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[544] moustache, sandy complexion, full face, and from thirty-five to forty years of age.

Two men entered the drug store of Mr. Miller, and in their haste and confusion got the front door locked, and could not escape speedily after they had fired the store. Mr. Miller was standing in the hall of his house, which communicates with the store, and with his double-barrelled shot gun he brought both down to find sepulchres in the ashes of his house. We do not learn that they blessed the name of McCausland as their bronzed skin blistered and withered beneath the flames he had ordered. Mr. Thomas H. Doyle, of Loudon, who had served in Easton's battery, followed the retreating rebels toward Loudon, to capture stragglers. When beyond St Thomas he caught Captain Cochran, Quartermaster of Eleventh Virginia cavalry, and as he recognized him as one who had participated in the destruction of Chambersburg, he gave him just fifteen minutes to live. Cochran was armed with sword and pistols, but he was taken so suddenly by Mr. Doyle that he had no chance to use them. He begged piteously for his life, but Mr. Doyle was inexorable — the foe who burns and robs must die, and he so informed him peremptorily. At the very second he shot the whining thief dead, and found on his person eight hundred and fifteen dollars of greenbacks, all stolen from our citizens, and one thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars of rebel currency. His sword, belt and pistols were brought to this place by Mr. Doyle. He did not lisp the name of McCausland with reverence or pride as he begged to be spared the just doom his deeds merited. Scores of McCausland's command were killed on the retreat by General Averell's forces. Many of them were intoxicated, and all demoralized by plunder, and they became an easy prey to the vengeance of our troops who passed through the burning town in the pursuit of the barbarians.

The fiends in human shape who passed to their final account in the midst of their own infernal work, did not reach the Great Judge without an accuser. Daniel Parker, once a “thing,” a “chattel,” a “slave,” in the parlance and by the laws of the superior race who teach nobility and chivalry by making the widow and fatherless homeless and penniless, was the only victim unto death of rebel brutality. He had seen the North star in his earlier days, and although untutored, in obedience to the statutes which enslaved him, he followed the beacon light of heaven to freedom. He had lived quietly, soberly and industriously in our midst until he had filled the measure of patriarchal years, respected by all who knew him. He was enfeebled by age and infirmities, and his humble home excited the vengeance of the lordly sons of the South. They fired his house, and he was so injured by the flames before he could escape that he died the same night, and his spirit, cleansed of the stain of color and caste as stamped by man, passed with his murderers, who found resting-places amidst the ashes of their own desolation, to the bar of Him who judges only in righteousness. Despite the wicked war they have thrown like a pall over a great and free people on the pretext of equality of races, they found a tribunal from which there is no appeal, where chattel and master, slave and lord, meet equal justice, and equal mercy. Murderers and accuser bid a final farewell to the same waning sun, and thenceforth forever became equals!

A correspondent sends the following as to the nativity of the vandal chief McCausland: Frequent inquiries are daily made regarding the nativity of the fiend McCausland. Some allege that he was born in New York State, while others think that he must certainly have first seen the light in the South. The matter seems to be important inasmuch as the individual will have a very prominent and interesting page in the history of the rebellion; but he has settled the question himself, and removed cause for further dispute. In a conversation with Rev. Mr. Edwards, of Hagerstown, McCausland said he he was from hell. For a verification of his statement witness Chambersburg in ruins.


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Ned McCausland (5)
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