Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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Tlll-AVEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBOEO. S. 0.. PEBEUAEY 20. 1883. ESTABLISHED 1848 NOW. — Rise! for the day Is passing, And yon lie dreaming on; The others have buokled their armor, And forth to the fight have gone; A place In the ranks awaits you, Each man has some part to play; The Past and the Future are nothing, In the face of the stern To-day. Rise from your dreams of the Future— Of gaining some hard-fought field ; Of storming some airy fortress. Or bidding some giant yield; Your future has deeds of glory, Of honor (Clod grant it may!) \ But your arm will never be stronger Or the need so great as to-day. Rise 1 if the past detains yon. Her sunshine and storms forget; No cha.ns so unworthy to hold you As tho^e of a vain regret; 8ad or bright, she is lifeless ever; Oast her phantom arms away, Nor look back, save to learn the lesson Of a nobler strife to-day. Rise 1 tor the day is passing; The sound that you scarcely hear Is the enemy marching to battle : Arise! for the foe is here 1 Stay not to sharpen your weapons, Or the nour will strike at last, When from dreams of a coming battle, You may wake to find it pasi. A ROY’S WINDER. Dick an l I are going down to the May festivities, Miss Chelmsford; do you care to come?” Agatha Chelmsford, a large, fair, handsome woman, looked up from her cool corner In the morning-room. •‘The May festivities here?” with a faint elevation of pale, arched brows. “Yes, did you not know? “Why, we are going to have a regu lar old-fashioned May-day—May queen. May pole, and all.” “And you—you care for this sort of thing, Mr. Carrington! ‘•.Purdon me, hat I should judge the persons getting it np were—well, not exactly in our set.” “No," Wilbur Carrington said coldly. "If you mean on visiting terms here, most of them are not. But ” “But you just ought to see the May Queen, Miss Agatha,” young Dick Car nugton broke in enthusiastically. “She’s worth going purposely to see, ‘ 'Indeed I Who is your rustic beauty, iDiok?” Tu the first place, a lady,” Dick said | stoutly. •But they’re not well off, you know, I and she has a little brother—a cripple— [so she is obliged to teach in the village [school. Do come.” •Dick,” Wilbur Carrington said [sharply, “don’t urge Miss Chelnlsford. II presume she would not care about it.” ‘OJi, but I do.” with a sudden drop- t ping of her languid tone. Ll&YafeteJai* y° u i U8t a few moments l Aud flinging aside the scrap of nee- jdl^work with which sue h** been trif ling, ahe leH the^-J**^ visitiug Wil _ ^^—pgton’s mother, down in their burOatg^^ I V^'jWarricgtons were the great people ■te place. «(ud i amor told a strange little romance tnis slightly passee heiress, and {rave, reserved Wilbur Carrington. It is said that years ago, when the kealth and luxury he held to-day were Unknown to lum, before the world dis- iveied the force, the brilliancy, the tenius of lus pen, that he had been fi-hng to lay his hfe at Agatha Chelms- urd's feet; that lightly she had pushed side the boyish passion and gone on to iglier conquests. Now the tables had turned, and it vas with a resolute determinition to j^ndo the j ast that she had come dowu the hauusome country seat this bright priug weather. To-day she passed ou to the morning- Sg-room, her full, womanly figure akiug its best in her handsome oos- jime of uark blue velvet and brocade. “Ready, Mr. Carrington?” with a right smile. [“Yes, I hope you will enjoy it. Miss rehnslord,” he said, as he handed her the carriage, j “I am sure I shall.” [The carriage soon stooped at a beau- grove, aud through the trees they ight sight of the bright dresses, and ird merry laughter. [ick sprang irom his seat, and tossed reins to his brother. ‘I shall be me first to greet her fijesty. I see Annie over there, and il bring her to you.’* |•*No l ’ , Wilbur said, shortly, “we will j to her.” Something in Iris voice made Agatha kelmsiord look up him at suddenly. Then she took his arm, aud went v** 1 * i down tho •»«»»*»«-• °is^he first time tbey hav<^ ratod ydV about it,” m his boy is n pc the prettiest for their queen, bur? Wilbur knows.” posed to be enthusiastic,’’ crushing laugh. “Is she retty, Wilbur?” tne first time she had called since the old days, but Uiey near the Maying party, and it was to play a trump card. was no change in the grave, ded lace, to wnicn she looked up pleadingly, etty?” he repeated calmly, a trifle dy. “I hardly know if we would on that subject. Miss Chelmsford, that inner hie makes outer beau- d Annie Btuart is a womanly But here she is.” atiia Chelmsford looked with a new Pus excitement in hex lignt blue at the girl who came forward with laughing heartily at the boy’s words. she saw a girl a little above the m height, but looking taller be- of the soft white muslin robe she Baw a face bright with health appiness, aud Hea yen's elixir— clean-cut. as a cameo; eyes and ay-day.’’ , “They went a good fcek looked back to •They'; aer. kven I mere tender, earnest; long black lashes, braided bronze-brown hair. “Regina, greeting,” Wilbur Carring ton cried, and held out his hand. “We come too late for your majesty’s ooronatiou. Allow me, Miss Chelms ford—Miss Stuart.” The ladies bowed, the former a trifle abstractedly. She was thinking with a onrious pang, how well Wilbur Carrington s words suited the girl before her—“a womanly woman.” “This is Miss Chelmsford's first visit to Silver Leaf wood, is it not?” she heard the happy girlish voice say. Would you like to come aud see its pleasant places? It has some.” She hesitated a moment. Then a thou ht came to her, “Thanks—yesl” she said. “I would like to go.” “Mayn’t I go with you, Annie?” cried Dick imploringly. But she shook her flower-crowned head laughingly. “No, you mayn’t. Rua away and talk to Hattie Green. She's pining for a sight of yon. There’s a good boy,’’ Miss Chelmsford turned to Wilbur Carrington. “Would it be too much trouble to ask you to get my shawl from the carriage? Thanksl Will you wait here with it? We shall be back soon.” Ho started as she spoke. . He had been looking at Annie Stuart, at the girlish figure in that soft white dr> ss, through wnich arms and bosom faintly showed, at the firmly-sweet eyes, at the great clusters of May flowers glowing palely pink at throat and waist. , Miss Chelmsford noticed his glance, and felt a sudden sharp contrast between herself and Annie Stuart. The girl looked slmost childish iu her pure fresh dress, aud simply braided brown hair. She felt old aud cumbrous now, in her cut velvet and diamonds. With the quick perception of a woman of the world, she saw eytu more than Annie Stoan had seen. She would play her caros accordingly. “You have known Wilbur a long time? questioningly, os they turned away. A puzzled pained look came iuto the girl’s eyes. “No. not a very long time. “Long enough to appreciate him how ever. “My little brother was injnred by a fall some time ago, and since the acci dent we have learned to value Mr. Car rington’s kindness aud friendship.” “Dear Wilbnr!” “There was an unconcealed tender ness in Miss Chelmsiord’s voice that made her companion wld***- —rxe WHBklways good-hearted to every one. “He—I, that is, we often talk of what we shall do when “But pardon me, I had forgotton this subjeot holds no interest for you. “What lovely spring daisies!” She knew by the girl’s tense silence that she had taken all her implied con fidence as she had meant she should. She knelt down to gather a cluster of the daisies, drawing off her gloves. As she did so a great diamond on her left hand sparkled in a slanting sun beam. “Oh!” Annie Stuait cried involuntar ily. Miss Chelmsford held up a long slender hand. “You like it?” she said. “Wilbur gave it to mel” There was a smaller, pla'“ or r i u <? on her hand, that he had <s‘ven her as a schoolboy gift fifteen years betore. If questioned, she could protest her mistake in having imagined it the one refer led to. If possible she would mislead her. Annie Stuart caught her hand against her bravo girlish heart, Grushina the May flowers in her belt. “Then—then it is an engagement ring?” “The diamond?” “Yes.” She told the lie with shyly-drooping lids, but voice caql with deliberate emphasis. “Is it, though, Agatha? and you never told us. ” Dick leaped lightly over a low bush ou the path beside them. “I say, Wilbur," raising his voice as only a boy can, “here’s a go! “Agatha’s engaged, think of it! “I caught her showing the ring to Annie Stuart. “And Annie asked her if it was an en gagement-ring, and she said ‘Yes!’ “There!” triumphant'y. “I’ve found «r — ~~~r - J yt (MO A great one to keep things dark ” But Wilbur, coming down the path With the mnKniupted him by holding out his hand aud say mg, pleasantly— “Hearty congratulations, Misa Chelmsford, from—Annie and me.” • He hesitated a little before the last words, then turning to Annie with k a smile, he offered her his arm. “Dick, take care of Miss Chelmsford awhile “We will be back soon.” And they walked away hi to the shadow of the trees. What did he say? Just buoh honest, tender words, sprung from an ennobling affection, as every man speaks and every woman hears once in their lives. But Annie cried out in amazement: “I thought Miss Chelmsford was encaged to youl” “Well, you thought a ‘gigantic mis take,’ my darling,” he said, laughingly. “Now let us go back.” Agatha Chelmsf ord’s face grew ghast ly undents faint rouge, and Wiluur fJorrington stood gravely before her. “We congratulated you an hour ago, Miss Chelmsford,” he said. “Won’t you wish us joy now?” Aud the woman who had so narrowly escaped detection aud humiliation said the conventional words calmly, despite her maddening despair. “What a haupy May-day!” Wilbnr Carrington cried, as his eyes rested on Annie Stuart's face, “You bet!” echoed Dick madly, as ha flung his hat into the air, with an Indian war-whoop. “Didn’t I tell you, -Miss Agatha, Annie was a daisy? “Slang’s excusable—all things are excusable to-day.” Little did the boy kuow how his blunder had saved the happiness of those he loved. “Your majesty!” cried Dick the irre pressible, “I particularly request per mission to inaugurate my relationship with a May-day kiss. “In fact, I insist on enforcing my bro therly privilege. “Mayn’t she, Wilbur?’" And Wilbnr nodded and laughed, and Annie blushed. But Dick got it. A Funeral In a Mlnlna-Camp. ForreM’a Oruff Tone*. About twenty-five years ago. Edwin Forrest, the actor, did a very kind act. To-day, the daughter of a friend relates it here. Cue afternoon, as Edwin For rest and my father and mother sat chat ting together, Madame M , who had bat a short time before buried her hus band, a celebrated magician, entered the room. The necessary introduction having been performed, the conversa tion soon drifted around to Madame M —’s own affairs ; whereupon my father remarked: “I nave been thinking that Madame M might follow her husband’s foot steps, She has been his confederate for years, and she is qmte oabable of doing so.” “Hum 1 not a bad idea, George,” answered Forrest. Then, turning to Madame M , he observed : “Why don’t you adopt the plan, Madame ?” Madame M hesitated a moment, colored slightly, and then replied Irank- ly : “I would be glad to do so, but un fortunately, all of Mr. M 's appara tus is held for debt,, aud I nave not the money to redeem it.” ••How much would it take ?” came the question, iu Forrest’s rather abrupt way. “About a thousand dollars,” replied Madame M , looking rather sur prised at the interrogation. “Hum 1 a thousand dollars. I’ll let you have it.” The offer was so wholly unexpected, and being roiled out in Forrest’s gruffest tones, that Madame M , whose nerves were very much unstrung from all that she had at that time gone through, burst into tears, and hurried out of the room. “Go after her, George,” cried Forrest to my father. “I was too rough with the little woman. Tell her it’s all right, i wm Ktje^ou tne cbeck fur Trie following day, true to his word, Edwin Forrest handed my father a check for a thousand dollars, Madame M redeemed her husband’s para- pnernalia, and, as a magician, earned a very gooil living for herself and two children. 1 know net if Madame M— still lives, but probably her children-* 0 * if so, doubtless they have hea 1 -* to their need ; story of tills kindly act coin motuer m tne hour of het^* 01 **' aud tne name of Elwb Forrest must have a warm place in hearts. Ltouneu 0 arr tt>al Donnet, who has recently ex- pi~ii m France at the age of 87, was an excellent man, who wou his way to the height he attained by activity, good works, a tolerant spirit, and a natural eloquence enlarged by careful study. He was 41 years old when, in 1836, Louis Phillippe’s Government made him Archbishop of Bordeaux; but he became a cardinal in 18S2, when Louis Napoleon needed re spectabilities to fill the Senate. Alike under the elder Bourbons, tbe house of Orleans, and the third Bonaparte, Donnett was popular aud beloved. He also deserves some reaembrance on account of a singular adventure which be fell him when a young man. Daring an illness his body assumed all the aspects of death. He was rigid, did not breathe, and his heart ceased to beat. Tbe medi cal men affirmed that the youth was dead, and, according to French law, he was speedily placed in his coffin, and every preparation was made for the fun eral. Yet all the time he was alive, heard what was said, knew the lay and clerical folks around him; hut it was not until the very last moment, just as the lid was about to be screwed down on his narrow bed, that, by a desperate effort he broke the spell and sat up, to the horror of all who were near. Thus was he saved from riving entombment. It was inUtf when related Iris own ex perience to astonished listeners. Few men have had similar escapes. How many have been literally buried alive. The Ydllowstouo Park. The terntory comprises 3,410 square miles, and is a veritable Wonderland. Within its borders are mountain ranges i itri dozens of peaks having an elevation of 9,000 to 11,700 feet above sea .evel, and whose summits are crowned with perpetual snows. In the valleys and gorges that lie between these peaks aud ranges there are probably over one hun dred spouting geysers and springs, all of which belch torrents of boiling waier. Besides these there are numerous springs of sulphur, soda, magnesia, lime, and other msueral waters, most of which have earned heautilul stalagmitic or crystallize accretions, m the shape of cones and basins, to lorm about them. Btill another form of springs are the boiling wells of delicate hued mud, known ns the “Devil's Faintpots.” The canons of tbe Yellow stone, ikree In number, are marvels of rocky grandeur aud beauty, a feature of one of them, and unequalled in the world, being the tamous Glass Mountain, a lofty cliff formed of the rare and beautiful min eral known as obsidian. The lake, nearly SO miles long and 16 wide, and the rivers and streams abound in flsQ, and the foreats in elk, deer, antelope, big-horned sheep, feathered game, grizzly bears, panthers, and the like. In various parts ot the Fork there are natural bridges, caves, and other singular formations. The whole region is a realm of marvels well worthy of the patronage of the world’s touristl. The more pioturesqne portion of the population of the camp was ready to say “Poor fellow,” in the general conscious ness that the compassionate epithet might eventually apply nearer home. Of snob trail clay were they themselves fashioned. A delay, inexplicable to Gonrath’s friends, in the reply to their telegram to his father, roused a good deal of feel ing among them. It was hastily as sumed that Conrath’s family had ‘ gone back” on him. The facts of the case were, that when the telegram reached New York, his father was on shipboard ^ between that eity and Karon* wince ^ his wife had beer, ordered by her pfcysi- _ 4 oiau to spend the winter. The silence was certainly far from paternal. The camp was sen&tive on tne point of its relations with trie east, especially in the event of death. Whatever their indiffer ence or faithlessness to their eastern ties during life, the men of Conratk’s rank on the frontier confidentially expected those ties to contract in the extreme moment, and restore them to their early associations. Without waiting for the silence of Conrath’s father to be exploited, the Shoshone partisans rose iu vrathfnl championship of their insulted comrade and said: “if t/iey can’t bury him decently, damn him, we’ll bury him ouiselves!” The case of the living sister could wait on that of the dead brother. it was on this honorable err aid Gash- wiler had come, when he encountered Hilgard in the first strong agon; of his bereavement (iashwiler did not see Miss Conrath, but he had a long aud exciting aigumeut with Molly, who protested that ier mis tress should not be disturbed m this or other business. She had met deoil iu the passage, after her parting Inin Hil gard, aud, with a sure instinct, .he girl had known that the hour of he ) oung mistress’s extremity was come. She in dignantly repudiated, in her mstress’s name, the offered honors to the lead. “Wouldn’t ye leave her evm the body? Bare, never fhe’ll sit behud that hearse—trailin’ through the sirees along with the lot of \ ou, an’ your misic an’ your mil’t’ry! She’s not proni of his dyin’, that she’d want the wrick camp to be throopin’ afteF ’im. The bast ye c«n ao is to leaye him to her nov!” But Molly could not prevai alone against the resolute sympathy >f Con- ruth’s constituency. All she c<uld do was to soften the proposition bya little merciful deception, and preeeutit as a decent, kindly offer to give the cuef of tne Shoshone approp ua f Ja r^finent to which he had belonged Cecil gave her help less consent, '^h the condition that ail the expend 8 fl ou Id be referred to her father. • jne was too far prostrated in body we ^ fts i" Bpirit. to know more q* the last scene in the tragedy of her nfo, than such dreary echoes as pene trated the darkened seclusion of her chamber. Conrath’s body was borne out of the house aud conveyed to the camp, where it lay iu state in the unfinished hall of the new Masonic Temple, to be gazed upon by the multitude, it was subse quently enshrined in a plumed hearse, drawn by eight horses, fed on hay at one hundred dollars a ton. It was pre ceded by the regiment of militia, keep ing step through the miry snow of the street, with guns reversed, to the mea sures of the Dead March. The baud which furnished the music was attached to one of the principal variety theatres, and, in the intervals of its regular per formance, was often required to assist at lunerals, where the Camp publicly hon ored some favored actor in its social dramas, on his exit from the stage. The Masonic society marched 'behind the nearse in full regalia, followed by the tire companies aud the populace. The latter hau turned out promiscuously, on foot, or mounted on “livery horses” of uncertain gait and temper, and might be relied ou to appear at any point iu the procession, according to its caprice, joining the ranks of the Masons, the militia, or the firemen, and keeping up a current flow of conversation ou topics more or less relevant to the occasion. The cortege moved ou slowly along the principal streets of the town and out through Us straggling suburbs to the cemetery. The cemetery was a grim, untended spot, an acre of the primitive fir-forest, sloping westward toward the valley, and exposed to the winds^ and tile axe had passed over the foiest, and the nakedness of the land was left as the inheritance of that peaceful com munity which had pitched iti low tents ou the bleak slope. A few stumps aud stark, blackened pine-tranks, a few young, slight trees, the sole mourners of the forest, supplemented the scant memorials raiseu to the human dead. Unpainted boards marked alike tbe graves of those who awaited at the uands of distant friends removal to a more permanent ree ting-place, the graves of the poor aud the unknown, and the graves of those whose place of rest was of loss importanoe to the gen eral public than its finality. The camp grave-yard, like the camp itself, was peripatetic. The city was at that time reserving the money it might have spent on its adornment, in contemplation of its removal to another spet. 'Tne heavy, soft snow had sunk and melted under the high glare of the tun. and lay in patches, like linen spread to bleach; offering a grotesque, irreverent suggestion that the dwellers in those suukeu mounds might have risen in the lints were kept inviolate. A brief still ness fell upon the multitude, diverse and disunited as the stones of a river - bed, except in the wave of sentiment which had brought them there; and then the words were spoken, of a common humility and a common hope. The militia company, drawn up by the side of the grave, fired a volley over it The second volley scattered badly, and the crowd, recovering from its mo mentary reflectiveness, echoed the fail ure with jeers of derision. The mounted mourners had become exalted, during the ceremonies, to a pitch of solemn enthusiasm which could only vent itself jthe racing of their hotses back to the camp; imd the orilit^ mpany reported at the captain’s neadquart rs before nightfall, and drank to Conrath’s re pose, iu a keg of whisky opened for the purpose, Care ol Chlldreb'k fAlli. A Ghastly ounce. Xhe Old Conductor. A mother of several ohildreu lately told us some of her experience. A few years ago she thought that her oldest boy’s teeth iu the front of the lower jaw were decaying badly. This was a disappointment to the mother, who had fed her children carefully on nourishing and wholesome food, as a general rule keeping both pickles and confectionery from them. Studying the matter over, she jnmped to the conclusion that what she had read concerning the mis chief-making properUee of the tomato must be true, especially as her hus band, who was very free in the use of tomatoes in their Benson, had a pecu liar trouble wilh his teeth. Sue hhd observed that the childrens (especially the boys') teeth grew white and clean when there was a plenty of ripe toma toes, and she thought the acid of the vegetable probably went too far and acted'upon the enamel of Hie teeth. But when the boy, then fourteen years old, went to the dentist to i have his teeth filled, lot there was nothing to be done. “Your boy has a splendid set of teeth,” the dentist told his mother. “There is not a cavity in them. Unu sually good teeth for a boy of lu» age. ” And the dentist had no doubt that the teeth were better than they would have been if the owner of them had munched candy and pickles as children usually do. “They must be cleaned, and that without delay,’’ he said. So the tar- pt tar which had gathered and crusted 'was removed by the dentist, and wttk'o* all appearances of decayed teeth. Now the boy has nothing to do but to keep his teeth in order to avoid dentistry bills in the future, The younger child ren are warned to avoid the older brother’s trouble by the daily use of tooth brushes. From their father’s case they learn to avoid the opposite extreme. His teeth are hopelessly discolored, and a few are habitually loose, but the useful tomato is no lon ger suspected as the cause. He had an opportunity to rend some in a work on dentistry, and came to the conclu sion that hard “scouring” of his teeth with gritty substances, when he was a young man, had worn away the hard enamel of his teeth so that the strong coffee he drank (during his soldier life especially) penetrated and permanently colored lus teeth. I dislike to hear of soomring the teeth. When they have been neglected, this may be necessary to get them once clean. The dentist has peculiar tools for removing tartar crust, but the yellow deposit ou child ren’s teeth can be cleaned away as the dentist does it, by any one. Take finely powdered pumice stone and a little clean soft pine stick to rub them. Dip the pine stick into water and then in jiowdered pumice and rub the teeth gently. Afterward wash them with soap and water, using a tooth brush. It is well to use a little fine clean soap occasionally for cleaning the teeth, but plenty of pure water will usually suffice for cleansing the teeth of persons of good dietetic habits. To make good teeth in the first place, beginning when we can, and allowing for “ancestry,” tions food, a vaneddieFweirBnpplui with bone material, as the grains are when it is not bolted or sifted out, and lean meat. For young children milk should be freely used, and Graham oatmeal also. mgnt aud washed their earth-stained bition. White Men And Indian Bride*. Among the Northwestern tribes of Indians innocence is as marked among the girls as their color. Educated in the faith that she was ordained to work, she trains horses to hard labor, and at sixteen years of age is sturdy and strong, brave against fatigue, aud a perfect housewife. She may uot possess New England notions of cleanliness, but she takes not a little pride in personal ap pearance, and in arrangements of her lodge. She displays some crude ideas of taste and a certain amount of neat ness. If she marries a white man she makes him a good wife as long as she lives with him. Her home is her sole comfort and his comfort her sole oerements in readiness for the pending older to ‘•move camp.” The iuneral procession, invading this desolate in- closure, took nothing from its haggard loneuaess. It was impossible to asso ciate the place with human love and reverence, or even with humanity’s last, enduring rest. Oonrath’s body was lowered iuto the alien soil. His hnal allotment ol it was small, and was grudged by none. . Here no locator encroached Upon his neigh bor s claim, and the original boundary am- She thinks of him and lor him, him and makes it her study to please aud make him respect aud love her. She recognizes in him one of a superior race, and by her dignity and devotion endears herself to him and struggles to make him happy. At ^he agencies of the upper frontier thousands of men are employed, and it is not an exag geration to say that the majority of them have Indian wires and live hap- piiy. Recently the Persian residents of Constantinople celebrated their annual expiatory festival in commemoration of tbe death of the great Imans Hussan and Hastein, the sous of the Prophet Ali. It was about tbe most extraordinary spectacle that human eye could behold In the immense circular court of the Valide caravansary at Stamboul a dozen altars, mode splendid with blazing lights had been erected. Chairs placed all around this enclosure had been reserved for the Persian Ambassador and various Version, Turkish and European digni taries. The solemnity began at sunset with an allegorical procession. A child five or six years old Jed the van on horse back; he was sntirely clad in black and upheld a bronze cup in his right hand. Then came some twenty young boys on foot They were also clad In black aud also carried bronzed cups. They walked two by two. Then came two horses led by the bride—and bearing a trophy composed of antique weapons, together with two scimetars disposed in the form of a crescent; while the other was cov ered with a white cloth all bespattered with blood. The precession moved to the sound of a sobbing music, uttered by fifes, clar- ionettes, tambourines and cymbals; and wag marshalled by the bearers of sacred standards. After it had male tee turn of enclos ure, another procession of some sixty Believers, all clad in white and brand ishing naked scimetars and cutlasses, joined it. Finally a third procession from a neighboring caravansary entered to take its place at the head of the first two. First of these came a number of persons naked to the waist, all whipping them selves with scourges formed of small iron chains; next appeared, carried by four Persians, a small tabernacle cov ered with woven stuff of gaudy colors, iu which a small child was borne; aud lastly about a hundred persons all strik ing their naked breasts with their clenched fists. All these people circled about the couit, all the while invoking the names of Hasaanand Hussein; but at once the scene changed from a merely curious improvisations or lamentations—which were recited in a lugubrious tone by certain inspired brethren, and which form a poriion of the richest Persian literature—Ml the penitents began to redonble th eir blows. Then a few men began to strike themselyes upon the heal and shoulders with the edge cf their steel weapons; the cbain-scourges tore the naked shoulders of others; and blood flowing on all sides commenced to dye the white robes crimson. Soon the excitement reached its climax: the moving circle changed to a furious whirlwind. Then tins soimetars rose and fell with frightfnl rapidly, each time gashing a skull or a shoulder; the iron disciplines fall with a deal and sickening sound upon torn flesh; several penitents rolled dying upon the ground. They were carried out cf the circle; aud the whirl continues its savage way. II- laminatod by the wind-shaken altar lights, and ruddy glare of tbe many blam ing fagots placed around the inclosure— the scene was hideously impressive. It might have been taken for an orgie of furious demons, red with blood, yelling, leaping, rising, and still turning, turn ing. turning in the ghastly dance bad seen enough; and I fled, sick at heart with horror and disgust. * Hey, thar, go ahead, will you!" yelled the Old Driver on the front plat form to the conductor of a street car just ahead. “Do yer think I can stand here all dav? Go on, now, or I’Urun the pole through yer.” “Hey, thar, start up that hearse, will yer?” chimed w the Old Conductor, leaning out from the lower step of the back plalform; I’m two minutes behind now, and if yer don’t hurry up thar thar’ll be trouble when you get back ter tho deepot.” Then the Old Conductor resumbd his usual altitude on the platform and said that that thar feller ahead thar were a green ’un. “Five on ’em went on this mornw’ and they don't know no more about hosa keyars nor a cat.” “What became of the old ones?” asked a young man from his perch on the rail ing. “What became on ’em? Why, they retired with fortunes, they did,” said the Old Conductor. “They wau’t no railroad men, they wan't aud they didn't have no intention of bein’, neither. They jest started out m these keyars for a snap, just so as ter get a little capital to start business ou their own hook Heaps on ’em does that,” and the Old Con ductor remarked to an old woman that if she wanted ter get oat at Wine street she had better hurry up about it, for he was a-runniu ou short time and couldn’t wait all day. “Them fellers warn’t ou but six months,” continued the Old Cououctor; “an’ it’s dumed funny how they got their wealth. They was busted wheu they started out, but three on ’em is agoin to buyout saloons aud the others is agoin to start a bank-a faro bank, I reckon,” and the Old Conductor smiled a Satanic sort of a smile and went on; perhaps they fell heirs to fortnnes, but I never heerd on it. The only way I can aocouptfor it is that they lived ou a dollar a week, dined at the f ree-lunoU counters and saved up all they made. Now, I've been a conductor for a long time an’ I’m worse off to day not I was when I started,” and the Old Conduc tor rang the punch three times for six fares, and said he had an awfal fanny f eling about the eyes this mornin’. He saw everything double; one man looked Just itkb two. ana ne e nave tux unut wp-uu-vru nram ip-tm-trjv tended to. Society Cloth*. The Evil* ol Breed There is no law in this country to prevent the consumption of hot bread but the law of common sense, and un fortunately that is a dead letter as governing princ.' a in the lives cf a envoi manjr DOOple. TbU hot br»*d in nine cases out of ten will produce dys pepsia is no newly discovered fact, and especially is this terrible result sure to follow persistent indulgence on the part of those whose pursuits are quiet, in doors and sedentary. And yet the reformers, or those who call themselves such, the men and women who work themselves into a white heat over the sale of a glass of cider—will go on year after year, not only making no outcry against this pernicious indul gence, but actually filling themselves up day by day with the hot and poi sonous gases of the oven. This servant of t’ae housewife can be made as terri ble a stomach-destroyer as the distil lery, and the sworn foot of the latter are liable to be its best patrons. Dys pepsia paiots the nose and sours Hie temper as surely as dram drinking, and many suffers from the rormer, though by their own wilful ao*s, in veigh the most loudly against the lat ter. A well-defined case of jim-jams is the oliiqax to a course of intemperance, and warns the victim that his alterna tive is death or immediate reformation. Bat the dyspepsia that hot bread, mince-pie and kindred abominations cause, has no sudden warnings. The man who uses them goes on making himself and those around him wretched, and refuses to acknowledge that he is a tinner above those whose lighter faults he frequently condemns fiercely. Uuyal Bed Quilt*. Mercantile Failure*. The mercantile failures of the year 1882, are (for the United States 6788 in number, ss against 5582 in 1881. The liabilities in the United Stale are for the last year $101,000,000 ss compared with $81,000,000 in 1881. The number of failures in 1882 is estimated at 1 iu every 122 persona, while the failures in 1878 showed 1 in every 64 persons. In view of the increased number in trade the failures proportionately are not one-half as great as they were in 1878. V * 4 It takes abont four years to turn a rural man into a presentable social personage. At first he has no society except that of his boarding-house or hotel. II he is asked out to dinner, which he may be for political or business reasons, he goes in a sack coal and a colored necktie. He finds other men present in dress coats etc., and thi* makes him angry at what he calls the fashionable vanities of the world. The more prominent he grows, however, the more uneasy he becomes at finding himself dressed differently from other people, until he finally blossoms out iu all the vanities, eveu to an opera hat. But he reaches the brilliant result by easy stages aud through a senes of re markable compromises. He first shoves his bauds into purple gloves, aud adopts a Prince Albert Ooat. Whoa he does this he undertakes to declare himself ahead of the fashion and as having adopted a new device of the Frinoe ol Wales of which he had read in some journal of alleged fashion. This shows he is slowly coming to his fate. Then he probably adopts a dress coat, a high vest and a lilac tie, then his vest grows lower and his necktie lighter, until the end ho sneered at is reached at last." There had been delivered a certain large package to the Royal Victoria Hospital at Netley, addressed by Her Majesty the Queen to the lady super intendent of nurses there. It contained five large Berlin wool quilts for the use of the wounded soldiers who are recovering in that institute from hurts received in the Egyptian campaign. One of the quilts had been entirely worked by the Queen herself, and the second by the Princess Beatrice. The former bears in one corner Her Ma jesty’s cipher of a crown, V. R. L, and the date 1882; the latter the initial let ter of “Beatrice.” The other quilts have been worked by ladies of the court, but the Quecu has added a border to each. The quilts are described as being made ol the softest wool, of rich though plain patterns and colors, and perfect in all respects as warm bed coverings. —Montgomery, Alabama,' expects to handle 140,000 bales of cotton this sea son. *