Democratic Sentinel, Volume 3, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 May 1879 — TYPICAL OCCURRENCES. [ARTICLE]

TYPICAL OCCURRENCES.

When Brother John Jasper, the Richmond divine (whose famous argument that “de sun do move ” still booms), had launched forth in a funeral sermon on the Rev. Scott Gwathmey, colored, there came a terrific crash and then uprose the shrieks and groans of some 8,000 persons. The steps in front of the building had given way under the weight of the crowd and precipitated its hundreds to the ground. The Rev. Mr. Jasper, who was standing in the doorway of the church, felljorward in the wreck. When order had been brought out of the chaos it was found that two persons were seriously injured, and several legs were broken. “Wanted—Five hundred fat cats” lately appeared as an advertisement in a Jacksonville (Fla.) paper. The cats were used to feed the largest alii gator that has been caught since 18(50. The alligator was seen in Indian river'one day in the early part of the month. When J. J. Seymour and two strong darkeys, armed with rope and boathooks, reached the shore, he Was 200 yards out in the stream. The three men attacked and fought him for an hour, not seeking to injure but to subdue. Finally he was hauled ashore. He weighs 800 pounds, and is fourteen feet long. His mouth is two feet in length. The nails on his feet are an inch long. His hiss is as loud and noisy as that of escaping steam from a locomotive. Hefi was named “Sweet By-and-By.” Five hundred cats were bought in Jacksonville as his rations during the voyage to New York. Jacksonville boys amused themselves by passing in full-grown house cats. “Sweet Bye-and-By ” swallowed them whole with great relish. When Corporal S. E. Bull, an Ohio soldier, was struck down in the storm of shot and shell at Antietam, he dug a hole with his hands that were already growing numb in death and buried his pistol, dear to him because with his name inscribed it had been presented by the ladies of Salem, his native town. Near him was a comrade named Henry, who is now a teacher in the public schools at Coshocton, Ohio. Henry made a note of the surroundings, was taken to the hospital, recovered, fought the war out and hurried home. A few days ago, after the lapse of sixteen years and six months, Henry visited the Antietam field and soon found the pistol. The name S. E. Bull was plainly engraved on the stock. The weapon was shown to President Hayes, and sent on to Bull’s father, who is now Postmaster at Salem.

While Mr- Hiram Robb, a farmer living near Webster, N. Y., was walking quietly along in the woods near his house he was suddenly and unexpectedly attacked by a huge bird, which he- soon recognized as an eagle. It came at him so savagely and appeared so large that at first Mr. Robb attempted to run away, but it pursued him and compelled him to fight for his very life. The encounter was fierce for a few minutes, and Mr. Robb was thrown down in the struggle. The eagle tore a piece out of his boot and also a piece out of his coat. Finally Mr. Robb threw himself bodily upon the eagle and held it down the best he could. It struggled away from him, however, and evidently began to see that it had found a foe worthy of its cruel beak. By this time Mr. Robb’s blood was up, and, discovering from the actions of the bird that its wing had been injured, he made up his mind to take the bird alive if possible. The affray finally resulted in a complete victory for Mr. Robb, who secured the discomfited eagle and took it to his home alive. There it was found to measure seven feet from tip to tip. It is supposed that the eagle was rendered so savage by hunger that it attacked the first living thing that came in its path. Traces of the war are sometimes vividly brought out in episodes of Southern life. Two occurrences were particularly striking. There appeared in Petersburg, Va., a few days ago, a stranger, who carried across the back of his ragged coat a rusty, time-worn musket. A“ C. S. A.” cartridge-box and knapsack, both empty, were strapped beneath the gun. The man’s naked skin could be seen through his rags. Long, unkempt whiskers swept to his waist. He told the Index that he was the last armed soldier of the Confederate army. His story was that, since the close of hostilities, he has lived inJMassachusetts, preserving the arms carried by him through the war, and that now he is tramping to his former home in Georgia. Whether he will find it after the lapse of thirteen years is not certain, but the following, from the Sumter (Ga.) liepublican, shows that some of the ex-Confederates are having a hard time in regaining the riches of the past: “ A gentleman of the new Twenty-sixth district of this county informs us that on last Saturday, as he was riding through the country, he witnessed the most novel sight of his life. It was nothing more nor less than a white lady plowing, her husband acting Us the horse, mule or steer, as the case may be. He was regularly harnessed, and dragged the plow as complacently as an ox. The plowed ground was well broken up, and showed that the woman was expert in the use of the plow, and that a man can be a horse when he will.”