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1. In writing to tbit cffioe on bnainm •Iwnra give jour uan« tod Toat cffioe ■' y — ' 2. Buaicen letter* and communloc; Ilona to be puYiah >d «h >ul 1 be written on aeparate aheetr, and the object of rach elearlj indicated by neoeaeary note when required. S. Articlea for publication ahould be Written in a clear, legible hand, and on only one aide of the page. 4, All changea in adrertiaemeat! mu it each na on Frlady. VOL. VII. NO. 13. BARNWELL, C. H., S. C., fc THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1883. $2 a Year. aaioatioa #ttl be pwbtarikjd panlad by the naaaa end n4« draaa of the writer, not neeoawitty far publication, bat nan goarantyof good A Jdreaa, T JE PEOPLE, Barnwell O. H. 8. O. BILL MASON’S BRIDE. Half an Lour till train time, tlr, — An’ a fearfnl dirkUme, too; v Take a look at the Hwitch-ligbU, Fetch in a utiek when vou go thraugh, “On time?" Well,yea, I gncu «o — Left the lait station all right— She’ll come round the purye a <iy' n ’; 'Bill lla’sori oomcK up to-night. Yon know Bill? No! He'» an engineer; Been on the road all hie life— I'll never forget the morning He married his chnck of a wife. 'Twa* the itimmcr the mill hands struck— ^ Just off work, every one; They kicked no a row tn the village, . s And killed old Donovan’s son. - Bill hadn't been married more'n an hour, Up comes the message from Kress,’- Orderin’ Bill to go up there And bring down the night express. ’ He left his gal in a hurry, ' And went on number one, Thinking of nothing but Mary And the train he had to run. , , » And Mary rat down by the window To wait for the night express; And, sir, if she hadn't 'a ' done so, She’d been a widow, I guess. For it must ’a’ Isien nigh midnight When the mill hands left the Ridge— They came down, the drunken devils! Tore a rail from the bridge. But Mary heard ’em a-workin', And guessed there was something wrong, And in less than fifteen minutes, Bill's train it would be along. She couldn't come here to tell ns, A Utile—it wouldn't 'a' done— So she jest grabbed up a lantern ' Then Sown came And BUI was matin’ her climb! But Mary held the lantern, A-swinging it all the time. Well, by Jove ! Bill saw the signal, And lie stopped the night express, And he found his Mary cry in’. On the tra'-k, in. her weddin' dress— Cryin’ and laughin' for joy. sir, An' boldin' on to the light— Hello! here’s the tiam—good-by, sir, Bill Mason’s on time to n : gbt. Burra Hahte. And jn.de for % b.. Ige -ttltA. . > the m^tif rttprtHH, tn — rim LILY OF THE GLEN. lu one of the most beautiful of New England’s ehady dells, far away from the din and dust of the city, musical with the song of brooklet and bird, and fragrant with breathings of frees and flowers, hidden almost out of sight By the old gray mountains, lies the fair lit tle village of Olen. And in one of its sunniest spots, sheltered by elms of a century’s growth, mossy itself with un counted years, over-mn with luxuriant vines and embosomed in roses, stands the fairy Jittlj cottage where dwelt the pride of the village—its fa’r young Lily —an orphan from the hour of her birth, hut so loved by her aged grandparent? that the name had never a meaning. Beautiful os the flower whose name she bore was the Lily of the Glen, and ns holy and shrinking in nature, too, —breathing out her sweetness in lonely places, and coveting ever the lonely seat. Scarce more was she idolized in the hum ble home whose life and light and beanty she was, than in evegr other one of the scattered village; for wherever she went she carried a blessing, and from every threshold bore one, too, now from the crowing lips of a baby face, and then from the quivering ones of wrinkled age. Pure in heart, not dnzzlingly bnt softly brilliant in intellect, gentle and loving, for eighteen years the maiden had led that happy life which only the good and trne can know—a snnny life, scarcely darkened by a single cloud—a flowery one, scarcely pricked by a single thorn— a holy one, scarcely touched by a single sin. But her heart was saddened th#n. First one and then the other aged rela tive grew sick, and for many weeks they lay side by side on the same couch, moaning in feverish dreams. Patiently and tenderly did the young grandchild nurse them, heeding their slightest wish, and giving np cheerily the de- mands of her poise, that she might be ever with them, and striving with all love's earnestness to win them back from he valley whose shades seemed vailing them. And even in the last fearful hour, though her heart was sore and bleeding, she calmed herself and ruing in sweet, though tremulous strains, the hymn they asked for, that on the 4>reath of music tluir souls might be wafted into heaven. ..l^But then, when all was over, her strength gave way, and for weeks she lay like a frost-bitten flower; her cheeks like ■now and her lips voicclss. Yet, though alone in the world ihen, never had an invalid kinder and more considerate care. There was none in the whole vil lage that did not render her some ser vice, happy to pay back a debt of love, and sad that it most be paid in snch a way. And when at length she recov ered, and on the arm of the gray-haired pastor, slowly passed np the aisle of the Httls chnrch to the seat that had been vacant for nearly a year, there went np from every heart a thanksgiving to the Father in Heaven, and when her sweet, lute like vole# rose and fell in waves of thrilling melody, as ahe joined in the grand old hymn, tears of joy streamed fast from many eyes, and when the ser vice was over, and the little group passed out of the holy place, every right — hand was kindly clasped by her, and from every Up there feU a blessing. Bat cue among them did not greet her, though hia gase followed her intently from the moment ahe entered till she left. It wee a stranger, a tourist, who, w bsw»u»d by the rural beanty of the glen, had rsaol ve^ aa the stage left Aig) there on Saturday evening, to spend a few days in nupblmg about in sunny spot* and sketching ite piotureeqoe riven; a Wghly^tftkd, nobis young men, dow . m* via • MW* *k°i w* ing completed his collegiate course, bad nought to do but while away his time in the most agreeable way. But, now, surfeited with the pleisares of fashiona ble life, he had tnrued away to seek in communion with Nature and her true hearted children that congeniality for which his spirit had longed bnt hod not found, either in his aristocratic homo or his wealthy friends. His mother had lieen one of those spirit ually organized beings to whom holinos of life and devotion to dnty are ns necessi tous ns breath, and thongh spared to him bnt seven brief years, she so in- wrought her nature into Ins that all the unfortunate circumstances of later years could not eradicate it—the angel sung so sweetly in the far deptha of his bosom that the syren voices of temptation sounded to him ever like hideous dis cords. Tlie proud lady who, ere two years had left their greenness on his mother’s grave, was installed as mistress of her home, gave no affection to the dining boy, while his father, a stem, grave, taciturn man, thongh deep in his heart there welled strong waves of passionate feeling, manifested them only by seeing that his temporal condition was well tilled with affectionate yearnings, but with none to breathe them npou, and only uttering them upon the low grassy meund where slept the jjeutle being who had given him life. Once indeed his spirit thought it had found its mate. There flitted iiito the brilliant saloons of fashion a radiant young creature, wdio seemed the incar nation of a poet's dream, and whose spell soon bound the youthful Reuben. Bnt ere many mouths the charm was broken. She proved but a gay coquette, and after toying with many hearts, dual ly surrendered to wrinkled age, barter mg herself for gold. Reuben had be lieved he loved her, but when the dream was so rudely broken, he found his heart was fetterless—he had lovednot her, bnt the creation of his own soul who he had fancied was embodied there. For a time indeed he scorned the other sex, but ere long the vision of his own sweet mother came to him in such vivid light, that In felt he stained himself with sin to.thin! even harshly of those to whom she was bound by the ties of sisterhood, and In said within himself, “I will seek hri counterpart; and finding it, bo happy.’ So Lord Burleigh-like, he w’ont about a- i traveling artist, and in the wild oi beautiful of nature, as chanced ttv. scene, his spirit drank in peace, and. the angel in his heart sang dearer and more thrillingly. Such was he who, in the IHtlo chnrch of Glen, had watched so closely its frail Lily. Her loveliness, ever bewitchingly delicate, was enhanced by thh paleness of convalescence, and she seemed to the yonng man like one of those sainted ones of whom he used to dream when in Ukboyish aorrow Jie nestled on the jM»d fQK~lha. -stranger who worshiped couch where his mother’s spirit had de parted. There was no guile, he felt, in thoee heavenly eyes, no mocking taunt would ever sing from lips like hers—nay, there was a purity of soul visible in her very mien. ^ “Who is she?" asked.he, as he walked lome with the inn keeper; “who is that air‘young creature who seems the adopted child of the church ? She walk* '>eforo us with the old pastor.” “She has another name, but we only call her Lily or the Lily of the Glen, a lomeless girl now, without a relative on earth, and yet ehe will-aover -wauA for anything, for, humble as we are, we will ever make room for her by our hearths and in our hearts, for she is an angel whom we cannot entertain without a blessing!” The yonng man shut himself in his room and mused upon her. In his wild est dreams he had fancied nothing earth ly so ethereal, and he felt that could he but clasp that fragile Lily to his heait its. low murmuring moans would be hushed forever. The sunset flooded the Glen with bril liancy as he stole forth again, and long ing for silent communion with the human floweret who had entranced his sonl, he turned from the. pleasant village street and foll^ed the banks of a little stream that want singing along as though each wave was a melody. Whither it led he knew not, but keeping the worn path he found himself ere long oppoeite a little grave-yard, whose monuments had noth ing to arrest attention, but whose quiet beauty entranced one at a glance. Reu ben leaned with folded hands on the white stile and was soon lost in fresh thought Memory carried him back to the day. hia mother died, and he saw himself again in childish grief, bending, half in wonder, half in awe, over the open grave, and then kissing a white rose-bud from a neighboring bush and casting it on to the coffin, and then he thought of the after visits he had paid it when it was green and flowery, and remem tiered how many times he had wished he could have slept beside her. Tears streamed down hia cheeks aa he leaned there; those holy tears which come un bidden to WMh the heart of the dust that has gathered on its beauty. Suddenly ha started. A low, sw$et and to hia highly-wrought feelings it •ttmad at flrot like the angel voice o Usr he mourned. But be toon rallies mg Rfttnirt oMti (Miotniod that it came from a locust grove in a iliittttit corner of the yard, and he felt Thfnitively that it WM the night hymn of the Lily sung over the grave of her’ buried loves. He forbore to disturb the solemnity of the spot by seeking the acquaintance ho desired, and so he turned from the stile, and passing on, thtew himself on a bank of violets beside the stream, and was soon lost in delicious revery. “A beautiful spring night, sir,” said n mild voice soon, and shirting np the young man found himself face to face with the aged pastor, on whose ami leaned the fair yonng mourner. “You are a stranger, sir, I take it, here. I noticed you in chnrch, and I should have spoken to yon there, but I had no. chance. We are plain, simple people here, but mean to do our duty, and if while you tarry T can be of ser vice, you may command Epe. ’’ It was a courteous greeting, not so much in words as in the fatherly man ner of the gray-haired man, and Reulien offered his hand warmly and expressed his thanks for the kindneM, and os be walked back to the village with them, charmed them with his high-toned thoughts, and the three were each re gretful when the pastor’s gate wu* reached. '**«*?'...... . “Let ns see yon here to-morrow,” said he, as ho led the Lily in, for she flits his dove-like blessing, “or to-night, even, if apart from home, a family altar should be longed for.” “I have longed for it since my mother died,” said the young man with a touch ing pathos. Come with us then, sir. We have few forms, bnt wc trust our hearts are n'feht;” and he ushered Reulien into the little study, and for a while they sat here in the calm moonlight, not con versing with each other, but uttering as they chanced, the holy thoughts which l>egged for an expression. At an early hour an aged female do mestic entered with lights, and drew a stand to the pastor’s side. He turned over the leaves of the family Bible till he had selected a chapter, and then passed it tb the young man, saying: “My eyes grow dim; let me borrow yonrs ” Iteubcn took the holy volume rever ently, and rend in clear, thrilling tones, those glorious passages from St. John, commencing: “Let not your heart Ik? troubled.” When he had closed, the pastor turned to Lily for the hymn. It quivered on her lips, but the sacred emotions of her heart were too powerful for her weakened frame, and the words jung there in uttered music. Reuben’s keen ear had caught the strain, though, and his rich voice harmonized fully with the lofty words as he sung it through. Then the aged man bent his knee and prayed. . And while he took in the whole world in his petition, he yet pleaded earnestly and individually for the gentle girl he hod taken to his heart. shall be spared to stand beside yon when yon first preach to tftem, and then I shall be content to go. Como, let us begin.” ^And from that day Reuben was an in mate of the parsonage, and that he pros pered fast was no wonder either, for he had, os he said, an angel and a saint for guardians. There were scornful looks and haughty words in his aristocratic home, when his proud relatives heard that the heir of their princely wealth had turned student of divinity, and would settle in an obscure village, and there was much wonder among his fash ionable friends. But notliing oould win the young man from his holy vows, and night after night till the stars waned did he lean over his desk, that he might the sooner l>e prepared for the pastor’s place, his only recreation being Ids walks and talks with the gentle Lily. Two years from the day he first en tered the little chnrch as a stranger to all, he was solemnly set apart to hv holy work, the aged pastor's trembling hands being placed upon Ida head, as with quivering lips he ordained him a Christian minister; and the same low, lute-like voice that entranced him then, sang now the hymn that Confirmed the rite. At sunset, tho holy Sabbath sunset, the little chnrch again was Jilted, for bolero the altar stood the youthful pastor to take a new vow to his heait, wne that bade liim “love and cherish till death did them port,” the gentle being who unconsciously had woke his sonl to the sublimer view of life—a vow that, while it changed the “girlish thing” to a pastor’s bride, yet left her, as she was before, the Lily of the Glen. - Dead Reckoning. AT THE END OF A WAR. Trick PUjtmI by I he Hriitah whe» They were l.emvin* ihla Caaalry. with them, and, snbdned as his human feelings were, the young man was yet conscious ef a sudden thrill of joy when ho heard himself thus coupled in solemn prayer with the beauteous Lily. Only snatches of sleep came to him that night; most of it was spent in revery. And when he went out on the ensuing morning, life wore a changed look to him. It had put on a majesty that awed him, and yet that roused him to sublimer views. The divinity within him was aroused, not partially, but thoroughly, and he - resolved to ,heed wdfritw «ttm*tve suggestions. He sought out the aged pastor and revealed to him his previous life, its longings, its ;spirations, its unquietness, and his last resolve, to seek him out a bride who should give beanty and bliss to life. When 'I saw Lily yesterday,” said (to, “the poet’s charming story came vividly to mind, and I resolved to woo her ns did the lord of the tale, in paint- r's dross, and bear her to a princely home when she expected but an humble Lientenant Brown was the navigator of the brig Perry of the United Statco navy a good many years ago, and on n passage from China to Mexico ho al lowed the chronometers (by which they found the longitude) to run down. They wore bound to San Bias, and running to make Cape St. Lucas, which is high and can be seen a long way off. The cap tain, Jot Stone Paine, was not told that the chronometers had run down and that they were depending on dead reckoning for the longitude. Brown got on the parallel of the cape, and steering due east kept a good look-out ahead. He kept a foretopman at the masthead with orders to come down and tell him quietly when he saw the laud, and-not other wise to announce it—promising him a I>ottle of whisky in return. Accordingly one day shortly .before 12 o’clock the foretopman came down and reported the land in sight from aloft. Ho was told by Brown to return to the masthead, one when the bell struck one to report it in I bo usual manner. A little after 12 o’clock the captain came out of the cabin and said: -“Well, Mr. Brown, when do yon think we will see land ?” “We will make the land, sir,” said Brown, “at half-past 12 o’clock,” (opp “We will, eh?” said the captain. “Yes, sir,” replied Brown, in his most pompous manner, “at half-past 12 pre cisely.” Just then the l>ell struck, and the man at the masthead roared out in o stentorian voice, “Land hot” ~ “By George,” said Captain Jot, “that’s the-most remarkable landfall I ever made !” and he afterward told the first lientenant that he considered Brown one of the most skillful navigators lie had ever met. “ A never-to-be-forgotten incident oc curred when the American column, headed by General Washington and Governor Clinton, approached the Bat tery as the British army left it, at the close of the Revolntionory War. Lieu tenant Glean had l>een ordered by Com modore Grinnel to raise the American standard on the staff where the Eughsh ensign had been heretofore flying. The evening before the British had unreeved the halyards, broke off the stepping cleats, and slushid the flagstaff. The flagstaff stood on Fort George, at the north end or bastion, close to the Bat tery. Several men tried to climb the staff, which was as slippery os iec, but in vain. A young sailor boy named Van Arsdale made thrqe attempts, got up al>ont three feet and slipped down again. Then several persons ran to Goclet’s hardware store on Hanover square and gov a handsaw, hatchet, gimlet and nails. One sawed lengths across a board, one split the cleats and another bored them until there was plenty to use. The sailor boy tied the halyard around his waist, filled his-outside injckcts full of dcats- aml then began at the ground to nail them in on the right and left Of the flag staff. As he ascended higher he nailed the cleats on, and then, reaching the top, he rove the halyards and descended. The flag was immediately run np, amid a salute of thirteen gnns and three thun dering cheers from the multitude assem bled. The time speut in preparing to hoist the flag was a period of intense interest and suspense. The English vessels were moving down the bay and spreading their canvas to the wind, and it was passionately desired to let them seO the American-standard waving over the city before they left. The sailor boy was given a more substantial token of approval than more applause*, those present, from General Washington down to the plainest citizen, cheerfully con tributing to a collection for his benefit. The son of the sailor boy David Van Arsdale is now a night inspector in the Barge Olfioe in New York. Another incident, related by an eye witness of the scoae, may serve to illus trate the reluctance with which the British quitted their hold of flic city which they had so long claimed ns their own. By the conditions agreed upon the city was to be surrendered at noon, but an impatient shopkeeper in the neighborhood of Chambers street an ticipated the arrangement and hoisted the American flag dnring the course of thp morning. Provost Marshal Cun ningham hastened to the spoUftmT con fronted the proprietor. ‘‘Poll down that flog,” he exclaimed, with an oath^ “the city belongs to the British till noon.” The man objected, hesitated, and was on the point of yielding, when the good woman of the house came to BILL IfTE, EX-POSTBANTER. H« -Maereaafnllv Areaaata lar iba Praa- trmtlaa la I Hah Uavarawaal Clrrlca. interview Bill Nye at down,” said she. Cunningham stormed and swore, and finally attempted to tear down the colors with his own hands; but the woman assailed him so vigorously with a broomstick, striking a cloud of powder from his wig at every blow, that he wan forced at last to abandon the field i and leave the American flag unmolested. In the course of an Laramie the other day asked: “Yon are still Postmaster here, are yon not ?” “Yes, the jig will soon be np or words to that effect. My resignation ha* gone in to Washington. It created a great deal of excitement therealionta. Per haps yon’ve noticed that all the dis patches sent out from the national capi tal the last few days have a dreary, list less, fnueral-at-2-o'clock air about them, as though there was something wrong at headquarters. My resignation has brought this about. I tell yon candidly things are looking pretty blue there just now. Old Greash, the Postmaster-Gen eral, yon know, telegraphed to me as soon as he received my little note. He says: ' Reconsider your resignation. I beg of you, Billy, don’t go.’ . I answered the telegram, telling him it, was a ground hog case—I had to go. Then Frank- Frank Hatton—Frank he wired me: ‘For the sake of old love, don’t shake ns now. The mail service won’t rank any higher Ilian our navy 11 yon leave it. (lanaei resignation at onee. ’ T replied that I haled to refuse, but couldn’t help myself; like the pig-tailed persimmons I must go. Then Chet, he telegraphed me. His message was as long as hia trip across Wyoming to the ftark. He said he felt os thongh throe feet or fonr cogs in the wheels of government had broken, and that unless I consented to come back into the fold he feared the blamed old machiae wouldn't run much longer. I tell you honestly I was so affected by his message that I shed a few weeps be fore I could muster up spirit to answer it. I told him that I was sorry, bnt mnst insist on my resignation being accepted. I told him, however, that if he really needed my assistance I might take the (Mtsition of Postmaster at New York city, and here I paused for a reply. I have paused ever since.” “Who will succeed you here?” “Well, that’s a hard question to an swer. As near as I can learn, about every man in town, except one, has ap plied for the position. The one man that I refer to is in jail charged with the abduction of a youthful and innocent mule. I believe, liowever, that he also wrote out an application, but that the jailer suppressed it I am very busy just now with my new l>ook. I’ve con cluded to try one more dose bf my medi cine on the dear people. It’s pretty tough—on the people—I’ll admit, bnt I don’t seem to mind it mneh. I believe a man gets hard-hearted as he grow* older; don’t you?” A TEMPERANCE LECTURE. A Pluto to Ik* Mum-KIHi flak HIvm far a Tmauraaea l^rtar*. In opening the meeting Brother Gard ner announced that the Hon. Half-Sheli Snyder, of Nashville, Venn., was in the ante-room waiting to deliver a lectura aa the anbject, “The progroaaion at Man.” The honorable reached Detroit owl at money, hungry, hatieee and almost dis couraged. The President had boarded him tor three days, lent him a shirt and other garments, and hoped to be repaid by listening to an interesting lecture upon a subject in which be had always taken a deep interest. The committee then proceeded to the ante-room and brought in the celebrated orator. It was noticed as 1m entered the door that hia face had a wild look and that his knees wobbled, bat be reached the platform in pretty fair shapei Brother Gardner had stepped forward to receive and introduce him, when the Hon, Half-Shell suddenly wilted to the floor and his eyre began to roll like fish- balla flying around a circus ring. It was then discovered that he was over came i,y the effects of whisky. Indeed, the odor could tic scouted •H’lWflPYhc room, and Samuel Shin was jnst mean Fnough to kfltff twice <b aiiy other man’s once, in order to get all he could withont pay. When it was apparent that the orator waa oveicome the President looked down npen him snd said: “Any fnle kin get drank, bat it takes s man to keep sober. Ax dia man in his sober hoars to pui his foot agin a hot stove or to ont his Angers wid a knife an’ he wottld call yon crazy, bat he cool ly an’ deliberately poroecds to do wnss. He pours staff inter bis stomach to re duce himself to de level of s brats or lower. 1 can’t strip him of ds close I lent him, an’ de food he has eaten at my table has gone to make fat on bis ribs. Howsnmeber, in his departur’ from dia locality he should be made to realise dai we know an insult when we aee one, an’ kin properly resent it. Brudders Btepoff, Jones, an’ L. Nelson Blabs will escort de celebrated orator down stain an’ gin him an appropriate send-off” The order +as obeyed with great alacrity, and how well it was carried oat may be inferred from the fact that next morning the boys picked np pieces of pantaloon cloth and several buttons and hackles on the other aide of the ten-foot fence in front of the entrance door.— Detroit Free Fret. SOMETHING ABOUT CHESTNUTS. Wsr—i CfeMtMt The Great Aagast Sea Wave. A letter from Panama shows that the great tidal wave caused by the Java earthquake waa propagated to the Pa cific coast of Bonth America, At Taloa- huano, Chile the ocean rose on August r.—“The flag shalhuot conttr two feet above bigtv waits mark, and the day after earthquakes were felt A Long Game. One Hundred \ears Ago. It was the 25th of November, 1783— a brilliant day, that an excited crowd surged and shouted About Mr. Day’s tavern in Murray street, near the road to Greenwich. Cnnningham, the cruel and vindictive British provost-marshal, stood at the foot of the flag-pole, irom which floated the stars and stripes, the flag of the new republic. “Come, you rebel cur,” he said to Mr cottage. But better thoughts have been P a . v > “I give you two minutes to haul down that rag—I’ll have no such striped faces of His awakened in me. I would still win her. if I can, but not to lead her into fash ion’s balls. They are not the place for one so spiritual as she. Home is the sphere for one like her, and I would win her to a home with me, in this or some other shady glen, and Keep her my Lily through my life. “And this is not all, sir. I would learn of you a pastor’s duties. My life thus far has been an aimless one. I need not work, for I have wealth at my command, bnt I would consecrate myself to some thing. My spirit has ever chafed at the fetters I have thrown atxmt it. I will untangle it, and let it have its will. And at your feet, sir, I would study earnest ly, faithfully, and pray that yoar lips may ask God’s blessing on me as I some where kneel before my chosen people.” “My son,” said the old man, solemnly, “you have chosen well Heaven hath directed you here as a guardian for Lily and a student for me. These fifty years I have ministered here. I knew my strength was failing and my aenaea grow ing dim, bnt I could not bear to leave my people with one who aerved their Master from other than the holiest mo tives, and so, tremulously I have per formed nay duties for a year or more. 4 train flitted by . on the evening breeze," ~fi p y son, yon shall commence this dsy your studies. Yon are well trained and learned, sod your heart i* right. It wifi not taka you long to fit youtsell to spank to thaaa lirrple, truthful Christians, I W w ^vwwT NywrTWvT^^^v T clout as that flying in the ftifces of Majesty’s forces 1” * “There it is, and there it shall stay,” said Day, quietly but firmly. Cnnningham turned to his gnard. “Arrest that man,” he ordered. “And as for this thing here I’ll haul it down myself,” and, seizing the halyards, he l>egan to lower the flag. The crowd broke out into fleroe murmnrs, uncer tain what to do. Bnt, intho midst ot the tumult, the door of the tavern flew open, and forth sallied Mrs. Day, armed with her trusty broom. “Hands off that flag, you villain, and drop my husband 1” ahe cried, and be fore the astonished Cunningham oould realize the situation, the broom came down thwack! thwack! upon his pow dered wig. Old men still lived, not twenty years ago, who were boys in that excited crowd, and remembered how the powder flew from the stifTwhite wig, and how, amidst jeers and laughter, the 4 de- feated provost-marshal withdrew from the unequal contest, and fled beforc the resistless sweep of Mrs. Day’s all-con quering broom.—St. Nic/tolaa for No vember. A singular game of chcsa has jnst' lieen finished in the north of Scotland. The game was began aboat twelve months ago in the city of Brooklyn, N. Y. The first player, Mr. J. B. Munoz, made a move, and then passed the scoring sheet on by post to a friend. That friend made a move in reply, and then passed the paper on by post to another well-known player, who made a move in continuation. In this way the docu ment fonnd its way to Baltimore, Md., where Mr. Bellman, who played lately in the Londdn tournament, added a move and sent the paper on to Jamaica, N. Y. From Jamaica it was sent to England, and, after passing through the hands of well-known players in Lon don and other towns, who each added a move, it began a tonr among the chess players of Scotland. After traveling as far north as Dallwillington, the docu ment was sent back to Sheriff Spcns of Glasgow. That gentleman examined the poeition, and decided that the game was lost for white, as black could force an exchange of rooks and win with the pawns. He therefore returned the game to the first player, Mr. J. B. Munoz, who now sent it, to London to be pub lished as a curiosity in the Che«* Month ly, where it has jnst appeared. The scoring sheet beam the signatures of several players, who each made a move in the game, and the document shows that it passed from hand to hand through thirty-two towns and cities of England, Scotland and America. -A Wmmva.—The Indianapolis po lice were told that a man was whipping his wife in a tenement block near the heart of the city; bnt instead they fonnd the wife, arrayed in only one garment, oowhiding her husband. He was ones Superintendent of the State Institute in Ohio. Lately he had been reduced by drink, until bis wife had to support her self. She told the officers that the doc tor had reached hone drank, and that, m Salvador, Colombia and Eenadpr. Alarming detonations about the same time were heard in all the towns of the Bogota plateau, while at Manabi, Ecua dor, troops were tamed oat ready to meet the supposed enemy. This record will enable seismologists to ascertain the extent of the distur- bance caused by the Java earthquake. Almost simultaneously with the Andean earth shocks and the Chilean ti dal wave the ocean roae on the California coast, as reported by Professor Davidson on Au gust 29. In the West Indies an extra ordinary tide rose in the harbor of 8L Thomas at half-past seven p. m., Au gust "27. As the tides at St. Thomas seldom go alxrve twelve inehm, and that of August 27 roae three and a half feet and was followed on the 30th by a heavy earthquake shock, there can be little donbt that this disturbance was the result of the terrible commotion in the Snnda Straits. If to the same agency be attributed the destructive tidal wave which visited onr Jersey coast on August 28 and 29 it woo’d seem that the agitation extended to all the oceanic area around the globe forty de grees on both aides of the equator. This enormous sea wave aa it expand ed eastward and ^westward from the Indian Ocean produced no fatal resulta, as did the famous Arioa tea wave of August 13th, 1868. Bat its disturbing effects upon the earth’s crust in the South American earthquake belt must have been considerable. Though a vast ocean wave is the consequence rather than the cause of seismic convulsions, it will be wise for the inhabitants of the volcanic countries recently shaken by the Java tidal wave to be,on the lookout for snch convulsions, especially as this epoch of the century is (me often distin guished T>y fatal earth throas. A scnomsT says that in tha moon a hickory nut falling from a boqgh would crash through a man like » minis ball. I'hat settles it, We shall never go to I patience having oeaasd to be s virtue, Die Moon to gather hiokonr sqU,~ I she had resorted to the oowhfcl* to bring tfanUtown Jfcrvtt - ' him to his sam. Frier*, firm Mac, -Umtm CfeeataMs “ Chestnuts are scarce this year, and will be dear," said Mr. Charles Helfrioh, recently. " Virginia nuts, whieh are the beat, are sold at fttandglfl a bushel, and State nuta at $10 to flL The pros pects are that the crop will bis very light, and worms plenty. There is elR- seen in almost aU chestnuts. Some dealers say every eheetnut baa one. This epaek is the egg of a worm, which has been laid in the blossom, and the nut grows over it Sometimes it never gets to be any more than a speck. Bat with a sufficient amount of heat this speck soon gets to be a worm, and eats hia way out, Tim worms soon destroy a crop. They grow no chestnuts in California, and the only way to preserve nuta long enough to get them to the Pacific coast is to ha vs them kiln-dried. This destroys the worm, but it evaporates the moisture. “ Moat chestnuts come to market in bags, which keep them cool. As soon aa possible they should be spread out in thin layers on the floor. This will pre vent the hatching at the worms. The season for native chestnuts lasts until Nov. 1. Then the Italian nata eome in. They sell for 10 and 12 cents a pound, or $6 and $8 a bushel. I have seen American nuta sell as high aa $10 and aa low as $1.60 a bushel. They are sweeter than the Italian nuts. In Italy chestnuts are much used aa food because they are cheap, but the Italians hi this country find other food to be cheaper. There is a flour made of chestnuts, which is add at the Italian stores. The bread made from it is very nutritioas, bat rather tough. “ The supply of chestnuts varies very ranch. Sometimes we cannot find enough to meet the demand, and at other times the maritet la doU. Attempts have been made to cultivate chestnuts, with varying success. A man on Staten Island has succeeded in A Fnro.—The Las' VegaaOazette saya. John Quincy Adams, who is well known in Socono county, New Mexico, has •old a third interest in his late find for $13,000. While prospecting he foond his haversack on Are, hia prospector’s glass having focused the sun’s rays upon it Aa the haversack contained six pounds of powder, fce-dropped it and got oat of the way. It feU ioto a crevice, and a large mam of reek was blown up, Adams tuned aonrnWBy to gather np what might be left of Mi eleeto, tad found a veto of rflvif th|t WjpfcltiBi tiy cultivation, of a aiae midway between Virginia and Italian nata. Thebnprore- ment waa effected by grafting: “ As the woods are oat down tbs sup ply of nnta decreased. Tbs decrease fta this State has been rapid. Considerable quantities of nuts have been sold for ex port. Foreigners like the flavor of onr chcatarata. As to hone chestnuta, I da not know that they have any value. There are aome who am fori 1 '' that tha eaRyiag of a JSW For* din mem