Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

u wiiaii'iwiMir- - vmWia'i i mini iiiiii- in 11 immtmm tmtmit TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNS150R0. S. 0.. SEPTEMBER 4. 1883 ESTABLISHED 1848 THE VERDICT —OF— THE PEOPLE. BUY THE BEST! Ms. J. O. B3AO -Doar Sir: I iKiug.it tlie flrat UaviH Machlue sold by you over flve years ago for my wife, wbo basglvea.it a long aud fair trial. I am well pleased wita it. It never gives any rouble, aud is as good as when first txiugbt. J. W. tfOLICE. Wlunsboro, S. C„ AprU 1883. Mr. Boas: Ton wish to know what I have to day In regard to the Davis Machine bought of you three years ago. I feel 1 can’t say too much In its favor. I made about 180,00 within live mouths, at times running it so fast that the needle would get per fectly ho: 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 1 have ever treadled. Brother James and Williams’ families are as much pleased with their Davia Machines bought or you. I want no better machine. As I said before, I don’t think too much can be said for the Davis Machine. Kespectfully, Ellin stkvknson, Kairfl“ld County, Apr!', 1888. Mh. Boag : My mtchlne gives me perfect satls< faction. I find no fault with it. The attachments are so simple, i wish for no better than the Davis Vertical Feed. Kespectfully. Mas. R. Milling. Fairfield county, April, 1888. Mb. Boag: I bought a Davis Vertical Feed e wing Machine from you four years ago. I am slighted with it. It never das given me'any rouble, and has never been the least out of order. It*I* as good as when I first bought it. I can cheerfully recommend it. Respectfully, Mbs. M. J. Kirkland. MonMcello, 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. Uoag. I haven’t found it p issessed of any fanlt—all the attachments are so simple. It neverrefuses to work, and is certainly ths lightest running in the m trket. I consider it a first class machine. Very respectfully, Minnib M. Wii.linuban. Otklanl, Fairfield county, S. C. Mb Boag : t am wen pieaseu m every p irucui with the Davis Machine nought of you. I thiuk a first-class maculae la every respect. You kuew 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, Mbs. M. H. Mobley. Fairfield county, April, 1383. This Is to certify we have had in constant tus the Davis Machine bought at yoaabout three years ago. As we take in work, and have made the price of it several times over, we don’t want aay better machine. It Is always ready to do any kind of work we nave to do. No puckering or skipping stitches. We can only say we are well pleased and wish no better machine, CATBBB1NE WVLIE AND SISTER. April 96, 1888, - 1 have no fault to find with my michns, and don’t want any itetter. I have made the price of it severa 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 Divis Vertical Feed Machine. Mrs. ThcUas Smith. Fairfield county, April, 1883. Mr. J. O. Boag—D ar Sir: It gives me m tch pleasure to testify to the merits of the Davis Ver tical Feed Sewing Machine. The ma nine I got of yon about five years ago. baa been almost iu con stant 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 sad don’t wish for sny better. Yonrs trn'y, kobt. Criwkoro, uranlte Quarry, near Winnsboro S. C. We have used the Davis Vertical Feel Sewing Machine for the last five years. We would not have sny other make at any price. The machine has given us unbounded satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mrs. W. K. Turner and DAUGHTKKSj Fairfield county, S. C., Jan. 91.1888. Uavmg bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine from Mr. J. O. Uiag some three years ago, and It having given me perfect satisfaction In •very resi>ect as a family machine both for he.i y and light sewing, aud never needed the least re- Patt In any way, I can cneerfnlly recommend it to aay one as a first-class uiacbln ■ in every particu lar, and think It second to none. It is one ot the simplest machines made; my children use It with all east. The attachments are more easily ad justed and it doe i a greater range of work by means of its Vertical Feed than any other ma chine I have ever seen or used. Mrs. Thomas owings. Winnsboro, Fairfield county, S. C. We have had one of the DavU Machines about fonr years and have always found it ready to do ail kinds of work we have had occasion to da Can’t se« that the machine Is worn any, and works as well as when new. Mbs. W. J. Crawford, Jackson’s Creek, Fairfield county, 8. C. My wife Is highly pleased with the Davis Ma chine bought of yon. She would not take double wnat sne gave for It. The machine has not been ont of order since she had It, and she can do any kind of work on It. Very Respectfully, Jas F ETher Montlcello, Fairfield county, 8. C. The Davis Sewing Machine U cimplv s treas ure Mbs. J. A. GOODWYN. Ridgeway, N. C„ Jan. 10, 1883. J, O Boag, Esq., Ag*nt—Dear Sir: My wife has oeen using* Davis Sewing Machine constant ly for the past four years, and it has never needed any repairs an i works just as well as when first •ought. She say* It will do s greater range of practical work »nd do it easier and better than any machine she has ever used. We cheerfully recommend It as a No. 1 family machine, You true, Jab. Q, Davis. Winnsboro, S. C„ Jan. 3, 1883. Mr. Boag : I have always round my Davis Ma chine ready do all kinds of to work I havs had ou* •aslontodo. I cannot see that the machine Ir worn a particle and It works as wed as when new. Respectfully, Mbs. R. C. Gooding. Winnsboro, 8. C., April, 1883, Mr. Boag : My wife has been constantly using the Davis Machine bought of yon about hvs years ago. I have never regretted buying it, as it ts always ready for any kind of family sewing, either heavy or light. It la never ont of fix or needing repairs. Very respectfully, A. w. Ladd. ralrtsid, 8* U, March, JIM. TnK ETERNAL GOODNESS. I know not what* the future hath, Of marvel or surprise, Assured alone that life and death His mercy underlies. No offering of my own I have, Nor works by fai’h to prove, I can but give the gifts He gave, Aud plead His love for love. And so beside the silent sea I wait the mu filed oar; No harm from Him can come to me O. ocean or on shore. I kr ow not where Hh islands lift ThJr fronded palms iu air; I only k.i'iw I cannot drift Beyond His love and care. TUETORm GLOVE. It was almost 11 o’clock as I left my friend Alport’s law office aud hurried up town. I had delayed longer than I knew, interested deeply in his account of an intneate will case, in which lie was just at that time engaged. As I now remember, a property of some two millions, held by a residuary legatee, had suddenly been claimed by one who announced himself as the direct heir and devisee, a nephew of the testator, who had not been heard from for seve ral years. Alport deemed the fellow an im poster, and although his story had been well told, and his plan of action well laid throughout, my friend thought he had secured proofs of its falsity. In fact, he had a bundle of papers con taining the positive proof that Neil Harcourt was not Neil Harcourt, nephew of old Duncan Harcourt, tes tator; and it was his explanation of this case that had rendered me so late on my up town journey. As I hurried onward, mechanically my hand sought my pocket for a cigar, and finding none—a most unusual condition or tilings—I glanced about for some place where I could purchase some. Just down a side street a light struck my eye, and moving toward it, I found a small but neat cigar store, waited upon by a girl. I entered, threw down my money, and called for cigars. The waitress, or shop girl, was evidently on the poiut of closing, for one light was already out, and she wore her hat and shawl; more than that, as she placed a handful of regalias before me, I noticed that she had also drawn on her gloves, and that one, that upon her left hand, had been partly torn across the palm, and neatly mended by the insertion of another piece of kid. This trifling incident would doubt less have escaped me, had it not been that the glove was a pale orange in color, whereas the inserted kid was black. I selected my cigars, lit one and walked out. An hour later 1 was at home and in bed. The next morning after, 1 read at my breakfast table that Lawyer Alport had been murdered the night before. To say that I was shocked would he but feebly to express my horror. Al port was a warm personal friend, my attorney, and a man without stain. His death in the most natural way would have been a sad loss to me; to hear of his eud by murder simuly para lyzed me. Leaving the table as soon as I could collect luy thoughts sufficiently to do so, I at once threw on hat aud overcoat and hurried down town. My friend’s office was in Blank street, a little off from the main cur rent of travel; but this morning I found a number of persons gathered about it—neighbors, storekeepers and brother lawyers—passing whom I con fronted an officer standing guard at the office door. He would have stayed my entrance, hut as I handed him my card his face changed. “Major Minton, of the detectives?” lie said, inquiringly. I bowed. The man at once opened the door. “You’ll find Captain Boss and an other gentleman inside. 1 presume they’ll be glad to see you.” I entered. As the policeman had said, I found two detectives—men whom I knew— within. Tifeir story was soon mine. It seemed that Alport had been in his office late; that a lady had called in the evening and remained an hour or more; that after she had left, his light continued to burn a long time—until morning probably—aud that it was not until some important client opened the unlocked door, at about t) a. m., that the death of the attorney was known. He lay dead in his office chair, when found, a thin, foreign looking knife sticking in his heart. Evidently he had been struck unawares; there had been no struggle, but little blood, and no robbery that the officers could dis cover. Nor was there any clew remaining. Evidently the woman had killed him, though why was as yet unanswered. No one knew the woman. “But the reasoa—the motive?” said I. “Surely there must have been one. If we can find that, we may have a clue to the criminal. Without it everything is in the dark. ” “True,” replied Ross; “but the mo tive is just what puzzles us. It evi dently was not robbery, as his watch and money were on his person when found.” “Hold!” said I, with a sudden thought. “Might not he have been robbed of papers?” “Yes; but what ones? How do we know what documents he had?” A new idea had come to me. I began at once to search for the papers which Alport had read to me two days before—the proofs in tue Harcourt case. They were gone, but I found in their stead, lying among letters and legal litter in his waste basket, a torn glove, bloody, and mended across the palm with a bit of black kid. 1 drew it out with a shout. “He was robbed of some important papers that he showed to me only night before last,” said 1, excitedly, “and the person who killed him wore this glove!” “A clue!” cried Captain Ross, as he reached for it. “No, no, my friend!” said I. “This is my case now. Alport was my attor ney; and, now that I have one end of the thread iu this case, I propose to follow it out. The honor shall be yours, but the revenge must he mine. Leave the matter with me three days. At tiie end of that time I’ll either give you the criminal or turn you over all my proofs and give it up.” Ross at once agreed to this plan, and my friend’s body having been removed, aud a Coroner’s jury having rendered a decision of “death by the hands of some party or parties unknown.” the case was for three days in my sole care. I naturally felt certain that I had the right clue—the missing papers and the torn glove—but I kuew my business sufficitntly well to understand that, I could neither walk into the cigar store where my supposed murderess was and arrest her. nor was it at all likely that 1 could bluff or frighten her into con fession. Moreover, I wished to know first why she would have cared for these missing papers. That afternoon I strolled to the cigar store. An elderly German was behind the counter. In the eveeing I tried it again.' No girl was to be seen. I determined to learn something of her. I entered and bought some cigars. “Keep the store aloue?” said I, casu ally, as I lit my cigar. “Yaw.” “Trade good?” “Yaw.” “You ought to have a pretty girl to help you catcli the young fellows’ trade.” “Yaw.” I turned and walked away. Nothing to he made there. i watched the store until it closed, and half the next day. Then 1 was re warded. At about noon a girl entered, laid aside her hat aud cloak and took her place behind the counter, while the man went away. When he was well out ol sight I dropped iu and did a little tradimr. It was the same girl, a little nervous, I told myself. 1 watched her until the store closed ; then followed her as she hurried home ward. She lived two miles away, near the river shore, in a small, old tene ment house. She climbed to a room near the roof. I followed all the way, stumbling in the uneven halls, but looked upon, doubtless, as a new tenant a little off. The girl entered the room locked the door, and then 1 heard the voice of two talking. Evidently she was conversing with a man. I made friends with a half boozy bachelor on the floor below, and found from him that the girl was an old leuaitt, but that a man had recently arrived who occupied a room uext to her, aud was called her brother. I waited all night just across the street from the tenement house. Eaxly in the dusky dawn I saw a man steal out. I followed him. He went straight iuto the country, walking fast, and covering nearly five miles before suu-up. I followed all the way, not near enough to cause suspi cion, but near enough to watch. At last the fellow turned iuto a piece of woods. I hastened, and just as I eutered the grove I saw him not far away, bending over a little fire. As he heard me coming he looked up hastily, hesitated a moment, then turned and ran. At first I was impelled to fol low’, then something at the fire caught my eye, and I paused. Papers w'ere burning. Quickly seizing the bundle- tor such it proved to be—I managed to extinguish it, while still a considerable portion remained unconsumed. I open ed it. There were all the papers and proofs in the Harcourt will case—the identical papers stolen from Alport on the night of this murder. My heart hounded. It was the third day, hut the scent was very warm now. I returned to tue city with all haste, hut by another road, and at noon was at the cigar store. The girl appeared and the German disappeared. Supplied with the tom and bloody glove, I awaited my chance, and when the store was empty I entered. Hav ing first purchased a cigar, I came close to the girl aud said in a low tone : “Is this your glove? I saw you wearing it a few nights ago,” at the same time presenting to her the kid, stained as it was. The girl turned fairly livid, gasjied a little, then whispered: “Where did you get it?” “In the same office wheie those papers were stolen and Lawyer Alport was muidered, three nights agol” I said. The poor thing uttered a single moan, and would have sunk to the floor if I had not caught her. A glass of water stood upon a shelf. I threw part of it into her face. Slowly she opened her eyes. “Who are you?” she whispered hoarsely. I opened my coat and showed a star. She uttered a low shriek. “A detective! He is lost—lostl” “My good girl,” said I, “it is best for you, and him, too, to tell me the whole truth. Shut the shop and come with me.” She obeyed me unhesitatingly, and I led her to my own office? There, in the presence of a brother officer, she told me the whole story. She was the wife—sad fate 1—of a gambler who had sought to personate the lost heir of the Harcourt estate. So well had he succeeded that when Alport began to make trouble for him he determined to get rid of Alport and his proof at one blow. Dressed in his wife’s clothes he had visited Alport’s office and killed him, then stolen the desired papers. The torn glove he had doubtless found in the pocket of his wife’s dress, and used to wipe some slight stain up from his hands, and then carefully dropped it in the waste basket. The papers he had taken home, ant 1 afterwards carried away to destroy. He passed as his wife’s brother where they lived. She had known of the murder after it was com mitted but not before. “Why did you not tell when you saw what this man had doneT’* said I, I sternly. “Why did you seek to help him conceal his crime?"’ She looked at me a moment with wide open eyes; then a great fear over spread her face. “Gentlemen, I did not dare to. He threatened to kill me if 1 even spoke to him of it.” Three hours later Leonardi Giotti, the husband was in our hands. A full- blooded Italian, with an English wife; a desperado, if ever there was one; a coward, hut a revengeful dog! As we led him away from the exami nation, where he refused to answer a single question, and his wife had told her story again as she told it to me, lie asked leave to speak a word to the woman. It was granted turd he drew near to her. But evtt,*® ne spoke, he suddenly raised bb», > fa‘bjacled hands and otrucK her such a blow on the head that the poor thing sunk to the ground without a moan, blood stream ing from her face, while the miserable brute turned away with a sneer. “She’ll not blab on me again!” Indeed she did not! He was found guilty pf murder, and hung within three months, and his jioor wife died within the year, from the effects of his cruel blow. Dolly Fayne. Who was Dolly Payne, the wife of James Madison, President of the Uni ted States and a gallant soldier of the Revolution? A Quaker girl, around whom clusters all that was romantic and poetic in Madison’s life, except his tender devotion to his mother. lie fell in love with her while he was in Phila delphia attending the sessions of Con gress as a Representative from Virginia. She was born in North Carolina, but when quite young her parents removed to Philadelphia and joined the Society of Friends. When Madison first met her she was Mrs. Dorothy Payne Todd, the widow of John Todd. Still she was only twenty-three years old, and as pretty in features as charming in con versation. His suit was successful, which is not to he wondered at, for he was a man of wealth aud with a wide reputation. With her he retired to his country seat to enjoy her society, the company of his friends, and the com forts of home. Seven happy years were spent ai Montpelier, and then in 1801, Madison was appointed Secretary of State and removed with his beautiful wife to Philadelphia. Afterwards, when Madison became President, she shared the White House with him. It is said of her that she presidtd with more brilliancy over the Executive Mansion than any other woman before or since. Her beauty, iter charming manners, her quiet refinement, and her dignity ai.d uruoo lent a clliuui imlcTurvvn to the White House entertainments. And she was as brave as she was beautiful. During the exciting days of the war of 1812 she showed such devo tion and bravery that she was uo longer simply a queen of the drawing-room, hut a heroine among heroines. The 24th of August, 1814, witnessed the en try of the British iuto the Capital, after defeating our army at Bladeushurg. On the day previous, Mrs. Madison wrote thus to her sister at Mt. Vonion: “ My husband left me yesterday to join General Winder. He inquired anxious ly whether 1 had courage or firmness to remain in the President’s house until his return on the morrow or succeeding day, and on my assurauce tkat 1 had no fear hut for him and the success of our army, lie left me, beseeching me to take care of myself aud of the Cabinet papers public and private. I have since received two dispatches from him writ ten witii a pencil; the last is alarming, because he desires that I should he ready at a moment’s warning to enter my carriage and leave the city. I am determined not to go myself until I see Mr. Madison safe and he can accompa ny me, as I fear much hostility to wards him.” Ou the following after noon she adds a postscript:—“ Will you believe it, my sister, we have had a bat tle or a skirmish near Bladeushurg, and I am here within sound of the cannon! Mr. Madison comes not; may God pro tect him! Two messengers covered with dust come to hid me fly, but I wait for him.” At last she consents to depart, but even then delays, at the risk of capture, to order the demolition of the heavy gilt frame around Stuart’s portrait of Ueueral Washington, so that the valued picture may be taken out and carried to a place of security. Dolly Payne is a demure little Quaker girl no longer, hut a brave woman of whom the whole nation may well be proud. It is a pleas ing incident of her husband’s love that in after years, when writing his will, he always mentioned her as “my dear wife.” With all her beauty and with all her bravery Dolly Madison had her share of trouble. John Payne Todd, son by the first husband, was a wild, profligate fellow, who inherited none of the good qualities of his mother. He was the scapegrace of the family. When Madison sold his manuscripts and pa pers to Congress for $29,000, young Todd managed to get most of the mo ney from him. Afterwards when Mad ison made his will, he left land and oth er property to ail his relatives, but to John Payne Todd he gave only the med als presented to him by his friend Geo. W. Erving, and the walking staff made from the timber of the frigate Consti tution and presented to him by Commo dore Elliott, then her commander. So, young Todd, figuratively speaking, was cut off with a shilling. Dolly Payne, as she is commonly called, resided in Washington during the last years of her life. In her old age she was bap tized aud became a member of St. John's Church, iu Philadelphia. —The Chief of the; Bureau of Statis tics reports that the total values ot the exports of domestic breadstuffs from the United States during the month of June was $11,545,93(5. For the six mouths ending June 30th, 188 3, the to tal value was $85,148,935, an d for the six months ending June 30th, 1882 the value was $(54,85(5,930. —Albany’s brick-making industry has reached a production of 1,000,000 bricks a week. A Traiuii I’ainter'u I’erll. “It was two Summers ago. L was painting the Southern Pacific for a Baltimore drug house, and had pretty well plastered the rocks and the fences along that line with liver pills, electric pads, etc. Of course, I would make big jumps now and then, when I thought the scenery was too tame to he painting, or I never would have got to the end of the road. “I branched off at Benson, in Ari zona, and took a run up the San Pedro river as far as Tombstone, meaning to lay the paint on that town pretty thick, because its name makes it sort of conspicuous, you Know, and I thought the buss would like it. “But the first pot of paint was the last. I started in about 10 O’clock one morning to decorate a little shanty that was not fit to keep a billy goat in. It was made of about three dozen rough planks nailed to four posts, with a lot of three branches as a roof. “I swung black paint all over one side pretty lively as a ground work for the white lettering; hut I no sooner started in wit li the white, when a big fellow slouched across to where 1 was and says he: “That’s mighty pretty. Paint the other side now.’ “Waif till I get done this side, will you, my friend? says I, making the outline of a big L, in white paint, 4 Just scratch that out, If you please. My name don’t begin with an L.’ “He said that mighty soft; hut when I looked at him I had to look into the muzzle of a big seven-shooter navy. ‘‘I’ve had plenty of trouble with men who didn’t want their barns and fences painted up witii signs; but that fellow made more fuss over his little shanty than I ever saw before or since. lie said he was paying $40 a month rent for that place (I wouldn’t give him forty cents for the whole tiling), and lie made me paint all four sides, from top to bottom, with good black paint, while the whole town stood around and criticized the way I slung a brush. “They let me go, after I got that shanty painted; hut the sheriff of the town walked a piece with me, and told me I’d better get. He said the men could stand a little swearing, and a little shooting and a little gambling; but when it came to making sign-hoards of the houses, lie was afraid lawlessness was going too far, and he wouldn’t an swer for the consequences if I stayed iu town. “I was determined that I would not go out of that Tombstone district without leaving my mark,, any how. So I just bunked ou the hillside that night and in the morning I made a bee-line for the. Wlintutone Mmmtaina, which are In sight of the city; and after a little skirmishing around 1 found a canon with a precipice on one side of it as clean straight up and down as a knife. “When I looked over the edge I could see the witter in the little creek down below dancing and singing along through the bowlders. It wasn’t such a tarnation piece down there—only two or three hundred feet—hut it was a little furlh er than I cared to jump. “I had a coil of silk rojie among my tools, and after fastening one end to a cottonwood tree 1 swung the other end, witii a loop in it for a seat, over board, and climbed down hand under hand. “Wliat did I do with my paint bucket and brush? I put the brush iuto the bucket and carried the bucket han dle in my mouth. Oh, I assure you, this kind of tiling was common with me. The next time you go among the mountains, if you will examine the painted rocks pretty close, you will find that my way is really the only way to get at them. “Give me a good silk rope—silk be cause a very small silk rojie will carry a man, and a painter don’t want to lug a heavy rope around witii him— and I’ll paint your name on the steep est precipice that ever was. “When I’m sitting down my brush has got a seven-foot swing, and I set out to paint the words ‘Love’s Lung Loz enges’ in seven-foot letters. 1 didn’t care if it took me a week,, I wasn’t going to be bluffed by them Tomb- stoners. “Well, sir, 1 was brushing away and singing to myself like a mocking-bird, when a stone came down and lit fair in the paint-pot, splashing paint all over my sign, I looked up madder'n a hornet, and there I see two dirty Apache heads grinning at me. “I didn’t say anything; hut the sight of them took the life out of me so that I dropped my brush, and I could hear it hounding along from rock to rock un til finally it struck bottom. 1 swear it seemed to me ten minutes from the time that brush left my hand until it struck the ground. Every time it bounced from one rock to another I seemed to say to myself: “You’llstrike there, and there, and there.’ “I knew the Indians were Apaches the minute I saw their heads, and I knew, too, that the Apache is the blood-thirtiest animal on earth. “They grinned at me, with their heads stuck over the precipice, and then one of them swung out his right arm and began making passes at the taut rope with a butcher knife iu his hand. You won’t find them fellers carrying tomahawks any more; they carry guns and knives instead. “I watched the knife flying around up there, with its sharp edge always turned toward the rope, until it made me sick, and I looked down for relief. Below me there was nothing but a lit tle mesquit hush growing out of the precipice about half way down, aud under that bowlders. “Suddenly 1 thought of something, and whipping my whisky flask out of my breast pocket, I held it up toward them. They stopped grinning, the knife stopped wheeling around, and I saw in a minute, that they were two thirsty Indians, and that I had a chance yet. But, like a blamed fool, 1 was too sure, and aidn’t take enough care of the bottle, and the first thing I knew it slipped from my hand and smashed to flinders on the rocks below. “The Indians gave one howl and Passing Hat Island. then zip went the knife across the rope, f Wdl’toth.nily I .G-y* U P did not Y„u r Lu,; v 'ue'*X a, >s? Well, the end ot the rope managed to get wrapped around that hush in the fall, and it brought me up so sudden that the shock broke out four of my front teeth.” “But you were still one hundred feet above ground, and your rope only fifty feet long.” “To be sure, but every thing was plain sailing now. I just shinned up the rojie to the bush, got the rope out of snarl and unraveled so as to make two ropes, only half as thick each as the other was. See? The rope was plenty strong enough to bear me, thin as it was, and down I came like greased lightning, and then footed it back to Benson, where I bought a new ouofit and went ahead to ’Frisco.” Huriiiiig <>ir Humau Hair. IS in the the “regular sum- Tlie first step Hair Singeing 25 Cents,” somewhat novel sign displayed window of a South Broad street bar ber’s shop, Philadelphia. The interior of the shop is decorated with half a dozen more of the signs, and two knights of the razor and a colored boy fanned themselves and waited for customers. The reporter had just made known his errand when two youths of the variety popularly known as “ toughs ” entered, and one of them, notwithstanding the lavish display of signs, inquired if “ this here’s the place the feller wos wot burned yer hair off ? ” Being assured he had reached the right place, the youth inquired if it “hurt yer?” and when the bailier said it was a painless operation, seated himself in one of the chairs and told the barber to “ bring on yer blaze and do it upi in style-.” He added that he wanted a mer cut, short all over.” taken by the barber was to cut the youth’s hair in the regular way with the scissors, and this being finished, the act of singeing began. Taking a long wax taper, such as are used in any household, he lighted it from a gas burner, and with a comb lifted what remained of the young man’s hair into ridges, the tops of which lie deftly burned off by applying the blazing ta per. and a halo of smoke encircled Ins heap, and a faint odor of toasted wool floated about in the room and out into the sultry night. With great skill he soon had the entire top, back, and sides of the youth’s head completely singfed, that worthy in the meantime staring at the operation as reflected in the looking- glass, and momentarily exclaiming: Well, i’llbeblowed ! ” Hiscompanion was similarly impressed, aud made con stant remarks of a like nature. When Lho loutii’a neaa naa been sutncientiy toasted to suit the barber’s artistic eye, the taper was put out, and the cus tomer requested to step down to the wash-basin, where his head was thor oughly washed, to clear away the ‘•ashes’’ that remained at the end of each hair, aud when the operation was finished the youth gazed in the glass at us beautifully clipped a cranium as ever left a barber shop. Faying his quarter, and remarking that it “wasn’t sueli a bad racket, atter all,” the young man gave a parting glance of approval in tlie mirror, and with his companion de- ] slackened. The steam began to whistle parted. “ This is tlie only place in this through tlie gauge-cocks. Tlie cries of country where you can get a regular the leadsmen weut ou—and it is a weird •singe,’” said the barber after the'sound, always, in the night. Every youthSyhad gone, “but it’s a pretty pilot in the lot was watching now witii common thing m England and Europe, fixed eyes aud talking under his breath, aud in Canada, too, 1 believe,” In’Nobody was calm and easy hut Mr. conclusion, he stated that it was said Bixby. He would put his wheel down to be a capita) tiling for the hair, and t and stand*on a spoke, and as the steam- nother stopped them but fog. But down stream work was different; a boat was too nearly helpless, with a stiff current pushing behind her; so it was not customary to run down stream at at night in low water. There seemed to be one small hope, however; if we could get through the intricate aud dangerous Hat Island crossing before night we could venture the rest, for we would have plainer sail ing and better water. But it would be insanity to attempt Hat Island at night So there was a deal of looking at watch es all the rest of the day, and a con stant ciphering upon the speed we were making; Hat Island was the eternal subject; sometimes hope was hjgh arid* sometimes we were delayed by a bad crossing and down it went again. For hours all hands lay under the burden of this suppressed excitement; it was even communicated to me, and I got to feel so solicitous about Hat Islaud, aud under such an awful pressure of responsibility, that I wished I might have five minutes on shore to draw a good, full, relieving breath of air and Btart over again. We were standing no regular watches. Eacli of our pilots ran such portions of tlie river as he had run when coming up-stream, because of his familarity with it; but both re mained in the pilot house constantly. An hour before snnst Mr. Bixby took the Wheel and Mr. W stepped aside. For the next thirty minutes every man held his watch in his hand and was restless, silent and uneasy. At last somebody said, with a doomful sigh: “Well; yonder’s Hat Island—and we can’t make it.” All the watches closed witii a snap, everybody sighed and muttered some- tiling about it being too had, too bad— ah if we could only have got here half an hour sooner!” and tlie place was thick with the atmosphere of disappoint ment. Some started to go out, but loitered, hearing no bell-tap to land. The sun dipjied behind tlie horizon, the boat went ou. Inquiring looks passed fiom one guest to another” and one who had his hand on the door knob turned back again. We bore steadily down tlie bend. More looks were exchanged and nods of surprised admiration—hut no words. Insensibly the men drew together behind Mr. Bixby. as tlie sky darkened and one or two dim stars came out. The dead silence and sense of waiting became oppressive. Mr. Bixby pulleu tlie cord, and two deep, mellow notes from tlie big boll floated off ou the night. Then a pause, and one more note was struck. The watchman’s voice followed, from the hurricane “•sL lead. Tlie cries of tlie leadsmen began to rise out of the distance, aud were gruf fly repeated by tlie word-passers on the hurricane deck. “M-a-r-k tlireel M-a-r-k three Quarter-less-three? Half twain! Quarter twain! M-a-r-k twain!—- Quarterless”— Mr. Bixby pulled two bell-ropel, aud was answered by faint jingiings far be low in the engine room, aud our speed .ahhoaid lead, there! StahhoanT would cause it to flourish like a corn-; field after a summer shower; but lie added in conclusion, “It aint any good for bald-headed men, for they haven't any hair to be braced up.” Hawa1l---Sanitwloli Inlanda. Hawaii, being wholly volcanic, looks like a fortress ninety miles long, built by the genii. Yet, dreary as it is, or er swung iuto her—to me—utterly iu- visahle marks—for we seemed to he iu the midst of a wide aud gloomy sea lie would meet and fasten her there. Out of the murmur of half-audible talk one caught a coherent sentence now and then—such as: “There; she’s over the first reef all right 1” After a jiause another subdued voice: “Her stem’s coming down just exact- seems from tlie sea, it is really full of ly right by George!” green pastures, on wliich feed wild cat-1 “Now she’s in the marks; over she goes!” , Somebody else muttered: tie, the descendants of those brought in by Vancouver, and owned by ranch men, to tlie tune of ten and fifteen heads apiece, in runs of twenty miles long. It must have been sad to stand by and see a forest burned up like so many matches, and another with the Oil, it was done beautiful—heauti- full” Now tlie engines were stopped alto gether and we drifted with the current Not that I couid ijee the boat drift, for trees snapped off at the surface of the j i could not, tlie stars being all gone by nre-noou. the i>orti(>ii imbedded in the 1 tnia ® fire-flood, the i»ortion imbedded iu tlie lava being burned to dust, and leaving a series of pock-marks on the hardened surface. One night in 1852, it seemed as if a solitary star was shining on the side of Mauna Loa, at a spot afterwards found to be four thousand feet below the summit. After the second evening this time. This drifting was the dis- malest work; it held one’s heart still. Presently I discovered a blacker gloom than that which surrounded us. It was the head of the island. We were clos ing right down upon it. We entered its deeper shadow, aud so imminent seemed the peril that 1 was likely to it seemed to die away, but soon hurst 1 suffocate; and 1 bad the strongest im- out again with amazing splendor, no pulse to do something, anything to save ill '* the vessel. But still Mr. Bixby stood by the wheel, silent, intent as a cat, and all the pilots stood shoulder to shoulder at his back. “She’ll not make it,” somebody whfs- l»ered. longer a star, but a column of fire seven hundred feet liigh by angular measure ment, and from two hundred to three hundred feet broad, which was visible one hundred miles off, aud the ashes and charred leaves from which covered the decks of approaching ships. The, The water grew shoaler and shoaler, lava stream was visible thirty miles off; by the leadman’s cries, till it was down and in twenty days there had been ^ thrown up a coue a mile round at the I “Eight-and-a-half! E-i-e-h-t feet to* and four hand red feet high, which I E“ g .h.t feeii—SeveiLd”— is standing to this day. The weird) Mr . Bixby said warningly through beauty of the color-changes was some- hi8 speaking tube to the engiueer: thing past belief. Issuing white-hot “Stand by, now!” from the crater, the lava changed first to light, then to deep red, then to glossy gray, with shiny black patches, every tint intermingled in constant move ment, and a very cataract of sparks Seven feet.- Six* “Aye, aye, sir!” “Seveu-and-a-half! and”— We touched bottom! Instantly Mr. , , .. „ T Bixby set a lot of bells ringing, shouted falling from the fire pillar. In 1855 through the tube, “Now, let her have there was a yet greater eruption, from it—every ounce you’ve got!” then to town of Ull ° narrowly es- hijJ partner, “Put her hard down! snatch her! snatch her!’’ The boat rasped and ground her way through the sand, hung upon the apex of disaster a single tremendous instant,. and then which the caped. One strange episode was when a cataract of lava poured over a preci pice into a very deep rock-basin, in which a big ship might have floated. 1 The water was all driven off in steam,' over 8he wentl ^ 8Uch a 8hoa the basin filled up, and the precipice weQt U p at Mr. Bixby’s hack never changed into a gently sloping pffine. ^ned the roof of a pilot-house he- Months after it was a hideous sight to f ore | 1 see this lava stream about fifty miles Xliere wa8 uo more trouble afu . ^ t from its source, mg Mr. Bixby was a hero that uight; aud tame surface waii ^kTed with ^d' il Y* 3 8ome llttle time, to, before hia while every now and then the glistening | 1 - . crust which hang over this tire-stream i —Tramps are depredating in north- caved in, just as as “cat’s ice” breaks em New York. They are said to be t.nd shows the water underneath it. ' veterans of the species.