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~~ ~~~ " ^ * ' ' lewis M. G-RIST, Proprietor. | gin ,Independent Jimilu Itepaper: ~jfr the ?romotion of thtj folitiipil, ?oqial, l^iniltaipl and <$ommct[tial Jnlmjsts of ih< ^onth. | TERMS?$2.00 A TEAR IN ADVANCE. YCJL. 37. YORKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JULY 22, 1891. ISTO. 24. 1 " ' ' ' ? -*-?-* - ? 1 .nAnJ, I .Jti.....it. M..iKWa I position, I wrote still another lectnre, and | THIRD PARTY HilSPEL. I don't believe I won't to put on style cancel'and destroy th^^one^^^*i *1? ??,i t minrhf tnrnoii A anh-treflfltirv that receives , i WEIRD LOVER.j _ By DAVID KEB. * \ [Copyright by American Press Association.] CHAPTER L THE LONELY TOWER. ? I "Ood protect us!" muttered the mother. "There he comes! that's he!" "What? That tall man on the other ' ride of the street? Well, he's splendidly handsome, if ever any man was, bat [with a slight shndder] there's something in his face that frightens me, though I don't know why." "Ah! do yon feel like that too? Well, it's very odd, bat every one that looks at him says the same. The first time I sver saw him I felt just as I used to feel -1 ? * <v?*AM *-V?rv rtinf WQt/U J Wtw t> VUMU UTOi bUO piWUiw V* i ' those dreadful enchanted men in the j Fairy tales who, when midnight came, < turned into wolves or tigers or devils, ' and devoured every one within reach." No one who knew them would have laid an overvivid imagination to the charge of the two worthy burghera who j were gossiping thus in the main street j of Marseilles; yet this man had strange- < ly impressed them both, and the impression (for which there seemed to be no possible reason) was exactly the same in both cases. Meanwhile the subject of their talk? a tall, fine looking man in the prime of life, wearing a handsome though rather theatrical Hungarian dress, which set dff his noble figure to full advantage? went slowly along the opposite sidewalk, with his head bent down as if in deep thought, and seemingly unconscious of | the admiring glances shot at him by many passing ladies. Suddenly he raised his head as if he had come to some final decision on the subject that was occupying his thoughts. As he did so his eyes met those of a tiny girt who was being carried past him iif the arms of a stout market woman. A j moment before the child had been laugh- ; ing gleefully and playing with the fringe ; of her mother's shawl, but as she encountered the piercing glance of those large, black, fiery eyes, she trembled and began to cry. "God protect us!" muttered the moth- ! ar, hastily signing the cross over the shuddering infant; "that man must 1 surely have the evil eyel" As the stranger passed on two men who were chatting at the door of a large stone house turned to look at him. "If that fellow were only a poor man Td hire him for a model this very day," said the taller of the two, a distinguished French artist, in a tone of irrepressible mthusiasm "His face is worthy of Vandyke." "Worthy of The Police Gazette, you mean," growled his companion, who was no other than the prefect of police himself. "Mark my words, friend Victor, [ that man will commit some horrible : crime one day or other, if indeed he hasn't done it already!" And who then was this man who seemed to inspire such a universal feel- , ing of mingled horror and admiration? This was the very question which every one in Marseilles was asking, and ; which no one seemed able to answer. I All that was as yet known of the stranger was that he had arrived from Paris a few weeks before, attended by half a dozen fierce looking teiiows in me areas of Hungarian foresters; that he had gone straight to the largest hotel and ; taken a whole suite of rooms to himself at a cost worthy of Dumas' Count of Monte Cristo, in the name of "Prince Keretsenyi, Janosz castle, Southern Transylvania," and that at a public ball two days after his arrival he had signalized his entrance into local society by a feat J that made him at once the talk of the whole town. Among the guests at the ball was a certain dragoon captain, Louis Du Val by name, a noted bully arfd duelist, who was always on the lookout for a quarrel. He was standing amid a circle of his admirers when the Transylvanian ; prince entered. The sudden introduction of this superbly handsome stranger by such a renowned historical name as that of Keretsenyi sent a buzz of excitement through the whole room, but Capt. Du Val laughed scornfully, and observed in a tone evidently meant to reach the prince's ears that these Hungarian counts and princes often carried all their estate on their backs, and that their title deeds were sometimes to be found in the register of the nearest prison. Scarcely were the insulting words uttered, when Keretsenyi stepped quickly up to the speaker, and dealt him a slap in the face with his open hand that echoed all around the room like a pistol shot. Such a commencement could have but one result. The preliminaries of a meet- j ing were soon adjusted, and next morning the redoubtable Capt. Du Val, one of the best swordsmen in the whole sonth of Prance, was borne home speechless rmd desperately wounded from the last duel that he was ever to fight. ' * ? 4f "1 JUICW UU1U IUU ?oi; uia> uvn < would be," said Du Vol's second, telling the story that evening to his friends at the clab. "When my man stoppod forward tho Transylvaninu gavo him one look?snch a look!?just the way that j uon tamer last year used to look at his oeasts. It made me tingle all over, I know tliat. Poor Du Val seemed to feel it too, for I saw his color change and his hand shake (fancy his hand shaking!), and then I knew that Keretsenyi had i him. So ho had, sure enough, for they had hardly been at it three minutes when Du Val, for the first time in his life I should think, left his guard open for an instant, :uid the next moment 1 jaw him lying at my feet all over blood. He'll never tight again, poor fellow! for his right arm is crippled for life." But this duel was fated to have more important results than the spoiling of Capt. Du Val's swordmanship. Just out of the town lived an old Gascon gentleman, M. do la Roche, with a pedigree as long as his purse was short, whose one regret in life was the loss of the estates of which his family had been deprived hv an unfortunate accident known to V history as the French Involution. His favorite nephew having been killed in a duel by Du Val the old man was naturally delighted to see the bully punished in his turn, and lost no time in calling upon Keretsenj'i to congratulate him. The prince received him courteously, returned his visit, and finding his host's daughter Madeleine one of the prettiest girls that he had ever seen, fell in love with her, or at least appeared to do so, on the spot. Nothing could be more flattering to a simple, inexperienced girl, utterly ignorant of the world and only just freed from the prison of a convent school, than this homage from a man who had the whole fashionable world of Marseilles at his j feet: for in Frauce?and in most other countries too, for that matter?any one ' who has the reputation of being very rich and very wicked, with the additional merit of having murdered a man either in the ceremonious form of a duel or in the simpler and more usual way, is certain to achieve an immense popularity; and Prince Keretsenyi received so much attention from the local beauties that had he been a Turk or a Mormon, he might have taken away with him wivee enough to stock an entire harem. It was true that in her inmost heart Madeleine felt an instinctive shrinking from this mysterious and terrible suitor, who, when they first met, had darted at her a look of fierce and hungry admiration which scared her with a sudden and ghastly memory of a frightful picture that she had once seen in her childhood, where a wolf, standing over a helpless child in the snow, was just about to bury *1 lwipnwl'o flllVXQ f ff ! IIS cram laugs IU mo iiuauvo vuiuuv. ...? was also true that she had had her ovrn dreams of ideal bliss, and that her partner in those dreams wore not the towering form and tiger like beauty of Keretsenyi, but the likeness of the bright i haired boy who had been the chosen playmate of her childhood. But her father would not hear a word of Herri de Mortemart, and of course her father must know best. This last consideration, combined with Keretsenyi's extraordinary personal beauty, the splendid presents which ho was always making her, his renown a3 the conqueror of the most dreaded and formidable duelist in the whole district, and, aboye all, the weird, indefinable fascination which seemed to attach itself to everything that he did or said, was strong enough to stifle in Madeleine's heart the warning instinct which bade her beware of this ill omened uni on; , and when once the prince had spoken ont, old De la Roche?who would gladly have sold his own soul (to say nothing of his daughter) for a tithe of the sum which Keretsenyi offered to settle on bis ! bride?took good care that there should be no undue delay in the celebration of the marriage. Thus it came to pass that one evening in the early autumn of that year two gossips met on the broad white pavement of the Cannebiere, and one of them said to the other: "Well, M. lo Prince has certainly made a successful summer campaign among us; he has beaten the best man and married the prettiest woman in all i Marseilles." "And Henri de Mortemart?" askel his friend; "how does he like to see his 'soul's adored' in the anns of another uuuii "He likes it so little, poor fellow! that he has suddenly disappeared, and people are saying that he must have committed suicide. But what would you have? I | Even if Keretsenyi hadn't come in the way at all, Henri would never have got her. He was branded with the worst of all crimes?he was guilty of being poor!" ! Poor Princess Madeleine had a long and weary journey to her new home amid the distant Carpathian mountains, in the wild border land between Transyl- j vania and Wallachia, for her grim bridegroom, as if spurred by a mad impatience to see his ancient castle once more, hurried forward night and day without ever pausing to rest, seemingly 1 expecting her to be as insensible to fa- i tigueashe was himself. Her strength was well nigh exhausted by the time ; they quitted the railway for a. large ! traveling carriage, which was awaiting them at the station. But this was in turn left behind as the roacl grew | rougher and steeper, and just as aight ' was falling she found herself ou horseback Ifalf way up the endless zigzags of a breakneck mountain path, while just in front of her, tall and shadowy as a phantom in the ghostly twilight, rode Keretsenyi on a mighty black horse, worthy of the specter huntsman of German legend. Where the sun had gone down one pale, spectral gleam still lingered above ; the gloomy hills, covered to the very ! summit with shadowy pine forests, and j against it rose, black and grim, the massive tower of an ancient castle. As ; Madeleine caught sight of it there shot j through her heart such a chii.. as men j are said to feel at the approach of the unknown foe by whose hand they must die, but the prince's large, dark eyes lighted up like those of a wolf scenting prey, and the voice in which ne muttered, "At last!" was tremulous with a I fierce and feverish exultation. The lonely tower quickly vanished I umld tho deepening durknese of night, I rod on they went in ghostly gloom and i silence, like a train of specters going down into the grave. Only by the ' trampling of horaehoots before and be- I hind her could Madeleine tel.1. that she j was not utterly alone, and there began to steal over her a sense of ghastly, freezing isolation, of having left human pity rod human aid far behind her, of being ; cut off forever from the living world of 1 men, and in the power of beings to whom light and lifo were abhorrent, and whose home was the realm of loneliness j and of night All at once u huge shadowy building loomed up dimly in front of them by the I faint light of the rising moon. It was more like a vast tomb than any habita- ! tion of living men, for 110 spark of light , was seen within, nor could the slightest 1 sound be heard. Keretseayi halted aud blew a blast on ; the horn that hung at his saddlebow, j loud and harsh enough to wake the dead. And it appeared as if lie had really done ; so, for as the ponderous gate swung slowly and sullenly back the gaunt, ! spectral retaiuer who stood, lamp in hand, within the black, tunnel like archway, his white, haggard face looking doubly ghastly by contrast with the 1 black velvet dress that I10 wore, did in- , deed seem newly risen from the grave. Silent and shuddering Madeleine passed the fatal threshold, and us she did so the dreary howl of a wolf from the encir- 1 cling forest was answered by the boding , shriek of an owl from a ruined turret , overhead. It was her welcome?a fit ! welcome indeed to such a home! CHAPTER II. WnAT MADELEINE SAW BEHIND THE CUR- j TAIN. As she saw what It had concealed she ut- ' tend a low, chotyng cry. "If I could only escape?but there is no hope of that! Or if I had even one | friend near me whom I could trust!? Gk>d send me some help quickly, before I die or go mad! Oh, father, father! | was a handful of money worth wrecking my life for?" It was a strange sjteech for a brido in the first week of her honeymoon; but to poor Princess Kerotsenyi that one week j had Beemed longer than a year. And well it might. Could a single living soul l>o doomed to eternal imprisonment junong the dead, that horrible exile would fitly- represent the life (if such it could be called) to which Made- ! leiue found herself lettered without ' help or hope of deliverance. The grim old" feudal fortress, with its gloomy tow- I ers and crumbling battlements, its mil- I dewed hangings, moth eaten tapestries ' and pictures moldering out of their frames, Beemed like a vast tomb itself, and the gaunt, gliding, spectral retain- ; ers who flitted noiselessly through its | huge, desolate rooms or along its ghostly ' passages had the withered, gray, lifeless aspect of dried up corpses. Their very j movements had a slow, mechanical heaviness utterly unlike any motion of 1 living men, and more appalling to poor Madeleine than even the death like ap- j pearance of their faces. But to the ill fated girl the most terrifying characteristic ot these human machines was their stony and unchanging j silence. They never seemed to speak to | each other; they never by any chance spoke to her, and when she gave au or- ! der or asked a question they either re- ' - * l ? a -11 : plied by Bigns v maae no repiy at an. Whether they were actually dumb or | whether their stern master had forbid- | den them to hold uny communication with her, she never, from first to last, I heard one of them utter a single word. ; Amid this mute train of specters one might have thought that even the com- 1 pauiouship of her mysterious and terrible husband?who at least wore a human | face and spoke with a human voicewould be a kind of relief to her. But ' the instinctive terror which had ulways underlain her girlish admiration of j Keretsenyi had now filled her mind so ; completely as to leave no space for any j other feeling. She could not forget how, when they stood together before the : altar, the consecrated tapers that burned j on it suddenly went out (though not a -I breath of air was stirring), and bow her | old nurse had solemnly declared that a glance from the fiery eyes of the terrible bridegroom had made these weaker ' flames tremble and expire. Nor had she forgotten how Keretsenyi, when excited by an argument with one of her father's military guests, had darted at his adversary a look beneath which Col. De Ma 1st ?a strong and courageous man in the prime of life?seemed to shrink and i wither like paper shriveling in the fire. What could he be, this man to whom she had bound herself forever? This man with the beauty of u god and the { glance of a demon, accomplished as a hero of romance, yet savage as a wolf of 1 the forest. That some fearful tragedy lay behind the impenetrable mystery that wrapped him like a pall she felt only too sure, and this suspicion was vaguely but terribly confirmed on the very day after their arrival at Janosz castle. The two earlier meals having been taken in their own room, the evening repast was the princess' first introduction to the great dining hall, which, having been built to hold scores of armed men, lookeu indescribably dreary and desolate i when tenanted only by their two selves; I for the -silent, speetral Retainers, who j came and went like shadows in their black, funereal dress, only intensified : the crushing sense of loneliness instead ! of relieving it. The bride's eyes wan- j dered .with secret terror over the huge ! bare walls, the massive pillars festooned j with torn and dusty banners, the vault- i ed roof with its mighty cross beams of ; solid oak, the pine torches that flamed ! and crackled in their iron stands over- j head, and the vast antique fireplace, ; with its fantastic carvings, till her timid j gaze rested at length upon another object more strange and startliug than all. Just behind her husband's tall oaken chair stood a life size wax figure (or iVhat appeared to be such) holding a small silver lamp in its outstretched hand. It i represented a young man of marvelous | beauty picturesquely set off by the , showy uniform of a Honved hussar; but the face, instead of wearing the fixed, ! unmeaning stare common to such fig- j ures, was writhed and distorted ;is if by I a spasm of mortal agony, which looked ! so horribly real in the fitful glare of the torchlight that Madeleine fairly started. .*1 uolr oAma nnnaHon i OlltJ Wtt3 JUDb ttWUb w ivon, owujw \|mvw??wm respecting this weird ornament, wheu i Keretsenyi, catching her inquiring ' glance, replied to it with a smile more j fierce and cruel and terrible than liis j blackest frown, which froze the half i formed words on her lips. So far as she herself was concerned, , however, the first few weeks gave Madeleine no valid reason for her unconquer- I able terror of her husbund. To her he j was always attentive and affectionate, though his affection resembled rather ; the watchful care of a kind guardian ! than the passionate tenderness of a bridegroom in his honeymoon. He did his j utmost in various ways to make the : grim isolation of this strange life more | endurable to her. Horses of that mutch- j less Hungarian breed which he had hitlx- j erto known only through books of travel i were always at her disposal, and her morning gallops over the hills by her j husband's side, with the sun shining in a cloudless sky and the fragrance of the pine woods tilling the whole air, were almost the only bright spots in her dreary ! existence. Keretsenyi, too, seemed to feel their influence as well as herself, and to shako off for a moment on such occa- i sions the mysterious gloom which at all other times weighed him down like a nightmare. As his horse hoofs rattled along the steep rocky ledge paths und the mountain breeze whistled through his long hair ho seemed almost happy, ! but the moment they re-entered the dark walls of the grim old castle the gloomy spell was upon him once more and upon his bride likewise. When they were together in the even- ; ing Keretsenyi would often tell her exciting stories of the strange people and wonderful sights tliat he had seen in his travels, which appeared to have extend- | ed over every part of tho earth, and which ho described with such startling """"" ? "' ill most forgot her terror of him in tho in- ' terest with which she listened. But then all at once he would stop short, as ' if something choked him, and she, looking up in amazement, would find him j gazing at her with a sad, wistfnl look, I full of pity and of yearning tenderness? such a look as Jephthah might have cast at his only child tho moment before he slew her. On cfie of these occasions, moved by a strange impulse of womanly compassion which she herself hardly under- , stood, she took his hand in both her own and pressed it to her lips. The strong ! man started as if stung by a viper. \ clasped her juissionately to him for 0110 ^ moment, and kissed her us if his whole soul went into tho caress, and then thrust her fiercely away and rushed headlong from tho room. The morning after this strange outburst tho prince suddenly announced to her that he must leave her that very day, on an errand which might detain him for several weeks, and before sho j had time to recover from her amazement ; at this unexpected news (for hitherto ho j had hardly let her out of his sight, and would never allow her to go l>eyond the castle gates alone) he was actually gone, j and she stood watching his lessening ' figure as he spurred his black horse along , a narrow, zigzag, broken path, which skirted the brink of a precipice so terrific that few men would have cared to pass it even ut a walk. But just then she caught a fragment of the talk of two passing i>ejisauts below her, who, like herself, had paused to watch the reckless course of tho distant horseman. "Uncle," said the younger of the two, who was a stranger in that neighbor- , hood, "if yon prince of .thine always rides jis madly as this, he hath dono well to marry again so soon, lest tho race of Keretsenyi should end with him." "Ho hath naught to fear 011 that score, nephew," answered tho older man solemnly. "It was foretold to him long ago, by a tongue which cannot lie, that no living thing, man or beast, shall have ' power to touch his life, and that, when his hour comes, he shall go down alivo into the grave!" I M2U16161QO WtU tllUlUDV OSiiauicu iv ituu how immeasurably relieved she felt by Keretsenyi's departure; but before many days were over she had good cause to wish him back again. .In that lifeless atmosphere the exoiting influence of his fierce feverish vitality was like the plunge of an avalanche into a still mountain lake; and now that he was gone the gloom and silence'and utter loneliness of this abode of the dead were almost more than she could bear. It was not lonft too, before she discovered that the ghostlike attendants who peopled her solitude were keeping a stealthy but incessant watch upon all her movements, which was even harder to endure than the jealous vigilance of her terrible bridegroom had been. When she strolled through the neglected garden or the wide, bare courtyard, Bhe would suddenly catch sight of a black robed, silent form dogging her stops like a haunting shadow. She could not walk the battlements without seeing a pale, lean, corpselike face peering out at her from an adjoining, loophole. No opposition, indeed, was made to the continuance of her morning rides, but whenever she ordered out her horse two of the mute phantoms that guarded her instantly mounted tlieir horses to bear her company. It was plain that for any victim once caught in these fatal toils there was no escape but death; and she felt instinctively that death itself was already hovering over her, and that its stroke would not be long delayed. And now came a passing spell of wet and stormy weather that Lusted for several days, during which Madeleine, unable to venture out, employed her enforced leisure in exploring the interior of the castle, many parts of which were still quite new to her. She was all the more inclined to occupy herself In this way because here, and here alone, she was left unmolested by the ceaseless vigilance of the spies who dogged her every movement elsewhere. .In the course of one of these rambles slie came ui>on a long, narrow, gloomy passage, which she followed without knowing why. The rooms that opened out of it bore such marks of neglect and decay as showed that they must have tain uninhabited for years; but midway along the corridor she met with an even more striking token of disuse and abandonment?the doorway of a room which had been actually built up. as if it were never to be occupied again. This of itself would have been nothing very remarkable in such a place, but Madeleine was startled to perceive by the freshness of the work that this room must have been closed up within the last few years. Of what dark and mysterious tragedy had these voiceless stones been the mute witnesses? Had her terrible husband, like other men of whom she had read, walled up one of' his enemies alive in this dis-# mal retreat to perish by the slow torture of thirst and famine, or had he?? But at that thought she flung out her hands wildly, as if thrusting away from her some horrible specter, and was just turning to go back when she happened to notice that one of the posts of this blocked up door had parted slightly from the surrounding woodwork, leaving a crack through which it was possible to see into the mysterious chamber. Driven by an impulse beyond her control she crept up to it and peaped through. There was not much to be seen within after all?only a bare, dusty, unfurnished room, at the farther end of which hung * ' * L-:- T>?i _ a D1UCK curwiiu. uut u otiaufjo iiunui fell suddenly upon her us she gazed, and, springing back as if from the edge of a precipice, she turned and fled away. Two days after Madeleine was wandering aimlessly along a tapestried gallery which she had not seen before, when her foot slipped and she fell with some force against the wall. To her surprise the wall seemed to yield with her, and she guessed that she must have accidentally touched the spring of some secret panel. She lifted the tapestry, pushed back an oaken panel which was standing ajar behind it, and found herself? with what feeling may bo easily imagined?iu the mysterious room with the black curtain. For one moment sho stood motionless, glancing round her with a secret honor which she could neither understand nor resist. The door which had been walled up, when thus seen from the inside, apI>eared to be a massive framework of solid black oak, clumped and banded with iron; and the sight of it increased Madeleine's terror, as sho thought how frightful that secret must be for which even such defenses as theso were accounted insufficient. The room was covered so thickly with dust that her first step into it had stirred up a cloud which almost choked her; but on the bare, unswept floor she saw a line of footprints loading up to tho black curtain and another line returning from it. Those footprints could belong to no one but her husband, and behind that curtain the secret must lie. With a heart throbbing as if it would burst the excited girl went desperately up to the mysterious veil, paused irresolutely for one instant, and then, seizing the curtain convulsively with both her hands, tore it back. As Bhe saw what it had concealed sho uttered a low, choking cry, swayed helplessly forward, and would have sunk to tho ground but for tho supportof somo object against which she blindly fell. On a kind of shelf behind tho curtain stood a small glass case, within which, on a narrow strip of black velvet, were ranged three human heads?the .heads of young and beautiful women, still lovely as when they lived, and preserved with such wonderful art that they might well have seemed to bo yet alive but for tho fixed stare of their widely opened eyes, in which there still appeared to linger a look of dumb and stony horror. All wero splendidly adorned with jiearls and other jewelry, and beneath each of the three was a name and a date: MARIE DE MONTAUBAN, May 12, 1859. GERTRUDE VON ROSSBKRG. July 0. 1SCJ VERA H1BIROFK, Oct. 14 1SW [TO UK CONCM'OKD NKXT.WKKK.J How to Keep a Situation.?The following bit of good advice is from The Working Man, and is worthy the attention of all our readers : Lay it down as a foundation rule, that you will be "faithful in that which is least." Pick up the loose nails, bits of twine, clean wrapping paper, and put them in their places, lie ready to throw in an odd half-hour or hour's time, when it will be an aeeommoda. mi,! 't In make a merit of it. Do it heartily. Though not a word be said, lie sure your employer will make a note of it. Make yourself indispensable to him and he will lose many of the opposite kind before he will part with you. Those young men who watch the time to see the very second their work hour is up. who leave, no matter what state the work may be in. at precisely the instant?who calculate.the extra amount they can slight their work, and yet not get reproved?who are lavish of their employer's goods, will always be the first to receive notice that times are dull, and their services are no longer required. #r#""I>o you know how trains running on telegraphic orders came to be called specials?" asked A. J. Applegate, a telegrah operator, "Well, when I was operator in a little town in Nebraska, on the Northwestern road some years ago, they were called wild trains. A man got hurt by one one day, and the farmer jury who tried the damage suit that followed, returned a verdict for damages in favor of Blank, who was injured by one of them wild-cat trains.' The company immediately called such trains specials." g^llpmuuu'vup gi*wwu?y. I PLA'l FORM EXPERIENCES COMMENCEMENT OF PRENTICE MULFORD'S ORATORICAL CAREER. He Trie*! His First Lecture on a Selected Audience in a Country Court House, and Next on the County?The County j Survived?Cliarooteriiitles of Audiences. |Copyrighted by the Author.] XIL i jlh . ON REACHING Souora, T u n in n e county, I went to work and dug post holes for a living. Inspired by the posts or the holes, I wrote what I called a lecture. This I learned by heart. Next I practiced its delivery in the woods, behind j barns, and sometimes at early morn in the empty court house?for the temple of justice in Sonora stood open night , aud day, and he that would might enter and sleep on the benches, or even in the bar itself, as many did in those days. Many weeks I drilled and disciplined this lecture, addressing it to rocks, trees, barns and sometimes to unseen audi! tors wandering about, whose sudden appearance would cover me with confusion and send me blushing home. At last I concluded to risk myself on an experimental audience. I borrowed one for the occasion. Going into the I m^in street of Sonora one evening, I collected half a dozen appreciative souls and said, "Follow me to the court house; I would have a few words with you." There was a county clerk, his deputy, a popular physician and saloon keeper, and an enterprising carpenter. They followed me wonderingly. Arrived at the court house I seated them, marched myself to ' the judge's bench, stuck two candles in two bottles, lit them, and then informed the crowd that I hud brought them hither to serve as an experimental audience to | a lecture I proposed delivering. After which I plunged into the subject, and found that portion of the brain which with a speaker always acts independent of the rest w#ndering that I should be really talking to live auditors. There is a section of a man's faculties, during the operation of speaking in public, which will always go wandering around on its own hook, picking up all manner of unpleasant thoughts and irn; pressions. Apparently it is ever on the I watch to find something which shall annoy the other half. It seems to me that ! no one can become a very successful j speaker or actor until this idle, vagrant j part of the mind is put down altogether, ; total forgetfulness of all else save the ! work in hand be established, and self [ consciousness abolished. However, 1 spoke half the piece to my borrowed i audience, and then, feeling that I could j really stand fire, told them they could j go home. But Dr. , constituting himself spokesman, rose and declared | that having served as hearers for half | the lecture they thought they were eni titled to the other half. Being thus en| cored, I gave them the other half. A great apprehension was now taken : from my mind. I could speak to a crowd j without forgetting my lines, and deemed j myself already a lecturer if not an orator. I did not then realize how vast j is the difference between mere speaking ! and the properly delivering of words and sentences to a multitude, be it large | or small; how unfit are the tone, pitch j and manner of ordinary converse to pub: lie speaking; how a brake must be put on every word and syllable, to slow down its accentuation and muke it audible in a hall; how great the necessity for de: liberation in delivery; how the force and meaning of entire sentences may be lost | by a gabbling, imperfect and too rapid i enunciation; how the trained speaker keeps perfect control of himself, not 1 only as to his delivery, but the mood un| derneath it; which should prompt how ! much dej)end3 011 the establishment of a certain chain of sympathy betwixt speaker and audience, and how much the establishment of such chain depends on the speaker's versatility to accommodate himself to the character, intelligence, moods and requirements of dif j fcrcat audiences. I statu this, having sinco my debut in the Sonera court house learned these I things, and learned also thai nature has not given me the power to surmount all these difficulties. I am not a good speaker, as many doubtless discovered before I did. However, my friends 1 whom I consulted said by all ineaus give the lecture in public, knowing, of course, that I wanted them to encourage me, and feeling this to be the best way of getting rid of me. So I had j>osters printed ind commenced public life on a small field. I hired a hall; admittance twenty-livo cents. I felt guilty as I read this on the bills. I read ouo alone furtively by moonlight, because after they were justed and the plunge taken I was ashamed to appear by daylight on the streets. It seemed so presumptuous to ask respectable, Godfearing citizens of that town to sit and hear me. This Wiis n rwmlt of the regular oscillations , of my mental and teuiiwramental seesaw. I was always too far above the proper : scalo of self esteem one day and too far ; below it tiie next. The real debut was i not so easy as the preliminary, borrowed, bogus one. There were the hard, stern, practical peoifio present, who counted on receiving their regular "two bits'" worth of genuine, solid fact, knowledge and profitable information, who discounted . all nonsense, didn't approve of it and didn't understand it. I felt their cold and withering influence :w soon as 1 I mounted the platform. Not many of such hearers were present, but tha: wa? I enough to poison. I saw their judgmeu! of my effort in their faces. 1 weakly al lowed those faces, and the opinions 1 deemed shadowed forth on them, to paralyze, psychologize and conquer me. 1 allowed my eyes, numberless times, to wander and meet their stony, cynical gaze, and at each time the basilisk orbs withered up my self assertion and self I esteem, becoming more and more demoralized, I sometimes cowardly omitted or forgot what I deemed my boldest matter and best hits. However, the large majority of the audience being kindly disposed toward me, heard, applauded and pronounced the lecture a "success." Seine ventured, when it was over, to advise mo that the subject matter was much better than tho manner of its doliverv. Of that there was not the least doubt. In speaking I had concentrated matter enough for two hours' projicr dolivery into one, and a part of the mental strain and anxiety during the lecture was to race my words so as to finish within the limits of an hour on time. 1 feared wearying tho audience, and so took one of the best methods of doing so. 'ilio next day self esteem going up to fever heat, and my comparative failure not being so bad as the one I had anticipated when my estimates of myself wore ' at zero, I determined on pressing my newly found vocation and "starring" Tuolumne county. Carried by this transient gleam of self conceit beyond tho bounds of good judgment, and overi whelmed with another torrent of com 1 advertised that. The curiosity, complaisance and good nature of my friends I j 1 mistook for admiration. Indeed, during I the fever, I planned a course, or rather a constant succession of lectures, which : might, if unchecked, have extended to ! i the present time. But on the second attempt I talked largely to empty benches? j a character of audience I have since be come accustomed to, and with whom 1 am on terms of that friendship and sym- : pathy only begotten of long acquaint- J j ance. The benches were relieved here ! and there by a discouraged looking hearer ! who had come in on a free ticket, and j | who, I felt, wanted to get out again as ' !-L,~ ? rTl,nn I Irnaw that ! I quicaiy ua tuvu > I : my friends did not care to hear me any ! more. This was bitter, bat necessary | and useful. I next gave the lecture at Columbia. | Columbia, though but four miles disi tant, was then the rival of Souora as the j metropolis of Tuolumne county, and it : was necessary to secure a Columbian in: dorsement before attempting to star it j through the provincial cities of Jimtown, ' Chinese Camp, Don Pedro's and .Pine | ; Log. 1 billed Columbia, hired the theai ter for f?2.50," and, after my effort, had | | the satisfaction of hearing from a friend . that the appreciative and critical mag- j nates of the town had concluded to vote | 1 me a "success." Then 1 spoke at James- i | town, Coulterville, Mariposa, Snelling's ; and other places with very moderate | success. Perhaps I might have arisen to greater distinction or notoriety'than that realized on the Tuolumne field had I better I known that talent of any sort must be ! 1 handled by its possessor with a certain i dignity to insure respect. Now, I travj eled from town to town on foot I was | met, dusty and perepiriug, tramping on j the road, by people who knew me as the j I newly arisen local lecturer. I should j : have traveled in a carriage. I posted j my own bills. I should havo employed ! I the local bill sticker. I lectured for ten ! j cents per head when I should have | charged fifty. Sometimes I dispensed | with an admittance fee altogether and i took up contributions. In uoulterviue i the trouser buttons of Coultervillians : came back in the hat mixed with dimes, j Looking back now on that experience, I I can sincerely say to such as may follow j me in any modification of such a career, | "Never hold yourself cheap." If you j put a good picture in a poor frame it is i only the few who will recognize its j merit Once in New York 1 spoke to a fair | audience in a hull on the ground floor, j Things went on beautifully till 0 o'clock, , when a big brass band struck up in the I bigger hall over my head and some fifty J j couples commenced waltzing. It was an j j earthquake reversed. It ruined mo for j I the night On another fearful occasion 1 was I speaking at Bridgehumpton, Long Island, | on the subject of temperance. I lectured on temperance occasionally, though I never professed teetotalism?for any length of time. One can lecture ou temperance just as well without being a total abstainer?and perhaps better. Now, I was born, and they attempted to bring me up properly, near Bridgehumpton. Every one knew me aud my ancestors, immediate and remote. I had *ot spoken over ten minutes when a man well known in the neighborhood and much moved by the whisky he had been drinking all day, arose and propounded some not very intelligible queries. I answered him as well as I could. Then he put more. Nay, he took possession of the meeting. No one ventured to silence him. They are a very quiet, orderly people in Bridgehampton. Such an interruption of a meeting had never before been heard of there, and the people seemed totally unable ton cope with the emergency. The wretch delivered himself of a great variety of remarks, but ever and anon recurred to the assertion that "he'd vouch for my character, because he not only knew me, but my parents before me." "He was present," he said, | "at their wedding, which he remembered toqII frnm thn fiinfc of wine lieint? served ! there, as well us rum, gin and brandy." That for ine was a laborious evening. Sometimes I spoke, and then the inebriate would get the floor and keep it. He rambled about the aisles, allayed u cutaneous disturbance in his back by rubbing himself against one of the fluted pillars, and, when I had at last finished, made his way up to the choir and, interpolating himself between two damsels, sang everything and everybody out of tune from a temperance hymn book. Prentick M''1 p-'nr. Hew Tea Is Carried in Thibet. The packages of tea, each about four feet long, six inches broad and three to four thick, und weighing from seventeen to twenty-three pounds, are placed j horizontally one above the other, the ! upper ones projecting so as to come j over the porter's head. They are i held tightly together by coir ropes and ! little bumboo stakes; straps, also of ' plaited coir ropes, pass over the porter's | shoulders, while a little string fastened | | to the top of the load helps to balance | I the huge structure, which it requires | j more kuack than strength to carry, for : its weight must bear on all the buck and , only slightly on the shoulders. I In their hands the porters carry a j short crutch, which they place under | | the load when they wish to rest without removing it from their bocks. The av- j crago load is nine packages, or from 190 ; , to 200 pounds, but I passed a number of , i men carrying seventeen, aud One had | twenty-one. A man, I was told, had a 1 few years ago brought an iron safe weighing 400 pounds for Mgr. Biet from Ya-chou to Ta-chien-lu in twenty-two days. Old or decrepit people commonly j travel along this road borne on the backs of iwrters. Many of the women porters carried seven packages of tea, nearly 200 pounds, and children of five and six trudged on behind their parents with one or two. The price paid for the work is twenty I | tael cents (about twenty-five cents) a ! i package, and it takes about seventeen | days to make the trip from Ya-chou. So j far as my knowledge goes, there are no j ! porters in any other part of the world who carry such weights as these Ya-chou ! | tea coolies; and, strange as it may ai>- j pear, they are not very muscular, and i over half of them are confirmed opium ! | smokers.?Lieutenant Rockhill in Cent| ury. Holland Dykes Along the Allegheny. | It is too late now to talk of street grades raised above high water level in j Pittsburg and Allegheny. It is hardly worth while to talk about a system of reservoirs to collect and hold the water , which pours down the hill and mountain ; side to tlie Allegheny and Monougahela. Before that could be done this generation would be long gathered to its faj thers. But is it not worth while to talk . of some possible means of saving these ! j cities from the frequently recurring I I... n?ill l.v AVSCVHTO I 'J bUV. j Count up, however roughly, the losses in various forms due to this flood and the total would go far beyond tho expenso of a dyke or nuy similar means to confine high waters to the natural course of the river. It should bo remembered that the floo.ls will be increased in volutno in proportion as tho watershed is denuded of forest. These losses will not cease with lapse of time.?Pittsburg Times. "Will Any Gentleman Oblige .tie?" "Will any gentleman thread on the tail av me coat?" is derived from the legend? probably apocryphal?of old Donnybrook Fair, describing the conventionally pugnacious Irishman us with "caubeen" ndorned with "dhudheen" stuck in the band on kis head, and in his shirt sleeves, , ' twirling a shillelagh with his right hand, , ' while his left trails his denuded coat on the "flure" of a tent after him, asserting Ids disgust at the apparently peaceful proclivities of his fellows, and shouting tho valiant challenge: "Past tin o'clock, and | iiotablow shtruckyet. Will any gentle- , inan oblige me by threading on the tail av i me coat?" 1 Alliance Missionaries arc Preaching ! it in Georgia. The Alliance leaders, including L. L. j Polk, president, General J. B. Weaver, Jerry Simpson, and Mrs. Mary E. Lease, "the woman who defeated Ingalls," are canvassing the State of Georgia in the interest of the Third party. The following is the Associated Press's report of the speeches at a monster meeting held in Atlanta last Wednesday : The first speaker was Gen. J. B. Wea- i ver. of Iowa. He declared in the beginning that j the Alliance movement was greater than the Republican party, the Democratic party, or the People's party, because It was the people. He asserted that the pools and trusts of America were skinning Republicans and Democrats alike. There was no politics in trusts. It was with them as it was with the Dutchman who was asked what his politics were and his reply was: "Fifty cents a bushel for corn and five cents a glass for lager beer. My politics is business." He said it was high time for farmers to make their politics their business. "I am a follower of Thomas Jefferson," continued the speaker; "I worship at his shrine politically. When he said eternal vigilance was the price of liberty; he did not mean the vigilance of politicians but the vigilance of the people." Weaver brought forth the wildest applause from his hearers by declaring that there are now thirty-eight millions more people here than there were twenty.-five years ago, out strange to say, there is five hundred and two million dollars less of money. He laughed at the farmers for saying that times were dull and asking each other what made them dull. He told them to feel in their pockets and they could answer that question for themselves. "I feel," said the general "that the time has come when we don't core a baubee nor a fig for any party. [Applause.] We know what we want and we are going to have it. If the old parties get in our way, why, we will run right square over them. There won't be as much of them left as there was of the Republican party in Kansas last fall." Continuing, Weaver exclaimed: I tell you, my friends, the industrial people of this country cannot afford to lose another presidential election. [Wild applause.] We must meet the capitalists of this country in the open field, and we must conquer them. If we are kept for another five years under their laws now in operation, we shall be the veriest slaves to a lot of plutocrats." He advocated the free coinage of silver, and concluded with a fraternal message from the Northern Alliance men to their Southern brethren. Colonel Livingston then introduced L. L. Polk, the president of the Alliance. He began by saying he believed and he knew before God that the farmers had just cause for complaint. They had at last awakened to the fact that they had been for years systematically deprived hv desicrninir politicians and ~~ *J n o ? demagogues. He declared that the day had passed when farmers could be deceived, for they had gone down deep into the question and found that the trouble with them was in the rotten, wicked financial legislation of the country. Colonel Polk called forth enthusiastic applause by drawing a picture of the sufferings of this Southern land after Sherman had laid it waste with sword and torch. He elicited additional applause by declaring that these sufferings were nothing as compared to the sufferings caused by John Sherman, whose blighting influence had been felt in every hovel in America and in the homes of every honest laboring mechanic. Georgia farmers had sent petition after petition to the halls of legislation, every one of which was returned with scorn, and now they propose to make a change in the form of the petitions. They are going to send petitions there in future about six feet long, petitions with brnins at oue end and boots at the other. [Long continued applause.] Turning to Weaver Polk exclaimed : "Now, general, go home and tell your boys that our boys, who wore the grey and faced them amidst the blazes of battle, have joined hands with them to help them strike the shackles from the arms of SO,000,000 of industrial people." [Voices from crowd : "We'll do it! we'll do it!"] In the midst of this Weaver advanced to Polk with outstretched palm. "We are with you, colonel, heart and soul." At this the large audience literally went wild. "The ghost of a third party haunts the pillows of many in our land by night. Let me say that we have had third parties started, but the farmers did not start them. They were started by straightout Jefl'er .soman Democrats and not Alliance Democrats. Yet these fellows are wondering if the Alliance is going into a Third party movement. We have a good example to go into this party, although the results of those parties are not very encouraging to us. If there is a third party inaugurated in the South," said the speaker very deliberately, "it will be due to the denominating, proscriptive and intolerent spirit of the socalled Democratic leaders. I have been a consistent Democrat since the war and now I don't wan't to interfere with party lines, but I have just this to say, we want jnstice and we are going to have justice. If we can't get it as true Alliance men, we won't hesitate to wipe old parties out of existence no more than we will hesitate to wave our hands. If the Third party is established it will be nothing but the blind work of the old parties." He bitterly attacked Cleveland for surrendering or trying to surrender the people to Wall street and the money power, and said the Alliance would carry the standard of the people's rights to the front and meet and overwhelm Cleveland and Sherman and all other forces that monopoly could muster. Jerry Simpson was introduced next and was cordially received. He referred to his warm reception here during the war, and said that Kansas was always sure of being well received in Georgia. A year ago, on the f?th of August, lie made his lirst speech in Kansas. "Fame and notoriety have," said he, "been given me by other fellows. Horn of ridicule, the same spirit that has actuated the enemies of reform in every age." He said that in France, when the French revolution broke out, twelve thousand people ? 1 1 1 A 1- .. 1 1 1 4 I owned nearly an me lanu aim kuiui- i live million people in France were slaves sold with the land. "There | came a time when there was a desire I for a better system of government and ! there came up the party of the people. ! They met with the same opposition. | Aristocrats sneered at them and they j were called *TI^ Party Without I Breeches.' So when this movement | sprang ii]> in Kansas, there was the J same sentiment from the same class, j sneering at this Farmers' movement, j and they said. 'Why, there is Jerry j Simpson come up from the farmers, an : ignorant farmer; he don't even wear ' socks.' [(treat laughter] Some of' our people came to me and said 'That j will never do. you have got to contradiet that.' 'That's all right.'said I. It occurs to me that while I have got socks there are many of my const it- ! uents who, under this system of society, where the rich get richer and the poor poorer, that can't get socks. 1 I UVUr UifiUj auu tuuugu a iuiguv be sockless und even shirtless, the other fellow had them, and I was after him.' I not only got his socks, but I got his shoes. [Great laughter ana applause.] Humauity is ther same in every age. The movement has met with nothing but ridicule. You are very good people as long as you stay in the old parties and vote politicians into power, but as soon as you see wealth begin to steal away from you, and you demand a new deal, they begin to sneer at you and say you must '??"o -iliiu tn ftio nld rm.rt.v_ Wfi are I here to inquire what the old parties 1 have done for us in the past, and see i if there is an excuse for this great up- i rising of the people." i Mr. Simpson then showed how, with | a division of labor, a new system of 1 society sprang up in which the factory t made shoes man used to make, and i great corporations controlled business, j The laws of the country must be ad- i justed to the new conditions of society, i "The same is true of your banking institutions. You surrender to them a i terrible power, the chance of gathering to themselvesa large part ofjthg coijntry's wealth. Under The "necessity*of adjusting ourselves to the new system, the Farmers' Movement sprang up. The Kansas farmer thought these things could be gotten from the Republican party, but when we got out- i side of that party it had its good effects. Our people now have control. We have about 150,000 miles of railroad, built at a cost of $3,000,000,000, and railroads have added $6,000,000,000 of watered stock and bonds. They charge dividends on that, and it comes out of the people. I say it is a tribute to the whole people simply be* "? A _ Xl At. - cause we nave passea over 10 uieiu me privilege of regulating their own affaire. Postmaster General "VVanamaker told me he had found nearly every congressman in the control of railroad corporations, and there had been no change in the mail contracts since 1873." THE SUB- TREASURY BILL. Pull Text of the Alliance's Pet Meas> ure. Of all the measures advocated by the Farmers' Alliance, the sub-treasury bill has created the most general interest and attracted the widest discussion. Everybody has heard of this famous measure, but outside of the Alliance, and the politicians, there are probably few who have ever read the bill as it is now pending in congress. The object of this bill is to provide a larger volume of circulating medium? a flexible currency that will expand and contract in conformity with the requirements of trade, and the Alliance people believe that if it is passed as follows, the desired eud will be accomplished : TEXT OF THE BILL. Sec 1. Be it enacted by the senate and house of representative of the United States of America in congress assembled, that there may be established in each of the counties in each of the States of this United States a branch of the treasury department of the United States, to be known and designated as a sub-treasury, as hereinafter provided, when 100 or more citizens of any county in any State shall petition the secretary of the treasury requesting the location of a subtreasury in such county, and shall, 1. Present written evideuce, duly authenticated by oath or affirmation of county clerk and sheriff, showing that the average gross amount per annum of cotton, wheat, oats, corn and tobacco produced and sold in that county for the last preceding two years exceeds the sum of $500,000, at current prices in suid county at that time, and, 2. Present a good and sufficient bond for title to a suitable aud adequate amount of land to be donated to the government of the United States for the location of the sub-treasury buildings, and * 3. A certificate of election showing that the site for the location of such sub-treasury has been chosen by a popular vote of the citizens of that county, and also naming the manager of the sub-treasury elected at said election for the purpose of taking charge of said sub-treasury under such regulations as may be prescribed. It shall in that case be the duty of the secretary of the treasury to proceed without delay to establish a sub-treasury department iu such county as hereinafter provided. Sec. 2. That any owner of cotton, wheat,"corn, oats or tobacco may deposit the same in the sub-treasury -i?*:? ...,i nearest tne point 01 us piouucuun, mm receive therefor treasury notes, hereinafter provided for, equal at the dute of deposit to 80 per cent, of the net value of sueli products at the market price, said price to be determined by the secretary of the treasury under rules and regulations prescribed, basdd upon the price current in the leading cotton, tobacco or grain markets of the United Stntes; but no deposit consisting in whole or in part of cotton, tobacco or grain imported into the country shall be received under the provisions of this act. Sec. 3. That the secretary of the treasury shall cause to be prepared treusury notes in such amounts as may be required for the purpose of the above section, and in such form and denomination as he may prescribe, provided that no note shall be of a denomination of less than one dollar or more thuu one thousand dollurs. Sec. 4. That the treasury notes issued under this act shall be receivable for customs, and shall be a full legal tender for all debts, both public and private, and such notes when held by any national bunking association shall be counted as part of its lawful reserve. Sec. 5. It shall be the duty of the i manager of a sub-treasury when cotton. | grain or tobacco is received by him oil i deposit, as above provided, to give a [ warehouse receipt showing the amount ; and grade or quality of such cotton, | irrain or tobacco, and its value at date \ of deposit; the amount of treasury j notes the sub-treasury has advanced on ! the product; that the interest on the | money so advanced is at the rate of 1 percent, per annum, expressly stating i the amount of insurance, weighing, classing, warehousing and other 1 charges that will run against such de- j posit of cotton, grain or tobacco. All such warehouse receipts shall be nego- ! tiable by indorsement. Sec. (>. That the cotton, grain or to- , bacco deposited in the sub-treasury tin- j der this act may be redeemed by the i holder of the warehouse receipt here- ! in provided for, either at the sub- ! treasury in which the product is de- I posited, or at any other sub-treasury, | by the surrender of such warehouse re- ' eeipt and the payment in lawful money 1 of the United States of the same ! amount originally advanced by the \ sub-treasury against the product, and i such further amount as may be neces- I sary to discharge all interest that may have accrued against the advance of money made on the deposit of produce, and all insurance, warehouse and other charges that attach to the product for warehousing and handling. All lawful money received at the subtreasury as a return of the actual j amount of money advanced by the gov- I eminent against farm products as j above specified shall be returned, with , a full report of the transaction, to the j secretary of the treasury, who shall j make record of the transaction, and i a warehouse receipt as above provided, together with the return of the proper amount of lawful money, and all charges as herein provided, when the product for which it is given is stored in some other sub-treasury, shall give an order on such other sub-treasury for the delivery of the cotton grain or tobacco, as the case may be, and the secretary of the treasury shall provide for the adjustment between sub-treasuries of all charges. Sec. 7. The secretary of the treasury shall prescribe such rules and regulations as are necessary for governing the details of the management of the sub-treasuries, fixing tfie salaries, oona and responsibility of each of the managers of sub-treasuries (provided that the salary of any manager of a subtreasury shall not exceed the sum of 11,500 per annum), holding the managers of sub-treasuries personally responsible on their bonds for weights and classifications of all produce,, providing for the rejection of unmerchantable grades of cotton, grain or tobacco, or for such as may be in bad condition qnd shall provide rules for the$ales at publtc auction of all cotton, corn, oats *****1 ^ wheat or tobacco that has been placed on deposit for a longer period than twelve months after due notice published. The proceeds of the sale of Buch product shall be applied, first to the re-imbursement of the sub-treasury of .he amount originally advanced, together with all charges, and, second, the balance shall be held on deposit for the benefit of the holder of the warehoutie receceipt. The secretary of the treasury shall also provide rules for the duplication of any papers in case of loss or destruction. Sec. 8.. It shall be the duty of the secretary of the treasury, when section 1 of this act shall have been compiled with, to cause to be created, according to the la ws and customs governing the construction of government buildings, a suitable sub-treasury building, with such warehouse or elevator facilities as the character and amount of the products of: that section may indicate as necessary. Such buildings shall be supplied with all modern conveniences for handling and safely storing and preserv ing the products likely to be deposited. M Sec. 9. That any gain arising, from the charges for insurance, weighing, storing, classing, holding, shipping, interest or other charges, alter paying all expenses of conducting the sub-treasury, shall be accounted for and .paid into the treasury of the United States. Sec. 10. The term of office of a manager of a sub-treasury shall be two years, and the regular election to fill such office shall be at the same time as the election for members of the house of representatives of the congress of the United States. In case of a vacancy in the office of manager of the subtreasury by death, resignation or otherwise, thw secretary of the treasury shall have power to appoint a manager for the unexpired terra. Sec. 11. The sum of $50,000,000, or so much thereof as may be found necessary to carry out the provisions of this act, is hereby appropriated out of any moneys in the treasury not otherwise appropriated, for that purpose. WAR'S CARNAGE. ' According to the estimates of French and German statisticians, there have perished in the wars of the last thirty years 25,000,000 men, while there has been expended to carry them on no less than the inconceivable sum of $13,000,000,000. Of this amount France has paid nearly $3,500,000,000 as the cost of the war with Prussia, while her loss in men is placed at 155,000. Of these, 80,000 were killed on the field of battle, 36,000 died of sickness, accidents or suicide, and 20,000 in German prisons, while there died from other causes enough to bring the number up to the given aggregate. The sick and wounded amounted to 417,421, the lives of many thousands of whom were doubtless shortened by their illness or in juries. According to Dr. Koth, a German authority, the Germans lost during the war 200,000 men killed or rendered invalid, and $600,000,000 in money, this being the excess of expenditure or of material losses over the $1,250,000,000 paid by France by way of indemnity. Dr. Engel, another German statistician, gives the following as the approximate cost of the principal wars of the last thirty years : Crimean war, $2,000,000,000 ; Italian war of 1859, $300,000,000; Frusso-Danish war of 1864, $35,000,000; civil war (North), $5,100,000,000, (South), $2,300,000,000 ; Prusso-Austrian war of 1866, $330,000,000; Russo-Turkish war, $125,000,000; South African wars, $8,770,000; African war, $13,250,000; Servo-Bulgarian, $176,000,000. All these wars wero murderous in the extreme. The Crimean war, in which few battles were fought, cost 750,000 lives, only 50,000 less than were killed or died of their wounds, North and South, during the war of the rebellion. These figures, it must be rcmemliered, are German, and might not agree precisely with American estimates. The Mexican and Chinese expeditions cost $200,000,000 and 65,000 lives. There were 250,000 killed and mortally wounded during the Russo-Turkish war, and 45,000 each in the Italian war of 1858, and the war between Russia and Austria. In the other wars the loss of life was relatively less, which did not make either the men or money easier to part with in the more limited areas where they occurred. All this is but a part of the accounting, since it does not include the millions expended during the last twenty years in maintaining the vast armaments of the European powers, the losses caused by the stoppage of commerce and manufactures, and the continual derangement of industries by the abstraction from useful employment of so many millions of persons held for a period of military service extending from three to five years.? San Francisco Chronicle. Rkmarkahlk Instances of Antipathy.?Ainatus Lusitanus relates the case of a monk who would faint on seeing a rose, and never quitted his cell when that flower was blooming. Orlila, a less questionable authority, tells of Vincent, the painter, who would swoon when there were roses in a At ... 11.. .1! 1 A ? 1 room, even lllOligu lie (till uui see mem. Yaltaid tells of un otticer being thrown into convulsions by having a pink brought to his chamber. Orlila also relates the case of a lady of 4(i years, a hale, hearty woman, who, if present when linseed was being prepared for any of its various uses-, would have violent coughing tits, swelling of the face and partial loss of reason for the next twenty-four hours. Hinting at these peculiar antipathies and aversions, Montaigne remarks that there have been men who more feared an apple than a cannon hall. Zimmerman tells of a lady who could not bear to touch either silk or satin, and who would shudder and almost faint if by accident she happened to touch the velvet skin of a peach. Boyle records the case of a man who would faint when his room was being - " ">>1 1111.1 ill* . Ill II \l-lni llllt lll-llll V illllwir. red honey. v Hippocrates mentions one Xisuuor who would always swoon at hearing the sound of a Hute. A lunar eelipse caused Bacon to completely collapse, and the sight of a roast pig had the samoeH'eet upon Yaughelm, the famous Herman sportsman.