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• V "V ► “V: -i.' ; — - ■* •>. ♦» ♦ ' / \ \ J 46 A* iS TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. 0.. AUGUST 2. 1883. ESTABLISHED 1848 •if i"' •i»F' im > jil: DEATH IN THE SKY, Who that looks upward to the sky In some transparent summer night, When mystic stars are burning bright, When there is nothing wide and high Save what enchants the sight— Who that looks upward to the life We call eternal, and which seems Quiescent as the flow of streams, Unmarred by bitter death or strife, Ethereal as our dreams— Thinks that within the calmly vast World-nature rolling overhead Suns circle which are col(. and dead, And spheres which blazed in ages past Are lifeless globes, that shed No glimmer tnrough the lucent air, Yet whirl upon their uuseen wavs Like ghosts of other skies and days, Like shadows lingering darkly where The ancient splendor stays? As radiant earth is but the tomb Where death awaits behind its bars Hearts torn with many wounds and scars, The sky is an unfathomed gloom— A sepulchre of stars. A DEAD HEART. Everybody wondered when Robert Egerton married bis wife. He was plain, and quiet, but honest and good as gold, and he worshipped Marguerite as a devotee does his saint. But all the same people wondered how in the world such a plain unas suming man had won such a gloriously beautiful creature as she, while equal astonishment was felt and expressed that Marguerite Lasseur had taken up with him when so many other more desirable men had been at her feet. Of course nobody knew the true inwardness of the affair, how that in her twenty years of life. Marguerite Lasseur had never had a friend so good to her as Mr. Egerton; how, notwith standing all her admirers, no one of them all had ever caused her a quick ened heartbeat; how gratitude urged her acceptance of Robert Egerton’s suit, when he asked her, in his quiet, intense way, to be his wife. He did love her so entirely. It seemed to him that his heart and soul were one flame of i»assion for her, and yet, in his reserve and reticence, he very seldom gave expression to it. Well, Marguerite liked him infinitely better than any one else in the world. He was able to give her a delightful home, and many of the things of life that she wanted, and she married him, and they were happy. That there was no dolieioua ooaiaay about her feeling for him, she never cared, and believed there was no ca pacity for deep passion about her. Then, when they had been two years married, Eugene Sartoris came home with Mr. Egerton to dinner one day, and then—his first glance into her magnificent eyes, great dark-grey eyes, that shone like star-beams from under the heavy black brows, as the luscious scarlet lips, and pale, proud face, told him that there was a woman whose heart had never been touched by love’s fire yet. He was wonderfully handsome—this friend of Marguerite’s husband—as handsome for a man as Marguerite was wonderously beautiful for a woman. He was rich, and all through his life he had been accustomed to having things pretty much as he wanted them —his horses, his servants, his travels, and among women, who idolized him. That one very first look into Mrs. Egerton’s serene eyes told his observant glance its own story. He looked at her keenly, sharply, with his handsome, lazy blue eyes, noted the exquisite beauty of her face and figure, heard the sweet melody of her low, womanish voice, watched the lissom grace of her manner, and—fell in love with her there and then, as he had never fallen in love before. And deliberately set himself to work to awaken her sleeping heart. And succeeded. It was not a week later when Mar guerite discovered what had come to her, and in her first discovery she was horrified and frightened to know that there had been depths lying dormant in her nature of which she had no idea until Eugene Sartons’s master hand touched them with unsealing power It seemed to her that very first mo ment of it all that suddenly some rap turous cup was given her to drink, if only she would lift it to her lips. But she neither dared enter in, nor lift the cup, because of her conscience, that would not hush its ceaseless mono- . ton# of warning, that faithful desperate Conscience of hers that continuedly ^reminded her how horrible, how sin ful, how hopeless it would be-to yield to the sweet temptation. But Sartoris, understauding so wel just what a woman of her temperament would of necessity have to go through before the struggle between passion and duty, wrong and right, were ad justed, patiently bided his time, and by his looks, his words, his manners, made her love him even more and more. Until at the moment of awfullest indecision, he made the temptation the sweeter, and conquered, and hit masterful blow on her conscience that deadened it. • After the confession and the avowal, oh how rapturous was the descent into that enchanted landl and even the midst of her wild, wicked happi ness, Marguerite remembered that was a ‘descent,’ not an ‘ascent’ I hardly know how to chronicle the pitiful story of those days. Mr. Egerton never doubted his wife. a devotee would sooner have doubted his patron saint He was kindness and hospitality combined to the man who professed to be his friend. His horses, and his home, and his wife, were always placed at Sartoris’s disposal, and before his very eyes the two lived their life. People saw and remarked upon it. People said Egerton was as blind as a bat not to see the desperate flirtation going on under his nose. But, as usually is the case, no word of town-talk came to his ears, the in jured husband or deserted wife gene rally remains longest in actual ignor ance. And then, as if the furies had added their choicest benison upon Sartoris and Marguerite, it so happened about this time that Mr. Egerton was obliged to be absent from home several weeks. And then I After he had gone, Marguerite suf fered awfully in her conscience, that, up its He smiled coldly, sarcastically. “I think I have read somewhere of a man who had a living soul in a body to all appearance dead.” “I have a dead heart in a living body. “Your explanations, your prayere, your tears, your oaths, your sworn oath written in your heart’s blood, are all nothing to me. ” “Can I be of any service to you, pecunianly or otherwise, madam?” And Marguerite, poor, weak, wicked Marguerite, who had sinned, but not so deeply as you may have thought— knew that even her humility and re pentance could never avail with the man who had once worsbipped her so. She went away, poor Marguerite, and Robert Egerton neither knew nor cared, for his heart was dead, and she had been its murderess. Native Gold. faithful and true, had struggled from its prostration and renewed good word. But Sartoris had no such inward monitor,'and because his influence over Marguerite was the strongest that had ever been placed upon her, it was hardly a matter of surprise that, when in his sweetest and most persuasive way he urged with her that their only hope of happiness was in her giv ing her home, her husband, up, and going with him. After a little, Marguerite consented. And left her home, her beautiful home, while the man who loved her was away, loving and trusting her with all his great good heart. Well, she w.is wicked, but don’t judge her too harshly. Had she been wholly depraved, her conscience never would have given her such ruthless twinges, and never, in the very midst of her fairest dreams of bliss, was there a moment when she was not in mortal fear and terror of the God she had thus dared, by her sin. Then, Egerton came home, to learn all about it. Did he hate her? Did he wish her evil, or burn for revenge upon her for the wreck and ruin she had worked in his life? Perhaps you may not believe it. but that night when he reached home and sat down alone, he laid his head on the arm of his chair and cried like a child, not for shame, not for anger, but be cause he loved her so. And if Marguerite had come to his door just then he would have snatched her m his arms, and begged her to be merciful to him. It was a terrible experience for him— out in the world, and alone in his empty house; but the weeks passed away somehow, as they will pass whether one suffers, or enjoys, and the months rolled up into years—thi-ee of them—just one year more than he had enjoyed with the woman he loved so well. Three yearsl He had got into the new groove by this time, and had learned to live his ife without her, when one stormy, sobbing November night, she came to the door and rung, and was shown in, so muffled in her veils and wraps that ,he servant did not recognize her. Not a pulse of his heart quickened as re saw who she was. He arose, and handed her a chair. “You are not angry, then, enough to cast me out of your house?” She threw aside her veil as she spoke, in her sweet pathetic voice, that had once been the most enchanting music to him. “I do not know why I should cast you out.” “I am not in the habit of turning chance comers from my doors.” “I presume you wish to see me, or you would not have taken the trouble call.” “Robert, Robert!” she cried out agonizingly, “I would rather have you strike me than speak to me like that. “Tell me you despise me, hate me, scorn me as I deserve, as I do myself, anything rather than like that.” He looked at her—elegant, ladylike, beautiful and young as the day he saw her last, when she had been his wife. There was a cold curious look in his face, thoughtful, pitying, but oh, cold, cold as ice. “I don’t understand the good taste in your coming,” he said at last, “but if I can be of any service to you I hope I may be. “Are you in trouble, or is Mr. Sar toris?” Not a faltering of the quiet, icily- polite, thoughtful voice as he spoke the name, but an awful deathly agony spread over her face at the sound ol it and she rose to her feet, pale as a dead woman. “Don’t call his name in my hearing!” “You know as well as 1 where he is.” “I never have seen him < since that accursed day when I went with him from here.” “I swear to you I did'not sin agains; you, Robert; but who would believe me?” “I stayed away, afraid—ashamed to come and tell you I never had been the worst you were thinking of me, Robert.” She fell on her knees, her fair hands clasped in pleading. The curious discoveries in the ex ploration of the altar mounds in An derson township, Ohio, are made all the more interesting by the fact that native gold has for the first time been found in the mounds. Among the numerous ornaments unearthed, in cluding those of mica, shell, bears’ teeth, stone, copper, iron and silver, was one small copper pendant, cov ered with a thin sheet of gold. Other copper ornaments were covered with hammered sheets of native silver, and the hammered metal bracelets, the large spool-shaped earrings, the terra cotta figures revealing the peculiar methods of weaving the hair, show that the fashionable young woman of Madison square is not so far apart in ethnologic interest from the mystic maidens of the altar mounds as she might suppose. Moreover, in thous ands of objects of interest obtained in these mounds, there are ornaments which, in point of novelty, are not now rivalled, for there are ear ornaments made of meteoric iron, plated with iron. A serpent cut out of mica, an animal carved from stone, three hundred as- tragoli of the deer and elk, apparently collected for some important reason, and unique objects in micaceous schist, obsidian chalcedony and chert were found upon these quaint altars. Bit by bit, as the leafy mould is taken off the footprints of time, thwo ooomo come out of darkness glimpses of a cul tured race that passed over this conti nent before the North American In dians came here, burying their dead in stone boxes along the Ohio, where they are now being unearthed, and orna menting their persons with peculiar and precious metals. Tbe Education of Women. Before we can decide what education our daughters need we must know what their lives are likely to be, and what demands life is likely to make upon them. Luckily, we know in the main, and the contingencies are such that we may provide against them. So large a proportion of our girls will become wives and mothers that our only safety lies in giving all of them proper prepara tion for the life of wives and mothers. For such a life they will need, first of all, good physical health. So certain and so imperative is this need, and so surely must neglect of it result in wretchedness, that inattention to thin matter may fairly be called crimi nal. Yet in no other particular, perhaps, is the education of gi$'« more generally neglected or more frequently misdirect ed. There is not only too little system atic effort madd to educate girls’ bodies into supple robustness, and to give stamina and buoyancy to their constitu tions, but there is, too commonly, posi tive education in ill health given to them. Very much that is most care fully done for girls is directly productive of ill health, weakness, and want of stamina. The care given to the com plexion, for example, by which too many mothers mean only whiteness of the skin, commonly consists of restraints which break down the nervous system, impair vitality, and invite invalidism. This is not a lecture on hygiene, and it s no part of our purpose to suggest the iroper hygienic governance of girls’ ives. We seek only to emphasize the importance of proper physical training as a necessary part of the education of girls. As wives and mothers our girls are to ae, in Addison’s phrase, “the cement of society.” Without their purity and grace, and intelligence and good temper, society w r ould crumble to pieces. It will be their task to keep the world sweet and wholesome; to create, regulate, and maintain social intercourse of a grace- 'ul, profitable kind; to make life worth iving. It will be theirs to make homes with the material means which men 'urnish; to turn mere dwelling-houses nto centres of attractive domestic life. Upon them chiefly will fall the duty of ornamenting life, cultivating the world’s taste, keeping its moral nature alive, and inspiring the men of their genera tion with high and worthy conceptions of purity and duty. It will be theirs to entertain the world, too, and to amuse it in profitable ways; to minister in all womanliness to its moral, physical, and intellectual health and OHRfort. Women only can create that swlet and whole some atmosphere in whkfi domestic life springs into existence and grows. Above next generation of men and women, and upon their fitness to discharge this task well, the character of the future men and women of America depends. Undmr A Land Roller. Origin of the Names in the Week. In the Museum at Berlin, in the hall devoted to Northern antiquities, they have the representation from the idols ixorn which the names of the days of our week are derived. From the idol of the Sun comes Sun day. This idol is represented with his face like the sun, holding a burning wheel, with both hands on his breast, signifying his course round the world The idol of the Moon, from which comes Monday, is habited in a short coat, like a man, but holding the mooft m his hands. Tuisco, from which comes Tuesday, was one of the most ancient and popular gods of the Germans, and represented in lis garments of skins, according to their peculiar manner of clothing; the third day of the week was dedicated to his worship. Woden, .from which comes Wednes day, was a valiant prince among the Saxons. His image was prayed- to for victory. Thor, from whence comes Thursday, is seated in a bed, with twelve stars over his head, holding a scepter in his hand. Friya, from whence we have Friday, is represented writh a drawn sword in his right band, and a bow in his left. Sseter, from which is Saturday, has the appearance of perfect wretchedness; he is thin-visaged, long-haired, with a long beard. He carries a water-pail in his right hand, wherein are fruits and flowers. A Brokan 1’romHe. Among the passengers in a parlor car on the Lake Shore Road the other day was a handsome woman, whose husband shared the seat with her and who would have been picked out as a quiet, sedate, absent-minded man. The seat opposite was occupied by a flashily- dressed young man, with a lady-killing twist to his mustache, and he was con siderably surprised when the husbanl handed him a daily .paper, with the re mark: ‘ Have a glance at the news; Plenty of excitement around the country, I observe.” The young man was busy with the paper for half an hour, and then the husband offered him a popular maga zine. This entertained him for an hour, and he had scarcely closed the book when the good man reached over with: “Have a cigar. These are prime Havanas, and I know you will enjoy one.” The young man accepted with thanks, and naturally made his way to the smoking-car, where he put in nearly another hour, but without the other’s company. Wiien he returned he was greeted with: “Perhaps you’d like to look at the latest novel? Very entertaining, I as sure you.” He read until weary, and upon being offered another cigar replied that he was to leave the train at the next sta tion, and added: “I want to thank you again for your many courtesies.” “Oh, don’t mention it. . “You nevei saw me before?” “Never.” “Ddu’t know my name?” “No.” “Then tell me why you were so very courteous to an entire stranger.” Dm and Abuse of Bathing. A warm bath, with liberal use of Cas tile soap, is best for cleanliness, and night the best time. Twice a week is often enough. Too frequent warm baths debilitate the system. A cool sponge or wet cloth bath should be taken daily for its tonic effect, and always in a warm room. If strong and vigorous the best time is the morning; if not strong, the cold baths had better be omitted and the tepid substituted. After exercise, if greatly fatigued, take no bath, but rub down vigorously with a dry towel. If thoroughly warmed up but not tired, take a tepid sponge bath standing. Nevef take a tub bath, except when bathing for cleanliness. A warm shower bath followed by a cool sprinkling is preferable to a cold bath after exercise. Vigorous exercise renders Turkish baths wholly unnecessary; those should be re served for medical cases. Skin disorders are frequently caused by excessive bath ing and the use of too much soap. Al though general rules for bathing could be given, every man must be guided by his own physical condition and his oc cupation. “Young man, I will explain. In times past when a loafer sat and stared at my wife as a steady job 1 got up at the end of an hour and broke his neck. This made me much trouble and ex pense, and I changed my programme. I now carry books and cigars to bribe them. Had you been going a hundred miles further I should have offered you a drink of brandy, a new puzzle, two more dailies and another cigar, and my wife would have secured quite rest.” “Sir! I ” “Oh, it’s all right—all right! It was cheaper than throwing you out of the window, and I hope you’ll get up to the hotel safely. Good day, sir—good day—glad to have met you!” And that young man with the 1 ady killing mustache and crockery-coi ore* eyes and hair parted on an even kee picked up his grip and walked out with out being certain whether he had been mashed in a collision or pulveri zed under a land-roller. Pictures at bigM.—hi the recent Photographic Exiubition m London, there was exhibited a new form of lamp for taking portraits at night. Every body knows shat a wonderful light can be obtained by burning a few Inches magnesium wire. In this lamp the same medium is employed, but instead being consumed in the ordinary way, it is burnt in an atmosphere of pure oxy gen. The light given is sufficiently in tense to allow of a p: n ture being taken in a fraction of a second. “Willie,” said Mrs. Malkittle to her son, “I am going down town to do some shopping, and 1 want you to behave yourself while I’m gone. Don’t bring any more of that old hoop-iron into the house. I'm tired of picking up your trash; and, say! if you put any more rusty nails in the bureau drawer, I’ll whip you. Yon ruined one of your father’s shirts, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” “Let me go with yon, please.” “Will you be a good boy?” “Yes; I’ll be so good you’ll always want me to go with you.” ' “I’m almost afraid to take you,” she said, lingering for a moment in that hesitation in which a woman so perfectly acts the chfiracter of the weaker sex. “Come on, then.” The boy lost no time in getting ready. Under severe restraint he walked along the street Occasionally he .would ex hibit a disposition to loiter and investi gate, but a word from his mother would bring him back to her side. Once he stopped where a man was sprinkling a flower-bed, and had asked a question, when his mother plucked him by the sleeve and hurried him along. Mrs, Malkittle reminded him of his promise as they entered a dry goods store, and declared in an undertone that if he opened his mouth she would take him home and lock him up, and not give him anytning to eat. “I’d starve, then, wouldn’t I?” “Hush, now! Don’t you open your mouth. “Most I breathe through my nose?” “Hush!” she said, as a polite clerk advanced. She wanted to look at some cloth. The clerk would be pleased to wait on her. He handed down a bolt of goods. “What is that made oaten?” the boy asked. “Wool; all wool.” “Is it a yard wide?” “Yes, just about.” “Then it’s bad, ain’t it?” “Why, my little fellow?” “’Cause its a yard wide and all wool,” “Hush!” said his mother pinching him. “Ouch! Quit that!” After a few moments Mrs. Mulkittle went over to another department, where she was met by a smiling old oachelor on whose head there was not enough hair to spoil a plate of soup. Just then, young widow to whom, as report said, the old fellow was very devoted, and several young ladies came forward. The bachelor blushed, and turned on a pivot of politeness from first one customer to the other. - , with you we see a bald-headed man, don’t we?” “Hush! What did you promise me?” “But I didn’t know we’d see a bald- headed man,” and he looked at the an noyed man with an interest he always felt when confronted by such a curiosity —an interest inexplicable, and one which nothing could keep from crop ping out. The girls giggled and nudged” the widow. “How long have you been bald, mister?” “This is worth twenty-five a yard,” said the bachelor, pretending not to lave heard the boy’s question. “I say how long have—” “And* this, which I think is a much better quality, is worth thirty.” “How long have you been bald—” “Ten years—I mean ten yards of this only is left.” “Wasn’t you bald before that?” “No.” he said, giving the boy a glance which plainly said, “how I’d like to box your ears.” Mrs. Mulkittle had >aid no attention to the boy’s imperti nent questions, for if there is anything in the world that can relieve a woman’s mind of family affairs, it is dry goods. When she had so readily corrected the child, when she met the first clerk, she was purchasing something for her hus band . Now she was selecting dry goods I or herself. “Yes, you was bald before then,” the ioy persisted. “No, I wasn’t. Yes, 1 think this will make up well.” “Yes, you was. You was bald when you was a baby, I bet you.” The girls giggled hnd “nudged” the widow again. “How long does it take get bald?” •‘I don’t know.” “How do you make that hair on the lack of your head come around and curl on top?” “I don’t know.” “Yes you do know. I s your head soft on-top like a baby’s? ’ “Hush!” screamed Mrs. Mulkittle realizing the situation of affairs, and reaching around she pinched the young ster: “Ouch! Quit that now.” “What makes you talk that way, say?” and she shook him. After a fsw moments, and when Mrs. Mnlkitttle had again become absorbed in the array of goods on the counter, the boy asked: “If boys would laugh at you, would you sick she bears on ’em?” “No.” “You haven’t got any she bears have you?” “No,” and he lifted down another bolt of goods. “If anybody was to slap you on the head it would go 'cospank,’ wouldn’t it?” “Madam!” exclaimed the man. strik ing the counter with the yard-stick, “its no trouble to show goods, and I would like very much to have your trade, but I’ll have to request you to take that rapscallion out of here, Take him out and nail him to a tree and then come back and do your trading. No, I won’t sell you anything. Never mind which one you select, take him away. Go now, before 1 lose all control of my self.’’ The poor woman seized the boy and hurried out. As she passed through the door, the boy asked: “What’s a rapscallion?” Squid and Squid Jigging. One of the greatest curiosities among the inhabitants of the deep is the squid, just now the orthodox bait for killing the codfish. The squid ,8 a smaller edi tion of the huge devil-fish, or octopus, wonderful specimens of which have ol late years been found on the Newfound land coast. The squid, take him con cretely, is a revolting-looking creature. Cut a section, say ten inches long, from a common eel, transform its flesh into a tough jelly, give it a cruciform tail at one end and eight short sucker-armed feelers at the other; conceive the suck ers, each armed with a circle of small teeth, and the feelers converging to a cruel hawk-like beak—then we shall have a weak likeness of the squid. The creature’s mode of progression is origin al. It has within its body an elastic suc tion tube holding almost a pint of water. Filling the tube by drawing water through holes in its mantle, the squid, by a sudden squirt, drives itself back ward as fast as a fish can swim, and by inverting its tube can move with equal velocity in the opposite direction. Jig- „ _ The lightest runniog King for these sauids is arare snectaclo machine I have ever treadled. Brother James and TI,r ‘HWfir» TTrS Please.! with their The “jigger” is a red stick pf wood circled with sharp but barbless hooks. The hook is let down, the squid, which enters these bays here by myriads for food, is attracted by the red color, clasps it* arms over the hooks, and is drawn up to its death. But as it reaches the surface the npvice must be on guard, for the squid shoots straight at its captor his charge of water, followed by anoth er squirt of on inky fluid, which on light garments is almost indelible. The fish ermen know the creature’s trick, and by a skillful movement induce the squid to deliver his charges upon one side, then by a quick inversion of the hook drop the squid in the boat. A squid fishing fleet of boats, closely grouped, so as to keep the schools of young octo- pi collected, is an animated sight. Each man tends three or four lines, and has all he can do when squid are around. The bustle of the fishers, the thumping of the squid in the boats, aud the inces sant squirts of water to a height of sev eral feet in all directions through the fleet, make up a most picturesque sea spectacle. The flesh of the squid has some poisonous quality that makes even the tough skins of the fishermen sore by long handling. On the codfish hook its flesh grows white and tough, making very alluring bait. Ruiikln on Courtship. When a youth is fully in love with a . a n d.is^s«t4akbwa imj’blsfiiiyT and take his chance bravely with other suitors. No lover should have the in solence to think of being accepted at once, nor should any girl have the cruelty to refuse at once without severe seasons. If she simply doesn’t like him she may send him away for seven years or so—he vowing to live'on cresses and wear sack cloth meanwhile, or the like penance; if she likes him a little, or thinks she might come to like him in time, she may let him stay near her, putting him always on sharp trial to see what stuff he is made of, and requiring, figuratively, as many lion skins or giants’ heads as she thinks herself worth. The whole mean ing and power of true courtship is pro bation, and it ought not to be shorter than three years at least; seven is to my mind the orthodox time. And these re lations between the young people should be openly and simply known, not to their friends only, but to everybody who has the least interest in them; and a girl worth anything ought always to have half a dozen or so suitors under love for her. There are no w r ords strong enough to express the general danger and degrada tion of the manners of mob-courtship, as distinct from those which have become the fashion—almost the law—in modem times: when, in a miserable confusion of candlelight, moonlight and limelight —and anything but daylight—in in decently attractive and insanely expen sive dresses, In snatched moments, in hidden comers, in accidental impulses and dismal ignorances, young people smirk and ogle and whisper and whim per and sneak and stumble and flutter and fumble and blunder into what they call love—expect to get whatever they like the moment they fancy it and are contindally in the danger of losing all the honor of life for a folly and all the joy of it by an accident. There is no religion without worship, and there is no worship without a Sab bath. VERDICT -OF— THE PEOPLE. BUY THE BEST! Mr. J. O. Boao—Dear Sir: I bought the first Davis Machine sold by you over five years ago (or my wife, who has given it a long aud fair trial. I am well pleased with it. It never gives any rouble, and is as good as when first bought. J. W. BOLtCX. Winnsboro, S. C., Aprli 1883. Mr. Boao: Tou wish to know what I have to lay in regard to tbe Davis Machine bought of you three years ago. I feel 1 can’t say too much lu its favor. I made about $80,ft0 within five months, at times running it so fast that the needle wonid get per fectly hot from friction. I feel confldenl 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. Davis Machines bought ot you. I want no better machine. As I said before, I don’t think too mneb can be said for the Davis Machine. Respectfully, Ellen stkvenson, Fairfield County, April, 1883. Mr. Boao : My machine gives me perfect satis-; faction. I find no fault with it. The attachments are so simple, i wish for no better than the Davis Vertical Feed. Respectfully. „ Mrs. R. Milling. Fairfield county, Aprl', 1883. MR- Boao : 1 bought a Davis vertical Feed Sewing Machine from you four years ago. I am delighted with It. ft never has given me any trouble, and has never been the least out of order. It is as good as when I first bought it. I can cheerfully recommend it. ' Respectfully, Mrs, M. J. Kirkland. Montlcelio, April 30, 1883. This is to certify that I have been using a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for over tw .years, purchased of Mr. J. O. Hoag. I haven’t found it possessed of any fault—all the attachments are so simple. It never refuses to work, and is certainly the lightest running in the market. I consider it a first-class machine. Very respectfully. Minnie M. Willingham. Oakland, Fairfield county, 8. C. Mr Boao : i am wen pleased in every particuta with the Davis Machine nought of you. I think i a first-class maciiine in every respect. You knew you sold several machines of the same make to different members of our families, all of whom, as far as I know, are well pleased with them. Respectfully, . MRS. M~ t? M.IPI py This Isto certify we have had m constant us» the Davis Machine bought ot you about three years ago. As we take in work, and have made the price of it several times over, wa don’t want any better machine. It is always ready to do any kind of work we have to do. No puckering or skipping stitches. We can only ssy we are well pleased and wish no better machine, CATHERINE WVLIB AND SISTER. April 25,1883,, I have no fault to find with ray machine, and don’t want any tietter. I have made the price 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. Mr. J. O. Boao—Dear Sir: It gives me much pleasure to testify to the merits of the Davis Ver tical Feed Sewing Machine. The iqachine I got of you about five years ago. has beeu almost lu con stant use ever since that time. I cannot see that it is worn any, aud has not cost me one cent for repairs since we have had it Am well pleased and don’t wish for any better. Yours tra'y, Host. Crawford, Granite Quarry, near Winnsboro 3. C. We have used the Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for the last five years. We would not have any other make at any price. The machine has given us unboundeu satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mrs. W. K. Turner and Daughters^ Fairfield county, S. C„ Jan. 27,1883. Having bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine from Mr. J. O. Boag some three years ago, and It having given me perfect satisfaction In every resjiect as a lamily machine both for heary and light stfwine', aud never needed the least re pair lu any way, I can cheerfully recommend it to aay one as a first-class machine in every particu lar, and think it second to none. It is one ot the simplest 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 I hare ever seen or used. Mrs. Thomas Owinos. Winnsboro, Fairfield county, S. C. Reeogntied as a Liar. Uncle Hank Allen was perhaps the smoothest and most accomplished liar in Central New York. Why, the old man’s lies were so smooth, so artistic, that, while listening to them, you im agined you were listening to Elder Cleveland’s Bible stories. One day they were all talking about potato-bugs in Uncle Hank’s grocery, which was a sort of village farmers’ club. Old Hank scratched his head thoughtfully and remarked: “Gentlemen, you don’t any of you appear to know anything about the ra venous nature of them potater-bugs. You may call me a liar, but I’ve had potater-bugs walk right into my kitchen and yank red-hot potaters right out of the oven. Waiting around the potater patch for the second crop 1” exclaimed Old Hank with a sneer. “Waiting? Why, confound your eyes, I was up at Townsend’s store yesterday, and I saw pqtater-bugs up there looking over Townsend’s books to see who had bought seed potaters for next year. I did, by gosh!” The whole grocery was still when Uncle Hank finished. You could have heard a pin drop. Finally a long, lean man from Woodman’s Pond raised him self up near the door. He was evi dently a new-comer, and was not ac quainted with Mr. Allen. Pointing his long finger at Uncle Hank he ex claimed: “You are a liar!” Uncle Hank looked over his glasses at' the stranger long and earnestly. Then holding out his hand he inquired with a puzzled look: “When did you get acquainted with me?” We have had one of tbe Davis Machines about four years and have always found it ready to do all kinds of wont we have hail occasion to do. Can’t see that the machine is worn any, and works as well as wnen new. Mrs. W. J. Crawford, Jackson’s Crees, Fairfield county, 8. C. My wife is highly pleased with the Davis Ma chine bought of you. She would not take double what sue gave for it. The machine has oot been ont of order since she had it, and she can do any kind of work on it. Very Respectfullv, Jab. F. Free. Montlcelio, Fairfield county, S. C. The Davis Sewing Machine is slmplv 8 treas ure Mrs. J. A. Goodwtn. Ridgeway, N. C., Jan. 10, ls83. J.O Boao, Esq., Agent—Dear Sir: My wife has been using a Dcvis Sewing Machine constant ly for the past four years, and it has never needed any repairs an i workc just as well as when first bought She says It wd: do a greater range of practical work »nd do it easier and befer than any machine she has ever used. We cheerfully recommend it as a No. 1 family machine. Your troj, • Jab. Q. Davis. Winnsboro, S. C., Jan. 3, 1883. Ms. Boao : I have always found ray Davis Ma chine ready do alt kinds of to work I have had oc casion to do. I cannot see that the machine is worn a panicle and it works as wed as when new. Respectfully, Mbs. R. C. Uoodino. Winnsboro, 8. C., April, 1883, Mr. Boao : My wife has been constantly using the Davis Machine bought of yon about five years ago. I have never regretted buying it, as it ta always ready for any kind of family rowing, either heavy or light. It is never out of fix or uecduig repairs. Very respectfully, Fairfield, 8. C., March, 1888, til - j ■: o _ Mb t