storm—for they who murdered refused them burial. A friend of ours, who subsequently be came acquainted with this Ferguson, received from his own lips a detail of the horrible massacre which we have so briefly chronicled. But the Scotchman, notwithstanding the fearful warning and his narrow escape, had too genuine a hatred j at the Spanish oppressors to remain at his ease; and again venturing his all in the | cause of the Patriots, be fell at last, fight-1 ing nobly for the freedom of hie adopted I cc-nntry.

* necdote of General Jackson. At the south west, the people delight to tit'k of General Jackson; ot his darling love of justice, and the prompt wav of administering that article, when he found it necessary. I was on the Mississippi l*st Lsuinmar, when I beard the following stoi ry ' The general, then Judge Jackson, was ' holding court, at a shantv at a little vil- ! lage iu Tennessee, and dispensing jus’ice in large and small doses, as seemed to him to he required in the case before him One dav during court, a great bulking lellow, armed with pistol and bowie knife ■ took it upon himself to parade before the j shanty court-house, and cursed 'he judge jury, and all there assembled, in set terms. •Sheriff,’ snng out the jndge, 'arre»t that man, and confine him for contempt of court ’ Out went the sheriff, hut soon returned with the word to the judge that he fouud it impossible to take the offender. ‘Summon a posse then,’ said the judge ‘and bring him be'ore me ’ The sheriff went out again, but Lis task was too difficult; he could not, or dared not, lay his hands on the man, nor did any of the posse like the job anv better than he did, as the fellow threatened ‘to shoot the first skunk that came will in ten feet of him ’ At this the judge waxed wroth —to have bis authority put at defiance before all the good people of that vicinity; so he cried ont, ‘Mr. Sheriff, since you cannot obey my orders, summon me; yes, sir summon me.’ ‘You Judge!’ exclaimed the sheriff, in amazement. ‘Yes, tne —summon me! I'll see what I can do.’ ‘Well 'Judge, if you say so. though I don’t like to do it; but if you will try, why I suppose I must summon you.' ‘Very well,’ said Jackson, rising nnd walking towards the door. '1 adjourn this court ten minutes ’ The ruffian was standing a short distance from the shanty, in the centre of a crowd of people, blaspheming at a terri- ' bte rate, and flourishing his weapons, and : how.i-g dea.f ...,U destruction to ail who ! should attempt to molest him. Judge Jackson walked very calmly in'to the middle of the group, with pistols in hand, and confronted him. j ‘Now,’ said he, looking him straight in , the eye, ‘surrender, you infernal villian, this very instant, or I’ll blow you through!’ The man eyed the speaker for n mo- , ment, without speaking, and then put up ! his weapons, with the wor’s, ‘There, Judge, it’s no use. I give in.’ and suffer ed himself to be led bv the sheriff, with out opposition; he was completely cowed A few days after the occurrence, when the man was asked why he knocked un der to one person when he had before refused to allow himself to be taken by a whole company; he replied: ‘Why,’ said he, ‘when he came up, 1 looked him in tlio eve, and I saw shoot, and there wasn’t shoot in nary other eve in the crowd: and so I says to myself, savs I, hoss, it’s about time to sing small and so I did.’—<Spirit of the Times>. ———<>——— Gold at Pike’s Peak. Young gentlemen afflicted with the Pike’s Peak fever will be interested in the following statement, from a reliable gentleman in the new Eldorado, of the manner of gathering gold in the diggings. A man takes a frame work of heavy timbers, built like a stone boat, the bottom of which is composed of heavy iron rasps. This frame work is hoisted up to the top of the peak, and the man gets on and slides down the side of the mountain. As he goes swiftly down, the rasps on the bottom of the frame work scrape off the gold in immense shavings, which curl up on to the machine, and by the time the man gets to the bottom, nearly a ton fo gold is following him. This is the common manner of gathering it. Another plan is to bore a hole in the side of the mountain and fill it with coal and bitumen A rousing fire is then built, and the proprietors sit around and ‘blow it.’ Shortly the gold begins to soften and melt, when quickly a stream of molten gold as thick as your leg runs out through the fire and is caught in moulds of sand made for the purpose, from whence the gold comes in sheets eight or ten feet square, of the thickness of first class boiler iron. Gold is too plenty here, in fact. A paper of tobacco, will buy two tons of it. I am turning my attention to something different. I have found in the Gulch, from which I date this letter, lumps of gold nearly as large as a handsled, fairly encrusted with diamonds.— I have dropped the gold business since, and have been busily laboring in the diamond department. You will not believe me, perhaps, but it is a solemn fact that I have already collected a bin full of diamonds, nearly as big as your fist—more or less—and among them are over a hundred larger than a piece of head cheese — <Lafayette Courier>.

Hancock House hik! Hospitality. l | The Slate ot Massachusetts has reU centiy purchased the house in which J,.hn ■ | Hancock lived. Some reminiscences of 1 i him are turni.-hed in the tollowin .- from 1 ! the New York Tribune. ' ! The Hancock House was the scene of much hospiiality in John Hancock’s time ' i He was in embirrassvd circumstances in | the latter part of his life, and a venerably gentleman, whose society 1 sometimes en’ljoy, has tola me that he I,ad olten beard , on the first day of term, when the docket • wh: called, the crier >xclaim ‘John Hanj cock, John Hancoek, come into court and ’ | and answer unto John Doe, or your detault will be recorded.’ And this when i he was Governor of the State. But in those blessed days for lawyers, nob-‘dv 1 minded being sued, and nobody bothered himself about paying his debts, except upon compulsion, unless it suited his convenience. Still, he found means to exei • cise a most abundant hospitality. The , gentleman I have quoted, who is probai bly the last surviving guest of tin- multitudes Hancock entertained—since he ■ plied sixty five years ago—described to . me a dinner party he particularly rememI bered. There were not less than fifty or sixty at the table, but the host did not sit at ; meat with them. He ate at a little side ■ table, and sat on a wheeled chair, in which , he wheeled himself about the general t» hie to speak with bis guests. " This was because of his gout, of which he made a political as well as a social excuse for his doing as he pleased. On the occasion in ! question, when the guests were in the height of animated conversation nnd just as the cloth was drawn, they were interrupted by a tremendious crash. A ser- ; vant on removing a cut-glass epergne, . which formed the central ornament ot the table let it fall, and it was dashed into a I’housand pieces. An awkward silence ; f-11 upon the company, who hardly knew ! how to treat the accident, when Hancock I relieved their embarrasment by cheerfully exclaiming, ‘lames, break as much as you like, but don’t make such a conform- ■ ded noise about it!’ And under cover of ; the laugh this excited, the fragments were ’removed, «n<’ the.talk went on as if noj thing had happened. This it strikes me | was the presence of mind of true good ’ breeding.’ Manners —Young folks should be (mannerly. But how to be is the queaj ti«n Many good boys and girls feel that I 'hey cannot behave to suit themselves in I the presence of company. . They are awkward clownish and rough. They feel timid, bashful and self dis .rustful the moment they are addressed by a stranger or appear in company. There is but one way to get over this feeling, and acquire ease, and graceful manners; that is, to do the best they can all the time, nt home as well as abroad — Good manners are not learned so much as acquired by habit, they grow upon I us by use. M e must be courteous, agreeable, civil, kind, gentlemanly and womanjly at home, nnd then it will be a kind of | second nature everywhere. Coarse. ' rough manners nt home, begets a habit of roughness which we cannot lay off if we try, when we go among strangers. The : most agreeable people we have ever known in company are those that are perfectly agreeable at home. Home is tbu ! school for all the best things. No Time to Hesitate—A clergyman of one of our Eastern S:ates, who during 1 his lifetime was as much distinguished for his eyentricity as lor his talents and for | the sinecri* v and fervor of his piery, flj|bed, one Thanksgiving dav, with the senior deacon of his church The deacon , being an old-fashioned man. was in the habit of asking blessings of a most weari ( some length On this occasion be was particularly prolix, and finally was forced to pause, to get anew supply of breath and words. The instant he stopped the pastor sat down and commenced rattling his knife and fork. The worthy deacon, vnv much discotic,*ited by tin* conduct of his reverend guest opined one j eye, and. looking down exclaimed, ‘Doc tor! Doctor! I’m not through vet; I only hesitated.’ ‘Hesitate!’ replied the Doctor, ‘it is no time to hesitate when a turkey’s cooling!’ Talents »k a Napkin—A gentlemen 1 once introduced his son to the ceiebiated Rowland Hill, ns a youth of great prom ise. and as likely to do honor to the uni versify of which he was a mtmber — ‘But,’ added the father, ‘he is shy and idle, and I fear buries his talents in a . napkin ’ On a subsequent occasion, the parent, anxious to learn Mr Hill’s opinion, inquired what he thought of his son? ‘I have shaken the napkin,’ said the eccentric divine, ‘at ail the corners, ami there is nothing in it.’ Three overseers on the planbjtion of J D Fondren, Raymond Miss., have been successfully murdered by the negvres un der their control.

NO. 11.