Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1903-04-15

annoyed byy the too jealous attentions
of an admirer, had asked the colonel
for protection. The governor, pelng
quicker Of ear, heard the request, ana
kicked the youth down the stairway
before the colonel could turn arouno'
McClung retired to his hotel, and al.
most died with remorse at this lost
chance to oblige a pretty woman.
His first fair duel in accordance with
the strict rules for killing men (he mao
killed several irregularly before) was
, with Gen. Allen, a member OF the Mis-
sissippi legislature.
Allen himself was no novice with q
shot gun or derringer pistol. He had
very carelessly made some remark
bordering on the indiscreet, about NC
Clung one day, while standing IN the
corridor of the old capitol at Jackson.
In an hour or two he received Ut
tie letter from McClung that plainly
said, apologize or fight" Allen was
not Of the apologizing kind. The next
morning at daylight the two men with
their seconds and surgeons slipped out
to quiet spot on the opposite side OF
the Pearl river. The two hundred
PAGES were stepped off. A Kentucky
rifle was handed to each of the bel
ligerents, the compliments In vogue on
such occasions were passed, and at the
first shot Allen fell dead.
McClung, without so much as
glance toward the body of his oppo-
nent, simply walked back to his board
ing house, took a drink Of whisky ana
sat down to his breakfast.
OF course, nobody was arrested; no
body thought Of such thing IN the
good old days Of Mississippi chivalry.
It was not long till McClung was ripe
for another quarrel and blood -sned-
ding. This time it was the best, per-
haps the only true friend he had.
Some boys in bathing sportively tied
knots in each others clothes. A boys.
quarrel ensued, and Col. McClung and
his friend, George Menefee, happening
to be near, took opposing sides. 1t was
simply little ridiculous boys play but
McClung as usual, lost his temper ana
demanded blood.
It was again an early twilight, not
at Jackson, but on a little island In the
Mississippi river, close to Vicksburg.
The island was famous as duelling
place. It was short tragedy that
morning. In a few minutes two row
boats were returning across the river
to Vicksburg. In one Of them sat Col.
McClung. his second and his surgeon.
In his other lay the dead body Of his
friend. McClung had killed him at
the first shot. To the hour Of his own
death, McClung was filled with an aw-
full remorse.
This killing indeed, helped to drag
him faster than ever into a dissipation
that ruined the great talents and left
him at last nothing but suicides des-
pair. His desperate fame spread all
over the south, and in faroff Ken
lucky another, as desperate as himself,
determined to go and provoke quar-
rel with him.. Wash" Coffy was a
noted shot. He travelled all the way
from Kentucky to Jackson to partic-
ipate in a killing. One morning Nc
Clung, who had heard Of his errand,
ran on him unexpectedly, drinking his
coffee in a restaurant. The desperate
eyed the big colonel as he entered, and
quietly but extensively walked to the
back door and threw his coffee into
the street. McClung, seeing this, went
extensively and just as quietly to. the
front door and threw his coffee out
also. That meant fight. Instantly
both men drew their weapons and a
battle commenced. In a moment the
walls Of the room were being perfora-
ted with bullets. Strangely enough, no
one was hurt, and the bystanders dis
armed the combatants.
The next day the desperadoes met
again, this time in the public street.
Without any preliminaries both men
commenced firing. Again bystanders
rushed between before either was seri-
ously hurt. Wash Coffy, however, was
satisfied that meeting McClung meant
business, and he was content to go
back to Kentucky to tell, between
drinks. how he had exchanged shots
with the most desperate duellist living.
Shortly there was but one road for the
gifted mortal who had wasted all his
great powers. 1t was road down hill,
and a quick one. All his friends de-
serted him. Even Jefferson Davis. his
friend of war times, abandoned him.
McClung set his last hope on a posi-
ton in the army. Davis was secreta-
ry Of war; and single word from him
might possibly have served his friend.
The usual heartlessness Of politics
stood in the way, and Davis advised
the president against the appointment.
The sting Of this faithlessness was very
great. Yet Davis may have truly felt
McClung unfit for public position.
Whatever the motive Of the war secre-
tary, McClung's tragedy was quick IN
coming on. At noon. one day OF 1855,
the guests In jackson DOardlns mouse,
while sitting at dinner heard a pistol
shot. Rushing to Meetings. room, they
found him dead. Dressed in his most
immaculate manner, and having stop
ped the clock to indicate the moment
Of his taking off, he stepped before the
mirror, and, like a real old southern
gentleman, blew out his brains.
Lying by his pistols were the follow
ing original lines, the last sign OF his
expiring genius:
Speed swiftly over the wastes Of time,
Spirit Of Death!
In manhood's morn, in youthful prime,
I WOO thy breath!
For the glittering hues Of hope are fled,
Like the dolphin's light,
And dark are the clouds above my head
AS the starless night.
Oh, vainly the mariner sights for the
rest
Of the peaceful haven,
The pilgrim saint for the shrines or the
blest,
The calm Of heaven.
The galley slave for the night winds
breath,
At burning noon,
But more gladly I'd spring to thy arms
O, Death.
Come soon! Come soon!