The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, January 09, 1883, Image 1
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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION.
WINNSBORO. S. 0.. JANUARY 9. 1883.
ESTABLISHED 1847
ITP T|IK I.AKK.
It U dark, and uooi and aliady
Up the lane.
And there goea a Hi tie lady
Up the lane,
On the grasa the dew la aparkltng.
Though the night the grass Is darkTUng,
and the summer moon is rising—
“ Time t > go,” it U advUing,
“ Up the lane.”
For the moonrlae was the token.
Up the laue,
That fond words were to he spokeu
Up the lane,
So the little lady hurries—
Far off dee all cares and worries.
And oer pretty face la noshing,
As she hears awift footsteps rushing
Up tue lane.
Night moths at the flowers are sipping,
Up the lane,
Hivifi and aweet tue noun are slipping
Up the lane,
Trees, majestic a tadowa flinging,
Fireflies dancing, crickets singing.
And whits moon lght sifting over
Happy maid and happy lorer,
Up the lane.
1 UTS TEMPTATION.
It was getting on towards dusk, and
Tim Drake, with his blacking-box swung
over his shoulder, stood on the corner
of Oourtland Sfreet and Broadway,
eagerly watching the passers-by, and
shouting almost continually, '‘Shine,
air—shine?” while at the same time he
pointed down at the shoes of those
gentlemen that Tun thought needed
that attention.
Mr. Bobert Montague, banker of No.
—Wall Street was on his way to the
elevated station at Oourtland Street, to
)>e carried to his elegant residence in
one of the fashionable streets up town,
when upon reaching the corner he met
Tim, who Instantly rushed forward,
uid, pointing down to Mr. Montague’s
rather muddy olotn top shoes, again
shouted the repeated cry, “Shine, sir?
Have a shine?"
The banker paused before the boy,
glancing down at his own feet, and
then at the bright eyes and dirty taco
of the bootblack, who had already sunk
upon his knees and was prepare • for
work, ,
•‘Well,” he said finally, “yon can
shine them if yon’ll hurry about it. ”
Tim did not wait for a second iuvita-
t iou, but, turning up the bottom of his
customer’s pants, so as not to soil them
with his blacking, he went straight to
ins task.
It was not long before the job was
hnished, and jumping up from the
gipund, Tim stood waiting tor***
T. Glitnu ilo i/Uw alls a*£Ia A mto - S
lad shouted himself hoarse to no pur
pose.
It was
ill. MCuiaguo pi**
trousers pocket, and drew out a handful
y,i coins. Selecting three he dropped
them into the outstretched palm of the
bootblack, saying as he did so:
A three and two pennies; that’s right,
isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, that’s correct, replied
Tim, as his late customer harried.away,
“I think IT1 buy little Jack an orange
with that five,” said Tim to himself as
he walked over to a stand on the oppo
site side of the way; for Tim had a little
cripple brother, Jack, the only relation
he knew of iu the world; and often,
after a hard day's work, when he made
his way up town to the small room of
the tenement which he called home, he
carried some small delicacy to this little
boy, though he sometimes had to scrimp
hiunelf to do it.
While Tim was away down town,
little Jack empleyed himself with i
box of cheep paiuts that Tim had pro
. cured for him to make the weary hours
pass more quickly.
Tim selected the orange that he
thought looked most juicy and inviting,
then taking the three coins from ^
month, where he had deposited * ueia «
glancing at them as one mw** lo ® k •*
very casual acquaiuta^ be * ore let
cold and windy that night,
and when Tim figured up his day’s
profits, he found that he iiad made
scarcely more than half of the previous
day’s earnings.
Patting his hand into that inner
pocket, he drew out the gold piece and
gazed at it enviously.
“I can’t stand it any longer,” he
mattered, “I mast spend it. Little
Jaoks paint-box is all worn ont, and
I’d reckoned on buying him a new one
to-day.”
“It would be such a surprise to him,
poor little chap,”
“I’ll get it up-iowu, though, ' he
added. “Paint-boxes is cheaper np
there.”
So, restoring the gold-piece once
more to his pocket, and buttoning up
his coat, he walked on.
Before long he hail reached the same
ooraor where he had blacked the gen
tleman’s boots.
Looking down towards the elevated
station he stopped in his walk.
“It’s awfully windy a-walking way np
home to night,” he said, '*and I’ve half
a mind to go np in the tram.”
“If I’m going to spend the gold piece
1 can afford it for once.”
Turning down the street he was soon
at the station, and just in time to catch
an np-going train.
The oars were very crowded, and Tim
had to stand np by the door.
Looking forward, whom should he
see, also standing, but the gentleman
who had given him the gold piece.
Tim started.
Here was a chance to return the
money. Should he give it back to the
gentleman, or should he get out of the
train at the next station and keep it?
If he kept it he could get little Jack
the paint-box, and have quite a balance
over.
He could almost see the glad face of
bis little brother as he would hand him
the box.
Then, on the other hand, if he re
turned it, ten to one he would reoeiye
small thanks for it; and what with the
slim profits of the day’s work, he would
have hardly enough money to bay little
Jack’s and his own frngal sapper.
The train just now ran into a station,
tiie gate trail shouted the name of the
street, and the can came to a standstill.
q»s. r -a.. r i*—s —— ——
about to leave the out u
he hurried from the oar and down the
steps with a lighter parse than before,
bat with a lighter heart because he had
overcome his temptation.
Tim called on the morrow at Mr.
Montague’s, and was given a place a
the banker’s office, where by hard work
he will no doubt rise until some day he
may himself mistake gold pieoes for
pennies.
Leaps For Liberty.
A Leap tor LI bony.
the oil lamp that lit
them go,
In the glare
up the ha 8aw ton one of the
eoias w taken for a cent waa not
( ^at at alL
* “By kooky!” he exclaimed, opening
his month wide in astonishment. If
that ’eri' gent didn’t go and make a
mistake; why, one of these cents ain’t a
cent—it’s a two dollar and a half gold
piece!”
A thousand different thoughts flashed
through the bootblack's mind as to
what he should do with the money.
'What a lot of things it would buy
him! He could get little Jack a bigger
box of painta and even a drawing book,
too.
But then a small voice within him
whispered;
“It doesn’t belong to you, and you
have no right to it.”
Then stul another voice said: “Yes,
have, too, lot how do jou know
when, turning to
; alanoe at the banker, he noticed
or the first ttiuc z ^miliar fltmre stand
ing near that gentleman.
Jimmy!” he muttered under his
breath, “if there ain’t ‘Sly Sam.’ ”
“A young pickpocket like him, whose
been to Blackwell’s Island as often as
he has, don’t mean no good in a crowd
like this
“He will bear watching, he wUL
“Sly Sam," as he was called, moved
closer to the gentleman, who was read
ing an evening paper.
Tim, between the desire to get away
with the money and the desire to pre
vent a robbery, did not know what to
do.
While he lingered the train went on
again.
As It turned the curve into Murray
Street, Tim saw the thief’s hand slide
into the banker’s vest pocket.
“He’s going to do it," said Tim to
himself iu great excitement, “and I’d
be doing it, too, if I went off witb.the
money’- ’’
• Tnere’d be two of us then.”
'i’ll spoil his game, though,” and
springing forward, he caught the bank
er’s sleeve with one hand and the thief
with the other.
“Say, mister,” he shouted, “this
here feller is a trying to hook your
watch.”
Tim’s words created a good deal of
confusion, and people felt instinotively
in their watch pockets.
Some of the passengers seised “Sly
Sam,” while he himself, frightened and
Very pale, tried effectually to prove his
innoodkoe by throwing the guilt upon
Tim,
At the next station the pickpocket
was tftken in charge by a policeman
and subsequently was given the oppor
tunity to board, at the public's ex
pence, at that favorite resort of charac
ters of his type, Blackwell’s Island.
A writer from Athens, Ueorgia, says wc
saw Joe Thurmond and he told us all about
his escape from the Clarke county Court
House, bis flight to Canada and his return
when pardoned by Governor Colquitt It
ii a ihriihog chapter. Bald Thurmond:
“I had no idea of attempting an escape
when I was carried from the jail to the
court house, but had determined to die
sooner than go to the penitentiary. Bat
while sitting in my chair in Judge Jack
son’s office a sudden desire seized me to
make the attempt and without stopping to
consider for a moment or count the prob
able cost I made a bolt for the window,
but some one caught my foot just as I was
anout passing through that caused me to
fall on my head and receive a fearful shock.
1 then rushed for my horse, expecting each
instant to be shot down in my tracks,
but I intended to die rather than surren
der. One of Browning’s bullets grazed
my leg and passing through the saddle-
skirt and blanket entered the side of the
nag 1 wa» riding. After getting beyond
range of the balls I headed toward Brook
lyn: but when about two miles out of
town the horse began to give way unuer
me, when I rode out in a pine thicket to
see what was the matter. Upon removing
the saddle 1 discovered the wound, and
knew that the beast could not carry me
further. I turned it loose and started for
home on foot, and by a circuitous route
had to travel fourteen miles before getting
there. But my leaving my horse behind
saved me from capture, as the officers
thought I was still hid out in the thicket
and so did not telegraph. 1 only remained
home an hour-just long enough to get
some money, bid my family good-bye and
start for Lawreuceville, thirty miles
distant.
Taking my littu brother in the buggy
we made the trip in just three boms, but
it nearly killed the horse l was driving.
I traveled at night, passing through Jug
Tavern, and met several men on the road
that I knew, but as 1 had my hat slouched
over my face they did not recognize me,
not even my uncle, whose bouse 1 passed.
Just as I drove into lawrencevilie .the
train was steamed up ready to leave and I
got aboard. Had I been ten minutes later
it would have left me. I met with an
other stre&K of good luck when 1 got to
Suwannee, the junction with the Air Line.
ftteRtthiOiito a dark oomer
remained thereuntil the regular train came
along, which was Just ten minutes. -1
boarded the smoking-car. tb”t was forth
natety unoccupied.
When I got to Atlanta I did not wait for
the tram to stop before I jumped off ana
secreted myself near the Goattaniioga
train, that the conductor told me would
leave in ten minutes. I feared a telegram
lad been sent ahead and was afraid to risk
even buying a ticket, preferring to pay my
tare to the conductor. I had no way to
disguise myself, as I was cleanly shaved,
and had to take ihe chances, Just as the
Western and Atlantic train was moving
I jumped aboard and soon left At
lanta behind me. But I dreaded even
stopping place, expecting to meet a tele
grain. When Chattanooga was reached
lor the first tune felt pretty safe,
pushed on to my destination, Canada.
A recaptured deserter from the United
States Army, handcuffed and secured to
an iron bed stead with a chain of thick,
heavy links, made his escape out of the
third story of the General Mounted Setvice
Recruiting Rendezvous, at Twentieth and
Market streets, Philadelphia, recently.
The escape was made more wonderful
from the fact ef the fugitive carrying with
him a large part of the bed-stead, from
which he was not able to disengage him
self. He reached the ground in two leaps,
one of fourteen and the other of twenty-
two feet. Not the slightest trace of him
has been found. The piece of the bed
stead, which weighs about fourteen pounds,
has not been recovered, and from present
indications there Is ue Uhclihc .d of a clue
to either being struck.
Condy Royle is the name ef the daring
fugitive. He is of Hibernian stock and
his birthplace is said to have been in Ire
land. He is twenty-two years old, five
feet ten inches in height, and altogether
well built, powerful and handsomely pro
portioned. His relatives are divided in
residence between Allentown and Phila
delphia. On November 1 last he enlisted
at tne recruiting station winch he has just
left behind him. Altogether he seemed a
desirable acquisition to the army, and in
due course of lime would have been sent
to St. Louis and thence turther West to
fight the redskins. Fate conspired to
favor the latter, however and on Novem
ber 8 Royle, after dutltully serving his
country lor a week, lost his military en
thusiasm and disappeared from the bar-
racKS. The young women in the neighbor
hood had one soldier less to look at and
the Department of War one more to look
alter. Royle immediately went to Allen
town, where he is well koown-
The fact that he was a deserter was as
notorious as his light complexioued tace
and light eyes, and none ventured to give
him up and earn the standing reward o'
thirty dollars which la offered tor the ap
prehension of escaped soldiers. Even the
police of Allentown are said to have sym
pathized With him and let him go un-
arresled. He got so bold that he walked
about as if he had never been a warrior.
He accosted one of the Allentown detec
tives and asked the loan of fifteen cents.
The detective was just going to clap Royle
on the shoulder and arrest him, but be re-
Tbe Life of » Pilot.
Wnen the confusion was over, and
yon
1
bUV
strain Wont* in Veuloe,
ft to
where the gentleman who gave
youliveb?” .
It was a puzzling question, and Tim
oonolnded, after a minute’s thought,
i hat whatever he would do by and by
he would not spend it just now.
So patting die gold piece into an
inner pocket, and taking a nickel from
among his oarnings of that day, he paid
for the orange and walked briskly up
town.
A week passed, and Tun still had the
gold piece.
Ho had hong around the oomer of
Oourtland Street every afternoon, half
hoping and half fearing that he might
see his customer, but the gentleman had
not yet appeared.
On this par Molar day Tim had ex*
psdenoed veoy poor teak.
It w«s a fine dayi people did uni seem
te want their Mots blacked, and Tim
the banker saw that his watoh waa safe
and uninjured, he turned to find the
boy who had saved it.
He had not far to look, for Tim was
already by his side, and, before Mr
Montague had time to speak, the boot
black oried out:
“I .-ay, mister, you’re the geut whose
boots I blaoked the other night; and
yon gave me a two dollar’n a half gold
piece instead of a cent
“Hero it is,” and Tim handed it over.
Mr. Montague was silent for some
seconds, while he mechanically took
the coin.
“Well, my boy,” he said at length,
kindly, “you’ve done me a service to
night, and 1 won’t forget it.
“Suppose you oall at my office, No,—
Wall Street, to-morrow?”
“Then I oan apeak with you.
“Ask for Mr. Montague.”
Tim said that he would, and touohing
his hat left the banker to his paper.
It was not long before the tsaio
reached the Bleaker street station
where he had to get out.
his way through the crowd
The little steamboats that now ply on
the Grand Canal are the first things to
arrest the traveler’s attention when he re
visits Venice. Till now, arrival at Venice
has always been something unique and
fascinating. Mr. Russell, indeed, thought
the fascination already gone when, instead
of stealing up to the city in a gondola
across the open lagoon, he was driven by
steam, and could only see the noble land
scape of approach as the engine slackened
its rushing on the iron line. But common
place people found a good deal to say on
the other side; and the suddenness of the
contrast, as one stepped out of the railway
carriage into a boat to be rowed down the
untrodden streets of the island city, per
haps enhanced the charm and strengthened
the impression, Lord Beaconsfleld was
certainly right ra singling out the strange
quiet of the canals as the particular quality
which made Venice unlike all other places.
But these “vapporetti dl Yeni zia”have
changed the aspect of things. They have
two courses—one from the railway station
to the public gardens, the other from the
Rialto to the Piazetta; and they run every
ten or fifteen minutes, calling at several
intermediate stations. For the first day
or two they were not popular, and their
enemies even began to hope with some
confidence that they would die a natural
death; but the Venetian public were se
duced by the convenience of them, and
now the boats are always well filled. Bo
far, then, they must be admitted to hav
justified their existence; but it is a pity
that they do not bear then success more
quietly. The captains seem to delight In
fuming on the steam whistle as if they
were children playing with a new toy, and
the whistles themselves are certainly mi
raclesof shrillness. Mr. Ruskin diversi
tied the pages of one of the earlier chap
ters of “Fore Clavigeta” by keeping count
of tae number of whistles that proceeded
from a steamer about to start for tbe Ltdo,
and he counted seven during the writing
of one page, when he gave up his writing
m despair. But if he were to revisit his
old quarters on the Grand canal n >w, he
would probably find it impoesiole to write
at all. The steamers Whistle in the ap
proved fashion on arriving at and depart
ing from each station; they whistle as
they approach the femes, they whistle as
often as they happen to see a boat ahead,
and they whistle at other times In case
there might be a boat ahead. Altogether
they have imported a very noisy element
Into the life of the canal, and one need
not be cursed with a peculiarly senatuve
nervous organization to feel now unpleas
ant US obange is. It osa no longer be
said, as It was said In "Oontarlm Fleming, 1 ’
that In Venice "ne rnde eosmd Cistnots
membered that he had not the warrant.
In reply to the deserter be replied aome-
wii&t ambiguously that he “had not got
itand hurried off as fast as ho could in
the direction of the Sheriff's office “to get
it.” He got it, arrested his man and
brought him to Philadelphia. When Royle
reached the headquarters it was about
three o'clock. His comrades welcomed
him, ssid they were glad to see him,rushed
him upstairs and chained him to the bed,
posting a sentry ouulde to shoot him if he
tried IQ esgany An ths window Was So
utcessaflnWIre a»y pjecauuotnntfiuai
direction. The heavy tread of the wintry
sod the orcaslOiial uaug of bis musket on
the floor did their best to intorm Royle
that he was not at a fair. As the exact
chronology of bis proceedings can only be
told by himself a large patyof them have
to be guessed au It is certain that it
began by working some screws and divid
ing tbe bedstead into two parts. It is
thought that his next move was to tie it
securely to h s body, so that when he
, utuped neither he nor the bedstead should
each the ground first, which would have
entailed considerable jolting. A few
scraps of rope which lie around the room
tend to confirm this belief. The d”S0eut
of the man, hampered as he waa by the
piece of bedstead, which is some three
feet by two and a hair feet square, seems
almost incredible.
Underneath the window at a distance ol
fourteen feet is a slippery and iuflrm
wooden shed belonging to the yard of a
bouse m the rear of the military rendez
vous. He must have Jumped on to this,
which feat in itself was perilous. The
roof is covered with moss and frost and
looks anything but a safe resting place.
From the shed he evidently leaped on the
hard bricks of the yard, twenty-two feet
more. Tue yard is surrounded by a
wooden fence some eleven feet in beignt,
which seems to be unchmbaHe even it
the climber were not handcuffed and ac
companied by a hedbtsaiL It was just 6
o’clock when the escape was made. This
was just the time when every one but the
sentry was at tea. It was thought that on
reaching the ground Royle must have been
assisted by friends, It is impostible,
however, that any one could have climbed
up to the room trom without. The wonder
is that Royle was not seen either by some
one in the oourt at the rear or by persons
in the houses.
About a year ago Royle escaped from
the police station at Allentown, where he
wac confined tor a trifling offenoe, in
similar way. Had he not fled he would
have been sent to the Jefferson Barracks,
at. Louts, and tried by oourt-martial. The
usual punishment is Are or six years’
imprisonment, which is generally reduced
to half oy the judge advocate. 'The de
sertion is the fliih this year in the distnot,
m win oh FhiladeJphla is included.
T he UaMt ot VatnUu*.
There is not so muob fainting in pnb
lie as there was thirty years ago. Bound
health, which neoeaevily secures the
firm nerves and muscles, is the surest
preventive of famines). An exchange
remarks that the majarity of vigorous
men'go through all fcude-of severe am
painful experience dthoub fainting,
while delicate men aid women swoon
at trifles. American v men, who used
to faint continually—U crowds, at bad
news, at scenes of distress—now faint
comparatively seldom; and the fact is
ascribed to their relnquishment. for'
the most part, of the labit of lacing, to
their increased exercia in the open air,
and their bettor phy teal conditions.
Not ore American won m faints to-day,
where thirty years igo, twenty-five
women fainted and tl» diminution of
the disorder, always thl result of direct
oaueee, is an tuumsti labia evidence,
which other things eoaoborat^ ot the
Um feealtt of
the ear,” or that '’there is aoUdng to put
aney to light,’’
marked aataitoratiaa
the highly organized,
trire, bat flexible and jpuKutag women
of ouf^emnpMt race,
The brotherhood of Delaware bay
and river pilots is composed of about
ninety active, sturdy, weather beaten,
danger-daring men, whose ages range
between twenty five and seventy-five
years, and some of whom have oontinn-
ously pursued their useful, even iudis-
pensible, calling for nearly half a cen
tury. The writer in frerh from a social
chat with one of the oldest, best-known,
and most experienoed of these hardy
men, who oonduot vessels from the
open sea through the dangerous shoals
and wrecking spots of the Delaware bay
and river, to their docks along the river
front of tbe city of Philadelphia. The
name of this old pilot is Lester D.
Bohellinger, and for over forty years he
has been engaged in piloting vessels up
and down the Delaware river and bay,
and bis father did the same thing be
fore him. For the past twenty years,
however, he has alternated piloting with
being Captain of City Ice Boats. Cap
tain Schellinger resides at No. 120
Queen street, and it wrs there the wri
ter received from him the information
embodied in this article.
Captain Schellinger was asked:—
“What is the course of traiuing to
quality a mau to become a regular
pilot?”
“What we call ‘pilot boys,’” was the
response, “have to serve a regular ap
prenticeship of six years to some old,
experienced pilot. That is, they have
to almost live on pilot-boats, and are
studying and observing ail the time.
Then they are required to make thirty-
two trips up aud down the river aud
bay in square-rigged vessels before their
time is out. After going through this
the pilot-boy is taken belore a commit
tee of the Port Wardens and a board of
pilot-examiners, and if he is found to be
bright and capable he obtains what we
oall a ‘twelve-foot branch,’ aud he
keeps that for eighteen months. He is
then examined again, and if found com
petent he gets a ‘first-class branch,’and
is a full pilot. Mist of the pilot-boys
are sons of old pilots, and they have
generally a natural aptitude for the
business.”
“How are pilots licensed?”
“The Pennsylvania pilots and Dela
ware pilots are now working in opposi
tion to each other to some extent. For
over 100 years all the Delaware bay
pilots obtained their licenses from the
State of Pennsylvania, but the last
Pennsylvania Legislature out down the
rates about 40 per cent., and then the
Delaware pilots had a law passed giving
them the old rates. When a pilot goes
down stream he gets $3.00 per foot
(water displacement). The highest rate
up from the sea is $1.16 per foot and
Juu xt UlIaA cr/ii n pr
Winter piiotaga used to be $10 extra,
but that is taken away How, although
the Delaware pilots get the old winter
rates yet. Pennsylvania pilots must
work by Pennsylvania law.”
“How about pilot boats?”
“There are four pilot-boats owned by
Pennsylvania pilots. Two of them cost
over $18,090 each and the other two
i $,000 each. Tmre are two Delaware
boats, making six in alb When a pilot-
boat gees out ske baa a regular orew of
six men, and six pilots are allowed to go
on her to hunt jo: s. The first pilot on
the list gets the first job, and the others
'oilow in rotation. Bomet mes in fair
weather these boats go as far as sixty
miles ont to sea looking for incoming
foreign vessels, but as a general rule
they oruise about the Five Fathom
Lightship. Tney remain on the watch
day and night and in ail kinds of
weather. When a vessel takes oi board
a pitot he has full charge, aud his pay
is according to the draft of water of the
vessel. That is, if the vessel draws 18
feet the pilot gets $4.16 per foot ftem
12 feet up, aud one-third of what he
receives goes to the pitot-boat for her
support. When a pilot takes a vessel
ont to sea he pays $5.00 ter what is
called 'the take-off boat,’ to bring him
book to port again, if the vessel ia a fid-
feet bout, and he pays $4.00 up to 20
feet. It oosts considerable money to
keep these pilot-boats in first-class con*
dition, and they most be kept in
splendid order for the service they have
to pet form.'
Alluding to the knowledge poeseeeet
by Delaware bay pilots aud the care
and skill they have lo exercise in bring
ing a vessel safely into port from the
sea, Captain Schellinger remarked;—
“A regular pilot must be perfectly
familiar with Delaware bay aud river
from the Capes to the city. By day or
night and in all kinds of weather ho
must be able to thread his way safely
through the water and with as much
confidence as you would go along tbe
street on the way to yoox home. The
pilot must have a mintite knowledge
every shoal, every channel, light
houses and lights of all kinds, sound
ings, bearings, etc., in the bay and
river, and he most (so to speak) be able
to see the bottom as his vessel ploughs
through the water, He must be able to
perfectly work a square-rigged vessel,
and must have complete knowledge of
everything connected with tbe tides.”
“Describe generally the pilotage of
vessel from tbe open sea outside the
Capes to the port of Philadelphia.’’
“When a pilot-boat while cruising
sights a vessel signalling for a pilot,
her skiff is lowered, and the pilot
whose turn it!» is rowed to the vessel,
and when once on board he takee* com j
maud. It is sometime* hazardous work
to get from the pilot-heat to the vessel
to be pi oted, for you most remember
the pilot is bounu to answer the sum
mons for his assistance, np matter
whether it be day or night time, or
whether the sea is rough or calm. Tue
only thing that would prevent a pilot
trom taking tbe amah boat and going to
the Vessel that needed him, would be
the almost certainty that the boat oooid
not live in tbe see that might be run
ning at the time- A pilot, however,
will take to the email boat and reach
us boat in safety, whan a less expert*
eased mss weald take it for granted
that the bafct would oe swam pea. Tbe
signalling for prints at night tune U
miles away, but steamers usually send
up rockets when a pilot is wanted, and
they can be seen a long way off from
the deck of tha pilot-boat. When a
pilot takes charge of a vessel out at
sea to bring her into port, he makes for
tbe Five-Fathom Bank, out from the
mouth of the bay, aud ou which there
is a lightship. Then he looks for the
'MoOrea Shoal,* between the light-ship
and the ‘overfalls,’ which spot is off
Cape May at the mouth of the channel;
but if south he guides for 'Fenwick’s
Island Shoal,’ twenty miles south of
Henlopen. He must know juet where
dangerous places are by day and night,
and he feels his way by ni bt time by
various hearings and the constant use
of the lead, “hen ir.r-.de the Cayw
there are numerous shoals on both
sides to avoid, and the compass and
lead are constantly in demand. Be
tween Cape May, or the ‘overfalls’ and
Bombay Hook, the pilot encounters
tbe ‘Brown Shoal,’ on the west side,
the ‘Flogger Shoal,’ on the same side,
and on the eastern side, above tbe
•Brandywine Shoal,’ is the 'Mire Maull
Shoal,’ and then the 'Cross Ledge
Lighthouse and Shoal.’ Then comes
the ‘Ben Davis oyster bed,’ close to the
channel on tbe east side, and just below
Bombay Hook is the “Old John Shoal.’
There Is a light-house at Bombay
Hook, and from the latter place to the.
port of Philadelphia are numerous
shoals, all of which are well known to
regular pilots.”
“How much oan a regular pilot make
per annnm at the present rate?”
“Pilots are not at all well paid now
when yon consider the knowledge they
must possess, and the exposed lives
they lead. The rate* are low, and
about two years ago the merchants got
a bill passed wbioh reduced their pay
about 40 per cent. A regular pilot now
can scarcely average more than $800 per
annum, aud we used to make from
$1,500 to $1,800 a year. It costs a
great deal to keep tbe pilot-boats in
oruer, and one of them has lately goue
out on a oruise on which $600 was spent
for sails, riggirg, and necessary things
of different kinds. For the past six
months many pilots have not had more
than one vessel per month, and some
times they even ernise for two or three
weeks at n time without getting a ves
sel.”
“What age is the oldest active pilot?”
“William Marshal is the oldest ac
tive regular pilot, and he is past seventy-
five years of age. He goes out regularly,
and keeps in good physical condition.
he old pilots, as a general thing, are
tolerably hale, hearty men, and the
main trouble they have is rheumatism.”
“How about disasters, accidents,
etc’”
‘Disasters and accidents are quite
lor twenty year*- - yavtr
on yellow-fever vessels, ami aome of
them have caught that disease. I have
bad charge of yellow fever vessels more
than once.”
1876. 1882.
F. W. HABENICHT,
Proprietor of the
MORI
A Western Ride.
There are two of us—two women—ecur-
ryiug along one of tbe ragged streets of a
Territorial capital as fast as the shaggy,
one-eyed pony attached to the wide seated
phaeton could carry us, our deslmatton a
settlement twenty-five miles farther up the
Missouri, it U midsummer 0M88I and
the sun was just rising as we reached the
outskirts of the city. The air was s t:
aud cool, and fragrant with an odor dif
fused by the blooming plains. Striking
the pralne road, we sped onward, leaving
behind us the little white town, which lay
nestled among tbe clustering hills, the
dear, radiant sunrise dimmed only by the
smoke of a river steamer rising dark against
the rosy sky. it was lovely in its sum
mer morning freshness, that green water-
leas sea, which spread with a mighty
sweep away to the far, far north and the
snowy ranges of the west.
The hour, the air, and all this loveliness
had a subtle eff ect upon my companion
and myself. Leaning back in our seat, we
permitted the horse to jog along as he
chose while ws sought to drink in the spir
it ef tbe scone, so that we might remember
it forever. The entire absence of fences,
which the herd laws render unnecessary,
inspires one with the same delightful sense
of freedom as being far out upon the deep
with no land in sight Sometimee we saw
a diminutive farm house, which looked as
though it might have tumbled from the
clouds, so solitary and out of place it
seemed. There it stood without a vine to
shelter it,—a target for the midsummer
sun, a toy for the winter tempests. But
tbe sturdy, breve hearted pioneer may look
from hte door aud see fortune smiling at
him from hie broad, fertile acres. Ah,
what possibilities lie in that glorious ooun
try! A hundred aud sixty acres of the best
land in the world may be had by the man
who is courageous enough to set his face
to the western sun and there turn the vir
gin soil. There is r<*nn far all ih that
broad, new roanlry," and secure prosperity
tor those who press on to these goals with
stout hearts and unflinching purpose.
The Violin.
I respectfully call the attention of the
pnblio to my superior facilities for sup
plying everything If my line, cfsaparto. :
quality. Starting Wines* In Wtonx-
boro in 1876, I have in all this time
given the closet attention to my busi
ness and endeavored to make my estab
lishment FIRST-CLASS in every par
ticular. I shall in the fntnre, as in tht
past, hold myself ready to serve my
customers with the best articles that can
be procured in any market I shall
stand ready, also, to guarantee every
article I seU.
I invite an inspection of my stock of
Wines, Liquors, Tobacco, Cigars, etc.
F. W. HABENICHT.
IMPORTED.
Scotch Whiskey (Ramsey’s).
A. Bin Laubert and Marat Cognas
Brandy.
Jamaica Ram.
Rotterdam Fish Gin.
Ross’s Royal Ginger Ale.
Jules Mumm A Co.’s Champagne.
Cantrel A Cochran’s Ginger Ala.
Apollinaris Mineral Water.
Angus tora Bitters.
Old Sherry Wine.
Old Port Wine.
DOMESTIC.
Ginger Ale.
Soda Water.
Sarsaparilla.
Old Cabinet Rye Whiskey.
Old Schuylkill Bye Whiskey.
The Honorable Bye Whiskey.
TtyeTTV hfigav. -
Jesse Moore Yollmer Bye Whiskey,
Old N. C. Sweet Mash Oom Whiskey,
Old Stone Mountain Corn Whiskey.
Western Com Whiskey.
Virginia Mountain Peach Brandy.
New-England (French’s) Bum.
North Carolina Apple Brandy.
Pure Blackberry Brandy.
Pure Cherry Brandy.
Pore Ginger Brandy.
Boston Swan Gin.
SUNDRIES.
Book and Eye.
Osceola Bitters.
Hos tetter’s Bitters.
Bergner A Engel’s Lager Beer, in patent
stopper bottles and on draught.
New Jersey Sweet, Sparkling Cider.
Tolu, Bock A Bye, Lawrence A Martin.
Stoughton Bitters.
Book and Com.
Cigars and Tobacco
Syndicate Cigar, 5 cents.
The Hnntress Cigar, 2} cents.
Madeline Cigar—All Havana—10 cents.
Don Carlos (Nab)—all Havana—10 cents
Minerva Cigar—Havana filler-5 cents.
Cheek Cigar—Havana filler—5 cents.
Our Boast Cigar—Havana fiber—5 cents *
Lucky Hit Cigar—Havana filler—5 cents.
Ihe Unicnm Self-Lighting Cl£irette,
(Amber mouth-piece to every
ten packages.) i
The Plokwick Club Cigarette,
{Shook month-pieces.)
The Richmond Gem Cigarette,
(Light smoking.)
done generally by what we OaU flash
lights, whleh eaa he sflea four or five
Recent writers trace the origin of the
violin to the Indian Ravanastron, yet
pUyed by the poor Buddh'st monks,
who go begging from door to door, and
it is traditionally believed to have been
the invention of Havana, King of Cey
lon, 5000 B. O. From the Ravanastron
sprang tbe goudok of Russia and the
cr&wth of Wales—tbe latter in use be
fore tbe sixth Century—both of which
seem to have differed from the later
instruments of the same tribe in having
tbe upper sbrfuoe of the bridge flat, so
ttiat all tbe strings had probably to be
sounded at once. The viol waa the
more immediate precursor of the violin
aud of its relatives of deeper pitch the
violoncello and tbe doable bass. Cham
bent’s Cyclopaedia says. “The viol is to
be seen represented on moanmeuts as
for back as the dose of the eleventh
century. Violins were mentioned as
early as 1200 in the legendary life of
Bt Christopher. Thy were Introduced
into England, some say, by Charles II.”
f ^
Sleep such oempany ae God keeps.
Old foxes are caught at test.
Open dears Invite thieve*.
Fretting cares crest* grey Mte
Keep you head out of the fire, sad
yoqraeif out of quarrel.
/ •
TIs dli BillM awl Fool Par
lor in Toni
ICE I ICE! ICE!
An-abundanoe always on hand for tho
nse of my customers. I wil also keep a
supply of
FISH, OYSTERS, &C.,
for my Restaurant, which is always
open from the first of September to the
first of April.
I shall endeavor to please all who give
me a calk
Vay respectfully,
F. W. HABENICHT.
OPPOSITE POSTO