Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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■Mi ' % TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WfNNSBORO. S. 0.. MAY 12, 1883. ESTABLISHED 1848 THE country children. !in see tbe happy children wan( l er through the grasses Of thelfcHlI 1 all< ^ dewy pastures, Or the j 1 can track rhemStte: zander, By the trail of morning glor I can read their happy footsteps, 1 can spell their pleasant stories. Oh! I know the ways of children Up the hills and down the valleys, Buttercups and faded daisies Mark their sorties and their sallies. By the butternuts and beeches, I can mark their resting-places; And I know the mossy brookside And the wide, green, open spaces, Where the wild, white plum-tree blossoms, And the grapevine swings and tosses, , Where the plumes of scarlet sumach Wave among the wayside mosses, Where the golden.rod in autumn Flames among ths hasel buuhoi:, There the gala army wanders, There the scouting party pushes. Oh! bnt they are kings and nobles, As they wander thus together. Cloth of gold is all the meadow * To their feet in summer weather. Up and down, in held and woodland, I can see vheir glowing faces; And by mottled leaves and berries, I can mark their resting-places. DR. AND MRS. MO T 'TON. Dr. and Mrs. Morton had finished tiffin, and were discussing some private theatricals, which, followed by a ball, were to take place that evening at the mess-house of the —th. The subject was a delicate one, for on it they held decided, but unfortunately divided, opinions. The doctor had a prejudice against such things, and. though in most respects very indulgent to his pretty little wife, objected to her attend ing them. She, however, was bent on doing so. “You know, dear, that it is the very last of the season and every one will be there.” “And you know my rooted objections to these entertainments, Ada; why do you urge me?” “Then when shall I ever have an op- pdrtunity of showing that lovely pink and silver cloak you got from Madras on my birthday?” pouted the young wife. “Ah, that is a deeply important mat ter!” laughed the doctor. “We must see if we can t get up a dance in our own bungalow, little woman, continued he somewhat incons&piently. “But that won’t be a ball and thea tricals to-night; and by that time Dad- dahbhoy, Rumanagee and the other 1’arsees will have their shops filled with the new-fashioned cloak, while as yet mine is the only one in the cantonment. my story Is founded on fact—they were except in the evening drive, the most general mode of carriage. In the ve- anda of every house one or more might always lg^jj|a^ith^heiijjeare iiil.htfj'ready for Instan^emc^ny day or by night. It was past 2 o’clock when Dr. Mor ton heard, coming down the compound, the moaning, monotonous cry of the Itearers who carried their mistress to her home. Placing the palanquin in the veranda, they called - loudly for admis sion, striking the door with their hands, in no small wonder that it had not, as usual, been thrown wide open at their approach. ExpecLJ on of the coming triumph had driven sleep from his pil low; and he now turned his head with a grim smile, for his revenge was at hand—the little rebel should learn a les- sci. never to be forgotten. To the bearers’ voices was soon added that of their mistress; indignantly, en- treatingly, coexingly she called in turn. She reminded her husband that their veranda was overlooked from the road. “ Let me in, I beg, I entreat of you, William. It will be gun-fire in a couple of hours, and if seen here I shall be the laughing-stock of the whole station. O William, dear, do let me in!” To which her husband answered sternly: “We shall not rest under the same roof this night;” and he chuckled to himself, for he only intended to keep her waiting a few minutes. For a moment Mrs. Morton seemed irresolute; then, having said a few words to the head bearer, she cried aloud in a oasshonate burst of sobs: “I will die sooner than submit to such humilia tion;” and followed by her servants, she rushed away. There was a long, wailing cry—a shriek—a heavy splash. Good Heavens! could it be—could it be possible that Ins impetuous wife had thrown herself into the well? Hark to those wild cries as the bearers run hither and thither, with loud exclamations and calls for help. Paralyzed with fear, the husband could with difficulty open the door; then rushing out he would have flung him self into the still rippling water, in a mad attempt at rescue, had not a bearer hung ujion his arm, as in broken Eng lish he tried to explain that his mistress was safe. “Then where is she? What is all this row about? Who has fallen in? What are you all yelling for?” “ For Mem Sahib tell. ‘Throw big stone down well;’ then too much bob bery make; run this way, that way— plenty great tamasha. Mem Sahib make big cry, then Mem run away.” Dr. Morton knew himself outwitted, for doubtless his wife had taken'ad vantage of the door she had thus suc- I really do think, William, you might vamage ox me uoor sue nan uius suc- let me go. I am sure I sat patiently cee< ^ , 11 }. opening. Ah, well, though go. I am sure I sat patiently enough through those solemn dinner?, and scientific reunions of which you are so fond.” “Well, well, as it is the very last of the season, I suppose I must be amiable for once; but ” “Oh, that’s a dear, good, disagreeable old thing!” said his wile, giving him a kiss; and withour waiting to hear more, in a flutter of delight she left the room. When left to himself the doctor ixm- dered their late conversivtion, aigl felt by no means satisfied with his share in it. Still, having consented, he determinded to do so with a good grace; and, on Mrs. Morton presently reentering to look for something, he said, “By the way, dear, when' shall I order the palanquin for you?” Still continuing her search she re plied rather absently, “Oh, any time, I shall only want it returning; the Hills will call for me going.” Dr. Morton was taken aback. “So,” he exclaimed, “you had arrang ed to go with—or without—my consent!’ With a little start, she answere<l,some what confusedly, “Well, I thought you would be sure to give me leave, Wil liam, and —” “As you have chosen to act so wholly, indejiendently,” interrupted her hus band, angrily, “I withdraw the consent I so unwittingly gave. The house shall lie closed at the usual hour, and if you do not happen to be at home at 11 o’clock, we do not sleep under the same roof this night.” And in high displea sure Dr Morton left the house; nor did he return for more than a couple of hours, during which his mood had more than once changed. The first irritation over, he felt that it was hard upon his l»et to deny her the pleasure to which but the moment before he had assented. . How could he bear to spend the long evening opposite that disappointed, wistful little face? It began, too, to dawn upon he whole can tonment”—w India, where private life is more distinctly public property than in any other comer of the world, stands for our esteemed old friend, Mrs. Grundy—might, as has ever been its wont, put an unkind constraction on motives it did not understand; might hiht that he was not so much standing by his principles—which, in fact, he had yielded—as avenging his own offended dignity. The result of all which cogi tation w'as that if, on his return home, he should find that she had accepted both disappointment and rebuke in a proper spirit—much, indeed all. depend ed on that, she should go with their friends to the hall; or even in the pro bable qvent of their having already called, he would show his magnanimity by taking her himself. Just then a car riage drove swiftly past his; he recog nized it to be the Hill’s, and in it—• could he credit his senses?—all radiant with smiles, wrapped in her new f cloak, sat his wire, who, in merry defiance, kissed her hand to him as they passed. vexed at the trick, he was by no means sorry that the conflict was at an end, and that they should both pass what re mained of the night in peaceful rest. He dismissed the bearers, and returned to the house, but to find it shut! The door was closed, and obstinately re sisted all efforts to open it; while a voice from the window from which he had himself so lately spoken said, ‘We shall not sleep under the same roof this night.’ ‘The doctor, with an uneasy laugh, first treated the situation as a silly joke, then expostulated, then stormed; but all without avail or even notice. He called to the ayah to open the door; but her answer w r as that she was locked in Mem’s room, and Mem had the key under her pillow. He stamped at first with anger, but soon with cold, for his night pyjamas offered slight protection against the chill morn ing air. At length seeing the palan quin, he got into it. The lovely cloak was lying on the cushions; he drew- the hood over his head, its delicate hues in striking contrast to his sunburned face and dishevelled hair, and dragging it round his broad shoulders with an angry tug, he settled himself to sleep. The gun had fired, the “assembly” sounded, but still the doctor slept on. Nor was he roused by the sound of horses’ hoofs, as a bevy of ladies, un escorted except by servants, rode up to the door. They would be joined in their ride by their husbands after pa rade; and then, after a final round of the course, assemble at the house of one or other of the party to chota-hazzarie and a lively discussion of absent friends. In much surprise they waited a minute or so before the closed and silent house; then, with significant glances, one after the other slid from her saddle, determined to solve the mystery. Ah, there it is! A little comer of the cloak worn the night before by Mrs. Morton peeped out of the closed door of the palanquin; ’twas evident that the poor little thing had been obliged to seek that shelter. “What a shame!” They would speak to her, they would comfort her, and oh, what a laugh they would have against her! They grouped them selves round the palanquin, bending low to peer in; and on either side drew back the sliding doors as—gracious!— Dr. Morton, still half asleep, slowly opened his eyes. Most effectually was he awakened by the startling exclama tion with which the visitors hastily re treated to their horses, which they were in the act of mounting as the door was thrown open, ano Mrs. Morton appeared in her riding habit. They immediately rode away to the infinite satisfaction of the recumbent and impatient doctor, who was in mortal fear that fresh com plications might arise through his un expected absence from duty bringing messages of inquire. At the meeting of husband and wife we would rather not play fly in the cor ner, but take for granted that there was Both ball and theatricals were de- the usual amount of tears, recrimination lightful, and none enjoyed them more than the vola fi le and fascinating Mrs- " Morton, In the gayety of her spirits she confided to one after another of her dearest friends her husband’s threat; and to one or two who expressed some fear that he might carry it out she lan guidly replied that she did not think that that would be at all likely; but in the event of anything so improtiable she had still her palanquin, in which she could rest till gun-fire, when, of course, the house would be opened. the pleasing fact that, at the very next concert, Mrs. Morton, leaning on her husband’s arm, appeared in most ex cellent spirits, her cloak, this time of being admired by all IrSlderi and hysterics, in which—for this occa sion only—a tom and crumpled fabric of pink and silver took an active part; the sight of it from time to time stimu lating Mrs. Morton’s grief and elo- 1 quence, while her husband, who, smarting under the expose of the morning, had entered on the fray with unusual spirit, soon found himself vanquished, limp and utterly dismayed, as his own inconsist, tyrannical and selfish conduct was nrmtrasted—not for ! the first time—with the patient endur- One Night. 1 was sitting dozing in my chair, when a tremendous knocking was heard at the door. • The servant opened it, vhen a man rushed in, in the wildest disorder. “For God’s sake, dootet, oome with me!” hesaid. It’s a ease of life or death. A yonng girl has stabbed herself; she is bleeding to death. One thonsand dol lars if yon save her! Oome, oh| do, do not delay.” And he rushed towards me as if to drag me along. I’hurried away with him. snatching my instruments from the table *e I pass ed it. I think I never saw before such convulsive grief as this man’s face ex pressed. He was a handsome man. with one of those faces the ladies so much admire, jet black hair, clusteringin waving curls over a white forehead. The lower part of his otherwise fem inine features was relieved by a fine jet black beard. 1 asked him for the full particulars of the case. “Doctor,” said he, “make haste.’ I shall go mad. Why, 1 would give every drop of blood in my body to t ave one drop of hers. “Oh, God 1” he cried, “preserve my reason. Bhe stabbed herself before I could prevent her. Make haste, doctor, —oh, my God I' my God 1” We reached the house. On a satin couch, m a splendid room— the nch Turkey carpet covered with her blood—lay it young girl. I tbmk 1 never saw such a beautiful looking creature. Even with a pallid countenance and bloodless lips she was more of heaven than earth. Wuat she was when the roses placed on her downy cheeks I could fancy. There was a* deep wound over her heart, and it was quite evident that the blow had been given with right good will. On the floor, covered with blood, lay the weapon—a slight Damascene dagger, the handle nchly set with pearls, strong ly lit up with the reflection from the blood-stained ivo*y. It was too late 1 Alas, the life-blood was slowly drop ping away. That masterpiece of creation was soon to be cold and inanimate. She slowly opened her eyes and fixed them with dying love upon tbe young man who had summoned me to this scene of death. ‘ Sidney,” she said, “Sidney, I am dy ing. My own- Sidney, I could not live neglected. I told you I would love you to death. Kiss me, Sidney.” She sank back, and death closed upon his victim 1 My companion sat for some time strangely staring at the lifeless form o i the oouch. I could perceive that rea son was tottering on its foundation I was fascinated by his strange look. At last I went up to him “Sir,” I said, ‘ ‘she is nc more. Death has released her from her troubles.” “Dead 1 • “Did you say she is dead, doctor ?” said he, with a* strange and-curious stare at me. “Ah 1 and you have murdered her,” yelled the madman, for such he was now. “You have murdered her, and I shall murder you. “An I ah I it will be rare sport.” Before I could prevent him, he had picked up the dagger. “Yes,” said he, with a yell, “I will murder you with her dagger. “I will stab you in the same place. Oh I it will be rare sport to see you groan and struggle like she did. “Ah 1 ah I” and he made a bound at me. Now this was tar from pleasant In fact it was a very awkward fix to be in. I did not know how to act The madman made a grasp at me, but fortunately I eluded his grasp,and think ing it better to fight in the dark. I seiz ed his lamp and oast it on the floor. The room was now dark. The madman set up a terrific yelling, and I could hear him look the door and put the key in his pocket, while he kept muttering. ‘ I will kill him, I will kill him 1 “Oh 1 it will be rare sport to see him die like she did 1” I felt my courage rise with the emer gency. I half determind to try a strug gle with him; but I knew the increased strength that the insane posseas, and I thought it scarcely prudent. What should I do ? I must do something. It would soon be daylight, when I. would again be In his power. I felt for some weapon with which to defend myself, and, as luck would have it, I found a heavy dumb bell in the corner where I lay concealed. Presently, I heard the madman slowly searching for me. I raised the dumb bell; “May God forgive me,” I sail; it descended, and I was free. The madman lay stunned on the floor. I rushed to the door, smashed in the lock with the heavy metal, and rushed down-stairs. Presently the house was all in com motion. Oh I what a scene I The girl detid in a pool of blood— the man insensible on the floor, with the dagger firmly clutched in his hand. 1 bled him and he slowly recovered. But reason nev< r returned. He is a madman to this day. I never heard Jie history of my pat ients of that night. They were strangers in the house. I never will forget that night’s adventure. I am told that nowadays palanquins anee of his long-suffering wife are in as little request in India as sedan-1 Neither of this nor of the reconcilia- chairs in England; but in Dr. and Mrs. tion that followed in natural sequence Morton’s time—for know, O reader, tliat shall we make record; bufwe must at Railroad Station IVoMh. The series of driven wells near a Pumping Station of the -’cnnsylvania Railroad Company having been con nected to the suction pipe of a new steam pump in the engine honse, they were tested and give an average of thirty-five gallons of water per minute, about one hundred and sixty gallons being the amonnt required. The pipes or tubes are forced by concussion down through the surface soil to water level in the gravel or sand' stratas generally found overlying a strata of elay or rock, which being somewhat impervious to the water filtered or soaked in from rains, drainage and other means from the surface, acts as a reservoir; but the supply is aitooted by dry weather some times, *r.d is liable to be Impregnated with organic matter or vegetable de composition unless the tube pa-isea through a thick stratum of clay before reaching the water- bearing vein of gravel or sand. The water when pumped at first is discolored snd ocuiains considerable earthy matter, but perseverance iu continuously pumping for a day or ap, will generally dear it The town of Christ’s Church ou the Island of New Zealand had three thousand of these inexpensive wells in use many years ago, each of them flowing, thus avoid- mg the expense of a pump, and they are largely used on all sand waste land, like our American plains and those of Australia. They have been improved of late years by the addition of a cast iron point fastened on the end of the pipe to make it drive easier, otherwise it is the same as the old fashioned pipe or tube we 1. Any one can pnt in one of these inexpensive little wells if they do not use the oast iron point on the pipe, Every farmer can thus have tbe convenience in each pasture field of watering stock, without driving them in. the hot snn, oftentimes to ponds and shallow places in creeks which become putrid from the animals’ use ol them. Ordinary gas pipe Is all that is used, and a wood anger welded into a piece of small pipe can be used to test with to ascertain when water has been reached. Have each length of gas-pipe out into four pieces, and have the threads ont well down so that the ends of the pipe will meet when screwed up into the socket; use a cap on top of the pipe to drive or strike on, and thus avoid burring the pipe. Use wooden mails for hammering it down, and turn the pipe while driving to ease its downward progress, put in the auger and bore the dirt out frequently at the bottom to diminish the resistance at the bottom in driving tho pipe. Having bored and driven yonr pipe into four feet or more w&ter-bc&iing gravel or sand, use an oxdinary pitcher pomp, 1 'if the water be within easy suction distance, say not over twenty-five feet, if beyond that depth a lift-pump with a cylinder run into the water or within easy suction distance may he used, and a nice job done at au expense not exceeding thirty dollars all complete. Killing a herd of Elk. O envy! thpu root of infinite mischief and canker-worm of virtue. The eom- ruission of all other vices is attended with some sort of delight; but envy produces nothing in the heart that bar- ' bon it but rage, rancor and disgust. Joaquin. Miller writes thus: at last, climbing a little hill, with clouds of steam rising from the warm springs of that region, we looked down into a lit tle valley of thick undergrowth and there calmly rested the vast herd of elk. I peered through the brush into the large, clear eyes of a great stag with a head of horns like a rocking chair. He wSs chewing his cud and was not at all disconcerted. We lay there some time on our breasts in the snow, looking at them. The Indians observed that only the cows were fat and fit to kill. Some of the stags had somehow shed their horns, it seemed. There were no calves. So the Indians were delighted to know that there was yet another herd. We fell back and formed our plan of attack at leisure. It was unique and desperate, We did not want one or two elk, or ten; we wanted the whole herd. Human life depended upon our prowess. A tribe was starving and we felt a responsibility in our work. It was finally decided to go around and approach by the little stream, so that the herd would not start down it—their only means of escape. It was planned to approach as ’closely as possible, then fire with our rifles at the fattest, then burst in upon them, pistol in hand, and so, breaking their ranks, scatter them in the snow, where the Indians .could rush upon them and use the bows and arrows at their backs. Slowly and cautiously we approached up the little warm, willow lined rivulet, and then firing our rifles, we rushed into the corral, pistol in hand. The poor, helpless herd was on its feet in a second, all breaking out over the wall of snow, breast high on all sides. Here they wallowed and floundered in the snow, shook their heads and called helplessly to each other. They could not get on at all. And long after the last shot and the last arrow were spent I leisurely walked around and looked into the eyes of some of these fat, sleek cows as they lay there, up to their briskets, helpless in the snow. Of course the Indians had no sentiment in this matter, They wanted only to kill and secure meat for the hungry, and half an hour after the attack on the corral of elk they were quartering the meat and hanging it up in trees secure from the wolves. In this way they hung more than a hundred elk, not taking time to skin or dress them in any way. The tallow was heapet} about our camp-fire, to be defended against the wolves at night. And such a lot of wolves as came that night. “Carriage" and Character. —Germany estimates that it has 200, 000 vagabonds and beggars, including thieves and swindlers. Your coach is a deceptive index of your true condition in life, but by your “car riage” you are known and read of all men. It ia more than a figure of speech when the Bible aaaociates character with one’a ‘walk and conversation,” and again, when it says, “having done a!l, stand. ’ Ihe drill-master’s first command to the soldier ia “Stand well!” The apostle’s last injunction is the same. Gid’s special blessing ia on the upright. Such are likely to be downright. Positive charac ters and weak ones are thus distinguished. The reveller reels, the miser stoops and the voluptuary yawns, but the true man shows his inward disposition by his out ward bearing. He stands, not as the pu gilist or fencer, with one aide advanced, aa in a hostile attitude to give or take a blow, but equo pectore, uniting pos session and uuruity with gentleness and grace. One’s manner u more than his manners. The latter are acquired and are often so artificial that we call them man nerisms, and regard them as c fiLnsive. But one’s mind or au is inclusive of far more than those arts and articles learned m the schools. Tbe whole outward appearance, including the dress, goes to make up this atmosphere which one carries wherever lie goes. His habits make his “habit,” the garb in which he is known day by day, a “second nature.” as we say. His custom becomes a costume, which he rarely lays aside. The wiry, nervous man moves with r apid gait; the phlegmatic man with heavy step, and so on with various temperaments. Then there are other principles that form a test, illustrated, for instance, in Uu stealthy, creeping movements of the thief, the halting step of the inquisitive, or the aimless walk of the day dreamer. “1 kaow that that man has been a so), dier,” said one. “How!” “I know it by his walk.” He carried the trunk and shoulders steady and firm while the motion of walking brought into action the lower limbs. Tbe turning in of the Pies is not a favorable sign. Some associate it with mental weakness. A shuffling gait is an other tell-tale sign of character. But to go into details would rt quire a volume. A school to teach youth to walk has been estab lished in Philadelphia. A noble, grace ful carriage is a more useful accomplish ment than dancing. If shoemakers will only help the teachers of such a school by making sensible shoes, there might be hope of seeing here tbe graceful step one notices among the humblest Spanish peas ants. But art will never impart the polish which true culture gives. It is the soul within that illumines tbe face, that gives a persuasive charm to the voice and perfec tion to gesture and to step. Here ethics and UMthetica unite. It is “by his person ality,” as Goethe says, that man acts on man. If one wishes to charm or to com mand by either of these functions it will be through the culture of the moral sensi bilities. largely. By such a training, a persou will come to wield by his walk and talk, his eye and his uncouscious gestures, a power over bis fellows alike masterful and benefleeut. A Kami of Outlaw*. Where not to keep a Dog. Mr. X., who lives in one of the larg est of the new fiat houses up town in New York, bought a dog. Because of his large size he christened the brute “Jumbo.” aud to the surprise of Mrs. H. and the two young ladies visiting at his house, smuggled him in and fastened him up iu one of the servant’s rooms, the menial being absent for the night Called out on a business engagment after dinner, Mr. X. had not returned at 11 o’clock, and the ladles went to bed. About midnight Mrs. X. was awaken ed by Miss P., who whispered that some thing was wrong. They could certainly hear a rapping, and burglars and spirits were suggested. Then they could dis tinctly hear heavy breathing in the ser vant’s room. All three sor^amed, tbe janitor came up stairs and, with a stove lifter as & weapon, cantiouslv opened the door. Jumbo sprang out delighted, and after a moment’s scramble lay down to rest. Mrs. X. was indignant “How in the world did he oome in here?” she asked. “Put him out at once.” Bat Jumbo wouldn’t be put out. He was ccaxed and threatened, but his tail only rapped tne harder. Then he was kicked and his good nature at last gave way. He showed his teeth and growled. Mr. X’s key grated in the look and Mr. X shouted a warning. “Oh, that’s all right. He’s the dog I bought for you to-day. He won’t bite,” said Mr. X., opening the door with con fidence. But Jumbo was now aroused. Mr. X. whistled cautiously. “Don’t you know me, old boy ? Nice old dog,” ha remarked. Jumbo didn’t know him, however, aud assumed even a more threatening manner. Mr. X. retreated. “Why in thunder don’t you get him something to eat?” he shouted to Mrs. X., he being in the outer hall, Jumbo in tbe inner and Mrs. X. behind the door. “How can I get out to get it?” asked she. “Then why didn’t you leave him iu the room where I put him?” said Mr. X. “Whw didn’t you tell me?” was her reply. At day light the dog fancier was rout ed ont of bed and an boar later Jumbo was returned to his original master at a large discount. “I don’t think fiats are a good place for dogs.” said Mr. X. to a Herald reporter afterward. The Chief’ll Overdone. A graphic picture of life in the remote neighborhoods of Kentucky has been un veiled recently in the accounts of the ex ecution, witnout the formality of jury trial, of the leaders of a band of outlaws who have kept three counties in a state of excitement for a long term of years. The nineteenth century was but three years old when a band of intrepid settlers built rude cabins and founded a village on the banks of the Donaldson river, in Caldwell county, Kentuckv. The village grew and ihnvod; a rude meeting-bouse was suc ceeded by a painted church with an unde veloped spire, and a post- office and a large number of “saloons” came into existence. Hardy people from afar joined their for tunes to those of the new settlers, and tbe community was made up of contented and peaceful folks, who found their living in the fertile earth. Among the later settlers was a family named Campbell, the head of which was a brawny, long-limbed man, of harmless aspect, whose honesty at first was not doubted. This man had a sister, Jane, a smart and comely worn in, who attracted many of the younger men of the community. Her inti..ence over these iellows whs remarkable, an<', it was whblly for the bad. Thefts Imjiimer- able awakened the settlers to a feeling of insecurity; shot guns were kept ready tor use and valuable property was watched j by night. At last suspicion began to' point to Campbell and his sister, al though no proof of their guilt could be obtained, Once or twice when the vic tims of the robbers grew angry and made threats, Campbell aud his sister weal away, and after one of their trips tbe woman returned bringing with her a strapping fellow named Hullivan, with whom she set up an establishment sepa rate from her brother’s. Tbe robberies now became more general and more open than oefore. and there was no longer any doubt abvUt the guilty persons. A for midable baud of outlaws was organized, with Campbell, his sister, and Sullivan as tbe leaders, and the . settlers appar ently feared them too mucu to take action against them. Years passed on, Sul.ivan disappeared, leaving Jane Sulli van, as she called herself, with three children, and the robberies were as fre quent as ever. Jane died, but left a daughter, Mary, quite as wild and un scrupulous as her mother. Campbell’s sons were this woman’s associates, and the generation of thieves wss bolder ihsn the oid. They proclaimed their calling with pride, and their cabins, filled with stacks of murderous weapons, resembled armor- tea. They rtile anything they fancied; cattle and horses, home bold goods, silver and money. Within the last few years the citizens of Caldwell, Hopkins and Webster counties formed haads of “regu lators” to conquer tbe thieves, who defied them by posting notices that any citizens who accused one of the band of theft would be killed. Bloodshed became fre quent, and for a time tbe thieves ap- pjared to be the victors, but recently melr good luck deserted them, and one by one the boldest of them were found banging to trees or lying dead by the roadside. One morning the dead bedy of Mery Sullivan was discovered suspended from tbe limb of a tree that a few days before bad borne the body of her lover. The settlers have wnoe lived la security. ’ —Louisville photographers offer view of the flood for sale before the flood has entirely subsided. Not many years ago, a whaler, cruis ing in the bonth Pacific, luffed up to a little island in order to till the almost empty water casks. The natives, who were on the shore in great numbers, were s en beating tneir breasts and uttering mournful cries. Several of them swam off to the ship and made the captain understand that some im portant person was sick aud in need of medical treatment. He, being a kind-hearted man, invited them by signs to bring the sick person on board. They heeded the invitation aud brought off the king of the island, who had not been ill long enough for the wailing and the beating of tom-toms to produce fatal results. The captain gave the chief a small dose of one of those “oure-alls,” usually kept in a ship's medicine chest The medicine, the absence of tom-toms, aud the faith of the sufferer wrought a speedy improvement. On-the following eve ning the captain thought it safe to al low him to return, not, however, until he had given him a bottle of the medi cine to be used in case of a return of the sickness. That night the chief had another at tack. Thinking that if a small dose had partly relieved him, a larger one would effect a complete cure, he poured the contents of the bottle down his throat. Alas! the calculations even of the great of this world are not always cor rect. The next morning the chief was a corpse. The captain, suspecting, from the ominous stillness, that something was wrong, took the precaution of stowing firearms into the boat that was to tow off the water-casks. It had scarcely ‘ ached the shore when the natives at Miked the crew, who by the greatest iTpi Htion were scarcely able to regain the shi^; which at once set sail and de parted. The capwi'.n never revisited the is land. He lea< usd that another whaler, putting in there /or water, was mistaken for his vessel, and j 'veral of its crew severely wounded, betoyc the natives dis covered their error. The natives bad osrefiut/ kept the bottle, thinking it an instrument of sor cery, beoans, though heavy, it could not be made to sink. A Dance In the Lumber Region. A correspondent gives the following description of a backwoods dance in the lumber region of Minnesota: The woods began to give np the yonng people an- til the number of couples had reached thirty. Dress was an trammeled by social edict. The female faney gave vent to its love of being admired in taste ful if not always elaborated costumes, with bits of ribbon here and there, and an occasional artificial flower. Bnt the lads found a flannel shut and no oollar quite as congenial as some sons of socie ty find immaculate shirt fronts, incas ed in a low-out fall drees vest. Danc ing pumps were strictly abjured, and h« found most favor and recognition whone boot heel gave most frequent and liveli est sonnd, a la olog-danoer. One violin furnished the mnsioal inspiration, and as it. manipulator sounded the strings in the preparatory operations of toning np, the caller exclaimed: “Step np now and get yonr numbers. ” The lade, some of whom had oome full twelve miles for their night’s enjoyment stepped to the front, deposited ty cents and received a number, aa the patron of the tonsonal oeives a number on busy days mod era barber shop. Boom for three sets, and tne caller numbers np to twelve, the hold ing their partners and <3/ ores in the square dauoek, whi ed to the exclusion of everyt Then the rest of the list \pf were called and three moi np, and the calling oommi again at No 1 when the list exhausted. No excessive meats in the terpsiohorean art. peoial favor in the feminine mi beanty or even selfishness of p permitted an undue monopoly of eit the floor or the oompany of the yonug ladies. The affair was managed with a democracy and an unyielding justice which might have obtained favor at soc ial events as lofty in the scale even aa the governor’s reoeption, snd universal in their attendance as a policeman’s ball. lied each h it re- tiie made the choos- the flg- ib preval- ,g else, lumbers a made over been plish- io es- uo on, The play of the Kliulervarten. All the jHissible result that can be exjiected from the kindergarten is play. Much of the success of the kindergarten is negative, and consists in preventing harm. Its positive success is so simple that it cannot be expected to attract more notice than, for instance, fresh air, pure water, or the merit of a phy sician by whose efforts a family is kept in good health. Thoughtful parents are sufficiently r.ware how detrimentally premature schooling acts upon t h e sonnd devolpment of the body and mind, how it destroys all the freshness and pleasure of learning, and how only too frequently it burdens a whole life with the most mischievous consequen ces. The healthier a child is, the more its life manifests itself in untiring ac tivity. Flay is the child’s natural work; in play it develops best and most naturally all the powers of body and mind. A play child is wholly a child— a complete child, inasmuch as it finds its highest -happiness and purest joy in the full gratification of the inner and outer demands of its nature; the de mons of ill-humor and evil habits can not harm it. “Let no one think,” says Goethe, “that he can overcome the first impressions of his life.” And, in sooth, they are controlling for all subsequent periods. A joyful, happy childhood is like sunshine to the whole life, and is of the greatest importance for the complete development of the child. An Indian Arrow In a Skull. Chief Juwtlce Clia«e. ‘ This distinguished man in his boyhood gave little promise of his future career. Ho was near-sighted, had a bad impedi ment in his speech, and was stoop- shouldered, shambling and siouoby in his appearance and gait. Owing to the death of his father and the poverty of bis mother, he was adopted by his unde, Bishop Chase, of Ohio. Tbe following amusing story of his early life is told: “One day the bishop went away on one of his trips into tbe dio cese, and told Salmon to quit school early - enough in the afternoon to kill and dress a pig. The young man bad never done anything of the kind, but he knew that he must first catch the pig. He did this after great trouble, and finally killed it. But now the question arose hew he should get the hair off. He had heard that the. farmers usually scalded hogs, and so he heated a lot of water and soused the pig in. Bnt he held the pig in too long and the water was;too hot, so that the hair was simply set and would not oome ont at all. Tbe future jurist dug away with his fingers until they were raw, but to no effect. He finally bethought himself of the bishop’s razor, and getting it, shaved the pig from nose to tail Eveiyone congratulated him upon the good job he had done, but when the bishop next tried to shave himself he came aa near as bishops ever do to using profane language. A young gentleman friend in Louis ville, Kentucky, has a ghastly curiosity. It is a section sawed from the crown of a human skull witu an • Indian arrow piercing its centre. The piece of the cranium is not much larger than a sil ver quarter. The arrow is eighteen inches long, with a metallic head bound to the arrow with sinews. The history in the singular case is this: A United States soldier was one of the garrison at Fort Craig, New Mexico, and had served his time out aud was honorably discharged. He was a great favorite with tha officers, and was about to depart for the Middle States when a hunting party was organized and a young lieutenant wanted him to join in a several day’s pursuit of pleasure. They reached a country full of game after a considerable ride, and, as the discharged soldier and guest was com plaining somewhat, he was left in charge of the horses and camp-luggage. Feeling drowsy he went to sleeid While the soldier was dreaming, no doubt of his far-away home, a band of cowardly aud skulking Apaches slipped up behind a knol! iu his rear, and, afraid to openly attack the single sleep ing sentinel, one of them shot an arrow that struck its target full centre in the skull and penetrated the brain to a deathly depth. The soldier never moved nor knew what killed him. My friend’s father was the surgeon of the post, and had to saw out a circle of the cra nium containing the arrow before the body could be conffined. Phosphorus dissolves in warm sweet oil If this pbosphonzed oil be rubbed on the face in the dark the features assume a ghastly appearance, and the experimenter looks like a Will o’ the Wisp. Brass bnttons are gilder, by throw ing them into a pan with a little amal gam of gold, and rs much dilated aquafortis as wiii wet them ail over; stir till they appear silvery, then wash, dry and heat to volatilise the Imereary. , 'm