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lewis m. grist, proprietor. | %n Jnkpcnfcnf JfattiHp ^Itfospptr: Jfor tjte |)romofion of % political, Social, ^gricnltural an!) Commercial Interests of % Soufj). j terms--$2.00 a year, in advance. VOL. 34. YOEKVILLE, S. O., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1888. NO. 46. ^elected fortnr. BABY HAS GONE TO SCHOOL. The baby has gone to school; ah me! What will the mother do, With never a call to button or pin, Or tie a little shoe? How can she keep herself busy all day, With the little "hindering thing" away ? Another basket to fill with lunch, Another "good-by" to say, And the mother sta'nds at the door to see Her baby march away ; And turns with a sigh that is half relief, And half a something akin to grief. She thinks of a possible future morn, When the children, one by one, Will go from their homre out into the world, ^ To battle with life alone, And not even the baby be left to cheer The desolate home of that future j'ear. She picks up garments here and there, Thrown down in careless haste; And tries to think how it would seem If nothing were displaced ; If the house were always as still as this, How could she bear the loneliness ? ?he nPTTTP W ATTATTT^D MAN. X I I II JO.1* w * - ???? BY SYLVAN US COBB, JR. In the spring of 1842 I chanced to be in Messina, a seaport in Sicily; and while there I was invited to visit the extensive Vintage of D. & M. Their location was in a pleasant valley some three miles back from the city, and beneath a portion of their grounds was extended a large wine vault, embracing an area of nearly two acres. After accompanying M., thejunior partner, through the long vine arbors and orange groves, we descended to the vault, and after passing nearly half the length of one of the pipe tiers, we came to a desk where a man was writing. "There is one of your own countrymen," said M., "and he will accompany you through the vaults." My conductor called to the man who, quickly dropped his pen, stepped down from the stool and came forward. He was employed as a clerk in the exporting department, for the purpose of filling up bills, invoices, etc., for the American and English merchants. "You will find him a strange sort of a man," whispered M., "but he is, notwithstanding, a good fellow." H., for so my companion had called him, was a tall, well-made man, apparently on the better side of forty, and he had a pleasing, intelligent look. His hair, which was quite luxurious, was almost white, and about his countenance there were evident marks of suffering. His eyes, when he first cazed upon me?which was with a furtive, trembling glance?had an inexpressible look of wildness in them, and a cold, fearful shudder seemed to run through his frame. Gradually he grew more composed, and as he showed me around among the pipe-flanked avenues, casting his huge lantern here and there to show me the ages of the various wines, he began to talk with considerable freedom, though he betrayed a strangeness of manner, a sort of flaring of voice and gesture, that could not fail of exciting ray curiosity. A casual observer, who might have judged only from his appearance, would have thought him slightly insane; and even I felt a conviction that his mind was not exactly comme il faut, or at any rate not quite comme jefus. "Do you reside in New York?" he asked, as we stopped for a moment at the extremity of the vault. I told him that I did not belong there, though I had spent part of the winter and the spring of 1841 and '42 in that city. "I have a wife in that State somewhere, and perhaps a child, but I have not heard from them for a long time." I noticed that he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his linen jacket as he spoke, and he turned away, as though to hide an emotion that might be thought unmanly. "Does she not write to you?" I asked. "She knows not where I am." "Do you not write ?" "Me!" he uttered, with a sudden start, a cold tremor shaking his frame the while. "Ah, sir, I dare not trust my superscription, nor my autograph, in?" He hesitated?looked at me wildly foran instant, and then starting on he began to enlarge on the different ages, qualities and vintages of the wine. Twice I tried to bring him back to the subject he had so abruptly left, but it was of no avail. At length we came around to the steps that led up to the surface of terra fir ma. The sun had already set, and the stars were beginning to sparkle in the blue arch above us. H. remarked that he had no idea it was so late, and added, with the happiest T * 1 ?- - ? iL.i smile i naa yet seen mm express, umi ne supposed it was because he had such pleasant company, at the s.ime time assuring me that I was the only American with whom he had held a social conversation for over a year. As he was about to close the vault for the night, I proposed he should accompany me to my cafe, take supper with me and then walk with me about the city. It was some time before he would consent to this arrangement; and while he was considering upon it, I could see that there was an internal struggle of no small moment. He appeared to me not unlike a man who is debating whether he shall attack a den of angry rattlesnakes. After a while, however, he consented to go, though there was a marked reluctance in his manner. He extinguished the light in his lantern, gazed up and down the long avenues to see that no spark of fire had accidentally been dropped, and then he followed me up the broad stone steps, and having secured the doors, he signified that he was at my service. The direct way to my cafe, which was on the broad quay, lay through the heart of the city; but ray companion insisted upon taking a more circuitous route, and as he led the way he took me through the narrowest and darkest streets he could find. I * "Mr. C.," said he, as we were emerging I ' from one of these dark passages, "there I was an American merchantman arrived yesterday from New York, and I know not who may have come in her. It is for i this reason that 1 avoid the public places." In an instant the idea flashed upon me that my companion was a conyict, or, at least, a criminal, who had been guilty of some heinous crime iti his native country, and was consequently afraid of detection. The more I thought of it, the more I became convinced that such was the fact, and I could now account for his strange conduct in this fear, and in the gnawings of a guilt burdened conscience. Yet he was a welcome companion for all that, and I felt sure that repentance had been full and ample. II. gazed furtively about as we entered the cafe; and at his request I ordered supper in a private room. He laughed and chatted freely, and the more I saw of him the more I liked him. After we had finished our meal we started on the proposed walk. It was nearly eleven o'clock when we thought of returning, and as we were passing the small church of St. Joseph I noticed that the doors were opened, and that in the centre of the church there was a sable bier, around which were burning a number of wax tapers. I proposed that we should enter and look for a moment at the corpse. II. made no objections. In one of the confessionals near the door sat an old monk, ' and very naturally I asked of him who it was that rested upon the bier, knowing that most of the interments from this church were in behalf of charity. The monk informed us that it was the body of a man who had come on shore from the American ship that came in the day befpre. He had been very weak when he left the ship, but he was determined to i land, and no persuasion of the crew could alter him in his determination. He had reached the quay, but he lived not to cross it. The kind monks of St. Joseph had taken charge of the body. We slowly, reverently approached the sombre scene. Upon the breast of the deceased were the various articles that had been found in his possession, consisting of an apparently well filled purse, a pocketcomb, a watch, and a heavy double-barrel- 1 ed pistol, the latter of which the monk in- ; formed us had been loaded with extraor- i dinary charges of powder, balls and buckshot. I gazed upon the face of the dead, and even in its sunken, marble-like rigid- < ity there was a startling expression of in- : tense resolution, as though some fell pur- i pose, which even death had not subdued, still dwelt in the hushed bosom. As I still : gazed I heard a quick, stifled cry at my side, and on turning I was half frightened 1 by the expession of ray companion's coun- ] tenance. His eyeballs seemed actually starting from their sockets, his mouth was < half open and fixed; his hands were ex- 1 tended towards the corpse, seemed like i vibrating harp-strings, <and his very hairs I ? J 1 IIa mAirarl r\QQror tfwrorHa J SttJLLJCU 1ICUU1. HO Uil/vou uvutv* wvtiwamw the head of the dead man?looked anoth- i er moment into that pallid face, and then sinking upon his knees, he clasped his 1 hands towards heaven. "Great God, I thank thee, I thank thee! < Thanks! thanks! thanks!" he ejaculated, ' in frantic tones; and then he arose and 1 looked once more upon the features of the 1 corpse. Then his eyes wandered to the 1 heavy pistol that lay upon the sable pall, i and while a cold shudder passed through 1 his frame he took me by the arm. "Come, come," said he, "come with me to your cafe, and I will tell you a strange story." Without heeding the mute astonishment < of the mink, I followed H. from the ' church, and ere long we were seated upon 1 a balcony that overlooked the beautiful ] Straits of Messina. My companion's 1 nerves had become somewhat composed, ' and I could see there was an intense satis- 1 faction depicted in every lineament of his ' countenance. "Mr. C.," he commenced, "I can tell 1 you my story in a few words. Nearly 1 twenty years ago I fell in with a young girl in the city of New York. On my > part the acquaintance soon ripened into a 1 love of the warmest and most ardent 1 kind?and it was as pure as it was ardent; ' and she professed the same feeling towards { me. I was then well to do in the world, 1 being a clerk in a heavy mercantile house, ' and ere long it was arranged that we should be married. About a week previ- ' ous to the time set for this ceremony I J accidentally heard my affianced bride use 1 some most obscene and profaue language < in company with one of her female ac- 1 quaintances. You can judge my feelings 1 under those circumstances much better than I can describe them. I turned away ' sick at heart, and on the very next day I | ( received indubitable proofs of the utter J infidelity of the object of ray affections, * and I at once broke off the engagement. \ Upon being questioned by some of my 1 companions as to the cause of my course, ' I unguardedly, and perhaps foolishly, re- { vealed to them the whole secret. The 1 story, as having come from me, got wings, r and it soon spread among the lady's ac- , quaintances. "A few days afterwards a young man, 1 about my own age, called into the store 1 and came up to the desk where I was writ- * ing. His hands were nervously clasped ] together, and his face was livid with rage. 1 He told me I had forever blasted the repu- * tation of his sister?that I had faithlessly < deserted her, and left her broken-hearted. ] I attempted to reason with him, but I might as well have reasoned with a light- 1 ning bolt. He demanded instant satisfac- 1 tion, and proposed that I should accompa- 5 ny him over on to the Long Island side j and fight him. My natural timidity would have prevented me from complying ' with such a request; but I had also high- J er scruples, and of course I refused. Then ' he called me a base coward, and swore { that he would have my life. I complained j of him before a justice; he was appre- ' hended, publicly tried, fined, and placed * under bonds to keep the peace. "After that I met him in Broadway. ' He stopped me and whispered in my ear. < He swore by the most fearful oath a man 1 could take that he would have my life, ( and that he would hunt me through the ] world till he had accomplished his purpose. 1 I knew that he meant just what he had said, 1 and fear began to take possession of my ? bosom. Many times I discovered that he j was dogging me about, but I always man- ' aged to keep among a crowd as I walked along the streets. I dared not bring him j to trial again, for I might fail to make out a case, and it could only tend to in- ] cense my enemy still more. At length I feared to walk the streets, for one night, 1 as I was passing a dark alley near the ' head of Cherry street, I heard the report 1 of a pistol close to me, and a bullet passed 1 through my hat. A watchman was quick- ' ly on the spot, but nothing was to be found. I knew who fired that pistol, but ' I had no evidence! I felt that my life was ] not safe in the city, and secretly I moved ; to a small town in the western part of J Massachusetts, where I engaged with a ' dry goods dealer. "Here I took to myself a wife; but I ' had not been married over a month, when < I saw my enemy pass the door of the store j and look in. He saw me and pointed his finger ai me. The cold sweat stood in * huge drops upon my brow, and my fears s came back more powerfully than ever. At 1 night I contrived to get my employer to ( go home with me, and on the way I heard 1 low, stealthy steps behind me. I knew that I was dogged! 'You are mine!' I 1 heard a voice pronounce as I turned into < my yard; and as I turned I saw a dusky 1 figure moving off beneath the shade of the ( roadside trees. The next morning I sent word to my employer that I was sick, and I kept the house all day. I explained all to my wife, and she agreed to go with me { wherever I wished. Several times during 1 that day I saw my sworn murderer pass 1 the house and gaze intently up at the ( windows, but he did not see me. t "A got a uoy 10 go to tne siaoie auu pro- ? cure a horse and wagon, and, after dark, 1 to take it around to a back road, nearly a j mile distant from the house. My wife any myself tied up such articles of cloth- f ing as we could carry, and taking all my 1 money with me, we stole out through the ( back garden, and gained the cross-road in f safety. The wagon was there, and having 1 entered it, the boy drove us off at a good s speed. Just at daylight we reached a tav- i em where a stage-coach was almost ready to start, and the boy returned, having first s promised to keep inviolate the secret of 1 my flight. The stage was bound to Lenox, 1 which place we reached before dark. From i thence I went to Hudson, crossed the i North Itiver, and made my way to the western part of New York, where J i bought me a small cottage. '< "In less than a year my enemy found me I again, and I saw him standing in front of ; my house. He looked wild and haggard, but I could see that there was an iron de- I termination upon his features. One night i I heard a grating against one of my win- < dows, and on the next moment my dog, a powerful Newfoundland, had sprung from his kennel. I dared not go down, for I < knew too well the cause of the disturbance. The noise soon ceased, however, and on the next morning, I found my dog lying 1 beneath the window?dead! . The villain had been afraid, probably, that the noise might have disturbed the neighbors, and had for the present desisted from his murderous intent. 1 made ariangements with my wife to keep the house, and taking a small sum of money with me, I fled from my home! "I went to New Orleans, and there my enemy at length followed me ! For three years ! skulked from place to place, the very embodiment of terror and weakening fear; but go where I would, that man was sure to haunt me. Six different times he fired at me with his pistol, and twice he wounded me. Our lives seemed now to have but one end and aim. His was to take mine, and mine to escape his fell revenge! I became almost a living skeleton?the falling of a leaf would startle me. At length I obtained a chance to go to England. I was in London, standing one day at the door of an ale-house, when?O God !?I saw my life-hunter pass. He was as pale and sunken as my self?restless and nervous; but his black eyes gleamed like balls of fire. He did not see me. I hurried down to the Thames, took a lighter as far as Gravesend, and there I was fortunate enough to find a barque bound directly for the Mediterranean. I got a passage in her, and was at length landed in this city, where I have been ever since. I have regained somewhat of my former health and spirits, though that same dread fear has not failed to haunt me. "My enemy must have found me out, even here; but, thank God, he passed from the power to harm me more. A hand ' ' i'l L! J ... migntiertnan nis nas stncKen niiu uuwn. Thai tea* his cold, powerless corpse that we mw to-night in the church! If my wife still lives I shall see her again." H. did meet his wife again, for I saw them both at the White Mountains a few years later. It was some time before I :ould recognize, in the portly gentleman who accosted me, the poor haunted man I had met in Messina; but when I realized the truth, I grasped him warmly by the hand, received an introduction to his wife, md soon we three were straying along the banks of the beautiful Ammonoosuc. THE PUBLIC DEBT. On the first day of October the public iebt of the United States, which draws interest, was reduced below the sum of one thousand million dollars. The country passed the one thousand million limit going in the other difection?that is, when the debt was increasing?early :'in 1864, and the next twenty months more than ioubled this sum. Thus, at the end of August, I860, the interest bearing debt was two thousand three hundred and eightyone millions. So large an amount of this debt bore a high rate of interest that the average rate upon the whole was more than six and one-third per cent.; but upon the entire Iebt?for some four hundred millions more lid uot draw interest?the average rate was a little less than five and one-half per 2ent. In twenty-three years the net debt, which means the amount as it would be if ill the cash on hand could be applied to paying the debt, has been reduced to eleven hundred and forty millions, while that part which bears interest has been brought oelow one thousand millions. Moreover, there is not a single bond now bearing interest which was in exist 1 OCT ?,knln/lakf Kao Konn I ;uce iu 10vo. ?nc wnuic ucw imo funded at much lower rates of interest, insomuch that the annual interest on the iebt, as it stood on October 1 of this year, is only forty-one and a half millions?less than one-third what it was in 18G5?and in average of less than four and one-fifth per cent, upon the principal. There now stands on the books of the Treasury only five classes of interest-bearing debt. So far as the public is concerned, ihere are only three classes, as will be explained. On October 1 there were outstanding two hundred and twelve and a ;hird million bonds bearing four and a lalf per cent., six hundred and ninetyshreeand a half millions bearing four per cent., and sixty-four and two-thirds miltons of Pacific Railroad six per cents. Both the four and a half and the four per cent, bonds were issued to provide iaeans for paying war bonds which drew six per cent, interest, and for resuming specie payments. Both these classes of sonds are "redeemable" after a fixed date, )ut, under the terms of the bonds, are lever payable. That is, the Government ms the right to pay'the principal of four md a half per cents, after September 1, 1891, and four per cents, after July 1,1907, jut it has fixed no time when it promises ;o pay off the bonds. The Pacific Railroad six per cents, are jonds issued to several Pacific Railroad companies. The companies themselves vere originally expected to pay both principal and interest of these bonds. As a natter of fact the Government pays the nterest on these bonds. The question ivhat new arrangement shall be made beAveen the Government and the companies, since the bonds cannot be met at maturity jy the companies, is now before Congress. There is a sura of about one hundred ind thirty thousand dollars outstanding in 'refunding certificates," which are concerted into four per cent, bonds. The 'nayy pension iund"of fourteen millions, Irawing three per cent., is held by the jrovernment itself, and none of it is in the possession of the public. These two items ire the fourth and fifth classes of interestsearing debt referred to above. At present, and until the autumn of 1891, ;he Government cannot pay any of its in;erest-bearing debt. As it must employ ;he excess of revenue after expenses and nterest are paid, the Treasury department suys Government bonds, and cancels them. Although the rate of interest is very ow, the demand for securities of a high jharacter of Government debt is sufficient :o carry the market price of the bonds to a arge premium. In the middle of October "our and a half per cent, bonds were at something more than eight per cent, premium, while each of the other two classes )f bonds, which are held by the public, vas at thirty per cent, premium. There is now no great country of the vorld which is less oppressed by a public lebt than is the United States, and there s no government which has a higher ;redit. KEEP UP YOUR END. "When I was a boy in the lumbering region in Maine," said the old doctor, "the ellow who would not hold up his end of he log, but let the weight sag on the others, was looked upon with contempt by all he camp. Wherever I go now, 1 think I ;ee logs carried ; one end held up by learty, willing hands, and the other dropping out of lazy, selfish ones. "When I see an old father toiling to jive his son the education that is to help lim through life, and the boy yawning )ver his books, tricking his teachers, smoking cigarettes and swearing, 1 feel ike calling out, 'For the sake of your own soul, boy, grip the end of the log, and hold t up!' "Sometimes I see a man working hard ill day, and too tired to rest at night, while lis wife and daughters read novels, emiroider, and gossip with women as useless in the world as themselves. l>o they keep jp their end of the log? "Or, quite as often, it is the wife who stints and saves, until her life is barren ind bare as a dusty road at noonday, while the husband spends his time at saloons ind pool-rooms. "Or I see one bright, courageous member of a family, usually a woman, work !_i-:? lllfjl juivmy, 1IU|/i:iui, ? 1111^ liiVy wuiwin srawl along, groaning, complaining, dropping every day and liour tiioir burden of poverty, disease, toothache, or bad weather on her shoulders. She has all the log to carry. "Again, it is a human being for whom God has done much in birth, rank, education, friends, who, for the love of a glass of liquor or a pack of cards, allows his life to drop into the slough. St. Paul bids him 'work' out his own salvation, and I feel like telling him to hold up his own end of the log." What does our reader think of the doctor's homely lesson? What is his burden in life? Somebody shares it with him ; no man bears his load alone. Does he carry his part with a hearty good-will? Or does he drop it on weak and willing shoulders? fPswUaiwfliw Heading. NEW YORK'S POLITICAL FACTIONS. RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE RIVAL DEMOCRATIC ORGANIZATIONS. Secret History of Tammany Hall and Some of Its Sachems who, by Seceding lYom llie Wigwam at Different Times, have Vainly Tried to Destroy the Famous Society. The Tammany Hall Democracy of New York city is the most noted political society in the country, and as it exerts an important power in every national contest, the following sketch of its secret history, copied from the Philadelphia Times, will be read with interest at this time : Every four years the eyes of the country are centred upon ttvo political organizations in the city of New York. Nowhere else is such an anomal^ iu public affairs presented. For years tne eve of a Presidention election finds the inevitable struggle between Tammany Hall and whatever factional opponent it may happen to have threatening the White House succession. The citizens of every State and every party watch the struggle with bated breath. Nowhere else could such a state of affairs long exist, because it could only continue in a municipality where primary elections are unknown, where the citizens have no voice in the naming of candidates for public office and where conventions are only held to ratify the nominations which the men in control have decided upon. The story of the rise and progress of the movement which has nurtured such a condition of things should prove valuable and interesting. It is given here and exhibits an inner view of the workings of this most powerful of machines. Tammany Hall had its birth in the early part of the present century. It obtained its name from the building in which it first met and which occupied the ground where the Sun has its publication office. Its present meeting hall on Fourteenth street bears the same title. Most of New York's famous political organizations have been named for their places of meeting. The original organization of Tammany Hall was a secret society known as the Columbian Order, and to this day, although the fact is not generally known, that society exists and practically controls tho general body. The members of this body are bound by oath not to disclose its secrets and to remain in perfect accord with the fundamental purpose ruling the Tammany organization, that purpose being the absolute control of municipal politics. The v/()lUIIIUittU urucr a. jjuuiu wi >j<4- i chems, who control the occupancy of the society's building and in whose name all its real estate is held. The real internal power of this political corporation is thus intrusted to the Board of Sachems. TIIE YOUNG DEMOCRACY. This fact had its best demonstration some twenty years ago, when a faction calling itself the Young Democracy arose within the ranks of Tammany Hall and | made the first serious attempt to rob it of its power. Peter B. Sweeney was the Powhatan of the Ihen ruling Board of Sachems, and his chief lieutenant and the active political head of the Tammany organization was William M. Tweed, and it was against their domination that the revolt was made. The members of the Young Democracy, in emulation of the methods of the Columbian Order, were sworn to keep the secrets of their organization intact, but still remain within the Tammany Association. They began their contest by securing the legislative control in Albany. With this success as an augur of victory they soon not only outnumbered the followers of Sweeney and Tweed, but absorbed the most active and influential Democrats of the time. It became apparent that the Young Democracy had control of the committee of organization of Tammany Hall and could command sufficient votes to defeat the two men whose downfall they desired. In this r\nr\nrrrantt\T tho XMlll.P r> f thp PYlClfpnPP nf VAJW V HI WW V/A V<< V v?*?wvv?*vw w? the Columbian Order and of its Board of Sachems demonstrated itself. Sweeney and Tweed represented a majority of the sachems and tne sachems having control of the Tammany building, they closed its doors upon the Young Democracy. In this exclusion of the representatives of the revolting but majority taction, they were supported by the police force, then the creatures of Sweeney and Tweed. As the sole object of the Young Democracy was to secure control of the political destinies of the Tammany organization, the deprivation of the right to enter the building in which alone those pretending to the name of Tammanyite could meet, proved a fatal blow. The hopeful revolutionists disbanded and those of their leaders who looked for future political fortune were driven back to humble subservience to Sweeney and Tweed. This was the beginning of the absolute power and despotic sway of these two men. How they, having acquired control of every department in the State and municipal goverment, administered affairs is a matter of history. They progressed to a condition of powerunparalleled in political annals. They not only made the Governor of the State of New York, but every plan was formulated and every measure secured to extend their power to the election of a President of the United States. John T. Hoffman, whom they had elected Governor, was openly declared to be the choice of New York State for the Presidency, and no man's'prospects ever looked brighter or more assuring than his. Hoffman was an upright man who had yielded his ambition to the control of a faction, with the personal corruption of whose leaders no man has ever associated him, but his political future was destroyed by the downfall of those whose instrument, in the gratification of that ambition, he had consented to be. "APOLLO HALL." Because of the now historic corruptions of Sweeney and Tweed, there became arrayed against them, among prominent citizens, a sentiment which crystalized in the formation of the committee of seventy. Its labors so stimulated honest public sentiment as to occasion in 1871 the downfall of Sweeney and Tweed and their followers and to annihilate for the time being the dominance of Tammany Hall. Out of the political chaos caused by that revolution arose the organization known as the' Apollo Hall Democracy. It took its name from its place of meeting on twenty-seventh street, where the Fifth Avenue Theat-i. nr.ii. ctonrlu Ttu nrnmntor nnrl lpndpr was James O'Brien, who had been connected prominently with the Young Democracy, but who had returned to Tammany Hall or hung upon its edge. He was a man with a large personal following, especially among the rougher classes on the east side of the city. He demanded of Tweed not only political recognition but a nomination for Sheriff, an office which he had once held. This Tweed, at the emphatic suggestion of Sweeney, refused. In the municipal election that followed O'Brien became the candidate of Apollo Hall for Mayor. Tammany nominated Thomas A. Leadwith, a Police Justice, and also a former prominent leader in the Young Democracy. A Citizens' organization, formed without regard to party, made William F. Havemeyer its nominee and he was elected by a marvelous plurality. O'Brien was the last man in the race and Apollo Hall did not survive this defeat. Tammany was not only shattered, but apparently destroyed. Sweeney, Tweed, Connolly and the lesser satellites of the organization were indicted for infamous crimes and became fugitives from justice. Tweed met his end in prison; Connolly i died somewhere in Europe and Sweeney is still an exile in Paris. THE INFLUENCE OF JOHN KELLY. But still the secret organization withii Tammany maintained its power. In th< conclaves of the Columbian order. Johr Kelly, a man of political sagacity and i born leader of men, became the controll ing power, and again did the oath-bounc inner circle prove the salvation of theshat tered association. Associated with hiir in the first grasp of political supremacy was John Morrissey, a man with a subtle ness and instinct in his appreciation o men's worth which amounted to genius He was as determined and arbitrary in hi! way as Kelly was in his, and withal a mar of broader views and better judgment Although Morrissey had been a prize-fight er and gambler, all who knew him had th< greatest confidence in his integrity. Un like Kelly, he was never swayed by hi! prejudices. It was impossible that thes< two men should long harmonize in th< joint control of a political organization Thev nuarreled. Morrissev retired fron Tammany Hali and, for the first time ir the history of New York politics, he or ganized a party without a name and whosi only adhesive power existed in the per sonal following of asingle man. He began this departure with the defea for State Senator of John Fox, the vaunt ed political power of the lower end of thi city. Morrissey announced himself as s candidate for the Senate in what is knowr as "the brown-stone district," so called or account of the wealth, position and socia influence of its inhabitants. It was Johr Kelly's own bailiwick. The Taramanj leader, feeling that his political prestigi was threatened, begged Augustus Schell one of the exclusive Knickerbockers anc formerly chairman of the national Demo cratic committee, to appear as a candidate against Morrissey. That Kelly's fears were not unfounded was proven by the re suit. The ex-prize-fighter received f larger majority than Schell did votes Such prominent residents of the district as Hamilton Fish and Cyrus W. Field with utter disregard of party affiliation walked up to the polls and cast their bal lots for Morrissey. Immediately after hi: election, before the meeting of the Senatt to which he had been chosen, Morrissey died. Had he lived, the remainder of the story of Kelly's life might have been differently told from the present tale of continued power. THE IRVING IIALL PACTION. Before the next election John Fox hac seceded from Tammany Hall and Kelly by his arbitrary measures, had driven oui of the organization many of it most popu lar and influential leaders. These seceden organized themselves into the Irving Hal Democracy, taking their name from th( meeting place at Fifteenth street and Irv A nrtkAK<?)u nam TliallC UJg piitUC) VV1IC1C -ijLlllUClfc r> utlt J.11UIII Theatre now stands. This organizatior grew into the greatest political factor with which Tammany Hall ever had to contend In municipal contests, by the presentatior of a mixed ticket, it affiliated with the local liepublican organization under the guise of a so-called Citizen's movemeni and almost inviriably defeated the Tarn many people. The general of these so called Citizen's movements was Chestei A. Arthur, who became for a time the con trolling power of the city of New York. Prosperity ruined Irving Hall. John Fox, Sheriff Bowe and their followers or one side, and Hubert 0. Thompson, Mau rice J. Power and Edward Cooper and their followers on the other, contested long and hard for the control of the organiza tion. The latter clique outnumbered the former. Fox and Bowe and their associates were "disciplined"?were excluded from the Irving Hall Association. The apparently successful faction within a faction, exulted over what they believed tc be a victory, but they had forgotten thai the lease of the building known as Irving Hall had been granted to Fox and Brwe History again repeated itself. The same tactics which Tammany had exercised toward the Young Democracy were employed in this instance against Thompson, Power, Cooper and others. THE COUNTY DEMOCRACY. Having thus lost their name and the significance which the title gave them the discomfited majority met temporarily in the hall of the Cooper Institute, and eight years ago organized the C'ountj Democracy. The remnant of Irving Hal! lingered precariously, occasionally commanding political recognition by hoisting the black fiagand sometimes in close political contests, courted as a presumed balance of power by the other organizations Finally it became too insignificant in numbers to terrorize either through politica piracy or to be esteemed of sufficient consequence for party cajolery, and one yeai ago it breathed its last. The subsequent careers and contests o Tammany and the County Democracy need not be related, Richard Croker, b> the secret grace of the Columbian Order succeded Kelly as Tammany's chieftain and Maurice J. Power stepped intoThomp son's shoes when death made them vacant While Governor Hill, of New York, at tributes to Tammany much for his success in the recent election, and although the so ciety was divided into factions over th< contest for mayor, President Cleveland does not impute the sachems with his de feat, butsaysthat Hill and Tammany Hal treated him with perfect fairness. Suit has been filed in Chancery C'ouri at Knoxville, Tenn., by stockholders ir the East Tennessee road, to prevent Rich mond Terminal from operating the Easi Tennessee road under the recent lease It is claimed that the Georgia portion o the road is operated under the old Cincin nati and Georgia, which provides that "nt other railroad company shall own aeon trolling interest in said railroad." Anoth er complaint is that the lease is made by ? competing line which will stop all compe tition and work against public policy The bill is not only to restrain the Termi nal from operating the East Tennessee but also asks that the Richmond and Wesi Point Terminal and Warehouse company be restrained from voting upon the share.' of.stock held by it, at the meeting: of thi East Tennessee, Virginia and Georgia railroad stockholders, on the 22nd of De cember. This meeting is called for the purpose of considering the proposed lease SST No better illustration of the wonder ful wealth of the United States is furnished than the figures which David. T. Day, o the division of mining statistics of the United States geological survey, gives re garding the immense mineral output o the country for the past year. They show that the total value of all minerals raised that year amounted to $508,000,000. This is $70,000,000 more than the output during the previous year, and more than $100,000,' 000 greater than that of 1885. The lasi year's output is not only the greatest evei raised in the United States, but is at leasi $100,000,000 greater than the output of anj other country, and leaving out Englanc: i is greater than that of all Europe put to gether. The latest report of the Department o Agriculture just received from Washing ton, makes no material change in the i former estimates of this year's wheat har I vest in the United States. The foreigt i advices embodied in the report rectify however, some of the pessimistic error: j afloat last month as to the deficiency o ! the European crops. Brilliant weather ir September considerably improved tin grain harvests in France, Great Britain Hollaud and Belgium, while in llussiathi present crop is reported to be "as large ai that of the superabundant yield of 1887.' It is not likely, therefore, that there will b< much, if any increase in the price of breac in this country. As the crop of Indiai corn is exceptionally good it may be large ly substituted as food in the place o wheat. j | For the Yorkville Enquirer. REMINISCENCES OF WESTERN YORK. In the fall or winter of 1857, old man J Tom Lanier took very sick one night, and j 3 sent for the writer, who went for Mr. : 1 Thomas M. NVhitesides ("Stingy Tom"), 1 who by the way deserved no such appella: tion, in the general acceptation of that 1 word. He was good and kind to the poor and always ready to help them when in 1 distress. But, as we have said before, 7 there were a number of Thomas White" sides in that country at that time, and some appellative was necessary to distiu* guish the one from the other; hence the 5 use of the one in this case. 1 The night wasdark, and a cold rain with * a sprinkling of sleet was falling. At our [ summons, Mr. Whitesides arose from his 3 bed, gathered a bottle of medicine (laudanum, I think) and got ready to go to the 3 suffering man. But before leaving home 3 he ordered one of his negroes to go, "post3 haste," for Dr. Darwin. Before we got to * the house we could hear Mr. Lanier groan1 ing and otherwise exhibiting evidences of 1 great pain. .When we entered the house ' we found him tossing to and fro upon the 3 bed, and his wife (Aunt Sindy) trying to keep the cover on him, with warm ash . poultices to his side and a warm brick to c his feet. lie was in great agony and ter^ ribly excited. He had confidence in Mr. " Whitesides. In fact, Sam Strain said he 1 expected to go to Tom Whitesides when 1 he died. That foolish expression came up ? in the writer's mind that night as Mr. La1 nier tossed about on his bed, saying: 4'0h ! 1 Tommie Whitesides, do have mercy upon [ me, if you please, sir." "Oh ! Mr. Tom3 mie Whitesides, you don't know how I } am suffering." "Hut," says Mr. Tom W., 1 "You must lie still and then you'll get [ easy, perhaps." "Hut, Mr. Tommie Whitesides, I can't get easy until you take 3 that pain out of my side." "Tom, the doctor will be here directly ; be easy." 1 The colloquy ran on in this strain for some time ; but the situation was too serious to c laugh at. In an hour's time, perhaps, Dr. ' Darwin came and soon got control of the ' patient's agony, and old man Whitesides began to tease him for having been so exl cited. "Why," said the writer to Mr. 3 Whitesides, "the impression is abroad in [ this country that uncle Tom Lanier expects ' fr\ r*f\ in vnn whun htwliau " " siilV'S ! J UU ???" *? l?v ?IVU. v.., w Mr. W., "I want him to have better pluck than that then." I don't expect many of our readers (whoever knew him) have forgotten old man I IsaacMcCalebs,thesaddler. Thisoldman , made his debut into that section in the t year 1853 or '">4. Mr. McCalebs was a man of fine sense. He had read the histoi ry of the United States and could trace the I records of any of the leading statesmen of } our country as well as the rise and progress - of the different political parties that had ex: isted since the organization of the govern1 ment. lie was personally acquainted with i John C. Calhoun, and would frequently . quote that great statesman in couversingon i matters where such quotations were releJ vant. In a debating society he could interi est an audience. In fact, he was the matet rial out of which statesmen and orators are made. And he, too, might have occupied a prominent place in his country's history r had not strong drink and debauchery have - wrecked his bright prospects. He was, no doubt, by education, the equal of the i great Irish orator, John P. Curran. Before i our acquaintance with him the old man had entered his dotage, and the traces of a I bright mind and useful man were fast disr, appearing. At the breaking out of the war we entered the army and lost sight of i him. Sometime afterward his misspent life came to a close and his unused talent I was buried with him in an unhonored i grave, to await the judgment of the great day. > A biographical sketch of his life, of less t than a dozen lines, might be studied to t advantage by the youth of our land at the . present day: A bright mind and a useful 5 man victimized by strong drink and its at tendant evils, now sinks into a pauper's grave with nothing to mark its last resting , place, and only to be remembered as the greatest enemy to himself. He was of Irish ancestry, and his early training had > been good, beyond a doubt. He had worked in mauy parts of the country at his ' trade, that of a saddle-maker. Atone time I he was at Jesse Cornwell's, below Ches, ter, and finding in that man a congenial I friend, made that his home for sometime. . During a drinking spree there he walked . outofliis room one night and stepped off 1 the portico and fell a distance of 12 or 15 . feet to the ground. After this he quit drinking for a long time, but as the dog ! returns to his vomit, or the sow to the I mire, so he returned to his old practice, . and thus we find his checkered life come to . a close. j. l. s. f Save ry Keeping Accounts.?If all r men, whether engaged in business or actr ing as employees and receiving salaries or daily wages, would keep a regular account ' with themselves, in which should appear [ in detail all the money they receive and all they expend, they would live more | wisely, and, as a rule, far more successfulj ly. Here, forexample, is a man who is in receiptofa salary. This salary he receives i in twelve monthly payments. Letussup[ pose him to keepan account with himself. When he receives a monthly payment he l" charges himself as debtor to that amount, and during the month he credits himself with all he pays out, item by item. At the t end of the month he settles this account , with himself, andseeson paperjust where . his money came from and just where it I has gone. If he has spent less than he has received he carries the surplus forward to f the next month, and keeps an account of . the month in thesame way, and thus conj tinues for the whole year. At the end of. . the year he can look back over the whole . period, and see in black awf whitejust how L he has lived in the matter of personal and . family expenses. If his whole salary has been spent, he can see how it was spent; ! and if a part of it has been saved, he can ( equally see how he managed to save. r An Embarrassed Clergyman.?An i amusing incident happened at the recent ; Sam Jones tabernacle meeting at Cartersi ville, says the Savannah News. One of the - most devout ministers of North Georgia. ; who resides in a town nota thousand miles . from Carters ville, left home to spend a j day or two at these meetings. The sudden ) . cool weather that came about during the! I meeting caused overcoats to become a re-! f quisite. The clergyman alluded to did 1 ? not have his overcoat along, but the fami- i . ly whom lie wasstopping with kindly tend- j f ered him the use of one which answered ' r every purpose. After securing a seat up I near the pulpit, the minister proceeded to i take off his overcoat, and while doing so a r deck of cards fell from a side pocket as he 1 was folding the coat to hang it on the back t of his chair. To see the minister, who for many years had been engaged in making a t crusade against cards, reaching after a ten r spot here and a jack of spades there, and i I hidino- them awav as fast as he could get ! i tiiein back into his pocket, certainly creat- ! | ed a ripple among those seated near him. j f I Thanksgiving for tiie Orphans.? j | As our annual day of rejoicing approaches, ! ; i Christian people should not forget the or | phans. When the people assemble on that 1 | day to thank God, let them thank him : , j with their substance. One of the Institu- j 3 i tions deserving of such remembrance is j f the Thornwell Orphanage, at Clinton, S. C. ' i j Although a Presbyterian Institution, more i ! thau Half its inmates are from other de- j , nominations, Baptists, Methodists, Luth- I 3! eransand Episcopalians being represented, j 31 Its children are from ten different States, 1 ' ; mainly, of course, from South Carolina j 3 andGeorgia. These children deserve well i 1 of the people. They cheerfully labor with | i their hands to help themselves, in kitchen, - laundry, farm and elsewhere. Gifts of f provisions, money, can all be used. As there is no endowment to this institution, it depends on the charitable for support. Rev. William P. Jacobs is the President. Send gifts to him, at Clinton, S. C. There are now nearly one hundred orphans applying to this Institution to be received. What grand good liberal gifts would do ! THE LAST SLAVE CARGO. Probably the most interesting character hereabouts, says the Augusta, Ga., Chronicle, is a negro man who was one of the cargo of the Wanderer, the last slave ship to bring to this country a load of captives from Africa. Lucius Williams, as he was christened by one of the young ladies of the family into which he was sold, or "Umwalla," as he was called in Africa, lives in-a small hut on the outskirts of TTrt.? ^ Jitwuuuig, auiuna wiu IIVCI lium IICIU. Since freedom he has earned a livelihood working gardens, sawing wood and whitewashing. He was a little surprised when asked about his early life, but talks well, once he has begun, requiring to be questioned frequently, however. As Umwalla, he was born in Guinea, according to his story, not far from Liberia. One day, when he was about ten years of age, he was sent to his aunt to carry her some pinders to plant. When he was going through the woods two strange black men seized him and bound his hands. He cried terribly and soon they gagged him. They sold him to a native, who took him to Liberia. There, for the first time in his life, he saw a white man, and he was terribly frightened at him. Umwalla was then taken to the Wanderer, where a large number of captives had already been stored away in the hold. The passage over was fraught with untold terrors to the young savage. A storm was encountered, and for days the hold was fastened up, and numbers of the negroes died from sickness caused by the foul air. There were a number of ferocious men among the cargo who had to be kept in chains. When the Wanderer approached the South Carolina coast she was sighted by a Government boat and given chase. During the night she dropped anchor off Pocotaligo, and tiie cargo of negro men and women was debarked. Umwalla, or, as he was soon afterwards called, Lucius, was taken to a Carolina plantation, near IJeech Island, and put to work there. Lucius is very fond of the "white folks," as he styles his old master and mistress, and frequently calls to see them?walking several miles to do so. The style of punishment followed among his tribe was to break the culprit's neck by a sudden wrench from a forked stick. Lucius tells, in his quaint way, of the interesting leatures ot slavery. j>o negro woman was permitted, however, gorgeous her toilet otherwise, to wear a veil or gloves. Negro men were neither permitted to carrv a walking-cane nor smoke a cigar on the streets. They could not remain away from their quarters after nine o'clock at night without a permit from their master. He is not lonesome here, for on a neigh- , boring plantation?on C'apt. Ben Tillman's place?are many negroes from his old home, and they frequently meet and converse in African. They do not attempt to impart the language to their children, he says, and of course all vestiges of it, save what they have engrafted on the Southern ? patois, must soon die out. fiST "The horse," said Napoleon First, "is the link between the animal and God." In the wars of Napoleon, an officer named Lamont was several times saved in battle by his horse, and out of gratitude he took more care of his animal than of himself. In 1809 Lamont was killed in an engagement on the Danube. But the horse would not quit the body, and with teeth and hoofs kept off every one who wished to remove it. The matter was reported to Napoleon, who gave orders to leave the horse alone, and watch him. According to the statement of the sentinel, the horse remained with the corpse all night, and in the morning, having snuffed it from head to foot, uttered a pitiful cry, galloped off to the river, plunged in, and was drowned. JBSaTlt is daily life that tests us?the manner of men we are. It is not our prayers, it is not ourprofession, but it is the tone of daily intercourse and conduct that decides how we stand. The little homely graces; the cheerful, every-day amenities; the Christ-spirit uttering itself not much in conscious act as unconscious influence, not so much in deeds as in subtle aroma which without name excludes from the saintly soul; to equals and inferiors, to agreeable and disagreeable, to rich, poor, ignorant, to young, to old ; bearing burdens, accepting crosses, seeking no great thing to do, content to put self by and be servant of the lowest?these are fruits of one only rootfruits that none may counterfeit.?[Ware. A little girl asked her mother, "Mamma, what makes all the people we rent houses from so mean? Why don't you rent a house from a good man sometimes?" Had she been the daughter of the landlord she would probably have asked, "What makes the people you rent houses to so mean ? Why don't you sometimes rent a house to a good man?" People look at things in the light of their comfort and convenience, and not in the light of truth and right. As George Elliot says, "They translate their convenience into other people's duties." #55r By a prairie fire, which swept over Sioux Valley township, near Jackson, Minnesota, last Thursday, five lives were lost and thousands of dollars worth of property destroyed. Henry Ray, a farmer, while fighting the fire, was fatally burned, and Mrs. Mallie O'Connor, with a four weeks old babe, and Mrs. Murray, with her lG-year-old son, were overtaken by the flames, and unable to outrun them, were burned to death. It is reported " ' ? t that another lamny 01 mree were uunisu to death. The extent of the loss to property is about ?00,000. j?"An inventive genius has perfected a locomotive attachment, in the nature of a phonograph, whereby every blast of the whistle is recorded, together with the exact time at which it occurs. There are a large number of grade crossings in this State, upon which annually many lives are lost. The relatives ot those killed almost invariably claim that the locomotive whistle was not sounded in time to warn the victims. The railroad companies, to protect themselves against damages, dispute the poiut so often taken. gar If you feel the need of having a pistol in your pocket, you are a miserable coward. If you are afraid to go down the street unarmed, you had better get your grandmother with her knitting needles to go with you. A pistol is the meanest and most infernal weapon ever invented. It is the weapon of a sneak. I would as soon carry a toad in my vest pocket.? [llev. T. lie win laimage. fl-aT A Washington dispatch to the New York Herald says that President Cleveland will issue a proclamation putting in force the retaliation act against Canada. It is said that timely warning will be given to the Canadian government that unless due regard is had for our commercial rights, the law will be enforced as strictly as the privileges of the Act will allow. Ifcgr Trials are medicines which our gracious and wise Physician prescribes, because we need them ; and he proportions the frequency and weight of them to what the case requires. Let us trust in hisskill, and thank him for his prescription.? [Newton.