VOL. 2. SCIO, OREGON, AUGVST 23, 1890. CHAPTER VIII. (COPYRIGHT. 1890. BY BACHELLER & CO.] . McKee proved to be a man of unusual intelligencei Acting under his advice and guidance; I succeeded in surround ing and surprising the Partisan Rang- ^ers. We swept into their camp without 'encountering any piclrets, and the men, many of them old friends and acquaint ances, surrendered without firing à shot. Among the prisoners was a sergeant named Burns, from Lexington; indeed, he was in command, and him I ques tioned at once as to the whereabouts of Frank Brent at the time John Harding was murdered. Burns corroborated the condemned mail’s story/ and this before I told him of my reasons for making the inquiry. I noticed that McKee did not ad vance with us. On the Confederate camp, but paid no heed to it at'the time. While I was talking to Burns, I heard shouts followed by the rattle of car bines, and, springing to my feet, I saw the rim of the valley swarming with gray-coated horsemen. With my field-glass I quickly swept the surrounding hills, ahd I saw Mc Kee with the oncoming troops. Feeling that I had been tricked and betrayed. I determined to get out of it as best I could. With the instinct that domes of experience with such situations, my men flung themselves into their saddles ànd waited for me to move. It was a brigade and not a’regiment that surrounded me, shouting: “Sur render! surrender! you damned Yankee Sons of guns!” thé Confederates swept down like an avalanche. I knew, that our escape depended on oùr horses rather than on thé weakness of any part of the oncoming line, so I spurred to the front; shouted: “Chargé!” and faced the dépréssion, through which a dreek flowed out of thé valley. Quicker*than I can record the act, the Confederates in our front reined in and flung themselves from the saddle, and the next instant Wharton’s Texas Rangers opened on us with carbine, Colt and shotgun, and riderless horses went snorting and plunging past me. Brayer: men never sat a saddle than these same Texans, but in a score of fights with them since Shiloh’s bloody field, I had never known them to stand the saber, and my men handled the saber as a vacquero handles a whip; The fright of surprise was over. I cast a quick glance back at my gallant followers, and I felt; my soul leaping to my eyes as I caught the gleam of up raised‘swords and saw the glorified bat tle light on their faces. “Hurrah!” We struck them, and they broke from the front, and scattered to the right and left. A few seconds of flashing swords and crashing small arms. A few -seconds of unutterable joy—the fierce, barbarous joy never felt outside of a charge. A blue wave crested with steel swept past me. A sudden wonder why I was not borne on by its force,'and then,-, with a human groan, my horse fell and I was 1 gave the old man a pass, ordered a I trooper to see him through our picket I had just eaten Slipper and was en i line, and, after he had gone, I wrote out joying a smoke-with my only-lieutenant, all I had heard about Frank Brent and Walter Arnold;, when a mounted troop had Lieutenant Arnold sign it with me. er rode iip to' the fire, a cocked pistol in To make sure of getting the informa- his right hand and a gaunt old man,’ - tion through to Camp Dick Robinson I with leathery cheeks and butternut . decided to entrust the letter to McKee ! and to send him back as soon as I felt clothes, marching before him. “Came into our lines, sir,” said the sure of my ground. trooper, saluting with the hand that CHAPTER VIL held the pistol, “and says he wants to The knowledge that the enemy was see the officer in command.” This man was a fair type of hundreds ■ all about us kept Arnold and myself of Union refugees I had seen in the early with thé pickets all night. As a matter part of the war. He was as straight as 1 >f precaution we extinguished the camp an Indian and there was much of the , lires, and threw up a breastwork about ! aborigine in his complexion and im the inclosure where the horses and vvagon mules;were feeding. It was half passive bearing. Thé soldier turned and rode away, past three in the morning, and I was , and before I could fram© a question to with the pickets tp the southwest of the put^to the prisoner^ he. advanced boldly | camp, when, from the direction of to the fire, and in the peculiar accent of Knoxville, I heard the beat of hoofs, the mountain men in that region he coming on at a walk, and the unmistak able clatter of chains and scabbards. said: Soon the black forms of horsemen, like “Hit’s a fine ev’nin’, Kernil.” spectral silhouettes, come to light “It might be worse,” J replied. With inimitable coolness, the old against the stars. If these were Con man took a bite from a plug of tobacco, federates, I reasoned that they either had then, sitting down on his haunches be the boldness of great strength or else they were not aware of their proximity to a side me, he asked: Union force. When the foremost horse- , , “Be you the head one har?” . man came within hail, I shouted: “I am.”' “Halt! who goes there?” “Hear from Kain tuck?” In the unmistakable accent of the “Yes.” “A gwine on ter help weuns’ • an Cumberland mountains, the answer -* - : ‘ , Meester Burnside down Knoxville way?” came: ‘ ‘Mebbe friends and mebbe foes. Who “Yes.” ■ > “Wa’al, he needs all the help he kin the blazes are you?” “Dismount and advance—one at a git.” time,” I commanded, as the dark horse “I suppose so.” men appeared to rise from the ground “Ya-as, indeëdÿ. But I say, Kernil.” • “What-.isW?” I asked, my amazement all about me. As the strangers did not show a dis- • at the old man’s coolness and loquacity position to comply, I was about to give increasing every moment.'. .. “Thar’s right smart deenger ’tween the order to fire, when a voice, that had a familiar ring in it, palled out: har an’ Knoxville.” “Hello, that; is that Harry Watts?” : “That isn't news,” I said. “That’s my namo,” I replied. “Who “I reckon not, but hit’s a heap sight wuss’n you’uns think fob. W’y, thar’s are-you?” “Wolford’s Fust Kaintuck. A fightiny Chenowith’s men, an’ Wheeler’s men, an* Brent’s Partisan Bangers jist a foh the Guv’ment, by gosh!” came the thrilling reply. swammin’ har ’bouts.” “Is that you, Ford?” Feeling that it was my place to do the “ ’Tain’t no one else.” questioning, I checked him and asked: “And Wolford?” “Did you say Brent’s Partisan “He’ll be up shortly with the reg’- Rangers are near here?” ‘ “Ya-as, Kernil. been har nigh onter ment. Thunder! we’re out huntin’ goin’two months,” ho said, promptly, Brent’s damn .partisans, and thought adding, after he had sent a stream of we’d jumped ’em.” The speaker ’ threw himself from his saliva into the fire: “An* a or-ni-ar-ier horse, and running up I found myselt lot o’ hounds I ain’t never seed.” in the arms of my gallant friend, Cap “Is Captain Brent with them?” tain Ford, of the famous First Ken- “No, he left.” tucky Cavalry, or “calvary,” as half the “Did you ever see him?” men called themselves. “Be’t your life I did.” Before daylight the whole regiment “When did you see him last?” . Before answering this, question the was up, but instead of advancing on one line, they swarmed in from every point old man shut one eye, cocked the other of the compass. contemplatively up at the sky, and be Colonel Wolford was at this time in gan stroking the gray tuft of hair on his command of the brigade to which my chin with both hands. At length he regiment was attached. So as soon as said: “I remember hit was nigh onter he • appeared I reported formally and ’bout the middle o’ last months Hé was turned over my command with a great ove¿ near my place when he started off sf>nse of relief. aloné foh Kafrituck/ I’ve heard his Then and till this hour Frank Wol to .the earth, while the remnant men say ez how hit was allqóz o< a wom ford has been my beau ideal of a scout ! pinned of my gallant boys dashed. beyond the an, for sich l sez moah fool be. But I and leader of irregular horse, and if wish they’4 all dared out ’bout the same therè evèr was à brayer, more ubiquit reach of the foe. “By Heavens! that was fine, and I’m time.” ous or more irregular body of cavalry almost sorry you didn’t make it!” This pertainly confirmed Frafik in the world than that same splendid , With the feeling of a man rudely Brent’s story. Concealing the pleasure First Kentucky, history has failed to ■ aroused from sleep I looked up and saw thé old man’s words gave me, I deter mention it. a long-haired, black-bearded man bend mined to take him in hand seriously. Although a typical Kentucky mount; ing oyer me, while a half dozen men in “What is your name?” I asked. aineef, Frank Wolford always‘impressed faded gray uniforms were rolling off the “George McKee.” he answered, me as a fine typo of the Puritan torse dead horse that held me to the earth. promptly. The man who had spoken helped-me man—a rough rider of Cromwell’s era, “On which side do you stand?” living two centuries after his time. In to my feet, and then, with a feeling of “On the side o’ the Guv’ment an’ Aist the prime of life, of medium height, awful humiliation, I. slipped the knot Tennessee.’’ strong as a bull, tireless as the wind, from my wrist and let my sword fall to “Been iñ tjje army?” stubborn and set in all his opinions, the ground, and I wondered why some “Ya-as, kinder off an’ on like; but I with the eye of a hawk and the fearless of the men crowding about me did not can’t go too far away from the ole wom ness of a tiger, he was just the man to pick the blade up; but it remained un an; howsomdever I got two boys a fight .lead that .wonderful band of .horsemen, touched while I was there. in* foh the Guv’ment. Did have three, lie was one of them : he dressed and ate’ “Wa’al, Cap h Watts, you did yer level but one got shot down Shiloh way ’long .as: they did. He called his officers and best, but yer played a losing game,” said with Meester Neelson.” by their Christian naines, and even the long-nairea man, as ne led me to a “What commands are yOur sons with?” . . men the buglers addressed him as “Prank.” rock and forced me to sit down. “One’s in the Second Aist Tennes I never heard a man whose oaths “How do you know my name?” I see Cavalry, but uster be Kee-ahtah’s sounded less like profanity. He walked asked. critter regiment foah he got to be gin’ral, with a limp, the result or a wound, and , . “Wai’al, that’s tellin’; but we came an’ the, other—'that’s Mike, he’s ’long it was said that, his men, from love and over har to gobble you; sorry the crowd sympathy, limped also. didn’t stick, by you, but that’s just like In addition to his own regiment, sojers, ’ said the. long-haired man,with a Colonel Wolford had with him four low laugh. squadrons of the Eleventh Kentucky, “Who are yon?” I demanded. and he said that Major Brown was hear “Only Jones; jist Cap’n Jones, of the by with three hundred of the Seventh Eighth Texas,” said the Confederate. Pennsylvania;, “And you will parole me?” The man shook his head till the long During breakfast I, told him about black hair seemed to stand on end, then Frank Brent, and he replied: “I reckon that fellow ain’t lying this he said, slowly and solemnly: “We can’t do it; that ain’t any more time. But the other side have hung lots of better Union men; why should parolin’ or exchangin’, more’s the .pity for us. You’ve got to go through and you bother?” I frankly told him the secret of my board at our hotel a bit.” “Libby?” interest and repeated the promise I had “Yes.” made General Boyle and the condemned “Well,” 1 said,with an effort at laugh man’s sister. “I’il help you,” said the Colonel, “but ter, “I’ll find lots of good men there.” “So you will, Cap’n; but would you yo#ll allow it’s a bit strange to see one Of our people fretting himself to save let me ax you a few questions?” “Go on,” 1 replied. such a fellow.',f “You wear new boots?” THE INTERVIEW WITH MCKEE. While we Xvefe talking, McKee came “Yes.” into cahïp, seemingly much excited. I with Martin’s Battery B. Aist Tenn’see,, “W’hat size?” introduced him to Colonel Wolford, fightin’ foh the Gov’mept,” and the old and without waiting to' be questioned, “Eights, but a size too large,” I said. man Cinphasized this declaration’ by an he said: “That’s a most providential coinci other bombardment of the fire. “Thar’s a camp of the Partisan Rang dence,” said Captain Jones, of the f questioned him at length, and be ers with ’bout twenty men in hit, back Eighth Texas. “I wear that size my came satisfied that he was a good Union’ in the hills not more’n a hour’s ride self.” man and that hi'S’-object, in seeking me off.”, . “Indeed?” out was to guide ifae through to Knox “Yes, indeedy; and ye’d better git up The Colonel questioned the old man, ville by a route that would free me from and all his answers were clear and afore Wharton comes along, for he’s the swarms of Confederate horsemen prompt. nigh barefoot, and that’s his size, then in that part of the State. “Watts, you’re more interested in . too. Now, old feller, I’m not gwin’ to After a visit of two hours, McKee rose those infernal Partisans than I am; how rob you of your boots, but I’m ’bliged to and said: wou ’.d you like to go over and gobble have ’em, and I’ll pay you thar full price. “I’ll be back long afoah sun up, an’ ’em?” asked the Colonel'. Let me boot jack you.” I’ll be ready to pilot you plum down to Before I could ask for an explanation “Nothing could suit me better,” I re the Holston, but ez hit ain’t wise to have plied; adding: “that isy if McKee will Captain J ones backed up, seized my feet fellers hold carbines to yer head while guide me.” alternately between his thighs1, and you explain, I’d be obleeged if you’d McKee promptly consented, and jerked off my boots, and with equal ra* give me a writin’ that ’ll make me free within twenty minutes I was riding for pidity he threw off his own worn foot- j to come an’ go, az if I was one o’ the hills at the head of forty of my own you’uns. ” __ ■: , __ ■ gear and assumed mi no. ‘‘ You. kinder think I’m goin’ through yoii bad,” said Jones, looking down at his feet with' Ah expression of gréai sat isfaction. .... “You are playing the pari of robber without any risk,” I said.’ “Séo har, Captain Waiis> I ain’t ho' damn thief. 1 need these and other things, so I took ’em. . If I didn’t every infernal home-guard from here to Rich mond would go through you. Tell, me thé price of your boots, pants ana over coat, as well as any greenbacks you’ve -got about you, and I’ll make a clean swap for Confed, greenbacks.” 1 subsequently learned that Jones was thé champion poker-player of Wheeler’s Cavalry Corps, and this accounted for the large amount of money hé had stuck in his pockets, and even in the lining of his clothes. He pulled out great wads of bills and said: “Pay yourself, ole feller » and don’t be too d—d bashful, but then you’re a Yank and thar ain’t no use giving you any advice. It’s too bad that mar’ got plunked; she was a beauty;” Ho com pressed his lips and nodded at my dead thoroughbred; Without counting the money, I took a bunch of the gray and blue backs Jones, handed me, and said contemptu ously: “I may find this stuff useful, Captain, bût it'isn’t very pretty.” ; “Wa’al,” shouted Jones, as he stuck the remainder of the wad into his breast pocket. “I’ll allow the money ain’t purty, bub the man that despises it is a fool. Let me give you a bit of advice, * my son, for you’re goin’ to be with us some time. Paper is mighty valuable in thé Confederacy, and when ever you come acrost a piece that’s got the pectur of a locomotive or a woman onto it—them’s two of the d—st fastest things in crea tion, freeze onto it—that’s money.” I subsequently found the Captain was right in all his representations.. CHAPTER IX. During this talk with Jones» his men had removed the- equipments.‘from my horse, and some of them, were search ing. my saddle-bags, in .which was thé evidenced had.so. far obtained in favor of Frank Brent. I Was about to tell the Confederate Captain the, condemned man’s story, when a tall, slender man, with the stars ! of a Major-General oh his gray collar, ! strode into the group .surrounding me. The reddish hair and beard, the high, thin aiid much-freckled, nose, and above all, the keen, steély-gray eyes, told me that the newcomer was no ordinary person. “General Wharton, this is Captain Watt,” said Jones, by way of introduc tion.- The leader of the Texan Rangers bowed'stiffly, and I acknowledged the sal utation in the same way. He. was about to question me when his keen eyes fell on the papers the man had taken from my saddle-bags, and in an instant they were in his hands. I could see from the expression of Wharton’s face that he was becoming excited as he read. Suddenly he strode up and said, fiercely: • “I see Captain Brent is a prisoner and condemned to death by your people!” I tried to explain the unfortunate man’s situation and my connection with .it; but Wharton would not hear me out. He ground his heels into the earth, and hissed: “By G----- , sir, hanging is a game two can play at! Burnside hung two of our people up there in Kentucky, and two Yankee Captains are now awaiting death in Libby Prison. I’ll take, this thing in charge mysëlf, and I’ll see to it that your neck is stretched if they execute Captain Brent.” Burning with indignation at this treatment, I tried to explain what I'had done to save Frank Brent, but, with an insulting sneer, the Texan turned and left me. “It’s a bit tough, I’ll allow,” said Jones, “büt war’s war, and the man that expects to find any kid-glove etiquette or ball-room manners in the field is bound to be badly disappointed.” With this bit of philosophy, Captain Jones left me, but not till another of ficer, who told me he was “acting division provost marshal,” appeared. The provost marshal took. my name, rank and regiment, and then asked for thejUnited States’ property in my pos session wnen 1 was captured. 1 pointed to the dead horse, to the sword and belt lying on the ground, and said: “Captain Jones thoughtfully took charge of all my personal property, and left me his boots and hat as an evidence of his affection.” I had put on Jones’ dilapidated foot gear in the meantime, and was ready® for any disposition they chose to make of me. “We are moving rapidly,” explained the provost marshal, “and you’ll find it mighty hard keeping up on foot. Now, if you’ll give me your parole not to at tempt to escape while you’re in my charge, I’ll mount you and let you stay back with the wagons. What do yoii say?” I said ^‘yes,-” signed the parole and was at once led over the hill to where a dozen or more army wagons were NO. 1J. . Straight for the purpleline of molin.- tains looming up through thb^^^g the east we marched. Now ahK then * when theroad wound' over.« hili, could see the dark figures of sWarming horsemen, and it needed no field glass' to assure me that they were my own people? Here and there silvery puffs of smoke indicated skirmishing and told how close the opposing lines were at points, While during the day and at irregular intervals, the deep booming of guns- came up from the direction of Knox ville. . As night came on the rain poured down in torrents, no unusual experience with me, but aS I had no overcoat and was de? pressed by what I felt to be the' humili ation pf my situation, I suffered from the cold and discomfort as never before. It was an hour after dark before we went into camp and another.hour before fires were lit, The old sergeant who acted as my guard was an Irishman, and had been in the regular army in Texas when the war broke out. I had talked with Phelin during the day and was not a little- surprised to find him afi out and out Confederate, with un bounded faith in the outcome of the cause with which he was associated and the profoundost Contempt for the Yan kee« But Phelin, like many of his com patriots “to the manor born, ” ' had a Warm heart under a rough exterior. Soon after the fires were started, he brought me some corn bread and bacon and then found me a place bi shelter from the rain in one of the wagons, in which he proposed to Spend the night himself. “If we only had a little money be tween us,” explained Fhelin, as he threw himself on a pile of corn sacks beside me. “I know where I could get something that’d keep ou t the cold bet ter nor a overcoat,” “ What is it?” I asked. ‘-‘Whisky,” he whispered. MOne of the teamsters has a two gallon jug that he shtole last night from a gin’ral offi cer, an’ he’ll sell a quart chape.” “How cheap?” , “It’s worth its weight in Solid goold & night like this, but he’s only axin’twin? ty dollars the bottle,’’ replied Phelin. 1 drew a one hundred dollar bill from the wad obtained from Captain Jones And told the sergeant to buy the whis ky and keep the balaftee, an arrange? ,ment that gave him an immediate „re spect for at least one Yankee. Although a Kentuckian, I cared noth-’ ing for whisky, had never wet my lips ■with it before the War, t nor' t'aSted it a; ¡dozen times since, but I swear it did, mb good that night, and it might have had the same effect on Phelin had he not felt that it was his.duty to drink while, there was a drop left, and then lo go off howling like a maniac through the camp* till the provost marshal bucked and gagged him and left him to' cool off in the rain. I never saw the sergeant again. y I was sleeping soundly about; an hour be? ¡fore day when a hoarse^.voice shouted into the wagon: “Turn out thar! the priz’ners is goin’ to be sent ahead!” Feeling stiff and sore from the cold and the fall of the day before, I crept out and was led over to a fire about ¡which were standing forty or fifty men in blue uniforms and one officer—Cap tain Dawson, who had been in command of a band of Union men recruited in the adjacent mountains of North Carolina;- These men had been captured in the skirmishing of the day before, and as they were without blankets or ove'fcoati1 they suffered intensely from the cold. A company of infantry, of the home guard stripe, was detailed' to take the prisoners on to Bristol, at which point, it was said, we should, find cars to trans port the officers to Libby and the en listed men to Belle Isle. I have often wanted to forget the hardships of that match and our painful journey to Richmond, but it is burned into my memory. On the way I tried to comfort myself with the hope that Wharton had forgotten his threat or that it would be lost sight of in the many transfers from guard to guard; but I was doomed to disappointment— destined to be held as a hostage for the man whose life I had been so eager to save. CHAPTER X. We were placed aboard the cars one cold morning' at Bristol, and shortly after dark that night we were in Rich mond. At Danville we were joined by several hundred prisoners, who had been gathered there, all as cold, hungry and “fighting - mad” as our selves* Off the way to Richmond the Union officers were not allowed to communi cate* with the men, and, on reaching there < the enlisted soldiers were marched ever to Belle Isle, and the rest Of us were sent to Libby. It was after dark when we began the walk to the prison, with a corn pac t body of guards surrounding us, under the command of a lank, ch illy-looking Lieutenant. A freezing rain beat into our faces from the northeast, and the rays from the swaying gas-lamps cut through the darkness like shears of flaming lances. “Carey street, and that’s Castle Thunder,” said one of the guards, in reply to a prisoner in my front. There was a canal visible to the right, and beyond that a few yards the black, swollen flood of the James. Castle Thunder, the place of confinement for political prisoners, spies and deserters, loomed up, a dull, brick warehouse to the left. There was a close line of guards about it, and, through the dimly-lit windows of the gloomy structure, I could see dark, moving forms, and the lamp shining full at the corner revealed in the second-story, southeastern window a number of hag gard, gray faces; “That’s Libby down below to the right,” said the same guard in response to the same questioner.' I looked ahead, and ter the right, a short distance below Castle Thunder, I “ i ’ ll see that yqvb neck is stretched .” saw a circle of lamps that flashed on drawn up on the road. Here I was given the icy bayonets of moving guafds. a horse that had been ridden by one of . Out of the misty bleakness there loomed my men that morning, and soon after a huge, square building, and many dim lights came with a cold phosphorescent the wagops started off in a hurry. I glow from its Windows to the west and north. A few minutes and wé came to a stop. “Halt! who comes there?” demanded 1^0 guard posted at the north-wést cor- ? provost guard with prisoners;” replied ^.Lieutenant in command. I looked iip a little sign At the cornerof the bùi^i^g On the legend . Libby & 80»^. Tobacco’ Facto ry.'” This sign creaky above A side door that led into the p.ris^i. offióé aìid through it we were marched;- before a desk like that presided ovèi .<v the sergeants in night charge of police stations, . . The floor was wet and the lights dim. À little man, whom I afterwards learned to know as “Ross” ran out from t the group of men standing near the désk, and called out excitedly: . “Cóme, now, gentlemen, no crowding. Please to register decently and in order; and préparé tó have your baggage ex amined.” ¡, “Baggage!” roared ah officer in my front.' “Well, .that’s- Cool. Why, I haven’t had my baggage since two min utes after I fell into your hands.’ At least;, once an hour since. then some guard has gone through me,- And except that six changed boots seven times and hats fifteen, they’ve all been disap- I pointed.” ■ . u. < ” / A tall, black-bearded, piratical-look* ing fellow,, wearing the chevrons of a sergeant, leaped into the line of prison ers and shouted/ with a coarse oath: “Ordèr here! Get in line’!' Corné on One at a time or thar’ll be trouble.” “Yes, gents, one at a time and deceht- ly and in order,” called out little Ross, not at all' a bad fellow? as every old resi* dent of Libby will confess. Major Turner sat down and prepared to write. He was about thirty-five years of age, dressed in a fide feray nnifoiim, which like its' wearerj had never Seen service.in the field. He was of medium height, slender; smooth-faced and with light gray eyes,' and a:certain something in 6is manner that denoted a culture, even refinement. ■Turner must- have had the record ol every Union officer present, yet he went qVer all agÀin? and while hé Asked the noxv véfy familiar questions.as to State, regiment and rank/ Ross and Sergeant Türné-r—“Black George”the men in pris on Called' him; went through all -our’ pockets' and very few . bundles-. The thoroughness With which this work had been accomplished was shown by the fact that on the whole twenty prisoners present’ dot ode contraband article was found?. As. the men were examined they passed up a rough wooden stairway to the see? ond story, froin which came an- uproar which I could not comprehend till I had taken" thé Same way. I can not think ft was design; but certain it is I was the last man exam ined. After I had' been searched and answered th® usual question's; ifajor Turner read over two sheets of letter paper—they had evidently accompanied the report of the; officer' who had turned oVer the prisoners, and referred to hie, for still holding them ill his slender, white hands, he asked: “Ain’t you a Kentuckian?”: “I am,”-I.replied; “You know one Captain Frank 'Breiif of the Partisan Rangers?” “Ido.” . ’ ' “And. you know that he is now a pris oner in the hands of your people?” “I know all that.” , “And that he is cohdehnied io death?’’ “Yes.” “You should know the latter, for you are. responsible for it. I have a full ac count, of your connection with that case here. To-morrow I shall Cail the at tention of General Winder and the Government to:. it. , You may as well know now, sir, that if a hair of Captain Brent’s head is injured, you’ll die like a dog. That's all; Ross/ send this man up.” The closing sentence of Turner’s speech was addressed to the little man, who at once took me in tow and led me up the rqugli, white-washed stairs, whither all the other prisoners had pre ceded me; to the accompaniment of ever- increasing shouts, .yells and stamping from above.' To bo Continued; The following lines were found, written on a shingle, near a new building, in Rosendale, June, 1848. The writer, Oscar L. Beach/ died soon after of consumption, at Osh kosh, Wisconsin: On Carman’s hill, how calm and. sweet The Sabbath sunshine seems to glow, And shed Its radiance soft and deep Upon tlie waving fields below. How bright the beams on yonder grove., Rocked gently by the winning gale ; Heaven .well pleased, looks from above And sweetly smiles on Rosendale. A Sabbath quiet seems to reign, [prayer. Hushed is the hymn and bushed the The shadow lengt hens on the plain And sweeter sounds dwell on thè air. Other Sabbath suns may set And fling their gold along thè vale, But not for me. with deep regret; Facewell ! Farewell, sweet Rosendale. Wm. Hunter, aged 22 years, was drowned near the Columbia Slough cemetery on the 10th. He went in swimming with his underclothes on, and it is supposed his drawers slipped down, entangling his feet so that he could not use them. President Cel man, of t he Argen tine Republic, presented his resigns tion to a joint meeting of the Cham? bers on the 5th.