Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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. •? ,X- S* TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. 0.. OCTOBER II. 1883: ESTABLISHED 1848 SWEETHEART. * ■ V The stars shine out on the wide, wide sea With a light that is ne’er forgot; But your eyes, sweetheart, shine out on me With a light that the stars know not. The larks sing soft, in the fresh green grass, Their heaven-taught melody; But the birds are dumb as your sweet words pass Swift-winged as the light to me. The rose climbs up to my window-seat, And faints in its rich perfume; But the breath of your lips is sweeter, my sweet, And their crimson is love’s ripe bloom. Oh, lips that were fashioned for kissing mine, That whisper in love’s low tone! Oh, eyes that out of love’s vast deeps shinel Sweetheart of my heart, mine own ! You have feasted me, love, as the rose the bee, On the sweets of your lips and your eyes; You have opened love’s portals and given to me The cycles of Paradise. WAS IT FAIR OF HIM? A lovely day in September. The rays of the sun are tempered by a slight haze that lies over the sea, while the air is so calm that the flag at the end of the pier has hung motionless the whole morning. At the foot of the cliffs, among the boulders, sits a girl sketching—a girl, who, in her pretty pale tinted dress, relieved by a bunch of poppies at the neck and another in the becoming little sailor hat, makes a fair picture herself. She has a sweet, earnest face framed with curly dark hair that falls softly on the white forehead, which is just now prettily puckered in the earnest ness of her task. By her side, stretched to the full length of his fall, athletic ligure, re clines an equally fair specimen of the opposite sex, his thoughts apparently far away, judging by the absent look in the handsome gray eyes which are looking out to the sea. Suddenly he rouses himself, and pushing his hat a little further back from bis broad white brow, turns lazily on one elbow, and says, penitently: 4 T am awful sorry, Miss Grey. You must think me a very dull companion, 1 am sure, but the fact is, that from being alone so much when I was abroad, 1 have acquired a very awkward habit of going into day dreams without the slightest regard to time and circum stances; so please accept my most hum ble apologies;” he concludes, looking pleadingly into his companion’s face. A soft laugh answers his words, and Dora Grey says, gently, without rais ing her eyes: “Pray don’t apologize, Mr. Carelton. I am afraid 1 must plead guilty to the weakness of absent-mindedness myself occasionally, and at the present mo ment 1 was so engrossed at this difficult piece of sky that I had almost forgotten your presence.” “Oh,” says Frank Carelton, blandly, under his breath, while the girl’s sweet voice resumes, unconscious of the in terruption: “1 always think that one of the tests of true friendship is being able to be with a person, and either talk, think, or keep silence, as long as you choose, without the expectation of giving of fence.” “Oh,” says Frank, resuming his old attitude, “1 suppose you go in for that sort of thing; most young ladies do—for a time.” “I don’t know what you mean by ‘going in for that sort of thing,’ but i certainly believe that there are such people to be met with as real, sincere friends in every sense of the word.” “Naturally enough at your age, Miss Grey; but pardon me, when you have lived a little longer you will tind people are not always what they seem, nor are their protestations of friendship much to be depended upon.” “However old 1 may live to be,” says Don, “I hope I shall always have as much faith in my fellow-creatures as J have now; and 1 lirmly believe it possi ble to meet with those who will, through riches and poverty, good report and evil, be steadfast and unchanging friends.” And blushing at her own earnestness Dora resumes the brush, which she had been neglecting for the last few minutes. Frank smiles under his mustache at the girlish outburst, but turns and looks gravely enough into the charming, shy face and says with a sigh: “Ah, child, you don’t know what you are talking about. Just put it to yourself a moment, and tell me, do you think you could be such a friend if heed be?” “I dol” is the quiet, earnest answer, and something in the pure face makes Frank take the little bare hand nearest him into his and kiss it reverently. Then, letting it go, he says gently: “I suppose, Miss Grey, your theory would not allow friendship between two of opposite sex?” “Certainly it would,” replied Dora. “I can never understand why the re gard which may exist between a man and a woman should not be dictated by a feeling of true, earnest friendship, and, as such, be frankly shown before the world. 1 dare say you think me very foolish,” the sweet, girlish voice pncludes, a little hastily; “my sisters home have often laughed at what aey call my ‘peculiar notions.’ ” There is no reply for a moment, for Frank is looking earnestly over the [sea; then he turns with an air of having I made up bis mind to something, and Ays, quietly : •Dora, will you be such a friend to aeV” The girl’s cheeks flushes, and she turns to meet the expected smile; but tie glance which meets her is grave ud earnest, and the clear gray eyps , ok honestly into hers, ‘ ” There is a momentary pause; then be lays her pretty white lingers gently A to the hand outstretched to meet bem,.and says, steadily: T will, Mr. Carelton, as far as it lie) i my power, if you wish it.” T do wish it,” says Frank concisely, hand closing flrmly round the little Angers, over which he bends handsome head before releasing them, and upon which he imprints a soft kiss to ratify the contract. The pretty white house, nestling among the dark flrs, which are such an addition to the beauty of the coast near Sandcombe, belongs to Mr. Barrington, and he and his pretty wife are never more pleased than when they can in duce as many as possible of their num erous friends to visit them; and they are particularly happy in the selection of their guests, and are never tired of devising some pleasant plan of amuse ment—Itavenswood house is abnost al ways gay and lively with pleasant laughter and merry chatter. Mrs. Barrington wasa Miss Grey, and Dora is her pet sister, so she often stays at llaveuswood for months together. Frank Carelton has only been down from London a fortnight. He is a ris ing young barrister, with a good private income of his own; but this has not prevented his overworking himself a little, and he has accepted Oscar Bar rington’s pressing invitation to recruit his strength in the bracing air of Sand combe. There are not so many guests as usual at Ravenswood house just now, so Dora and Frank have been thrown together a good deal; and Mr Carelton is too fond of the society of pretty girls not to think it a very pleasant arrangement altogether. The day following the little talk on the beach there is a large influx of vis itors; but Dora finds, to her satisfaction, that in walks or drives Frank seems ever at her side, as usual. One day she laughingly remarks the fact, but he merely says, quietly: “I prefer friends to acquaintances, Dora. If you are tired already of our bargain, sa^ so; but it is only natural that, under the circumstances, I should choose your society rather than that of anyone else.” So the two wander about together contentedly, though not unnoticed, for many are the glances and little innu endoes they have to encounter, much to Dora’s expressed disgust as she freely discusses the matter with Frank. “Itis too utterly ridiculous,” she says angrily, as they were one day walking through the woods; as if we were bound to be talking a lot of nonsense about love just because we are alone together. “Ridiculous, indeed,” calmly asserts Frank; “wait until Mr. and Miss Right appear, and we go off with them re spectively; then these clever people will see the difference—eh, Dora?” Dora’s heart gave a sudden jump, but she answers in her usual gentle voice, though she is rather silent during the remainder of the walk. “I am expecting Miss Bruce down here to-moirow, so I warn all those of you gentlemen who still possess that useful article, a heart, to guard it well, for Nelly is a fascinating pussy.” So says Mrs. Barrmgton at the lunch eon table one day; and to those who know the young lady spoken of, the announcement appears to give auiver- sal satisfaction. “And who is Miss*Bruce?” asks Frank of Dora Grey, by whose side he is sitting. “One of the loveliest girls you ever saw in your life,” puts in Mr. Barring ton, before Dora can reply; “and just your style, old man, I should imagine.” Frank Carelton looks at Dora, and repeats, in a low voice, meant for her ear alone. “Just my style. Can my fate be ap proaching already?” “Perhaps,” is the only reply, given in equally low tones. “Do you hope it may be so?” “I don’t quite know,” said the young man, gently. “1 have my friend, you know, Dora.” “But, notwithstanding, Mr. Frank appears to find the charming, fair-hair ed girl, who is told off to his care the next evening at dinner, very attractive; and when the gentlemen rejoin the la dies he makes his way straight to the ottoman upon which Miss Bruce is sit ting. •‘How selfish £ am,” murmured Dora to herself, as she watches Frank’s tall, handsome figure crossing the room in order to turn over Miss Bruce’s music; and somehow everything seems a little dull and uninteresting to the girl’s mind, and a heartache accompanied her to bed that night. But it is gone by the morrow, and Dora is her own sweet seif, and as days go on she resumes her rather neglected sketching, though by degrees she finds how often she is without her faithful friend, and she misses his cheerful chat ter and genial laugh more than she will acknowledge. For Frank Careltou’s jesting words seem to have come true, and he shows no signs of his evident admiration for pretty Nellie subsiding, for it is at her side he liugersnow. Anti there is evidently a very good under standing between them, for it necessi tates much low talk and apparent per suasive eloquence on Frank’s part; and somehow the thought of those two will persist in obtruding itself on Dora’s mind, no matter what she is doing. At last matters came to a crisis. A picnic is arranged to be held in some woods a few miles inland, and during a luncheon on the grass Frank and Nellie are, as usual, together, and the girl is hi such a merry mood that it is evident she fells very happy. Dora feels more than ever the foolish pesition into which her girlish ignorance has led her re specting Frank, for more than one re mark reaches her, referring in no very flattering terms to his conduct. But she defends him on every occasion, and in such a sweet, unconscious manner that suspicion is at once disarmed re specting the state of her heart. But the effort to dissemble her disap pointment in Frank’s sudden avoidance is too great to-day, and she manages, after luncheon, to steal away entirely alone, intending to sketch a pretty li> tie glade she had mien visited J ’ ' But when she reaches the spot she merely seats herself on the bank, and fiercely argues out her own unreason- ableneso, as she terms it. But the pro cess does not seem to be satisfactory, for presently one or two tears force themselves slowly from behind the closed eyelids, and the girl gives way to a passionate flood of tears. By degress the sobs subside, and the soothing effect of the soft, warm air and subdued quiet around begin to be felt, and leaning her uncovered head against the hard trunk of a tree, she falls fast asleep. So fast, indeed, that the sound of advancing footsteps does not make an eyelid quiver; and when Frank Carelton reaches her he stands for a moment lookiqg down at the little fig ure in its attitude of careless grace with an expression upon his face that is not exactly faithful to the memory of Miss Nellie Bruce. Just then Dora stirs a littlo, and a weary little sob bursts from the pretty parted lips. This is more than Frank can bear, and in a moment he is kneel ing beside her, and the startled girl is taken tenderly into his arms, while the curly head leans for a moment uncon sciously against his breast. “What is it? Where am I?” mur murs Dora, and looks up so quickly that a soft mustache brushes her cheek. “Oh, Mr. Carelton,” she stammers, trying to disengage herself and blushing deeply at the position in which she finds herself. “Dora darling,” says Frank, earnest ly, “what do these tears mean? Tell me, dear. ” And he holds her so firmly she can scarcely move. “Nothing much,” falters the girl, blushing again as she recollects their true cause. “At least, nothing I could tell you,” she concludes, as Frank’s gray eyes look into hers as if to read her very heart. “Now, Dora,” he says reproachfully, “I thought you and I agreed always to tell each other our troubles. Do you call that looking upon me as your friend?” “But I could not possibly tell you,” repeats Dora, succeeding in drawing herself away, though her heart beat wildly at the tender leok upon the handsome face look ing into hers. “How is it you are here?” she asks, to change the subject; “and where is Nellie?” “I followed you, child,” is the reply, ignoring her latter question. ‘ T intend to know the meaning of these pale cheeks. I have noticed them for the last two or three days, and I want to find out if there is any reason for them. Do you know What I would give half my life that they did mean?” he says passionately; while Dora, a little fright ened, falters out a timid “No” without looking at him. “Well, I won’t tell you yet,” he says, more quietly, “but I will let you into a secret that will interest you, about Nellie Bruce. What is it, child? Are you cold or faint?” for Dora started and closed her eyes. “No,” she says, with a smile, “Go on, Mr, Carelton.” “Well,” he continues, “It turns out that Miss Nellie was a few months ago engaged to one of my most intimate friends, Harry Sylvester, and a rare good fellow he is, too; but they man aged to quarrel over something, and the affair was broken off, though both were as desperately in love as could well be. I happened to hear poor old Hal’s woes at the time, and from put ting two and two together, and writing a letter or two to Sylvester, I think 1 have managed that all will be well again without any compromise of dig nity on either side. Mrs. Barrington has asked Harry down next week, and so I told Nellie; so let us hope when they meet they will see the error of their ways once and for all. Why, Dora, how pleased you look; you care to hear about a love affair after all.” “It isn’t that—I thought you cared— I mean, Nellie cared—” “Were you jealous?” interrupts Frank, passionately. Dora, my own darling, is it possible tliat you love me after all?” and he takes the sweet, blushing face between his liands and looks down into it rapturously. “Do you know, my dear one, I have loved you ever since the first week I came here, but you seemed such a sweet, calm little maiden that I despaired of making you even think of me, so, dar ling, may I confess and tell you I fell into your pretty little plan of friendship just to try and see if I could awaken any deeper feeling in that pure little heart.” “Oh, Frank,” says Dora, reproach fully, lifting her lovely dark eyes to his face, then dropping them at what she read there, “was that quite fair?” “Everything is fair in love and war,” replies Frank, fondly kissing the pretty lips softly, with an air of proud posses sion, “especially when the strategem ends in surrender.” And Dora leans back heFdark head against his shoulder, sighs contentedly, and says—nothing. Pitcairn Inland. “A Line and ite OuttlU.” continued after fie crowd could Sh and get away e whip. Big or “I used to think it was my duty to cut ’em with the whip, and I took satis faction in striking hard, but I wouldn’t strike a boy now for the best thousand dollars ever coined.” He was a car-driver, and his attention had been called to tliree or four boys stealing a ride on the rear platform. “Yes, I was a sort o’ terror on this route to the boys,” he a time. “Not one of 1 put his foot on the si without a cut from tl little, rough or gentle, I served all alike, and if the passengers scowled at me for lashing a little kid of 7 or 8,1 solaced myself with the reflection that it was my duty.” A passenger was dropped at the corn er, and as the car started up again the driver went on: “Well, one day when the boys had bothered me more than usual, I dodged through the car and found a little bit of a chap, not over seven years old, seated on the lower step. He was all humped over and softly crying about something or other. At another time I might have felt pity, but the boys had got my mad up and what did 1 do but give the little chap a cut with the lash and call out with such a voice that off he tum bled into the dust. I saw him rise up and limp away, and there was some thing in the look he gave me that I shan’t forget in a hurry. Whoal now!” The car stop ied to take on two ladies and presently the driver resumed: “Do you know that I felt so con science stricken that I kept looking for that boy on every trip, calculating to make up with him and secure his for giveness for my brutality. I did not see him again until the afternoon of the second day.” “And what did he say?” was asked as the driver hesitated. “He was in his coffin!” was the reply. “It was his funeral procession which stopped my car two or three minutes. That child was ill when he tried to steal his way home with me, and death was twenty-four hours away when I lashed him aud chuckled over the way he roll ed into the street! I tell you, sir, when I saw his coffin in the hearse, and caught a look from 1 he mother, which seemed to charge me with being his murderer, I got a stab at my heart that pains me yet, aud I wouldn’t strike an other boy if the reward was to be the whole line and its outfit.” The Art Loan. After a flue run the Bark Fftrsee dropped anchor a mile off Pitcairn Island, where she was boarded by eight descendants of the old mutineers of the ship Bounty. These people, in the ca bin, sang several sacred songs aud held religious services, and upon taking their departure sang “Pull for the shore” in as good style as the Captain ever heard, “even as good as the singing at the monster concert held in Boston se • vend years ago,” said he. They re ported the number of inhabitants to be 105, and that all were well aud in good spirits. The females were in the ma jority, aud instead of provisions those Hoarding the ships seemed to prefer jewelry, castile soap and cologne. One young fellow was particularly anxious to secure a pair of sleeve-buttons: so pleased were the visitors with having been presented with some of these gew gaws that they went ashore without the provisions and clothing they had been presented with. They informed the Captain that the island was capable of producing enough for 500 people, aud that they had goats, sheep, pigs, chick ens, dogs and cats in plenty. They were all qf soiqewhftt dark color, show ing their Tfthifnm blood, and while the men were stroug aud handsome, the 'women were well-formed and beauti ful. One young fellow aboard the ship was so struck with the beauty oi one fair damsel that he wished to leave the ship, but the islanders would not per mit this, as according to their law no stranger can find a home with them. The 8touiaeh<ly ^ The stomach has no more to do with digestion than have the liver, pancreas and intestines. Each contribute to the process of digestion. By the constant motion of the stomach, the food is more fully brought into contact with the di gestive glands. In this, and its special action in at length forcibly expelling food from it, the stomach is not parti cularly different from the vermicular (worm-like) motion and expulsive power of the intestines. The stomach acts as a receptacle by which we are enabled to take a sufficient quantity of food at convenient inter vals, so that we may not be always eat ing. Even its power- to reserve its ac tion, as in vomiting, is inissessed, and sometimes used, by the intestines. £±The glands near the intestinal open ing of the stomach (the pylorus) secrete an alkaline fluid; the others, an acid. Each, however, equally digests meat. Yomiting does not necessarily imply a foul stomach. A thought—in a sen sitive person—a blow on the head, tickling of the nerves near the gullet, the sympathetic influence of other or gans, may cause vomiting. It is pure ly a nervous action, and the nerves causing it may be irritated in many ways. Even the foul contents of the stomach cause the vomiting only by irritating the nerves of the brain. Hence the pain and vomiting of sick headache may be due either to foul stomach or solely to an independent ir ritation of the central nerves. Meat is digested in thelstomach; fat, bread and other articles further along. But the stomach is not essential to the digestion even of meat. The latter can be digested just as rapidly and well in a jowl with pepsin at the right tempera ture. Of course, the pleasure ot eating depends on nerves in the mouth, not in the stomach. Aud the food, too, is as readily digested if put into the stomach through a hole in the side. It is now found that, in certain diseases, the stomach may be thoroughly and advan tageously washed out daily, and the food introduced through a tube, aud the patients can be taught to do this themselves. Hi* Boot in hi* Hand A visit to the Art Loan Exposition building shows the work of decoration in the interior nearly completed and the hanging of pictures begun. This latter task is one of not only ernormous pro portions. but puzzling, exacting aud ofttimes exasperating in the extreme, and there is none too mnch time to finish it. However, the same indom itable energy and tireless determina tion which have characterized the leading spirits in the enterprise from the out set, will undoubtedly succeed in having everything in readiness for the formal opening Anything reflecting credit upon the City of Detroit in an art sense is of course peculiarly gratifying to the cit izens, especially in view of the Art Loan Exposition, therefore it is that The Free Press speaks with pleasure of works by two Detroit boys, which are already on hand, and will be exhib ited alongside the works of the leading artists of Europe and America, where the citizens may have a fine opportunity to make intelligent comparisons. The Detroit artists thus alluded to are Gari J. Melchers and Mr. Rols hoven, sons respectively of Julius Mel chers, the sculptor, and F. Rolshoven, the jeweler. The two young men went together to Europe a little over six years ago,since which time they studied at Dusseldorf aud separating later sought according to their tastes, one the art schools of Paris and the other at Florence. Mr. Melcher’s pictures are “The Letter” (which was admitted to the Salon in 1882), “The Gladiator” and “The Lictor,” painted at Rome this year, a scene at Attina, Italy, and In the Cloister.” Mr.Rolshoveu’spic tures are “A Southern Moor” and two Italian landscapes. The first one of Mr. Melcher’s pictures shows a mother and daughter in picturesque Brittany peasant dress standing near a window, the mother listening to her daughter as she joyfully leads the last letter from her sweetheart, who has gone to Amer ica. The drawing of the figures is de cidedly correct, while the handling of the light as it comes through the win dow to the faces of the women, their clothing, and upon the window-sill and other articles in the domestic interior, shows fine strength and appreciation in modeling aud handling colors. Mr. Rolshoveu’s“Southern Moor” shows an aged African of the intellectual type found on the Northern coast. He is draped in the bright yellow and white ropes of his nation, and is seated in a thoughtful attitude before the dark liangings of his cafe. The pose is per fect and has treatment of the auatony and the contrasts in color evidences the utmost confidence in his ability on the part of the artist. In this connection it may be said that both young gentle men are prospering artistically aud financially in their chosen professions. Cut Gifts*. UredKlng the Isthmus. —The Kimball to be rebuilt. House at Atlanta is In front of a Detroit butcher shop yes terday a butcher sat cleaning arevolver. It was a rusty old “Colt” which had not been used for years, and was to be put in order aud traded off. A shoe maker came along directly and observed. “Of course there’ll be an accident.” “Y-e-s,! presume so.” “It isn’t loaded, is it?” “Oh, no.” “But it will go off?” “It will.” “I never see arevolver without want ing to handle it. Let me look at that weapou. Ah! I’m satisfietf now that it doesn’t contain any stray bullets. Do you suppose you could hit my foot at that distance?” “Certainly I cbqld. Now, if she was loaded I’d tftke a dead sight like that and pull the trigger and ” The shoemake jumped two feet high and yelled like an Indian, and when he came down he dftuced and kicked and galloped around until people thought him drazy. It was only after a crowd had collected and cornered him up in the shop that any one found out the trouble. The butcher had put a bullet along the sole ot his foot close enough to draw blood. “I told you she’d go off!” howled the shoemaker, as he sat with his boot in his hand. “And didn’t I agree with you?” innocently responded the butcher. The second of the three dredges built in Philadelphia, for work on the Pana ma Canal, the Prosper Huerne, named after a distinguished French engineer, was launched recently from the ship yard on Petty’s Island, formerly oper ated by Doughty & Kapella, aiid now leased and run by Slaven Brothers. The first dredge, the Count de Lesseps, was launched on the 17th of March, and has been used on the Panama work since August 1, dredging 10,000 cubic yards a day. The Prosper Huerne will be ready to start for the Isthmus about the first of October. Slaven Brothers are officers of the American Contracting and Dredging Company of New York, which has the contract tor dredging seven and a half miles of the new canal on the Atlantic side to Gettun, which is an important station. The excava tion to be made by them under this con tract will involve the removal of 8,000,- 000 cubic yards, at a price of $2,000,000. The machines in operation dump the dredged matter into a discharge pipe which carries it off beyond the banks of the canal. The De laisseps digs to a depth of twelve feet and to a width of 100 feet. The Huerne, following in the wake of the De J/esseps, digs to a width of 200 feet, aud the third dredge in the rear will dig the canal to the full depth of twenty-seven and a half feet, giving the sides an easy slope and a width of 110 feet at the bottom. Thus far the Panama Canal Com- pauy has s;>eul $20,000,000 on the work of severing the two continents by a tidewater canal. As $30,000,000 of stock subscriptions have neeu paid in there is a margin of $10,000,000 on hand. De Lesseps promises to finish the canal by 1888, the contract of Slaven Bros, requiring them to finish their section in fifteen months. There are 10,000 men now at work in the service of the company. They have been brought from Jamaica and South America, aud are presumed to be able to witlistand the dangers of that region. There is a story which may be true, but probably is exaggerated, tliat pictures the terrors attenduig suen enterprises across the Isthmus by figuring that more lives were lost in building the Panama Rail road than there are ties in the line of forty-seven miles of road. This line is now owned by the canal company, and is utilized in distributing the inacuinery aud in the multitudinous uses inciden tal to such a great enterprise, The company has erected hundreds of houses fur its workmen, it has extended aud deepened the liarbor at Aspinwall, aud is building a breakwater there. A large sum has been spent in this coun try for land excavators, locomotives aud construction trains. The highest point on the line of the proposed canal is 3tMj feet above sea level. Ah this must be razed. The manufacture of glass has always been an attractive and interesting study, and many of your readers will doubtless recall with pleasure, prob ably. the only iu-sight they have ever had into the details of its production, as they lingered around the glass-works of our Centennial Exposition, so fasci nated with the process by which the fairy-like shapes were formed in crys tal, they were loath to pass on to other attractions so patiently waiting to ab sorb their attention in some new quar ter. It will probably be news to some, but nevertheless a fact, that the cut glass now being produced in America rivals the very finest specimens impor- ed. in cutting as well as in purity aud brilliancy of material. The present demand upon the manu facturers, from the leading houses in New York and Philadelphia, and, in fact, all large cities, is so great they require a long time for delivering of orders. One of the largest furnaces for the manufacture of glass, from the most ordinary lamp chimney to the largest fruit bowl, destined to adorn some aristocratic sideboard on Fifth avenue, or perhaps our own West End, is located at Corning, in the State of New York, where one may follow the sand, creamy white and clean, to its fiery bed, note the addition of the “flux,” and then turning toother aper tures in the great stack, see the molten mass drawn from crucibles in incande scent bulbs deepening rapidly to orange, as it rolled, blown, and shaped into something comely and useful. This pure white sand comes from Cheshire, in Berkshire county, Mass That it may be melted there is mixed with it oxide of lead, sulphurate of potash, saltpetre ? borax, and arsenic in proper quantitias. This is put into crucibles, which are subjected to the fiercest furnace heat for thirty-six hours before it becomes clear. These crucibles are made of clay from Mis souri called “Christie fire-clay.” This is mixed aud softened by treading with the feet aud then moulded into shape by hand. Each crucible will hold a ton. Ten of these are built into each furnace. In these furnaces fires are kept burning constantly, ten tons of coal being consumed in each one daily. The crucibles require filling up every twenty-four, hours and time given for melting. When the glass is melted it is taken out in quantities needed, on the end of an iron tube, about five feet long and an inch in diameter, the glass being of about the consistency of mo lasses candy when ready to pull. By blowing in this tube the glass is made hollow, and of almost any shape which may be desired. After the glass is shaped it must be put into ovens aud leated, aud gradually cooled in order o anneal or toughen it. The best skilled workmen receive as high as $24 per week for their services. The same deep interest follows the process of cutting. First comes the horizontal iron wheel, upon which water and grib or sand, drip continually. On this the edges of the glass are squared or smoothed. Then the arti cle iiasses into the hands of the skilled artisan, who grinds out the glass into any desired figure, upon a grindstone brought from Cragleith, Scotland. This is a thin stone, brought down to an edge, and upon it the workmen grinds i.he glass according to the pattern be fore him, the glass often being entirely unmarked. This process is very slow, aud therefore very expensive, many days being required ui>on elaborate places. If a mistake is made, ever so slight, or any flaw occurs, the whole is consigned to the waste as broken glass, lit duly to be remelted. Ss precise are these manufacturers that some pieces upon which $20 worth of labor have been expended are frequently con demned for flaws which an'unskilled eye would not detect. The cut dish goes next to a wheel made of wood of willow, for polishing, aud then from washing and finishing to a wheel of tarapico brush, wet with putty. The cutters receive from $2,50 to $4 a day. —The va’ue of the railroads in Ohio, as assessed by the State Board of Rail road Equalization, is $92,730,840.84. This is an increase of $4,029,502.84 over the valuation for 1882. —One hundred chests of tea have been rejected at the Bay of San Fran- cisco by the inspector, on the grouqd of adulteration with foreign gqd ex hausted leaves, san4 ftnd other impur ities. The tea iyiil be taken back to Cfoina, The Slide In the Franoonlft Flume A recent writer says; I will try and describe the appearance of the Fran conia Flume. After crossing the bridge (which was not carried away) instead of the open space where the platform for mounting aud dismounting used to be, you find the place covered with large boulders, pebbles, paving-stones, and gravel, scattered in wild confusion to the depth of eight to ten feet, pre senting a scene of desolation which makes the heart ache in remembrance of the former beauty aud picturesque ness. Here aud there are seen rem nants of huge trees, stripped of their bark aud splintered. Much of this debris has been removed in order to build the substantial wooden walks, which make the ascent of the flume much easier than before. Soon you oome to the smooth stone floor, down which the wurer slides as formerly, the stones and rubbish thrown upon it by the avalanche having been removed to the sides. You go on to where the solid stone walls rise to 50 and 70 feet, formerly covered with beautiful mosses aud ferns, now entirely denuded by the rush of the avalanche which carried away the boulder. All this mass of rocks, trees, apd boulders, starting high up on Mount l iberty, swept down with irresistible aud increasing force till the bridge was nearly reached, when it divided, part going to the left through the forest, and part to the right. This mass, coming in above with tremendous force, made an extension of the flume of several hundred feet beyond the end of the old passage. In passing, it choked the old channel and diverted the water to the top of the high wall on the left as you go up, and it now tumbles over the cliff 50 or 60 feet in a very beautiful waterfall. This is the only compensation for the loss of the old-time wonders and beauty. At the top where the channel was obstructed, a huge boulder has lodged, leaning against the right wall, which is tipped to meet it, making a sort of cave. From this point, looking down the whole length of the flume, the view is very»rand. THE VERDICT -or- THE PEOPLE BUY THE BEST! Mb. J. O. Boia—Dear Sir: I bought the Drat Dari* Machine gold by you over Ore years ago for my wife, who baa given It a long and fair trial. I am well pleased with It. It never Rive* any rouble, and is as good aa when Drat bought, . J. W. HOUCK. Winnaboro, 8. C., April 18S3. Mr. Boao: Ton wish to know what I have to say In regard to the Davis Machine bought of you three years ago. I feel 1 can’t say too muph In Us favor. I made about ttW.oo within hve mouths, at times running it so fast that the needle would get per- feetiy hot from friction. I feel confldeni I could not have done the same work with as much ease and so well with any other machine. No time leet in adjusting attachments. The lightest running machine I have ever treadled. Brother James and William*’ families are as much pleased with their Davis Machines bought or yon. I want no better machine. As I said before, I don’t think too much can be said for the Davis Machine. . Respectfully, „ . E1.LKN bTKVBNSOIf, Falrfl-'Iil County, April, itwa. Mr. Boaq : My machine gives me perfect satis faction. 1 and no fault with it. The attachments are so simple, i wish for no better than the Davts Vertical Feed. Respectfully. Mrs. R. Miixino. Falrdeld county, April, 1883. Mr. Boao: 1 bought a Davis Vertical Feed ewing Machine from you four years ago. I am ellghted with It. It never has given me any rouble, and has never been the least out of order. It is as good as when I Orst iKiughtit. I can cheerfully recommend it. Respectfully, Mrs. M. J. Kirkland. Mouttcello, April 30,1883. This is to certify that I have been using a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for over two years, purchased of Mr. J. O. Boag. 1 haven’t found 1 v possessed of any fault—all the attachments are so simple. It neverrefuses to work, and is certainly the lightest rnuuing In the market. 1 consider it a drat class machine. Very respectfully, Minnik M. Wim.inuuar. Oakland, Falrdeld county, s. C. Mr Boao: i am wen picasea m every particm with the Davis Machine nought of you. I think a flrst-class machine In every respect. You ku*w you sold several machines of the same make to dlilerent members of our families, all of whom, as far a* 1 know, are well pleased with them. Respectfully, Mr*. M. H- Moblkt. Falrdeld county, April, 1883. Thu 1* to certify we have had in constant use the Davis Machine bought of you about three year* ago. A* we take In work, and have made tn* price of It several times over, we don’t want any better machine. It u always ready to do any kind of work we nave to do. No puckerlngor skipping stitches. We can only say we are well pleased and wUh no better machine, CATBBRINB WVUB AMD SI8TBR. April as, 1888. I have no fault to and with my machine, and don’t want any better. I have made the price of It severe uines by faking In sewing. It U always ready to do Its work. I think it a urst-class ma chine. I feel I can t say too much for the Davw Vertical Feed Machine. Mrs. Thomas smith. Falrdeld county, April, 1883. Mr. J. O. Boao—Dear Sir: It gives me much pleasure to testify to the merits of the BavU Ver tical Feed Sewing Machine. The machine 1 got of yon about dve years ago. baa been almost In con stant use ever since that time. I cannot eee 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 tietter. Yours truly, Kobt. Crawford, Uranlte Quarry, near Winnaboro S. C. We have used the Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for the laet dve years. We would not have any other make at any pnee. The machine has given ns unbounded satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mr*. W. K. Turnbr and DAOuvriBei Falrdeld county, S. C., Jan. 87, 1888. Having itought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine from Mr. J. O. Boag some three years ago, aud It having given me perfect satisfaction la every respect sea family machine, both for heavy and light sewing, and never needed the least re pair In any way, t can cheerfully recommend It to any one as a flrst-class machine in every particu lar, and think It eecond to none. It Is one ot the simplest machines made; my children us* It with all ease. The attachments are more easily ad justed and It does a greater range of work by means of ite Vertical Feed than any other ma chine I have ever seen or used. Mrs. Thomas owino*. Winnaboro, Falrdeld county, S. C. We have had one of the DavU Machines about fonr years and have always found It ready to do all kinds of work we have had occasion to uo. Can’t eee that the machine is worn any, and works as well as when new. Mrs. W. J. Crawford, Jackson’s Creek, Falrdeld county, S. C. My wife la highly pleased with 'he Davis Ma chine bought of you. She would not take double waat sue gave for It. The machine has not been out of order elnce ehe had It, and she can do any kind of work on lu Very Respectfully, Jab. F. Fbbb. Montlcello, Fatrtleld county, S. C.. The Davis Sewing Machine Is slmpiy s treas ure Mrs. J. A. uookwyn. Ridgeway, N. C., Jan. 10. 1883. J, O Boao, Esq., Agent—Dear Mj wife has been using a Davis Sewing Machine constant ly for the past four yean, and It has never needed any repair* and work* Just as well as when drst bought. She says It will do a greater range ot practical work and do it easier and better than any machine she has ever used. We cheerfully recommend it as a No. 1 family machine, You tru.y. Jab. O. Davis. Winnaboro, 8. C.. Jan. 8,1888. ^ Mb. Boao : I have always found my Davis Ma chine ready do all kinds of to work 1 have had oc casion to do. 1 cannot see that the machine la wont a particle and It works ns wed as when new- Respectfully, Mbs. R. C. Goodino. Winnaboro, 8. C.» April, 1868, Mb. Boas : My wife has been constantly using the Davis Machine bought Of yon about tv* years ago. 1 have never regretted baying it, a* it i» always ready for any aud of family sewing, etthes heavy or light. It to never ont of fix or naeoing. repair*. Very teepocauiy, t ^ riMaUUS. C., Khr-MWk