Year: 1875

farmer, who was spirited away iron
Savannah:


Some time in January, 1874. Mr.
Jefferson Clay, respectable youn!
farmer of Thomas county, was in Sa
vannah, on business of private ma
ture. His friends and relatives knew
this much, and they we're also inform
ed that he might be expected to re
turn by the first week in January.
Week after week fitted by. The
middle of February came, and still
young Clay remained, as it was thought
in Savannah. About the 1st of March
the friends of the missing man began
to entertain the most serious appre
tensions. They were plain people
with limited means, and but little ac
quainted with the ways of the world
The idea of advertising for the lost
man never entered their heads. Clay's
uncle, it is true, went to Savannah and
spent week in making inquiries in
reference to this nephew. but the re
suit did not enlighten him in the
least. The people he consulted sug.
gested various explanations, none o1
them very consoling. One party said
that Clay had doubtless run away
Another thought that he had been
murdered for his money, and thrown
into the river. The police knew moth
ing about it.


And --iith this feeble and futile at
tempt the search was abandoned
Everybody gave Clay up for dead
But there was one exception. The
young lady who was engaged to the
unfortunate man did not hesitate to
declare her belief that her lover was
alive, and would yet return to his
home and friends. She trusted to in
tuition, and as a natural consequence
the men shook their heads, and even
women ceased to hope


The months rolled on, and, when
last October came, poor Jefferson Clay
was almost as completely forgotten,
save with a few, as if he had been
dead a century But one night old
Adam Clay, the uncle who had search
ed so unsuccessfully in Savannah. was
aroused from his slumber by loud
and furious knocking. With some
misgivings, he opened the front door
and confronted haegard wreck of a
man, whose tattered garments and
general appearance told tale of suf-
fering almost without parallel.


Great God!" cried the old man,
who and what are you?"


II am Jefferson Clay, your long lost
nephew" replied the stranger, land
am as near dead as a Inan can be
give me food and question me after
ward"


The worthy uncle was at first in :
clined to think that this was another
case of the 'prodigals return ETC.,
but he called up the servants, and in
a few moments hearty meal was
spread before the half famished wan-
derer.


Young Clay ate with the appetite of
a half famished wild beast and not
until his hunger was fully appeased
would he utter one word in response
to the many questions asked by his
curious kinsman.


At last, however, the wants of the
inner man were satisfied, and then
came from the lips of the traveller one
eff the strangest stories of adventure
over poured into mortal ear We
only give the substance; it is impossi-
BILE to place before our readers that
wild, haggard man as he actually ap-
peared; nor can we recall the rugged
words with which he electrified his
solitary listener.


1t appeared that Clay attended to
the business which had called him
away from home, and was on the eve
of leaving the city, when he stepped
into low groggery and called Tor a
drink. There were no other custo-
mers present; but behind the counter
stood two men, of rather sinister as
pect. The young man was far too in
experienced to entertain any fears,
and after draining the proffered glass,
he readily accepted an invitation from
one of the bar-keepers to play a game
of dominoes. After that nothing was
clear to him. He fell into a kind of
tupOr, and then into a sleepy slum-
Der. When he awoke, as he express
ed it, scorching sun was shining full
in his face, and the sandy bed beneath
him was almost roasting his body
He staggered up, and found that he
was clad in ragged uniform of some
kind, but he was hatless and bare
footed. When he partook of the
drugged liquor for drugged it must
have been). his face was smoothly
shaved. When he awoke he had a
long, tangled beard. Another strange
thing-he was penned up in one cor
ner of a huge stockade. By peeping
through the bars into the other part
of the inclosure he discovered several
hundred men, evidently foreigners,
all dressed in a uniform similar to the
one he then had on


Clay told his uncle that this scene
almost drove him frantic. He cried
out for help, and in a short time a
ark-faced little man, in a gorgeous
costume, came to the pen and spoke
to him in a strange tongue. Our hero
replied in English, and the officer
(for such he was) responded in the
same language. He informed the
prisoner that he was in a Spanish
camp of instruction on the coast of
Cuba; that he was all right, and he
should be marched to the front to
fight the Cuban insurgents. Clay
asked innumerable questions, ex-
planned who he was, and begged to be
released. But the officer was inexor-
able, and terminated the conversation
by walking off.


Two meals were sent to the prisoner
that day. oranges and bananas being
the principal articles


At night the stockade was attacked
by party of insurgents and captured,
after lively fight. Fortunately one
of the officers among the victors was
an American, and to him the afflicted
Georgian unbosomed himself.


The officers sympathies were touch
ed He took good care of Clay; and
in two weeks time succeeded in ship
ping him on a blockader to Key West
Arriving at that point our untortu-
nate friend decided to foot it through
Florida and make his way home as
best he could. But he was two months
on the way, during which period he
was sick great part of the time and