The Emporia weekly news. [volume] (Emporia, Kan.) 1881-1889, 1888-02-02

our frequent CronSitS over this road; but,
in addition, the fact that Andrews was to
die was published, and he was tainted
frequently with references to his approach
ing doom. These he bore with his usual
calm, sad patience.
An instance in connection with these
prosecutions is especially pathetic. A Mr..
Whiteman came on the cars, and, adYanc-
ing to where Andrews was, accosted him.
PARROT, who gives the account, was
sitting on the seat behind, and could not
help hearing all the conversation.
The merchant said, ''What can you do,
Mr.. Andrews, about that SIC, 600 let you
have for the purchase Of quinine and
other things!"
Andrews replied, f'AIr. whiteman, this
Is no time to talk about money. If you
had done as wished you to do in Chat
tanooga, you would have had all that
back, and twice as much more" Parrott
understood Andrews to refer to some pro-
position that Andrews had made to Mr..
Whiteman on his trial, and the failure to
accept which was the greatest disappoint-
ment that Andrews had then experienced.)
Whiteman continued, 'Is that all you
have to say, Mr.. AndrewsY'
Eyes, sir, that Is ALL responded the
doomed man. With 4 gesture Of deep
disappointment, Whiteman turned on his
heel and walked rapidly away.
The death procession reached Atlanta q
little after noon, and the prisoners were
conducted by their guard to room used
as barracks, two squares from the depot.
Here they were kept under close guard
awaiting the completion Of the arrange
ments for the military murder. The foot
chains had not been removed from An
drews, and as he walked up into his room
with the short, halting step that they re-
quired, the clanking was horrible. Not
very much was said in these few sad
a -. Ia.
quiet way Of the better life, and his wish
to meet all his comrades In heaven. His
words could not fail Of making deep
impression, though hope OF vengeance for
the coming deed would have been sweeter
to the poor boys than almost any kind of
q prospect beyond to grave. But soon a
body OF strange soldiers came up to the
building. Their commander entered and
asked Andrews in a very respectful tone
IL he was ready now. The latter answered
in the Affirmative, and then babe Good
by'' to the comrades who had passed
through SO many dangers with him.
The procession moved out Peachtree
street, the most fashionable and beautiful
street of Atlanta, and continued for about
two miles from the depot. On the way,
the provost marshal asked Rev. w J.
Scott, Methodist clergyman, to accom-
pany them and act as chaplain. He
almost refused, but Andrews spoke in his
winning, courteous manner, saying, ST
would be glad to have you go, SIR" Such
an appeal Scott could not resist, and at
tended him to the last, writing many
years after his recollection of the affair.
A great crowd, in addition to the strong
guard, went along, but there appears to
have been no unseemly taunts or disorder.
To Mr.. Scott Andrews gave substantially
the same account Of the enterprise that
has already been given, colored little by
the fact that he did not wish even in
death to say one word that might in any
way injure those comrades who had been
SO true to him.
No element of pathos in the terrible
scene was lacking A few scores of yards
from the road, in a little valley, a scat
fold was erected. There were thin woods
around, and night was coming on. A
rope circle fenced of the spectators to a
respectful distance. Mr.. Scott spoke the
words that he judged fitting; Rev. Mr..
ConyerS led in prayer; Rev. Mr.. Common
administered some religious counsel to
the patient prisoner, who probably
thought that all the sins of which he re-
pented were less than the sin Of rebellion
of which they were guilty. No coffin was
provided, but a few hundred feet away
the grave was already open. The signal
was given, and the not uncommon bung-
ling Of an execution added new horrors.
line COCOOn rope 6IICDC1lcu 30 lndO Jnc
shackled feet reached the ground. From
motives of humanity the ground WAS
shoveled away, and the soul liberated.
The pathos of this death is indescrib-
able The drop falls and the mere physi-
cal agony is soon over. The body, weak
ened by the last terrible struggle for life
made not SO much for self as for the
loving heart in far away Flemingsburg-
- tot he So
taken down; the horror bound spectators
still nnger. The poor remains Of a man
of superb beauty and princely endowments
| are carried to the shallow grave on a little
hill crest, and there, near large stone,
(which may mark the grave, If any friend
ever wants to know where it is" as q
spectator charitably said, he is laid to
| rest. There is no shroud. The only
grave clothes are the tattered garments
left from the last sad race for life Can
the reader conceive anything more pitiful
than the view presented just before the
damp earth is thrown on the cold, up
turned face? The busy brain, from which
came daring enterprises and cool action,
is quiet forever. The limbs that toiled so
far for patriotism, fame, perhaps for VEN
geance, and at last for life, labor no more.
The heart so true to country and COM
rades, so faithful under forms of false
hood, is stilled. The utmost depths OF
adversely have been sounded, and the
enemy can touch him no more. Even the
welded shackels, which seem to bind in
the grave, have lost their power. 1t is
well that man has one refuge from every
earthly misfortune; and as evening gath
cred its shadows over the little heap OF
freshly turned earth in the wood-a spot
long unrecognized-was he not better OF
than the comrades from whom he had
Just parted, or those more distant, whose
fate was trembling in the balance al
Knoxville?
Some days or weeks after the compile
ton of this mournful tragedy man came
to the old depot at Stevenson, Ala, which
was then used as a storehouse by the
Federals. He seemed to be a stranger
and went cautiously to Sergt. William
Hunter Myers, of Company K, Thirty
third Ohio, and asked to speak with him
alone. Myers at once assented and tool
him into the room. The man looked Il
see that no one was near the door or win
dows, and then said: ST have papers il
my possession which would cost me my
life II the Confederates should discover
them on me. want to get clear OF them. ,
Myers took the papers and glanced ovel
them, finding the letter of Andrews to hi.
mother and his ''will," already quoted
i He was perfectly familiar with our expe
didon, belonging to the same company a
; PARROT This made it easy for him Il
recognize the great interest Of the papers
! for up to this time only scattered ant
: partial information had been brough
through the lines. On inquiry the mai
: said he was a fireman on the Georges
. State RAILROAD, and that he had been EN-
Z ployed for several years in that capacity
His native place, however, was Hagers
> town, Nd, and he had stood the ways @
the rebels as long as he could, and wa
now anxious to get home. Myers wante
l to know how he came in possession of tn
I papers, but he declared that he dared nc
q tell. Finding that he had nothing NOR
, to say, he was sent under guard to Hunts
( vile, from which place it was easy fo
him to reach his old home; and the paper
d also, after considerable detention, arrive
, at their destination.
d The account OF the escape and recal
n ture of Andrews was published in III
Q Cincinnati Commercial, about the 10th {
d June, and reached the sister Of Miss La!
Q ton, with whom that lady then made h
home. AS she was already in deep oil
It tress because of Andrews long deis
70 without any message, they did not dare