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* TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. 0.. iuLY 17. 1883. ESTABLISHED 1848 TttK EARLY RAIN. > Down through the misty-air, Down from the gloom above, Falling, pattering, everywhere, The rain comes quick with love. Softly the missel-thrush Sings In the golden-storm; The robin under a laurel bush ■Waits for to-morrow morn. Drip, drip, drip from the eaves. Pit, pit, pit on the pane, Swish, swish, swish on the drenched leaves, Listl ’tis the song of the rain. Grasses are bending low, Green is the corn and thick; You can almost see the nettles grow, They grow so strong and quick. Soft is the wind from the west, Softer the rain’s low sigh; The sparrow washes his smoky breast, And watches the gloomy sky. Stirred are the boughs by the breeze, Scarcely a leaf is still, Something is moving among the trees, Like a restless spirit of ill. Standing watching the rain, Do you not seem to hear The voice of God outspeaking again To man’s ungrateful ear® Promising plenty and peace, Garners with treasure heaped, That seed-time and harvest shall not cease Till the Harvest of Earth be reaped. THE HISSING PAPER. 1 X i ¥*■ I ; I 1g ji*' m One ot the most singular cases which are to be found in the police records of bloody deeds committed in Paris is that of Mme. Roquelaire, who was murdered in her residence, 17 Rue Danton,on the night of the 15th of June, 1873. The last that was seen of her alive wa» at 9 o’clock in the evening by one of her servants, to whom she gave an order concerning his service on the fol lowing morning, which indicated that she and M. Jean Beauchamp, her lover, were about retiring. The servant, as he testified at the preliminary examination, saw. as he stood on the threshold of the door lead ing from the hall into the salon, Mme. Roquelaire in her dressing-gown and her toilet arranged for the night; he also saw M. Jean making a cigarette and re clining, his face toward the door, in an et&y chair. Monsieur was frowning and seemed angry, although he said nothing. Evidently he and madame had been quarreling. The last that was heard of her alive was at 11 o’clock, by her maid, who, having the privilege of absence for the evening, was passing through the hall toward the staircase leading up to the servants’ quarters. Then she was entreating Beauchamp to fergive her. He had evidently accus ed her of some offense— u perhaps,”said iid. “of infideUY il’ The girl “his anger was terrible; his words fierce and threatening,” and then she heard madame exclaim: “Strike me, coward. I have sacrificed everything—honor, position, friends— for you. Strike me; kill me. You have had everything else from me that 1 could give; now take the last, and now —mon dieu!—the most worthless of my possessions—my life. You seek the excuse to be rid of me. Y r ou have found a new love, I read it all. Every day’s life for the past three months has been to me turning over a new leaf in the revelation of your nature. I have noth ing to live for. Kill me, coward!” The maid, trembling and frightened, passed on She also added in her state ment: They had often, but not so violently, quarreled while she had been in their service. Early next morning the servants, three in number, met as usual in the kitchen. The man-servant, w r ho was also M. Beauchamp’s valet, named Francois, and the maid-servant narrated to each other what they had seen and heard on the previous evening. Francois then, at 9 o’clock, went up stairs and knocked as usual at the salon door to receive monsieur’s orders. There was no sound within. Only the echoes of his tapning on the door. According to his testimony, madame usually slept late; monsieur was always in dressing-gown and slippers and in the salon reading the Moniteur, which was laid at his door, never later than 8. Sometimes he rang for his valet before 9; sometimes awaited his coming. An hour longer, and then finding no signs of life within, the valet ran out and summoned a sergeant-de-ville, who burst in the door. An appalling spectacle fixed the gaze of the little group gathered on the thres hold of that chamber, and held them motionless as if they had been suddenly transformed into stone images. There nearly in the center of the floor, iu her night robes, lay Mme. Roquelaire’s body, looking like a mass of congealed blood. The white linen robe, with its lace work and embroidery, resembled a crimson shroud. The face was muti lated, crushed and almost out of human shape. The terrified maid servant uttered a shriek of horror and fell to the floor un conscious. Even for the moment the sergeant-de-ville, inured as he was to, scenes of murder, was for an instant awe-stricken by the ghastly sight. Then, recovering himself, he started away, and in half an hour returned with other officers, the commissaire and a surgeon. Examination showed that the woman had been literally pounded to death with some blunt, heavy weapon, stamped on, and her body and limbs mashed almost into the semblance of pulp. Near this tremendous horror was a blood stained scrap of paper—a portion of a sheet of note paper. One scrutiny revealed scrawled upon it, as with a blunt point ed pencil, these words: “Your life was mine. 1 have taken what is mine. You are now in the arms of death, a more steadfast lover than you liad living; one you can not betray. Jean.” Over this pencil scrawl were two fin ger marks in blood in the form of a cross. This was all. Nothing was disturbed. Madame's apparel was in its usual place; her jewelry, watch and bijouterie where she had placed them when undressing. No weapon was found. There were gory finger-marks on the door and its casing. But Monsieur Beauchamp what of him? Search showed that a small traveling yalise was nrising from his chamber; that he had changed his clothes, taking the discarded suit with him. Ou going out he had evidently locked the door of the salon and taken the key with him. Si>ecimens of his writing were found, and an expert declared that the pencil scrawl upon the blood-stained paper very closely resembled his method of writing, changed, of course, by the action of a terrible mental excitement upon his nerves. There was no doubt in the minds of the officials that he, in a fit of ungovern able rage, and possibly crazed by jeal ousy, had committed tne fearful crime, and then, recovering his reason, had sought safety in flight. Two of the most expert detectives from the Pre fect’s office were soon on his trail. They traced him to Marseilles, thence to Bor deaux, where he took a sudden change of route and went to London. Here he w r as arrested and brought back to Paris. When informed of the crime of which r was accused he fell into a species of stupor, and for three days was apparent ly unconscious. Recovering, he alternated from pro testations of innocence to bewailing the death, as he asserted, of the only woman he ever loved, and calling upon heaven to pursue with its direst torments her murderer. Gradually he became cooler, and at last was able to make an intelligible statement. It was to this effect: He had quarreled with Madame Roquelaire on the evening of her assassination. They had often had similar lovers’ dis agreements. She had a terrible temper, but her anger seldom lasted beyond the hour. “On this night I had playfully accused her of liking some one else better than myself. “She retorted; words made words, and still in jest 1 said I would correct her— shaking a large closed fan at her with a pretense of rage. “Finally she grew so violent that I dressed myself, put on my hat, and taking out my valise, I bade her good night, left the house and started upon a trip to Bordeaux, wlrich I had long lieen contemplating, and intended to come to hef immediately upon my return. We had separated in like manner before that. After a day or two we always, came together again, and we were devoted to each other. “1 am not a brute; I was her best friend—she loved me and would have died for me. Why, then, should I have killed her; beaten her to death so cruelly, whom I so often caressed?” M. Beauchamp’s story was not be lieved. It is not in the creed of the police to believe anything an accused of M. Beauchamp, in which the murder was committed.” Pierre Rosier stood up and said in answer to the advocate’s question: “For two days past the passers-by on the opposite side have reported that the house was haunted. One man told me he had seen a frightful face at the upper windows, which came and dis- appeared. Yesterday afternoon I noti fied my relief of these strange reports. With the consent of the Commissaire we entered the house and searched floor after floor. We reached the cellar, and were about leaving it when we heard a scratching sound at the rear of the dark underground chamber. Turning our lamps in the direction whence the sound came we saw, huddled up in a comer, a terrible looking object. It was a man, with a fierce, haggard face. He sprang up, but not so, quickly that we did not throw ourselves upon him, bear him to the ground and secure him before he could recover from his surprise. We called for assistance and conveyed him to the Commissaire’s office, taking with us the club, a very heavy piece of wood resembling the Hrger end of a billiard cue. This weapon was covered with clots of blood and fragments of- dried flesh. The man was evidently very nearly famished.” “Who did this man prove to be?” “This morning the Commissaire, as certained that he was Jean Boudinot, the escaped lunatic.” “Did he speak or answer the Commis saire’s interrogations?” “Y'es. He said he had killed hrrwife and had danced the devil’s jig upon her body. The only things we found upon his person was this bit of paper and a bit of a pencil, both stained with blood. ” “This piece of paper,” said the advo cate, holding it up, “exactly fits the written paper from which it was tom, found in the blood near the body. This is the pencil. • “There remains now but one more statement necessary. That is mine. I promised the accused, my client, not to reveal his secret unless it was absolutely necessary. It is now necessary as the finale of this case. “Mine. Boudinot was Mme. Roque laire. After her husband was incarce rated in the Maison de Sante, through his-having several times attempted her life, she became acquainted with M. Jean Beauchamp. They became intimate, in fact, loved each other devotedly. In order to avoid complications, she re moved from her former residence in the Rue de Livaudais to the house which M. Beauchamp had rented for their joint occupancy. There they lived. There, on the night of the loth of June, after M, .Beauchamp had gone out, sh ted ax, ceaucnamp nad gone out, slie was me. KOqlifeian’e "Mas burled, tTi^ Strang^means house locked up, put under seal, and guarded day and night by a sergeant-de- ville. The servants were subjected to close surveillance in order to retain them as witnesses in the trial of their master. The conviction of Beauchamp was regarded as a foregone conclusion. Mons. Jean Beauchamp’s antecedents were those of a man with a moderate income, a man little known in society; rarely seen at the theatres or other places of public resort; reticent as to himself or his affairs, and, iu fact, by the few with whom he sought occasional companionship, looked upon as a sort of genteel, well dressed sphinx. In two days the trial of M. Beauchamp approached its conclusion. He had for his advocate one of the shrewdest mem bers of the French bar, and for whose ability the court and the Procureur d’Etat had the greatest respect. The last witness had been heard, the State Counsel had made his first plea, when a messenger entered the court room, pushed his way to the counsel for M. Beauchamp and gave him a package, whispered a moment to him and depart ed. A French advocate is nothing if not dramatic. The advocate arose, opened the packet, took from it a copy of the Moniteur, unfolded it, and ad dressing the judge, said: “I think that this trial can now have but one result—that of the release of M. Beauchamp. I have but three new wit- nessess to offer. One is a few lines in this paper, the Moniteur, bearing date June 14, 1873, one day before the mur der of Mme. Roquelaire. I will read them: “ ‘Escaped from private Maison de Sante of Dr. Roquet d’Allaire, a patient accepted and registered as Jean Boudi- uot, insane from jealousy; placed in the asylum by his wife, Mme. Matilde Bou dinot, May 11,1871, as incurably insane and violent; height five feet ten inches; powerfully built, brown hair, scar on cheek; was clad at time of escape in dark, close suit.’ “Tins notice,” continued the advo cate, “I offer in evidence.” “But what has this to do with the accused or the crime?” asked the Pro- cureur. “We shall see. I now call Dr. Al laire.” Dr. Allaire came to the witness chair. He stated that Boudinot, the escaped lunatic, imagined he had a mission to kill his wife for her infidelity. He had sworn to do it, and he would. “Where is Mme. Boudinot?” “Until to-day I did not know what had become of her. She sent her pay ments regularly for the custody of her husband, but after the first three months never again visited the asylum. She removed from the Rue Livaudais, No. 47, where she had resided, and all trace of her was lost.” “What sort of woman—I mean what sort of age and appearance?” “About twenty-five. Here is a pho tograph, in this velvet case, which was left with her husband, and which we took away from him, as the sight of it seemed to increase his fury in his inter vals of delirium. ” The advocate took it from the doctor and handed it to the Procureur. “Compare that with the portrait of Mme. Roquelaire found in the house of M. Beauchamp.” “It is the,portrait of Mme. Roque laire,” involuntar Jy exclaimed the Pro cureur. Precisely,” said the advocate. “Now, then, I call my third witness, Pierre Rosier, sergeant-de-ville, until this morning on duty guarding the house The Quiet Youag Man. we shall probably never ascertain, had traced her, and, with all the cunning of the cxazed, had concealed himself in the house, watched his chance, and then, springing upon her, beat her, mangled li#r as she was found; then, with devilish glee, hid himself in the cellar, and after wards betrayed himself by appearing at the windows This is our case.” M. Beauchamp was released. Calaitt. The work of demolishing the old for tifications of Calais, m France, is now m active progress, and ere long the old town will have got rid not only of these antiquated obstructions to light and air, but also of the deep encircling fosses, with their fetid waters. The most im portant result of the change is the final determination of Calais and its close adjoining neighbor, St. Pierre, to become united as one municipality under the simple name of Calais. St. Pierre was but an insignificant village when, just after the close of the great wars of Napoleon, a few Nottingham lace- makers established themselves at this spot as manufacturers of tulle, an indus try which now employs there 10, 000 hands. At present St. Pierre, with its busy shops and tramways, is far larger than its neighbor, of which it neverthe less counts only as a suburb, its popula tion being 33,000 while that of Calais Is only 18,000. This union will raise Calais to the position of the largest tow n of the department, not excepting Bou logne. Preserrinj^RfviU^^fter Death. There seems to be a great deal of at tention directed just now to the subject of preserving bodies after death. This fit or craze seems to be periodic. Or course, at times it is desirable to keep remains for a long time. Natural scien tists would have very poorly supplied museums if care was not taktn to keep specimens from decay. But as to this business of embalming the abodes for which the late human tenants cease to have any further use, one cannot find a more instructive lesson than in the modem treatment of the mummies of the ancient Egyptians. But it may be well to note, though only as a piece of news, that if organic substances are first steeped in an alcoholic solution of nitrate of silver, wiped dry, exposed to the action of hydrogen, sulphide or phosphide, and then immersed in the ordinary galvano-plastic bath, they will keep for an indefinite leugth of time. Rlaok Cloud. The telegraphic announcement made that the famous trotting stallion, Black Cloud, bad been sold by the estate ot the late Andrew Cutter, of Darma, Mich., to M. V. Wagner, Esq., Mayor of Marshall, Mich., has been verified and proven to be correct. Black Cloud is a marvel of beauty and admiration, and is perhaps the handsomest and most magnificent look ing horse that ever trotted upon the Ameri can turf. The noble a iimal passes into most excellent hands. The purchaser, Mayor Wagner,is not only an admirer and lover of good horses, but is also a moat excellent business man. and a man of great energy and enterprise. He is a large manufac turer, and is the business manager of the \oltalc Belt Go., of Marshall, Mich., -whose excellent Electro Voltaic Belts, and other Electric Appliances for the cure of various diseases of the human body, have achieved an enormous sale, not only throughout the United Sta’ca, but are shipped to every country throughout the civilized world. Mayor Wagner has placed Black Cloud in the hands of that noted driver, Peter V. Johnson, of Chica go; Wb9 will campaign him this season. “Nearly every man who ever'travei led on the Mississippi River in the old days can relate an interesting expe rience,” said the Rev. Mr. Jacksou, a minister whose reputation as «n im passioned public orator has gone beyond the boundaries of Arkansas. “There was something about a Mississippi River experience that teuded to aid in vivid reprod uc tion. The grand floating drawing rooms, the wealth displayed at every turn, and the studied politeness and conventional ceremony of a sup posed good breeding which you every* where met, all com* tuj at once in reportrayal of a chargHtor wfiicli, thus surrounded, you haW contemplated. But all of this politeness and exhibi tion of good breeding, I must say, w'as but the white foam on muddy water. It w’as the courtesy that could grasp the hand of a new acquaintance or shoot an old friend. “In the spring of 1850 I boarded a grand steamer at New' Orleans bound for up the river. I was a very young preacher at that time, and w as under orders to repair to a small community and assist in conducting a revival. There was something of a war being waged between churches, and it stood our church in hand to concentrate forces or lose ascendancy in the neigh borhood. These were the days of political and religious vigor, and avowed opposition in religious contests, was regarded as being no more out of place or in ill keeping with the faith than the fierce struggles engaged in by the Whigs and Democrats. I w'as told at headquarters that another young preacher would be sent to assist me, and that if I needed more help to make my demands known at once. When I boarded the boat^I looked around for my companion-in-arms, whose name I even had not learned. The closest search failed to discover my assistant, and concluding that he had either preceded or would come after me, I dismissed the matter and settled down to the quiet enjoyment of that occasion. “There were quite a number of gamblers — polished gentlemen — on board, and although I was opposed to gambling, I could not refrain from looking on and contemplating with what serenity of countenance the play ers parted with thousands of dollars. “ ‘Won’t you take a hand?’ asked one of the players one evening, address ing a young, pleasant-lookiug gentle man who stood near.” “I never play,” he remarked. “Won’t do you any fcarni.” “I know it won’t, A- I don't intend to play.”_ T replied* a tall mSn, wthT hancHed cards with an ease and lost with a good will that almost challenged respect. “Yes,” replied the young gentleman, “a rare joker, because it is rare that I joke.” “Ah, aud a punster,” said the tall man, relinquishing $1,000 with a smile. “It makes little difference to you what I am, I came here to quietly look on, not intending to engage in the game or conversation, and especially, not to be the butt of auy jokes that might arise from ill luck or success at the table. Regardless of the business you follow, I hope that you are well enough acquainted with the manners of gentlemen to treat an unobtrusive looker on with civility, if not with cour tesy.” “You speak well,” exclaimed the man. “1 hope that I am a Grentleman ot good birth and education, and I hope that 1 have not insulted you. If I have, I sincerely beg your pardon. Grant it willingly, aud all will be well; reluctantly, and, as a gentleman, which you undoubtedly profess to be, you know your recourse.” “But for your last remarkj I would have heartily forgiven you of any in tention to insult me. As it is, I do not grant pardon, realizing that a gentle man is not expected to have dealings with such as you. Aud, furthermore, let me say that I regard you as a cow ardly villain.” “The tall man sprang to his feet and drew a bowie knife. The quiet man did not even look at him.” “Take that back, or I’ll rub your heart over your face!” “Everyone arose, but no one felt dis posed to prevent bloodshed.’ “I said that I regarded you as a cowardly villain. Keep cool aud I’ll tell you why. While we were engaged iu insinuating conversation 1 saw you steal a roll of bills from that man, pointing to one of the players. “Until then, aud but for the remark you made, trying to compel a cheerful granting of pardon, I was disposed to pay little attention to anything you might say. Now, sir, I have made my statement. 1 have been led into this, and 1 may regret the consequences don’t hold him—but I shall make no concessions.” “The tall man’s eyes actually glared. I have killed live men, and all for less than this,” he exclaimed. “Get out of tne way I’ll cut him in two!” “Get out of the way!” said the quiet man. “It would greatly please me if he were to sit down aud conduct himself less dangerously, but if he is detemiued upon a wicked action, let him be under no restraint.” “You are foolish!” exclaimed one of the gamblers, turning to the quiet man. “You are not armed, and even if you were Capt. Aide would kill you. I am the man from whom you say he purloined the bills. I saw the action but did not dare to interpose. ” “8o this Is Capt. Aide?” said the young gentleman. “1 have heard of liim. lie has a very unsavory reputa tion in New Orleans; If well-con structed reports be true, he is not only a thief, but a murderer*” “Get out of my way!” howled the Captain, and, struggling, he threw his companions aside and sprang forward. Like a sudden revolution of a wheel- like an action whose quickness cannot be contemplated—the young man drew a derringer and sent a ball through the Captain’s brain, killing him instantly. “Gentlemen,” said the quiet man, beginning to talk ere the smoke lifted. “1 bad more than one reason for com mitting this deed; 1 was insulted, as you saw, and was in danger, as you know; but, worse of all, that man murdered my father. I did not con template killing him, but, as I said, I would have granted pardon for his in sulting taunts. From the first, though, I contemplated his arrest, which I should have accomplished had he no f attempted to take my life. I am sorry that I have caused such confusion, anil I hope that you will all, as I know God will, forgive me.” “lie walked away, gracefully bow ing to some one who hurried to the scene of the tragedy. The boat was soon landed. The Captain’s acquaintance took charge of the body, and «.ant ashore. We were soon ou our v \y again, and but for certain little influ ences that hung around no one would have kuow r n that a tragedy had been enacted. Our band of music, a com mon steamboat feature in those days, struck up a lively air, aud the only suggestive remembrance of the Cap tain’s death was the wet carpet where a boy had mopped away the blood. “It was late at night when I reached my landing. Aloue I made my way to the nearest house, where, after my business w as known, i was kindly re ceived. Next morning I attended church and was escorted to the pulpit, behind which some half dozen preachers were seated. A well-known minister arose and said that tw o preachers from New Orleans had arrived Brothers Jackson (myself) aud Mableson, and that Brother Mableson would first ad dress the congregation. The gentle man arose, and imagine my surprise W'hen I recognized in the preacher the quiet young gentleman who had killed the Captain. He delivered an eloquent, powerful sermon, and after services approached me and, extending his hand said: “You must excuse me for not mak ing myself known to you. I kept my identity under a cloak of caution. When I boarded the boat I recognized my father’s murderer, and 1 thought that if l revealed my identity my plans might be frustrated. As I said, 1 only intended to follow and arrest him at the next town, but you see bow it re sulted.” ‘ ‘ Years have passed since then, years of intimate acquaintance between the quiet young man aud me. Some time ago, after a successful life, I closed his eyes in death. He aniled with sublime willingness, and wen t without a groan. ‘ never knew a truer or kinder-hearted man.” About Cuunrle«. at, a lear The bird fancier was examining but beSrox!mysnaped. wn ‘IlIsac Norwich canary,” be said to the repor ter, “which I have just received. Notice what a compact form he has, and how handsome his plumage is. People can talk about their Belgian birds, but for my part I think there is no canary like the Norwich canary. Of course they are not as aristocratic in appearance as the Belgians, but they are more robust, and if well tutored, cannot, be surpassed. Their notes are bold and musical, aud their larg ; chest capacity gives them a very long song.” “What are the points by which a Norwich bird can lie told?” “There arc quite a number. A short clear beak, head of moderate size w ith a full neck, a straight wide back, wings which do not cross at the tips, a broad full chest, which gradually expands from the neck, a rather short tail, compact but thin, and feet and legs of a light flesh color or white. A person familiar wdth birds can distinguish them at a glance. There are six classes of Norwich canaries.” “Are they very healthy birds?” “Very healthy and long of life. They are used to our climate and are not sub ject to the ailments to which the Ger man birds so often fall victims. They seldom suffer from cold. I once bad t Norwich bird which lived five yeare with out being sick a day as far as I could see. I expect that it w’ould have been living yet if it bad not met with a queer acci dent. Its cage was on a table when a procession passed the door. My wife went to the window to look at it. Her little dog jumped on the table, and the bird fluttered against the side of the cage, and stuck its head too far out, aud the dog bit it off.” “How long ought it to have lived?” “For seven or eight years. The rea son why many birds die young is that they are not treated properly. In mis taken kindness their owners give them too .much sugar, cake, and other rich food, which destroys their digestion. They lose their song, become listless, aud die.” About Innects. *■ Golden grasshoppers were worn proud ly by the Athenians in token that they sprang direct from mother earth. The ladybird has probably received more pet names than any r Jier insect. It has been called in different countries the Bishop Barnabee, Bird of our Lady, Vache de Dieu, Marien Thierlein, Manche de St. Jean, and Johannis Wurmchen. In Pagan times it was honored as Freya’s Bird. “It is said to have received the name of Marien Thier lein from the monks, who knew that it fed on aphides, enemies of their hops and vines, and therefore protected it; among the peasants by dedicating it to the “virgin.” Some say the ladybird was so called because it appeared about the time of the Feast of the Purification; others, because it is so often to be found on the white lily. Is there any expla nation of the lines wdth which children address this pretty little creature— Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, Your house is ou Ore, your children are gone— or any reason why this insect and the unoffending snail (called in some remote oarts by the queer name of snarleygog) should be so rudely told of their domes tic bereavements, or threatened with corporeal punishment? as in the similar nursery doggerel -- Suatl, snail, come out of your hole. Or else I’ll beat you as black as a coal. And Snail, snail, come out of your shell, Your fattier and mother are dead; Your br >ther and sis’er are at the back door, liegging for barley bread. The spider, as he is one of the best known villains of our childhood, when we listen w r ith painful fascination to the story of his deceitful invitations to the giddy fly—so he fills ahvays a prominent part amongst the insects of history, but except in nursery or fairy lore, he is usually a person of excellent character, aud rather to be imitated than abhorred. The name of Arachne given to the spider family is taken from an old Greek legend of a Lydian maiden of that name, daughter of a famous dyer in the town of Colophon, who was a dexterous w eaver, and so proud of her proficiency in the art that she dared to challenge Athena to compete with her. Arachne produced a piece of cloth so beautiful that no fault could be found with it, and the angry goddess tore the web to pieces. The girl iu disappointment hung herself, but Athena loosened the rope and changed it to a cobweb, while she turn ed Arachne into a spider, the insect most odious to herself. This fable seems to suggest the idea that man learnt the art of weaving from The many tarantelles, which a short time ago were fashionable as pianoforte pieces, are so called from a sjiecies of THE VERDICT j -OF- THE PEOPLE BUY THE BEST! Mr. J. O. Boau—Dear Sir: I bought the first Davis Machine sold by you over five years ago (or my wife, who has given it a long and fait trial. I am well pleased with It. It never alvea any rouble, aud is as good as when first bought. J. W. BOLICX. Winnsboro, 9. C., Apr 1,1883. Mr. Boao: You wish to know what, I have to say In regard to the Davis Machine bought of you three f ears ago. I feel 1 can’t say too much In its favor. ma le about *80,00 within five months, at limes running it so fast that the needle would get per fectly hot from friction. I feel confident I could not have done the same work with as much ease and so well with any other machine. No time lost in adjusting attachments. The lightest running machine I have ever treailled. Brother James anu Williams’ families are as much pleased with their Davis Machines nought ot you. I want no better machine. As I said before, I don’t think too much can be said for the Davis Machine. Respectfully, Ellen stevenson, Fairflold County, Apr!', 1SS3. Mr. Boaq : My machine gives me perfect saUs- factioa. I tind no fault with it. The attachments an* so simple, i wish for no better than tne Davis Vertical Feed. Respectfully. Mrs. R. Milling. Fairfield county, Aprl’, 1888. Mr. Boau: I bought a Davis Vertical Feed 8ewmg Machine from yon four years ago. I am delighted with it. It never has given me any t rouble, and bas never been the least out of order. It is as good as when I nrst bought it. I can cheerfully recommend It. Respectfnl’y, Mr.-. M. J. Kirkland. Montlcelio, April 30,1883. This is to certify that 1 have been using a Dana Vertic il Feed Sewing Machine for over tw (years, purchased of Mr. J. o. lio ig. I haven’t found it possessed of auy fault—all the attachments are so simple. It uevertefuses to worn, aud is certainly the luhtesi running in the market. I consider it a first-class mac nine. Very respectfully. Minnie M. Willingham. Oakland, Fairfield county, 8. C. . spider, the tarantula, which gained its name from Tarantem, where it is chiefly found. It was formerly much dreaded, and the symptoms produced by its bite were compared to those of hydrophobia, which procured for it the name of the mad spider. Old authors claim that those who were bitten by it fell into a profound stupor, or were seized witli convulsions, for which music was a sovereign remedy, by inducing them to dance, which they did till they were exhausted, and fell down senseless. One learned gentleman went so far as to write a treatise, m which he set down the airs best suited to effect a cure; but others maintain that it was only idle and worthless per sons, seeking an excuse for dancing aud asking alms, who said they had been bitten. We have left until the last that love liest of all insects—the butterfly—which, in its three phases of existence—the e»rth-bound caterpillar, the shrouded senseless chrysalis, and then the more perfect creature, soaring upwards on its new-found wings—so marvelously rep resents our own life-history. For this reason the butterfly, and also the dragon fly (which passes through a similar series of changes), were used by the mouks to decorate the illuminated bor ders of their missals. Amongst the heathen the soul was often represented as a butterfly, escaping from the lips at death. In Christian times it has been rather as an emblem of the resurrection that this illustration Is used. Butterflies’ wings .were given to the maiden Psyche, and in the story of her love, trials and sorrows, it is not dificult to recognize the idea of which it is merely the mythical embodiment; for Psyche is evidently the human soul, which is purified by passions and mis fortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness. Wonder* of th« Wont. The discovery of a salt lake three- quarters of a mile iu diameter on the top of a volcanic mountain about 150 miles southwest of Albequerque is reported by United States Marshal Morrison, of New Mexico, who recently visited it with Senator Logan and Surveyor Gen eral Atkinson. The water is so strong ly impregnated with salt that a thick spongy crust has formed around the margin. This natural supply of pure salt is said to have been long known to the Indians. But the most curious fea ture of the lake, said Marshal Morrison to a reporter, is a tall white column of volcanic origin which rises from its centre to the height of 100 feet, sloping towards tlie top and rough enough to be ascended with much difficulty, and ou reaching its summit the travellers were surprised to bud that the coue washol low and inclosed at its base a pool of dark green water, to which they clamb ered down. They found no incrusta tions like those on the outside, but the brine was so strong that a band or stick thrust iuto it came out perfectly white with innumerable particles of salt. One of the party enjoyed a delightful bath in the pool. This is rather a tough yarn for a Uni* td States Marshal to spiu. The youngest inventor on the re cords at Washington is Walter Neve- gold, a lad 15.ye*rs of age, of Bristol, Pa., who hss patented some important improYemeuU iu rolling mill maoUiu- Mk Boaq : i am wen pieasen id every particala with the Davis Machine nought of you. I think it a flrst-claaa maculae lu every reaped. You know you sold several machines of the same make to ditlerent members of our families, all of whom, as far as I know, are well pleased with them. Respectfully, Mrs. M. H. Mobley. A ..■ll This isto certuy we have hai to constant use the Davis Machine nought of you about three years ago. As we take In work, and have made tne price of it several times over, we don’t want asy better machine. It is always ready to do any kind of work we nave to do. No pnckerlngor skipping stitches. We can only say we are well piea-ed and wish no better machine, CATHERINE WYLIE AND SISTER. April*, IS-*."J I have no fault to find with my m ich ne, and don’t want »ny iietter. I have m ide the p ice of It several times by taking In sewing. It is always ready to do its work. I think It a first-class ma chine. I feel I can’t say too much for the Davis Vertical Feed Machine. Mrs. Thomas Smith. Fairfield county, April, 1883. It gives me much its of U Mr. J. O. Boao—Dear Sir: pleasure to testify to the merits of the Davis Ver tical Feed Sewing Machine. The machine I got of you about dve years ago. bas been almost In con- si ant use ever since that time. I cannot see that it Is worn any, and has not cost me one cent for repairs since we have had it. Am well pleased and don’t wish lor any better. Yours trn'y, Kobt. CBiWPORD, Granite quarry, near Winnsboro 8. C. We have used the Davis Vertical Fee 1 Sewing Machine for the last five years. We would not have any other make at anj- price. The machine has given us unbounded satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mrs. W. K. Turner and DAcaarEtisj Fairfield county, 9. C., Jan. 2i, 1888. Having bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine from Mr. J. O. B >ag some three years ago, aud it aavluggiven me perfect satisfaction In every rcsuect asa tamlly machine both for hea-’y and light sewing, and never needed the least re pair lu any way. i can cheerfully recommend It to any one a* a first-class machine in every particu lar, and think It second to none. It Is one ot the shnp.est machines made; my children use It with all ease. The attachments are more easily ad justed and it does a greater range of work by means of its Vertical Feed than any other ma chine 1 have ever seen or used. Mbs. Thomas Owinos. Winnsbaro, Fairfield county, 8. C. " * J Imperial Tokay. Every country, not excepting of late years even Americe anil Australia, has a first wine of the world, but the repu tation of Tokay, at least, is well estab lished. The Hungarians say that it has not alone the color, but the worth of gold, and the French is not the only nation that believes in its almost magi cal medicinal virtues. The Tokay dis trict of Hegyalja extends from south to north for nearly 40 miles above the right bank of the Bodrog, a tributary of tbe Theiss, and is traversed by nu merous valleys. There is a tradition that in the 13th century some Italians of the island of Pernio, which then belonged to Venice, brought into this district the excellent red grape now called bakator (bocca d’oro), but several other grapes are employed, such as the holgagos, madurkasand the feher szoto, the harslevevu, the m ilvoisie and the Muscat of Lunel. Great care is taken of the vines, which are well manured every winter, and are dug or hoed four times a year. Tokay is divided, like some other wines, into the aszu, maslas and szamorodui, but it cannot be made in all years, for the grapes must become perfectly dried up and crystallized be fore use, aud for this a dry and hot Oc tober is indispensable. This, to some extent, explains the high first-cost price it sometimes attains, but the cru and the age of a Tokay wine very much in fluence its subsequent value. We have hart one of the DavP Machines about fonr year* and have always found it ready to do all kinds of wont we have hal occasion to da Can’t see that the machine la worn auy, and works as well as when new. Mb*. W. J. Crawfobd, Jackson’s Creek, Fairfield county, S. C. My wife is highly pleased with the Davis Ma chine bought ol you. She would not take double what sue gave for It. The machine has not been out of order since she had U, and she can do any kind of work on it. Very Respectfully, Jas. F. Free. Montlcelio, Fairfield county, S. C. The Davis Sewing Machine Is simply a treas ure Mrs. J. a. uoodwyn. Ridgeway, N. C., Jan. 10,1»83. J, O Bo ad, Esq., Agent—Dear Sir: My wife has ueeu uslug a Davis Sewing Machine constant ly for the past four years, and It has never needed any repairs and works Just us well as when first bought She says It will do a greater range of practical work wnd do it easlei and betrer than any machine she uas ever used. We cheerfully recommend It as a No. 1 family machine. Your tricy, Jab. q. Davis. winnsboro, S. C., Jam 3,1883. i •”4. I Mb. Boao : I have always found my Davis Ma chine ready do ah kinds of to work I have had oc- coslmtodo. I c-inaot see that the machine is worn a particle and it works as weil as when new. Respectfu.ly, Mbs. R. C. Goodins. Winnsboro, 8. C., April, 1883, flso ‘Vil