Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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r TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. 0.. MAY 15, 1883. ESTABLISHED 1848 AT SET OF SUN. “ sit down at set of sun count the things that we have done, ^ 1 counting find One sell^liiliyiwg act, one word, That caned the flbH&Pf him One glance mow . That fell like sunshine where Then we may count that day well spent. But if through all the life-long day, We’ve dhsed no heart by yea or nay; If through it all We’ve done no thing that we can trace, That brought the sunshine to a face; No act, most small, That helped some soul, and nothing cost, Then count that day as worse than lost. HOW IT WAS WOUND UP. Come, Susie, be a good little girl now, and tell me you’ll go with me to the pic nic to-morrow 1 The wagonette’s all been painted up, and I’ve got the pret tiest new rug—all bright pink and gray stripes. Say yes, Susie, do I ” Jack Horton looked pleadingly at the blue-eyed golden-haired, crimson-lipped little lady leaning against the honeysuc kle trellis. “I don’t think I care to go, Jack,” she said reflectively. “ What I you’d rather stay at home? Aiid all the young folks going?” “Yes, I would. I’d rather stay at home and read,” she answered briefly. And then Jack’s big brown eyes sud 1 denly dilated. “ To read ? Oh-h, I see! To suit Mr. Fairfax Hamilton, Susie ?”' And then Susie flashed a defiant look from those lovely blue eyes that Jack Horton thought, and thought truly, were the loveliest in the world. • “Mr. Hamilton is a very educated, cultivated gentleman,” she retorted. “Whom you have known exactly three weeks. Is’nt it just about three weeks, Susie ? “Yes, it is.” “And you’ve known me seventeen years—all your life 1 ” “You are so ridiculous, Jack. What if I have?” * “Oh, nothing i ” he answered stiffly. “And I don’t doubt that Mr. Fair fax Hamilton considers our ’rustic amusements so much beneath his refined taste that he has persuaded— “Jack! ” Susie interrupted, coloring with vexation. “I did not say so, nor ” She did not finish her indignant pro test, for at that very blessed minute, Topsy, the little servant, opened the sitting-room door, and ushered in the very identical gentleman under consid eration. “Well,” Jack remarked, after a cold exchange of bows, “I’ll not detain you any longer, Miss Lane. Good night 1 ” “Good evening!” Susie said de murely, and never gave honest Jack Horton another thought during that delightful evening, when she and Mr. Hamilton sat in the fine August moon- lignt, on the honeysuckled-trellised piazza, a cool westerly wind playing around them. And how enchanting Mr. Hamilton was, as, swinging lazily in the hammock —Susie watching him from her rustic rocking-chair with fascinated eyes—he repeated delicious scraps of poetry, re lated entertaining stories, and, best of all, told her all about the world far be yond Farmingdale. “ How splendid ! how enchanting! Why, Mr. Hamilton, life must be just like a fairy tale.” “Well I don’t know' about the fairy tale, Miss Lane, but the enchantment certainly is to be enjoyed. “And you ought to enjoy it; you have just the temperament to riot in all ele gant luxury and fashionable dissapa- tjou. “You are buried alive here—no ap preciation, no congeniality, no sympa thy. I’d rather live among the cata combs than spend my life in this dead- and-alive hole! ” And Susie sighed, beginning to be lieve herself one of those rare blossoms destined to “waste all her sweetness on the desert air.” A vague longing rose up in her girl ish heart—a yearning for something far and far above her commonplace, every day life. She regretted that people-everybody- had fallen into the habit of believing her engaged to Jack Horton. There was not one wbrd of truth in it, if Jack had been her familiar all her life. And then and there, sitting in the moonlight, listening to Mr. Hamilton’s persuasive tones, Susie resolved to put an end, at once and for ever, to all the stupid nonsense about Jack and her. When Mr. Hamilton took his leave, at ten o’clock that evening, promising to call for Susie to take a ride at four the next aftwnoon, Deacon Lane called Susie into the kitchen, where he sat sweetening a huge bowl of buttermilk for his special delectation. “ So you ain’t a goin’ to the picnic with Jack, eh? ” “ No—no, father, I—I’ve changed my mind.” And Susie made unusual haste in lighting her lied room candle. “ You needn’t be in such a hurry, Su san. I’ve got a woid to oay, and I be a-goin’ to say it.” Poor Susie winced at the contrast be tween the rough, honest speech, guilt less of grammar, and the musical ac cents which she had lately heard. “ T . don’t like this here way you’ve been doin’ lately, Susan—a-playin’ fast fcnd loose with Jack Horton, the likeli est fellow to be found in these parts. “You hadn’t ort to fool with him— he’s wuth a dozen o’ them city chaps, and you’ll find it out some day. “Don’t you kerry it too far, Susan, now’mind.” And Susan, with scarlet cheeks, on which her gentle little mother had sym pathetic compassion, had to stand and listen to it all. “ Susanil come out all right, father; so don’t be afeard,” Mrs. Lai:*; said i cheerily, as she mixed her dough for the lor row’s baking. “Gals must be gals, you know, and I pretty eyes—Susie was not down to breakfast nutil nearly seven o’clock, and the .Irst sound she heard was the wailing of Topsy, sitting on the kitchen- chamber stairs, her aprdn ^hrown over .her bead: Iter ngure'TOcking back and Tofth. “I didn’t took it, Miss. Sus’n—’deed and ’deed, and double ’deed I neber seed it, nor kncw’d nothin’ ’bout it! Aad Mrs. Lane don’t b’leeve me, and I jest wish I’d git drowned or somethin’!” By degrees Susan learned the story— that Mrs. Lane’s two articles of person al adornment, a heavy, old-fashioned, solid gold watch chain, and the equally fine massive brooch, had disappeared from the box in the bureau drawer, where they had lain in their nest of cot ton—except when worn on grand occas ions—ever since Susie could remember. “I hate like p’isin to charge her with t. but there ain’t nobody else knowed where mother’s julery was ’cept her,” Deacon Lane said regretlully. “You’d better tell the hull truth, child, and if you’r sorry, and won’t do anything so wicked again, why—we’ll say no more about it. But Topsy was firm as adamant in her vehement protestations. “I don’t believe she did take them, mother,” Susan said. “Because there is a burglar in the village—don’t you remember, the night of Mary Morris’s birthday party, how the silver spoons and some money were stolen?” “T hate to believe Topsy took ’em—I ain’t agoin’ to mistrust her no more! “ Father shall put some extry bolts on the doors, and I’ll have Savage to sleep in the front hall o’nights. “ Deary me! to think such plain folks as us should be burglared! ” And when the picnic rode by two hours later, Susie, watching them from the front room windows, made the discovery that Jack Horton and his rig were not of the party. For, disappointed and—well, yes, too jealous to be capable of enjoying the out ing, Jack had concluded to run to town on a little matter of business that need- A Tombstone Justtee. ed attending to, never presiding destiny ruled and ever ruled his going. But the very first person he saw, as he got off the train-car in the shabby up town street, was Mr. Fairfax Hamilton. And, strange to relate, that elegant gentleman went straight into a pawn broker’s shop. “Upon my word! “What business should such a fine gentleman have in such a place? “ By Jupiter, if Susie knew it! And I’ll find out and enlighten lier—yes, 1 will?” So he quietly entered the shop, and, with a friendly Venetian screen com- pletely concealing, him, he deliberately and with malice aforethought, listened. “Only a fiver!” he heard Mr. Ham ilton exclaim. “Why* man, they are worth twenty, See for yourself-they’re such gold as you don’t come across nowadays. * “ Ya-as, good—pooty good. “I gif you thirty shillings. “Where you git’em, hey?” “ From my mother’s family—as if the old things possessed any sentimental value to me. “Come now—be generous, be just. Make it two sovereigns.” Oh, Moses! you would sphoil my pisiness in no time. You let me see dem sphoons—maybe I gif you more. “ Ah-h 1 Dot letter on ’em ish M, a-i-nt it? “Yes M—my own initial. What’ll you do, old skinflint? There’s the chain and the pin, solid, and the silver—come, what’s your best?” Fifty shillings, and it will be de ruin of my pisiness. Oh, Moses, who is dish! ” It was no wonder the pawnbroker’s voice suddenly changed to intense alarm and amazement, for two strong relent less hands fell heavily ou Mr. Fairfax Hamilton’s shoulder, and a savage voice thundered in his ear— “ So it was you, was it, who stole Mrs, Lane’s jewelry, and Mrs. Morris’ silver spoons? Thief,villain, impostor! You’re caught in your own trap at last, though. Officer, arrest him! ” And the owner of the other cruelly heavy hand, the police officer whom Jack had silently signalled as he passed the shop, the same minute Jack had caught a glimpse of the chain and pin he had known all his life, snapped the bracelets ou the elegant Mr. Hamilton’s wrists, and led him away to the police station. While, his personal business to the city wholly and entirely forgotten, Jack made a bee-line back to Farmingdale, armed with the missing valuables. fc “You must not cry and grieve so, Susie,” Jack coaxed tenderly. “ The rascal isn’t worth one_ of those tears from your dear blue eyes. Don’t .waste ’em on him, Susie, don’t! “It isn’t for him,” Susie sobbed pit eously. “ He may go to prison for all I care for him, but—but, I have been aw fully cross and cruel to you, Jack, and I don’t dare say I will be engaged to you! I am not half good—good—e-e-nough!’ And her sobs were so pitiful and hum ble and repentant, that somehow just the very thing to do seemed for Jack to gather her up in his strong, loving arms. “I’m the best judge of that, girlie! You will make me the proudest, happiest man in the world if you will only say yes. darling. Say it, won’t you. Susie?” He lifted the sweet, flushed, tear-stain ed face to his, and waited just a little second; and then a faint sound came to his ears that thrilled him from head to foot. And then he kissed her until she laugh ed and begged for mercy. At ten o’clock it all happened, and at three, Jack’s wagonette stood at. the farm-house door, waiting for Susie, in her pretty white suit, to come down and go to the picnic. And at five o’clock, there wasn’t a daintier, happier girl at Fawn Woods than she, nor a prouder, happier fellow than handsome Jack Horton. While Mr. Fairfax Hamilton, enjoy- y let ’em fight their own battles. Su- ing the stifling temperature of his cell in >n’ll come out all right. Good night, j the station-house, cursed himself and “When I was nraotioiog down at Tombstone,” said the lawyer, “a triend ot mine had his ear chewed off one evening th a dfspatff 'with a prominent citizen who dealt faro. After seeing the doctor he came to me, and under my advice he had the prominent citizen arrested on a charge of mayhem. Next day we had the man up for his preliminary exami nation. My friend was there with his head bandaged, and so were the promi nent citizen and his counsel, and the friends of both parties. The general public—and it’s a pretty tough general public in Tombstone—crowded the court-room. The hour went by, but the Justice didn t turn up. The con stable went out to look for him, but couldn’t find him at any saloons. We scouted round for have half an hour, but nary a sign of the Court turned up. Finally, General O'Brien, the leader c< the Tombstone bar, stuck his head up through a trapdoor in the floor and said in a solemn wax* “Gentlemen, remove y^ur hats. His Honor is here.” And he dragged the Court up by the collar. He was limber drunk and had been sleeping it off in the cellar. You never saw such a long adjournment from decency as that or nament of the bench was. He was covered with dirt, and even his hair and beard were k chock full of saw dust. There was, I remember, a flat tened quid of tobacco on his cheekbone. We had to hold His Honor under each arm as we led him to the nearest barber-shop. A bath and a shampoo brought back some life to him. and he was able to walk without help to the court-room. Once in the chair behind his high desk he looked all right and we went on with the oasa. We had taken the testimony of three witnesses to the row and subsequent chewing of my friend’s ear in the Excelsior faro parlors, when General O’Brien and Colonel Stephens, both on the other side, jumped up and objected to one of my -questions. It was a law point and imagining his re argued and quoted authorities for about half an hour. It was a pretty hot set-to and we were all on our feet when finished and turned round to the Court for a ruling. He was looking straight before him up above us as if he was sleeping with Ins eyes open. “Your Honor, said the general, after long pause ‘we are waiting for your ruling.’ •There was no answer. Then I chipped in with: “Your Honor, will you be good en ough to give us your ruling?” “Wash thai?” he said, trying to bring his eyes to bear upon me. “We want your ruling.” “Court’s adjourned,” he said, trying to rise. ‘We all protested, but his only an swer was to strike his desk with his fist and orv out again that the court was adjourned. “Won’t you fix the bail of this defendant?” demanded the general. “No, shir,” said the court, who had got on his feet by this time, and was frownigg heavily. “Turn’im loose. He'd oughtor chawed the head of that tender foot, that’s what he’d oughter done. “Well, gentlemen, what do you think the Court did next? He just deliber ately staggered over to the trap-door, lifted it, stepped down the stairs until only his head and shoulders were above the floor, and then passing to glare at the paralyzed crowd of us, growled out: “You can all go—’ “With that he ducked and let the door fall, and 1 suppose had his sleep out on the dirty floor of the cellar.’’ The Shah of Persia at Home. Wind so Strong It Steals a Team. “Do it blow hard here?” answered “Bowie Bill.” “Well, stranger, I should say it did. I was a skinnin’ mures for Uncle Sam at Camp Bowie in ’7S, sad havin’ an easy time. One evenin' the wagon boas come ’round and says, “Bill, you hook up in the mornin’ an’ go over to Bayard.” “I went right off and doped my waggin and got evervthing ready to move soou iu the mornin’. J had twenty miles to make the first day, and I came to the spring ’bout an hour by sun. 1 turned in early that evenin’ bo’s to git a good reel aud be a rollin’ before sun up next njbrnin’. I’d been grindin’ through the sand ’bout two hours the second da/, when happenin’ to look to the south I see a whirlwind a cornin’ biggeFn anyit see afore, and matin’ a noise like a hundred buzz saws. I see it were a cornin' my way, so I put the buoksin into the mtuee an’ nearly set ’em afire. Twant no use. I couldn’t git away from the thing, so I stopped the mules and looked at it a cornin’. “Goodness! stranger, it makes mo have ratile snakes and centipedes every time I think of thaMhight. There a floatin’ round in the whirlin’ sand was horses an’ cattle an’ doby bucks, not to speak of jack rabbits, kiotes, an’ small trash. It were git in’ tolerable dose by this time, and I says to myself, “William, are you prepared to ascend?” “No,” says I: ‘I ain’t an’ jumped offer my mule, grabbed a big soap w«ed and fastened on with a death grip.' “I went none too soon, stranger, fer in a minute up went ray whole body, my arms an’ legs twisting round like rope. 1 Leer’d the soap weed crackin' an’ a tearin,’ but it didn’t let go, an’ I didn't. Party soon the whirligig let go, aud down I come. The very first thing I looked for the team, and I see it. Ther’ they were swingin’ round an’ round an’ goin’ up, and they kept swingin’ round and goin’ up till they' didn’t look biggem’ a log, an’ they went out o’ sight. I gethered myself up an’ footed it back to Bowie. The very first man I met were the waggia’ boss. Says he, ‘Hello. Bill, what’s the matter? X set right down an’ told him how I come so near goin’ to Heaven alive, aud after 1 was done he says, ‘‘Bill, what kiud of • a Binecaboo play are you tryin’ to run on me; you've sold that team.’ I told ’em the thing was a dead open an’ share fact, but they talked so strong about sendiu’ me to Lawrence that 1 hulled out aud come down here.” run up to your bed now—it’s nigh to half-after ten.” [And in consequence of which lateness perhaps, the fact that sleep was i tardy than usual in visiting Susie’s everybody else. And that is the way it was woundup. Nature is the master of talent; genius is the master of nature. Not many years age tbs Shah never allowed his wives to show even the tips of their fingers to any of the male sex over the age of twel ve. Formerly when the members of the harem (the pnn- oeeaee and the female attendants of the Shah’a household), enveloped in a black sheet with a veil on their face and sit ting in a covered carriage, made thuir passage through the streets of Teheran, the eunuchs aud the feraohes who ac companied them used their long sticks to driae people away. The Europeans were allowed to stay where they hap pened to be at .die time, but were »om- polled to turn their faces to the walL During the last few years, however, and especially since his return from the sec ond jouoney to Europe, Nssser-sd-Din Shah has become more obliging. Since that time the Persians are ordered only to keep out of the harem’s path, and the Europeans are allowed to continue their w»y ou the tacit condition that they shall not gaze too avidionsly at the passing carriage. On the eve preceding the late anniversary of the .Prophet’s birtnday tiwre were as usual fireworks and illuminations in the alley called Khlaban Do with. Over the palace door “Dari Alimassieii”,(door of diamonds, so-called because its facade is ornamen ted with T'ieoes of looking-glass) open ing in o the Khlaban there is a baia- kbaneh in which on such occasions the Shah alts to enjoy the sight. At other tames he and the bar am used to peep out through the openings of a curtain drawn be lore the windows, bat on this uooMsiou the curtain was done away with, and the King with some of the Priiicesses looked freely at the fireworks. As far as can be judged from a distance of ten or twelve j aids, these ladies have in general round faces, very large and flue eyes, and thick and arched eye brows, winch are made to apperjr atari i bicker by the application ol a certain dye of very dark blue color, called m Persian “rang,” and more aroh-like by plucking the hair which may stand out of the arohy line, aud cheeks of Vermil lion. Their skin, however, as that of all Persians, with few exceptions, lacks the delicacy and whiteness so often commonly met with in English women. Their features, too, are not generally expressive. His Majesty certainly does not share now in tLe prejudice of hie countrymen regarding the treatment of tjne fair sex, and he has always been far above them as regards- religious toleration. Amusements In Persia. On the first day of the year the gov ernors of the provinces make their presents to the long of Persia, at Tehe ran, which are accompanied by various sorts of games aud pastimes. M. Tan- coign, who was at Teheran in 1880, thus describes them: First came men running on stilts of more than twenty feet high; others performing feats of strength and balancing, turning on the Slack rope, or oarryiug on their heads a pile of e&rtlien po s, surmounted with a vase of flowers; then dancing and combats of rams, which were excited against each other, These exercises were followed by rope dancing, performed by two young children. The rope was of hair and consequently less flexible than a hem pen one; being strained on two trestles of more than forty feet in height, it as cended almost imperceptibly as high as the top of the king's kiosk. Alter having made several gambols with the assistance of poles, on the part of the rope which was norizontal, one of the two dancers, ten years old at most, mounted as high as the terrace which crowns the pavilion and then descended backward from a height of more than eighty feet. We remarked with pleas ure that several men placed beneath the cord, followed all the movements of the child, ready to receive him m a large blanket, if his foot had happened to have slipped. We did not suppose the Persians were capable of such an attention, especially in the king’s pres ence, These dancers are called in Per sian djanbaz, meaning one who plays or risks his souL This expression, contemptuous in itself, intimates that games oi this kind are discouraged by religion; and is nearly synonymous with that of excommunication, with which ou actors were once compli mented. Naked men, armed with maces, and wrestlers appeared afterward before the king. The first resembled savages; they struck their clubs together with out injuring each other. It was not so with the second, their combats hay ing something hideous aud revolting. The conqueror, that is to say, he who succeeded in throwing his adversary ou bis back, went to the foot of the kiosk to receive a piece of money which the king threw down to him. Fire works of a splendid description suc ceeded; and the next day was appro priated to horse-racing. Water Snake*. In the Indian Ocean reside the curi ous sea-snakes which are highly venom ous, and which possess flattened tails, serving as a propelling apparatus. But many land-snakes swim with ease and grace. Adders arc not unfrequently seen swimming from one island to an- othei on om Scottish lakes. We have seen the common British ringed snake (Tropidonotua natrix) swim with rapidi ty after an unfortunate frog which had contrived to obtain a brief start, but which was seized and devoured in a very short space of time, ^ven the big py thons and anacondas, whim, crurh their prey in their great coils, swim with ap parent ease. Very curious must havo been the experience of a Captain Pitfioid of the steamship Mexico, who, as quot ed by Miss Hopley from an American newspaper, stated that he had passed through “a tangled mass of snake*” off the Tortuga Islands, at the entrance to the Gulf of Mexico. These snakes are described as having been “of all sizee > from the ordinal y green water-snake of two feet long to monsters, genuine ‘sea- serpents’ of fourteen to fifteen feet in length.” We are certainly inclined to agree with Miss Hopley that such a shoal of shakes must have consisted simply of a mass of these reptiles which had been drifted out to sea on brush wood by some river-flood or “spate.” The “great sea-serpent,” whose an nual appearances axe chronicled with punctuality, receives full and complete justice from Miss Hopley, We are glad to find our authoress is on the side of those naturalists who 'maintain that there is no a priori impossibility in the declaration that giant marine snakes may and do exist. In giant species of marine snakes we may find the ex planation of many of the marine ap pearances which have been authenticat ed by hosts of credible wits esses. Miss Hopley asks, after supposing this theory to be correct, “How long would the poison-fang of such a reptile be Y” But there seems no need to make the exist ence or absence of poisonous powers a question. What we deeire to know ib, “What is the sea-serpent?” With the plain rule before us of endeavoring to find a natural solution of this query, be* fore rushing into the clouds, It would seem that those zoologists who believe in the huge development of marine snakes possess a distinct advantage over all other theorists. Giant cuttlefish, some of which measure thirty or forty feet in length, inclusive of their “arms,” are now known in plenty. A few years ago, such animals were beheved to have been evolved from the fertile brain of Victor Hugo, who makes a giant octo pus the means of vengeance in his novel, the‘Toilers of the Sea.’ It is not too much to say that, with the evidence of new and recent discoveries in cnttletish- life before us, we should at least be very cautious in denying the possibility and probability of giant sea-snakes be ing also numbered am mg the fauna of the ocean. The Yelverton Scandal. The death of William Charles \ elver- ton, Viscount Avi m more, is announced. As Major Yelverton he became notorious in proceedings brought in Dublin by Miss Teresa Long worth, who claimed to be his wife The case was decided in favor of Lord Avonmore after a scandalous trial. It has been about fifteen years since the cause celebre which so agitated the fash ionable world of Europe was decided in the Common Pieas of Dublin. Msjor William Charles Yelverton, afterwards Viscount Avonmore, of the Royal Artil lery, w»* a distinguished Crimean soldier, a wearer of the Victoria Cross, “an officer and gentleman,” and defendant in the case of “Thelwall vs. Yelverton.” On the re cord the plaintiff was a Y orkshire trader, and the plaint that Major Yelverton re fused to pay for neocessaries s’jrmlied to his wife to the exteut of £lti7. The ans wer was a simple denial of the alleged relationship between himself and Miss Longworth. They had met u the Crimea, where Miss Longworth had acted as a vo lunteer nurse. The personal charms and accomplishments of ths lady conquered the Crimean hero. As he confessed he, on two occasions, went. through a form of marriage—once in Scotland, per veiba de presentl and once in the village of Be sstre- vor, in Ireland. By a subterfuge hi sa tisfied the clergyman, for it i&still a f« kray in Ireland for a Catholic priest to bless the marriage of a ‘Protestant and a Papist. They travelled together as k man and wife, but after a time events took the old course; the Major deserted Miss Longworth and married Mrs. Forbes, the widow of the distinguished Professor’ Edward Forbes, Thelwall vs. Yelveiton was tneu to decide whether in fact Teresa Longworth was wife or mistress. The jury found for the plaintiff that there was a Scotch marriage, and that there was an Irish marriage. Major Yelverton escaped through a side door, and his wife was drawn in her car nage by relays of Inshmen, after the man ner in which Dublin does honor to its fa vorites. That was the hour ol tnumpb of Teresa Yelverton, nee Lougwtrth. Thenceforward her life was a senes of lawsuits, la Scotland and in the House ot Lords her title to the name of wife was contested stop by step, and fought as bravely by her. But though her touching letters brought tears of admiration to the eyes of Chancellors and ex-Chancellors, her motion as “pursuer” was denied. To commence the fight over again was indeed possible, but pecuniarily and physicallv it was wiser for her to yield, for a legal tri umph would have added nothing to the sympathy extended to her, no more than the victory of Major Yelverton's lawyer relieved him from the universal odium which his course brought down on him. Mrs. Yelverton gained some position as a public reader and elocutionist, and made a living in that way at home and abroad. Bhe also published a novel, of which she ffaa her own heroine. Its title was Afar- tyr to Circumstances, but its success was only temporary. Of late years Mrs- Yelverton lived entirely in South Africa, where her fortunes were of & somewhat uncertain character. When the ex-Em- press Eugenie visited Zulul&nd, after the death of the Prince Imperial, she followed her steps and appeared to have in the young man’s fate a deep and sincere in terest. She died at Pietermaritzburg >n October, 1881. Major Yelverton, whose death is now reported, was the fourth V is- count Avonmore and Baron Yelverton In the Peerage of Ireland, and was born in 1824. He succeeded his father the third Viscount, in November, 1870, and is in turn succeeded by Hon, B. N. Yelverton, who was born in 1859. FOOD FOR THOUGHT. Making an Aurora. Easter Cards. An enterprising and beautiful nse of Easter cards was made in Boston, when a “card” mission went tue rounds of all the hospitals, homes and shelters, and distributed pretty Easter cuds in an envelope addressed ‘‘This is for you,” to all the inmates, young and old. Such a thoughtful custom might well be made a note of in this city for another year. These cards, too oiton go to people who have more than enough—ol cards and everything slss. By contrast, the Boston Eas tor-givers found sans tune and jokes in unexpected places on their rounds. In one hospital: “This is Miss W.’s anniversary,’’ said Mias B. 4*A year ago to day she broke her last hip." And the unfortunate victim laughed as merrily as if the whole tiling whore the best joke poauble. All through life there are wayside inns, where man may refresh his sonl The London papers bring ns news of a remarkable electric experiment. At a point in North Finland, jost within the Arctic circle, Professor Lemstroem con structed a network of wire on two conical mountains, which were respectively 2,600 and 8,600 feet high. Hills of this shape were chosen because, as is well known, electricity gathers most readily about sharp eminences. The professor knew that to and from these hill-tops electricity was darting; by ex periment he determined to hasten the process and render it visible, in other words, make artificial northern lights. Copper wire being an admirable con ductor, he connected the summits of the hills with the earth at their base by a network of this material, alhd the result was that Instantly an arch of the aurora was formed overhead, rising, it v .» es timated, to some 600 feet above the moon tarn top. Two characteristics were note-worthy in this result. In the first place, the currents detected in the wires were what is known as positive. M. Plante some years ago showed me how to prodace something like the au rora in the laboratory without nslng an exhatffted vessel, but by merely causing the positive and negative wires of his battery to approach gradually a vessel charged with salt water—the aides of the jar being also moistened with the liquid. It was found that he could in this way produce arcs and wreaths, and sinuous lines of light strikingly like the Aurora Polaris; but, curiously enough, only at the positive end. It is significant that it was positive cur rents which rewarded the Helsingfors professor for his ingenious labors. A second feature was that the spectroscope showed the peculiar lines of the aurora. The spectrum of the aurora is a greenish yellow line, and if this was recognized as stated there could be little doubt as to the genuineness of the phenomenon. The display lasted only a short tune, because doubtless the electric pressure or tension waa roon equalized, and, besides, the ice gathered so rapidly on the wires as to render them useless, and even to break them by its weight. So Tl.e Truly HoiiukI Juror. are eteaptiy itself there is than this instant. Some difficulty was experienced in ob taming a jury, and the court was gelling tired of the tedions proceedings. “Call the next juror, Mr. Clerk, ” said the solicitor, for the hundredth time. The Clerk sailed out the man, aud an old man with an honest face and a suit of blue jean clothes rose up in his place, and the solicitor asked the following custonbry questions: “Have you, from having seen the crime committed, or having heard any of the evidence delivered under oath, formed or expressed an opinion as to the guilt or in nocence of the prisoner at the bar t” ‘ No, sir ” “Is there any bias or prejudice resting on your mind for or against the prisoner at the bar?” “None, sir.” “Is your mind perfectly impartial be tween the State and the accused?” “It is.” “Are you opposed to capital punish ment?” “I’m not.” All the questions had been answered, and the court was congratulating itself on Having another juror, and the solicitor in solemn tone* Mid: “Juror, look upon the prisoner—priso ner look upon the juror.” The old man adjusted his spectacles, and peeringly gazed at the pnaoper for full half a minute, when he turned his eyes toward the court and earnestly said: “Judge, I'll be condemned if I don’t believe he a gudty I” It is useless to add that the court was considerably exasperated at having lost a juror, but the most humorous inclined had a good laugh out of the old man’s prema ture candor. Winter and Summer. One difference between English and American habits is .that the Englishman takes much and hearty exercise in winter, a season when Americans ride quickly m horse cars irom place to place aud seldjm exercise at alL In summer our countrymen take their pleasure, cricket, rowing, tennis base-ball and the athletic guinea, which are over even for school-boys, by Novem ber, whereas all the active field sports, and hunting, are continued, by Englishmen from the autumn throughout the winter. At the season of the year when meals are heaviest and more rich food, at entertain- menu especially, more meat is eaten, the Americas is most sluggish; and this is precisely the time when all Englishmen who can afford it, are taking more fresh air and wearing out their “tissues” than at any other. The number of business men who walk In winter, to and from their places of busineM, grows less every year with tbs horse-car conveniences. with lov<»; even the lowest may quench .. J ^ . his thirst at rivulets fed by springs ' ** ^ went, however, the experiment his thirst at from above. The first and greatest of all faults is to defraud ourselves. Desperation is sometimes as powerful &aaspirer as genius. Every man desires to live long, but no man would be old. Moral courage is the rarest of quali ties and often maligned. What appear to be calamities often the sonrooe of fortune. The energy that wins sneoess begins to develop very early in life. He who sees the cad from the begin ning will do only what is right Do not suffer life to stagnate; it will grow muddy for want of motion. To the blessed no other handle than < Tho sympathy of sorrow is stronger than the sympathy of prosperity. It is not life to live for one’s self alone. Let us help one another. Conscience is the voice of the soul; passions are the voice of tho body. It requires less merit to discover thu faults oi others than to bear them. Admiration is a short-lived unless it be fed by new discover Feebleness of means is, in feebleness of him that employ There are some silent peopt more int iresting than the bej Unkind language, on the ^ like begets like, brings the sa{ Au apt quotation is like a L flings its light over the whole There is one art of which should be master—the art of ! When there i* much pretent has been borrowed; nature ne teuds. Oue single act of indiscretion mar the enjoyment of a whole exist ence, All men are liberal; some to those who are in need, and others to them selves. Perform present duties, that time may be apportioned for succeeding labors. No metaphysician ever felt the defi ciency of language so much as the gratefuL Something may be gained from every one we meet, no m titer how ignorant the person may be. Fortune is like a market, where very many times if you wait a little prices are liable to fall. It is not what you sea that makes you popular among your friends; it is what you don’t tell, Never despise humblh services; when large ships run agrouad, little boats may pull them off. The man who is always boasting of speaking his mind usually has the least mind to speak of. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Take measures against committing a rash act. True humility, the basis of the Chris tian system, is the deep and firm foundation of all real virtue. Modesty ar^ 1 umility are the sobriety of the mind; emperanoe and chastity are the sobriety of the body. Don’t strain your eyes by reading or working with insuffioient or flickering light. It is very damaging. If we really live under the hope of future happiness, we shall taste it by way of anticipation and forethought. What is really momentous and all- important witn us is the present, by which the future is shaped and colored. Money aud time have both their value. He who makes a bad use of the one will never moke a good use of the ottier. Great wealth is a great blessing to a man who knows what to do with it; and as for honors, they are inestinufble to the honorable. There is anguish in the recollection hat we have not adequately appreoia- ed the affection of those whom we have Ijved and lost. The art of conversation:—To be prompt without being stubborn, to re fute without argument, ana to clothe matters in a motley garb. To tell a lie and then defend it with other lies, is like digging a cellar and making it large enough to hold all the dirt that is displaced. The beauty of ou fair ones gives point to ou spears, and edge to ou swords; their words are ou law; and as soou will have a lamp shed lustre when unkindled, as a knight distinguishes himself by feats of arm, haring uo mis tress of his affections. As the Divine Being is a Being of inexhaustible glory, is it likely that He would keep it to Himself, or indeed could He? For love wishes to com municate its own to another—to give, indeed, os much of its own as it can, and wbat then must the Divine Love do, which is infinite. The soul of man iu accord with or in spitj of his philosophy “ories out for God. tor the living God." It will not rest short of this, essentially, in some form whatever it professes to believe or disbelieve, it has leuiethiug sLili to take the place of what it oalis the great unknown and unknowable. Peace is better than joy. Joy is a very trneasy guest sud is always on tip toe tc depart. It tires and wears us out, and yet keeps us ever fearing that the next moment it will be gone. Peace i« not so. It oomes more quietly, it stays more contentedly, and it never exhausts our strength, nor gives us 0 ue anxious, forecasting thought, Christ js truth for the uuderotanding, authority for the will, love for the heart, certainty lor the hope, fruition for ail the desires, and for the con science at once cleansing and law. Fellowship with him is no indolent passivenees, nor the luxurious exercise of certain emotions, but the contact of ppears eminently successful. The unfortunate are always egotist!- the whole nature with caL * object and rightful Lord. r’l&j'Sw ■' :V> . 9,. r. .v* IS&lHfx '■!£&£ '-'v v -w: -'•••S.x.a.v „■ ; j . -