Ligonier Banner., Volume 13, Number 43, Ligonier, Noble County, 13 February 1879 — Page 7

Che Ligonier Banner, J. B. STOLL, Editor and Proprifsto‘r. : LIGONIER, & : -: .INDIANA.

~ THE RECENT FRENCH DUEL. MucH as ;the modern French duel is ridiculed by certain smart people, it is in reality one of /the most dangerous institutions of %r day. Since it is al‘ways fought in the open air, the combatants are nearly sure to catch cold. M. Paul de Cassaﬁnac, the most invetarate of the French duelists, has suﬁ‘e{ed so often in this way that he is at last a eonfirmed invalid; and the best physi‘cian in Paris has expressed the opinion that if he goes on dueling for fifteen or twenty years more—unless he forms the habit of fighting in a comfortable room where damps and draughts can‘not: intrude—he will eventually en‘danger his life. ' This ou%ht to moderate the talk of those people who are so stubborn in-maintaining that the-French duel is the most health-giving of recreations, because of open-air exercises it affords. And itought also to moderate that foolish talk about French duelists and socialist-hated monarchs being the only people who are immortal. - But it is time to get at my subject. As soon as [ heard of the late fiery outbreak between M. Gambetta and M, Fourtou in the French Assembly, 1 knew that trouble must follow. Iknew it because a long personal friendship with M. Gambetta iad revealed to me the despéerate and implacable nature of the man. Vast as are his physical proportions,’ I knew that the thirst for revenge would penetrate to the remotest frontiers of his person. =~ ~ . I did not wait for him to call on‘me, but went at once to him. As I expected, I found the brave fellow steeped in a profound French calm. IsayFrench calm, because French calmness and English calmness have points of difference. He was moving swiftly back and forth among thedebris of his furniture, now and then staving chance fragments of it across the room with his foot; grinding a constant grist of curses through his set teeth; and halting every little while to deposit another handful of his hair on the pile whi{l:h he had been .building of it on the table. .

. He threw his arms around my neck, {zent me over his stomach to his breast, kissed me on both cheeks, hugged me. four or five times, and then piaced me in his* own arm-chair. As soon-asl had got well 4gain, we began business at once. . ; : s . I said I supposed he would wish me tovact as his second, and he said, ‘¢ Of course.”” Isaid I must be allowed to act under a French name; so that [ might be shielded from obloguy in my country, in case of fatal ,resufyt':s. He winced | here, probably at the syggestion thg dueling was not regart?gd with respéct in- America. However, he agreed to my requirement. This accounts for the fact that in all the newspaper reports M. Gambetta's second was apparently a Frenchman. First, we drew up my principal’s will. I insisted upon this, and stuck to my point. I said I had never heard of a man in his right mind going to fight a duel without first making his will. He said he had never heard of a man in his right mind doing anything of the kind. When he had finisned the will he wished to proceed to a choice of his ¢]last words.” He wanted to know how the following words, as a dying exclamation, struck me: - 1 die for my God, for my country, for freedom of speech, for progress, and the universal brotherhood cf man!” . I objected jthat ‘this would require too lingering' a death; it was a good speech for a consumptive, but not suited to the exigencies of the field of honor. We wrangled over a good many, ante-mortem ‘outbursts, but I finally got him to cut his obituary down to this, which he copied into his memorandum-book, purposing to get it by heart: S FR i ¢ ] DIE THAT FRANGE MAY LIVE!"

I said that this remark seemed-to lack relevancy; but he said relevancy ‘was a matter of no consequence in last words—what you wanted was thrill. /! The next thing in prder was the -choice of weapons: My principal said he was not feeling well, ahd would leave that and the other details of the proposed meeting to me. Therefore 1 wrote the following note and carried it to M. Fourtou’s friend: Sir: M. Gambetta accepts M. Fourtou's challenge, and authorizes me to propose PlessisPique# as the Igla,oe of meeting; to-morrow morning at day-break as the time; and axes as the weapons. I am, sir, with great respect, I ; MARK TwWAIN. M. Fourtou’s friend read this note and shuddered. Then he turned to me, and said, with a suggestion of severity in his tone: ; ' ‘““Have -you considered, sir, what would be the inevitable result of such a meeting as this?” : ‘“Well, for instance, what would it be?”’ . ) ‘“Bloodshed!? L ‘“That’s about the size of it,” I said. « Now, if it is a fair question, what was your side proposing to shed?’’ I had him there. He saw he had made a blunder, so he hastened to ex-~-plain it away. He said he had spoken jestingly. Then he added that he and his principal would enjoy axes, and ind’eeg preferred them, but such weapons were barred by the French code, and 80 I must change my proposal I walked the floor, turning the thin over in my mind, and finally it oecumﬁ to me that Gatling guns at fifteen paces would be a likely way to fet a verdict on the field of honor. 8o I framed this idea into a proposition. & ‘But it was not accepted. The code was in the wag aqt‘in. I proposed rifles; then, double-barreled shotguns; then, Colt's navy revolvers. 'hese being all rejected, I reflected a while, ;'an%* s:.rcutienly‘ suggested brick-bats at th ee-%uarbers of a mile. I always hate tb foo 'D"Y‘f a humorous thing on a person who has no perception of humor; and it filled me with bitterness when this man went soberly away to submit the last proposition to his prinecipal. . Y : He came back @resently, and said his ’prihc;‘f‘al was charmed with the idea of brick-vats at three-quarters of a mile, but must decline on account of

the danger to disinterested parties passing between. Then I said: . “Well, lam at the end of mystring, ' now, Perhapsyou wouldbe Igeod enough to suggest a weapon? Perhaps you have even had one in your mind all the time?”’ ‘ {His countenance brightened, and he said with alacrity: _'«Qh, without doubt, monsieur!” . ~ So'he fell to hunting in his pockets—pocket after pocket, and he had plenty of them—mutterin% all the while, *“ Now, what could I have done with them ?”’ : - mmAt.last he was successful. He fished out of his vest pocket a couple of little things which I carried to the light and discovered to be Xistols. They were | single-barreled and silver mounted, and very dainty and pretty. I wasnotable ’to speak for emotion. I silently hung one of them on my watch-chain, and returned the other. My companion in crime now unrolled a postage-stamp containing several cartridges, and gave me one of them. 1 asked if he meant to signify by this that our men were to be aﬁowed but one shot apiece. He )‘ replied that the French code permitted 'no more. I then begged him to go on and suggest a distance, for my mind was growing weaker and confused under the strain which had been putupon it. He said sixty-five yards. I nearly 1 lost my patience. I said: ¢ Sixty-five yards with these instru- \ ments? Pop-guns would be deadlier at fifty. Consider, my friend, you andl F’f are banded together to destroy life, not to make it eternal.”? . |

But with all my persuasion, all my arguments, I was only able to get him to reduce the distance to thirty-five yards; and even this concession he made with reluctance, and said with a sigh: S Iwash .my hands of this slaughter; on your head be it.”’ | There was nothing for me but to go home to my old lion-heart and tell my. humiliating 'story. When I entered, M. Gambetta was laying his last lock of hair on the altar. He sprang toward me, exclaiming: | . ; : ‘You have made the fatal arrangements—l see it in your eye!”’ 1 #¢¢] have.” - | ‘His face paled a trifle, and he leaned } upon the table for support. He breathedii thick and heavily for a momentor two, so tumultuous were his feelings; then he hoarsely whispered: | ¢« The weapon! the weapon! Quick! What is the weapon?”’ . L “This!” and I displayed that silvermounted thing. He caught but one Flimpse of it, then swooned ponderousy to the floor. When he came to, he said mournfully: ‘“The ‘unnatural calm to which I have subjected myself has told upon my nerves. Bul away with weakness! I will confront my fate like a man and a Frenchman.” C He rose to his feet and assumed an’ attitude which for sublimity has never been approached by man, and has seldom been surpassed by -statues. Then he said, in his deep bass tones: ‘“ Behold! I am calm, I am ready; revéal to me the distance.” - -3¢ Thirty-tive yards.”’ ? 1 could not lift him up, of course; but Irolled him over, and poured water down his back. He presently came toand said: B : ¢ Thirty-five gards—-—without a rest? But why ask? Since murder was that man’s intention, why should he palter at small details? But mark you one thing: In my fall the world shall see how the chivalry of France meets death.”’ ] ’

. |After a long silence, he asked: ‘“Was nothing said about that man’s family standing up with him, as an offset to my bulk? But no matter; I would not stoop to make a suggestion; if- he is not noble enough to suggest it himself, he is welcome to this advantage, which no’ honorable man would take.”’ g ' ' He now sank into a sort of stupor of reflection, which lasted some minutes; after which he broke silence with-— . *““The hour—what is the hour fixed for the collision?”’ ‘ “¢ Dawn, to-morrow.”’ He seemed ‘greatly surprised, and immediately said: = . ‘““lnsanity! I never heard of such a thing. Nobody is abroad at such an hour.” _ : ‘“ That is the reason I named it. Do you mean to say you want an audience?”? o :

‘¢ It is no time to bandy words. I am astonished that M. Fourtou should ever have agreed to so strange an innovation. éo at once and require a later hour.” : : Iran down stairs, threw open the front door, and almost ‘plunged into the arms of M. Fourtou’s second. He said: : - ; ‘I have the honor to say that my principal strenuously objects to the hour chosen, and begs that you will consent to change it to half-past nine.” ‘¢ Any courtesy, sir, which it is in our power to extend is at the service of your excellent principal. We agree to the proposed change of time.” \ “1I beg Jou to accept the thanks of my client.”” Then he turned to a person behind him, and said, ‘‘You hear, M. Noir, the hour is altered to half-past nine.”’ Whel'euﬁonv M. Noir howed, expressed his thanks, and went away. My accomplice continued: 2 *« If agreeable to you, your chief surgeons and ours shall proceed to the neld, ,in the samecarriage, as is customary. ! L

‘lt is entirely agreeable to me, and I am obliged to you for mentionit:F the surgeons, for lam afraid I should not have thou%ht of them. How many shall I want? I suppose two orthree will be enol¥hi’”‘ ; “Two is the customary number for each party. I refer to ‘chief’ surgeons; but considering the exalted positions oem?!ied by our clients, it will be well and decorous that each of us appoint several consulting surgeons, from among the highest in the profession. These will come in their own private carriages. Have you engaged a hearse?”’ : :

‘“Bless mg stupidity, I never thought of it! I will attend to it right away. I must seem very ignorant to you; but fouf’must try to overlook that, because have never had Zany experience of such a swell duel as this before. I have had a good deal to do with duels:

on the Pacific Coast; but I:see now that they were crude affairs. A hearse —sho! we used to leave the elected lying around loose, and let anybody cord them up and -cart them oft that wanted to. Have you anything further to s%gest?” bt i *¢ Nothing, except that the head undertakers shall ride tegether.as is usual. The subordinates and mutes will go on foot, as is also usual: I will see you at three o’clock in the morning, and we will then arrange the order of the procession. I have the honor to bid you a good day.” : : I returned to my client, who .said, “Very well; at what’: hout is the enement to begin?’] : T Half-past nine.” “ Very good indeed. Have you sent the fact to the newspapers?”’ ! ‘“ Sir! If after our long and intimate friendship you can for a moment | dee,m me capable of so basec a treachery”’ — ; ‘ ¢ Tut, tut! What words are these, my dear friend? Have Iwounded you? Ah, forgive me; I am overloading you with labor. Therefore go on with the other details, and drop tiis one from your list. The bloody-minded Fourtou will be sure to attend to it. Or I myself—yes, to make certain, I will drop anote to my journalistic friend, M. Noir’ . : E :

¢ Oh, come to think, you may save yourself the trouble; that other second has informed M. Noir.” : ‘“H'm! I might have known it. Itis just like that Fourtou, who always wants to make a display.”’ At half-past nine in the mornin%, the procession approached the field os Plessis-Piquet in the following order: First came our carria, e—nobodyhin it but M. Gambetta andg myself; then a carriafe containing M. Fourtou and his second; then a carriage containing two poet-orators who dif not believe in God, and these had MS. funeral orations projecting from their breast pockets; thena carriage containing the head surgeons and their cases of instruments; then eight private carriages containing consulting surgeons; then a hack containing the Coroner; then the two hearses; then a carriage containing the head undertakers; then a train of assistants and mutes on foot; and after these came plodding through the fog a long procession of camp-follow-ers, police and citizens generally. It was a noble turnout, and would have made a fine display if we had had thinner weather

There was no conversation. ' I spoke several times to my principal, but 1 judge that he was not aware of it, for he always referred to his note-book, and muttered absently, ¢I die that France may live.”” e Arrived on the field, my fellow-sec-ond and Ipaced off the thirty-five yards, and then drew lots for choice of position. This latter was but an ornamental ceremony, for all choices were alike in such weather. These preliminaries being ended, I went. to my principal and asked him if he was ready. He spread himself out to his full width, and said in a stern voice, ‘‘ Ready! Let the batteries be charged.” . The loading was done in the presence of duly-constituted witnesses. We considered it best to perform this delicate service with the assistance of the lantern, on account of the state of the weather. We now plaeed our men. At this point the police noticed that the public had massed themselves together on the right and lefs of the field; they therefore begged a delay, while they should put these poor people in a place of safety. The request was granted. The police having ordered the two multitudes to take positions behind the duelists, we were once more ready. The weather growingstill more opaque, it was agreed between myself and the other second that, before giving the fatai signal, we should eac% deliver a loud whoop to enable the combatants to ascertain each other’s whereabouts.

I now returned to my principal, and was distressed to observe that he had lost a good deal of his spirit. I tried my best to hearten him. I said, ¢ Indeed, sir, thinfs are not as bad as they seem. Considering the character of the weapons, the limited number of shots allowed, the génerous: distance, the impenetrable thickness of fog, and the added fact that one of the combatants is one-eyed and the otfher crosseyed and near-sighted, it seems to me that this conflict need not necessarily be fatal. There are chances that both of you my survive. Therefore, cheer up; do not be down-hearted.”’ s

This speech had so good an effect that my princflpa.l immediately stretched forth his hand and said, ‘I am myself again; give me the Weaé)on.” I laid it, all lonely and forlorn, in the center of the vast solitude of kis palm. He gazed at it and shuddered, And still mournfully contemplating -it, he murmured, in a broken voice: . ¢ Alas, it is not death I dread, but mutilation.”’ G

I heartened him once more, and with such success that he presently said, ‘“ Let the tragedy begin. Stand at my back; do not desert me in this solemn hour, my friend.”’ 1 gave him my promise. I now assisted him to point Eis pistol toward the spot where I ‘f'udged his adversary tobe standing, and cautioned him to listen well, and further guide himself by my fellow-second’s whoop. Then I propped myself against M. Gambetta’s back, and raised a rousing ‘ whoop-ee!’’ This was answered from out the far distances of the fog, and I immediately shouted: ~°~ i . One——tWo——three—{ire el Two little sounds like spit! spit! broke'upon my ear, and in the same instant I was crushed to the earth under a mountain of flesh. Buried as I was, I was still able to catch a faint accent from above, to this effect: She i

‘I die for—for—perdition take it, what 73 it I die for P—oh, yes—FRANDE! I die that France may live!” et The surgeons swarmed around with their probes in their hands, and applied their microscopes to the whole area of M. Gambetta's person, with the happy result of finding nothing in the nature of a wound. Then a scene ensuned which was in every way gratifying and in?iriting. ; : he two gladiators fell uport each other’s necks, with floods .of proud and happy tears; the other second embraced me; the surgeons, the orators,

‘the undertakers, the police, evervbody {embraced, everybody congratulated, everybody cried, and the whole atmosiphere was filled with praise and with joy unspeakable. : ; It|seemed to me then that I would ‘rather be the hero of a French duel than a crowned and sceptered monarch. When the commotion had somewhat subsided, the body of surgeons held a consultation, and after a great deal of debate decided that, with proper care and nursing, there was reason to believe that I would - survive my injuries. My internal hurts were deemed the most serious, since it was apparent that a broken rib had penetrated my left lung, and that many of my organs had been pressed out so far to one side or the other of where they belonged that it was doubtful if they would ever learn to perform their functions in such remote and unaccustomed localities. They then set my left arm in two places, pulled my right hip into its socket again, and re-elevated my nose. I was an object of great interest, and even admiration; and many sincere and warm-hearted persons had themselves introduced to me, and said they were proud to know the only man who had -been hurt in a French duel for forty years. L g /

I was placed in an ambulance at the very head of the proeession; and thus with- gratifying eclat I was marched into Paris, the most conspicuous figure in that great spectacle, and deposited at the hospital. y The Cross of the Legion of Honor has been conferred upon me. However, few escape that distinction. ' : Such is the true version of the most memorable private conflict of the age, My recovery is still doubtful, but there are hopes. lam able to dictate, but there is no knowing when I shall be able to write. ; ; - I have no complaints to make against anyone. I actec{) for myself, and I can stand the consequences. Without boasting, I think I may say I am not afraid to stand before a modern French duelist, but I will never consent to stand behind one again.—Mark Twain, in Atlantic Monthly.

- How to Learn a Language. IT is not a new remark that the effort to acquire a modernfolreigntongue by commencing with instructions in grammar is a reversal of the method prescribed by Nature, and results in corresponding disappointment. The whole system of teaching French in schools must be viewed as an expensive and imperfect makeshift. Seldom any practical good comes out of it. From anything we have seen, not one in fifty who are so taught is able to freely converse in French. , As is well known, children will learn to sgeak‘three or four languages as readily as only one. Along with English, they will acquire French, Italian and German, provided they are brought up in familiar communication with in~ diyiduals who speak these languages. At first they will, of course, make a sad jumble, not knowing one tongue from another; but in time they discriminate, and avoid any confusion. ‘This is the true method of learning foreign lar(xiguages; and the fact is evidenced by the growing practice in England of employing French and German nurses. Members of the royal family, for instance, speak German and French indifferently with English, because they have been taught by foreign nurses. The Russians are reputed to be the best linguists in Europe. Many of them are proficient ‘in half a dozen languages. This is chiefly owing to the practice of importing foreign attendants on their chi?dren. According}iy, a Russian lady or gentleman who oes not speak English and French is a rarity. The simplicity with which a young English family may in this manner be instructed in French or German, according to choice, is striking and satisfactory. What toil and cost are spared in future years! How young people would bless their parents for having been played as it were, into speaking and reading with correctness one or two languages beside their own, and be thereby saved the torture of Jaborious and often useless schooling.—Chambers’ Journal. o

: A Rare Geological Specimen. Rev. R. M. LUTHER, while absent in attendance upon the Missionary Convention, held in Addison, Vt., obtained, through the kindness of the Rev. Mr. Nott,’ a rare and curions geological specimen from the shores of Lake Champlain. Itis a slab of limestone, about eleven inches long by six inches wide, which seems to be composed almost entirely of fcssils. There is not half an inch square of the surface which does not show a fossil. There are many varieties, some of which have not been identified, but among those which have been are many remains of the Trinucleus conceniricus, some specimens of Fetraia, fragments of the Orthis, a number of Discine, several wellpreserved specimens of Leplen®, and impressions-of Lingula. The latter is the only shell which has existed from the first dawn of life until the present time without chanﬁe. The specimens of existing Lingula are precisely similar to those found in:the earliest . geological formations. There are also in the slab .several rare specimens of sea~ ;veed(i gemainsi of ;which' :;re. selldom ound at so early an age in the geological fhisw:; of the' v:_gt'ld.' : Tﬁﬁ" slab belongs to the lower Silurian formation, the first in. which organic remains are found. It is probably from the Trenton. Epoch of that age. 1f geologists can be trusted, at the time the little animals, whose remuins are .thus preserved, were livi:%i'the only part of this continent which had appeared above the primeval ocean was a strip of land aiont%“tha present St. Lawrence River and the northern shores of the great lakes; with a pﬁomonm reachmg out toward the Adirondacks, and a few islands along what is now the Atlantic Coast line.—Bennington (Vi.) Butoier; }IE e e :

—Money-lenders should make ﬁood newspaper men—they always have items of interest on hand.—@lasgow Times. ' : ——— —A man must be sick to throw up a gituation. o :

Senator Hill on ** Southern Claifms.” Republican editors and Republica.n orators have been wont to.frighten old women of the male and female persuasion. with horrible predictions of the disaster that will ensue when Democrats come to their own and administer the affairs of the Republic. They are accustomed to charge that, when the Democracy attain to. power, the doors of the Treasury will be thrown wide open for the payment of Southern claims, and to declare that this is the especial mission of the Southern wing of the party whom they characterize as Southern Brigadiers. Now, here is a distinguished member of the party who emphatically denies that this is the policy contemplated, and even goes so far as to say that he is opposed to the payment of any claims, whether preferred by loyal or disloyal men. In a speech before the Senate, a faw days ago, when the Mitchell claim was under cor:lsideration, Senator Hill, of Georgia, said: :

Mr. President, perhaps 1 ought not to take the time of the Senate, but I will give my idea of the character of these war claims, loyal and disloyal, by an illustration from real incidents. I will give you first the character of a claim that will not be paid, and it is a | type of mdny millions. Early in the month of September, 1863, it became necessary for ‘ me in the discharge of a 4 professional engagement to travel 100 miles in the immediatel track of Sherman’s march through Georgia. | One day about two o’clock in the afternoon I | became exceedingly hungry. [ said to the youth whe was driving the horse, ‘*“ You must | stop at the first favorable opportunity and let me get something to eat.” . I shall never forget the expression of the young man. ¢ Ah,” said he, ‘‘ mister, I don’t reckon you will find anything you will consider fit to eat in this part of the country. Sherman has been along - here.” ‘“Well,” I said, ‘“‘but the people in this part of the country live on something, do they not?”? ¢Oh, yes, but I don’t' hardly know how it is they live. They seem to live, though.” ¢ Well,” I said, ‘*‘l can live one day on what they live on constantiy, I am pretty sure, and therefore we will stop at the most favorable chance apparent.” It was not long before we came to a very good-looking frame dwelling, two stories high, a dwelling of a character well krown in the South, containing six roome, well built, and indicating, in former times, a country family well-to-do in the world. The fencing was all gone, the chimneys were standing onthe outside, showing that all the out-houses had been burned, but there stood the main building, and I said to the young man, * Stop here and I will see if I can get something to eat,” and I went in and was met at the door by a very excellentlooking lady, modest, and evidently réfined and educated. She turned out to be a country lady of great hospitality, but with evidence of poverty all around her, and she looked prematurely old. She - said to me when I made known my pur{)ose of stopping, ‘“Why, my dear sir, I would be glad to give you anything that I could. but I have nothing that you will have, I suppose, and nothing that I feel inclined to offer {ou.” ‘“Anything that you have,” I said, ** will suit me, because lam exceedingly hungry.”’” She said: *“I can prepare for you nothing but some potatoesand some eggs, but I have nothing in which to cook the potatoes except the embers. We are in the habit of roasting them in ‘the ashes. Ihave nothing in which to cook theeggs except the ashes or a broken skillet. I have notf a whole piece of furniture or a whole Kitchen implement on the premises. Everything is broken.’”’ She handed me a seat. Said she: 1 have handed you the best seat I ‘have. The back of that is broken, as you | see.” ‘‘ Why is all that?”’ *‘ Why,” she said, i *‘Sherman’s army passed along here and did ‘all this.”” Well, I told her I would take the potatoes and eggs, and she put them in the ashes accordingly, and while they were roasting I said to her: ‘“ Will you please give me an account of your past experience and trials when Sherman’s army passed here?’’ She said she would. I cannot give it all to the Senate, but certainly it was one of the most interesting narratives I ever listened to in my life. The lady was one who had married: about eight years before the war. She was well raised and graduated at a female college in Georgia. She and her husband settled in that place and built that house. They had avout ' one thousand acres of land, thirty slaves, and all they needed personally, and were entirely out of debt and perfectly happy. They had three children born to them, the oldest one at the time of my visit being only twelve yearsold. S : )

Mr. Beck—Mr. President, I desire to ask whether Warren Mitchell got any of that woman’s eggs and potatoes or not. We are trying his case now, not her. : Mr. Hill—l will come to Warren Mitchell’s case. I will show you how it applies to Warren Mitchell’s case, but I shall do it in my own way. It turned out that her husband went into the Confederate Army and lost his life in one of the battles in Virginia. His remains were brought home and were buried in sight of where we were sitting. About a year after her husband was in Virginia, in the Confederate Army, Sherman’s army passed through Georgia all herslaves: except one, her cook, called Aunt Millie, left. - This Aunt Millie was raised with this lady and had nursed her in her intfancy, and was given to her by her father, and she said she would never leave her under any circumstances, and sheremained with her. But, to make a long 'story short, everything they bad was taken. All the stock, all the provisiong, were taken away. Everything that could not be carried away was killed or broken or burned, except one cow, two banks of potatoes, and a small crib of corn. The cow was saved by Aunt Millie claiming her as her own, which she did for the purpose of having it. The corn-crib was saved in tkis way: Thelady sat in the house with her three children and saw evergthing being burned. Seeing the torch about to beapplied to the last corn-crib she summoned courage and went out with her babe in her arms and her own little children by her side and said to the officer who seemed to have charge of the sport, *Sir, have you a family at home?”’ The officer said he had a wife and two children. ‘What would you think,”’ said she, ‘‘if a Southern army should pass through your country and take the last mouthful of bread your wife and children had?”’ The officer was a man. He lifted his hat most gallantly, and then said to his squad, ¢ Don’t fire that crib,” and said to the squad in the garden, ‘‘Don’t disturb further those potatoes,”’ and that is the way the lady saved the crib of corn and banks of potatoes. 1n the meantime the S(}uad had gone into the house, pulled down all the pictures, defaced the walls, broke all the furniture, broke everything she had . in the shape of kitchen utensils, and carried off all her silverware and cutiery. The last she saw they were pulling the covering off the grave of her husband, and, suxt)!postng they were going to take his body - off, she fainted away, but Aunt Millie stopped them by telling them for God’s sake not to make war on the dead, and they left. ‘T‘l)xls is a literal fact. This woman had raised a patch of one acre of potatoes and one small field of corn, working with her ‘own hands and aided by this good woman, Aunt Millie and her three = 'little ' children, and they had lived on that scant allowance from: the time Sherman’s army passed by until I met her. Now, that woman will never come here to have her losses repaired. She 'will never ¢ome here with a c.tllaim .bAel?lre. Congire;nﬁ:nd ask for compensation, now I will f‘tve ~you ‘another claim. A'}ew weeks after I took my seat as:a member of the other house, in the Fongfounh- Congress I, received a card one day by a messenger, who said that alady desired to see me in the Speaker’s reception ‘room. I went in. She was exmﬁfax&vmﬁ dressed. She had velvet, and ' dlamonds, and laces all over her, and the .first speech she made to me was to express the great gratification of aﬂ‘:G&th‘ that T hw ected to Congress. ,Fﬁormaow.?‘ she -said, ‘“all Georgians will ge r rights.” Bhe soon made known the Qﬁ%ﬂ“ﬁ pf.gima for in ‘the next sentence she said she hs to aim betopde (l,‘lo;ngnross ;rhjehlzh’adaltbd?:q , ’“W:{: and she knew I would Bsupport it because sh was Georg ads, born P aiacd n Geor gia. and she knew'] wonld support her claim, " WOH‘:'MM It you Wﬁ’f ~born and raised G%: nd had losses in Georgia, why are you here in the condition I see you?"

“Ob,” she said, ‘‘when Sherman’s arm passed through Georgia '_th'%- aeﬁ‘rpyed-‘xﬁgf" property, but,” she added, ** I married one of the Federal officers. [laughter] and came North.”. . S iR : Mr. Hoar—SBhe took her revenge in that way. [Laughter.] ; e e Mr. Hill—Yes, sirj she married a Federal officer. The first woman mentioned 108 t her husband in the Confederate Army, and, therefore, is disloyal. The second woman married - an officer in the Union Army, and, therefore, is loyal. Well, her 'statement was true because she Yroduced 2 very complimentary and flattering letter from Gen. gSherman,’ Evidently the letter was/genuine and not dictated by a woman, but I will say, in justice to Gen. Sherman, that lam satisfied he gave that letter more on:account of the woman’s husband, who was a Federal officer, than on account of her claims. I assume and: believe he. did. ‘* But,”” I asked this lady, *¢ whatis your claim for?? Saidshe: ‘‘Why, for personal property destroyed by Shérman’s army.” ‘‘How much is gour claim for?? ‘“Eight bundred - thousand dollars,” she said, whereupon I be- - came bewildered.. - *|Eight hundred thousand dollars of personal property of one person deetroyed by ther war?” *‘Yes,” ghe said, ‘it was weil proved by the very officers and men: who destroyed it—who set fire to it.”” and she * named quite a number of Republicans, in the' House, who, she said, had promised to vete - for her bill, but they had told her that it was very important for her "to get a Democrat, and, best of all, a Southern Democrat, to introduce it. Therefore she came to me, as a Demoerat, and a Southern Democrat, from her | own State—her dear Georgia—to introduce her bill. 'She said the Republicans assured. her that if she would get: a little reinforcement from the South and from. the Democratic party her bill would certainly become a law. I said to the lady: ‘‘lt will be very difficult to make me believe that the whole country ever at ome time " had eight bundred thousand dollars’ - worth of -personal ‘property.’”’ ~‘ But,” ‘she said, it is all proved. Itis all richt, and the Republicans are ready to vote for it.”” Ido not say they were. I can only tell you what the woman said, and as she is loyal, you ought to aceept her as a good witness. ' [Laughter.] Seeing that her entreaties could do no good, she finally said to me that I had to vote for her bill; that she had a great many frienas among the newspaper men, and she sometimes wrote for the n,ewsp'abers herself, and, looking at me with the air of command and-of one haying authority, .she ‘said: ‘*Mr. Hill, if you - don’t vote for my bill you will n‘eve;'dgo to the Senate.” Thereupon I made the lady a.bow, - ~gave her a flat -refusal to have anything to do with her or her bill, and left. These are speci‘mens of the character of what 'you call Southern claims. This first claim wiil never come ° here. The second, and cases like it, will always he here, and‘l saw -this claim of $BOO,000 for the woman who became loyal by marriage, and for whom. the Republicans were ready to vote—l saw the same claiin paraded through the Northern press:in the campaign of 1876, as evidence that, if the Southern Democrats ever did get here in power, and the ‘Democratic party had the majority they would take everything there was in the Treasury. Now, rshould ‘I vote to tax that.woman who fed me on the eggs and gotatoea to =paﬂ this woman in velvet, laces and diamonds? A over the South there are hundreds and thousands' of people, limping, weak, poor, impoverished by the war,’ laboring as best they can for a bare sustenance, asking €ongress for nothing, not looking to the Goverment for compensation for their losses, and here and there is some man who has lost something, - who has lost some property or failed to ma‘.}xe what he hoped for in some speculative venture,.coming here and askin%‘angre’ss to pay. his losses, and that- we shall tax these - poor people to pay his losses. ' Ifor one shall not do it.” I am against these billg, therefore, | upon principle. Ido not need any Constitutional Amendment to make me. against them. There wiil<be a great many hard cases. I consider that war is nothing but an ordeal of hard cases. I do not know anything produced by war except hard cases. . You cannot repairall those hard cases.. Mr. Mitchell has a- hard case, but his case is not harder than ' thousands of others who lost like property or other property, and who were just as loyal as he was. You cannot re%ai'r these losses. Let it go forth, therefore, that we take the position distinctly and emphatically ‘that this ‘talk of paying Southern war claims must end. Teach it to our people, and teach it to all the people, and let all this political excitement on the- - end. M& President, I am the humblest man in:the Democratic party. That . part{) after eighteen years of absence I trust and believe is about to return full-fledged topower. I think it will have possession of ev‘ery department of this: Government. 1t certainly will have if we convince the people North and South that we deserve to have it, for evidently the people are well satisfied that the Republican party does not deserve to be continued in power, and the only question with the peopleis whether the Democratic party does deserve to beintrusted with power. If T had control of the party—as I bavel not and never shall—if my voice were worth anything, there sare four things I would have the Demoeratic - party to proclaim to' the world in most”convincing ‘terms and adhereto with unflinching fidelity. I would have' the. party.-to say: 6 : - g 1. We will not pay war losses, loyal or disloyal, unless we make a few exceptions of religious, -educational and - charitable institutions, and very few of these. = . =~ 2. We will vote no more of the public credit and no more of the public lands to build up or enrich ‘mammoth monopolies in the shape of railroad corporations. e e : 3. We will, in good faith, pay eyery dollar of the public debt, principa.’l and interest, in good mouey of the standard value. .~ 4, We will restore the Constitution to the country, and honesty and economy-to its administration, confining: the General Government to its limited ‘delegated sovereign power to promote the- general welfare, and leaving the States unmolested 'in the exercise of their reserved sovereign:powers, to promote the local welfare of the people. - Do these four things, and, in my judgment, the child is not born who will witness the ter- - mination of Democratie administration in this ‘country, and the tongue has not been gifted with language that ean express the prosperity which will follow to all our people in every section of our country. A cHlo gl

. —The London correspondent of the N. Y. Tribuue relates the following anecdote of the late Bayard Taylor: “On the night of the Ist of May he went to Marshal MacMahon’s official reception: at the Elysee, in Paris. . He found himself on arrival absolutely alone. The official arrangements were so meager that ‘mot so much as an usher was there to-announce him. With Marshal MacMahon Mr. Taylor had no acquaintance. In . such circumstances most men would have gone away, or have mingled 3uietly with the crowd. Mr. Taylor made his way to the Marshal, introduced himself by his name and title, paid his due compliment, and -asked leave to present his wife and daughter. The Marshal, whatever his political sins, is- %ick, to recogrmze manly frankness. e%eeteer aylor cordially, carried off the party and presented them to the Duchess, who in turn received them with marked civililtly; 1 thou%ht;‘_said- ‘Mr. Taylor, in deseribing the “incident to me, ‘that I had no choice. It was known that I was in Paris, and had beén asked" to this ceremony. If I had’gone away . without making myself known, my supposed absence would have been set down as a gieoe.of rudeness or ecare- - lessl?eis, an If v‘;la&s*‘;i:tgrming ‘that'no such charge sho' e brought against ; ?i l’d’i,nister, of the: Ameﬁ_‘:gnu:kopubs —*You ought to hushand your coal more,” said the charity woman. "*‘l ‘always does. 1 make him sift the ashes —When a man has. wmﬁﬁm own, his wife generally gives him & pieceof hers. . . e :