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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. C.. NOVEMBER 17.1883. ESTABLISHED 1848. A GIRL’S A GIRL FOR A’ THAT, Is there a lady In the land That boasts her rank and a’ that? With scornful eye we pass her by, And little care for a’ that; For Nature’s charm shall bear the palm A girl’s a girl for a’ that. W r bat though her m ck with gems she deck, With folly’s gear and a’ that, Ami gaily ride In pomp and pride; We can dispense with a’ that; An honest heart acts no «uch part— A girl’s a girl fur a’ that. The nobly born may proudly scorn A lowly lass and a’ that, A pretty face has far mure grace Thau haughty looks and a’ that; A bonny maid needs no such aid— A girl’s a girl lor a’ that. And let us trust that come it must, And sure it will for a’ that, W’hen faith and love, all arts above, Shall reign supreme and a’ that, And every youth confess the truth— A girl’s a girl for a’ that. THE Tltrti I.OVE TEST. 1 had been lootish and weak, but not wicked, in my innocent coquetry with Leigh Lake. 1 say innocent because I had imagined it sport to him as well as to myself. He had the reputation of being not only the handsomest man in his regiment, but the greatest flirt, and 1 laughed when he had been presented to me, and said to myself, “It should in this case be diamond cut diamond.” Somehow my eyes had fallen under his first admiring glance, but I fortified myself with the thought: “So he always looks. It is the first move in his attack. ” I met glance with glance, smile with smile, and pretty speech with saucy re tort, or sentimental repartee, according as one or the other could be delivered with more telling effect. “Are you sincere?” he questioned, one evening. “Answer me frankly. If you are not, tell me so now.” “Inother words,” 1 answered, “throw down my weapons, acknowledge my un armed condition, and smilingly invite you to advance to victory.” “No,” he said. “At your hands I prefer defeat. You acknowledge, how ever, that you hold weapons—in other words, that you wear a mask.” “No,” 1 replied, “I wear no mask. I carry no weapon. Be merciful, Co lonel Lake.” We grew pale, and ojiened his lips as il to speak, then hastily rising, and making a brief adien, lie left me. For the first time I was a little frightened, a little in doubt as to its be ing wholly a matter of amusement to him—a little dubious as to how Roger would regard my conduct in the matter, lor Roger played a very important part in my life even then, since—although i>00 miles away—he had my promise that on his return I would become his wife, and I determined on the colonel’s next visit 1 would turn the conversa tion into other channels. But 1 had no opportunity to carry my good intentions into effect. His i.rst act, when he entered the room, Uie next evening, where I sat alone, was to cross directly in front of me, t nen to stoop and take both my hands in his. “You asked me last night to be mer ciful,” he began. “God help you if j ou do not mean those words. They nave been ringing in my ears ever smce. Child, do you know—do you dream- how 1 love you? You have raised hr me the first passion of my life, though 1 am to-day 33 years of age. What a hltle, frail thing you are, and y et you hold in these little hands a strong man’s destiny. Speak to me, level Tell me that nfy wife is here before mel” In Uiat moment my coquetry took wings and fled away, and in its stead rtune a dull realization of what I had d me. I strove to draw my hands from his. As well might I have tried to dislodge a stone imbedded for centuries in the mountain side. My self-possession for sook me. In my fright I blundered out Lie worst possible thing I could have a id. *T caunot do that. I cannot be the wife of two menl I thought you knew 1 was engaged.” A look of steely, icy contempt flashed into his eyes. He wrung my Ungers an instant until 1 ctied out with pain, then threw them from me and folded his arms across his breast. “You dare tell me this,” he said in low, concentrated tones. Answer me one question. What mean, pitiiul mo- »ive has made you do this thing?” “I did not know you were in earnest,” I replied, remembering as I spoke how hard I had tried to make him think so —though never, in my innermost thoughts to this extent—as the Great Father is my judge, to blast his nature, or to bring about his mouth the white lines of agony now drawn there. “1 thought a moment ago,” he an swered then, very slowly, “that in my life I had no other prayer to make to heaven. 1 make one now, and that is that 1 may live to see you suffer through your love as. you have dealt suffering to me through life.” His words seemed like a curse. They filled the room, and oppressed my very soul with a nameless dread and haunt ing prescience of the future. Shivering, I buried my face in my hands. When I had lifted it I was alone. Colonel Lake had left me. “When Roger comes home I will tell him about it,” I whispered to myself. But somehow, when three months later Roger came home I had so much else to think of in the busy preparations for my marriage, and my sky was so blue, that I could not bear to risk upon it a single cloud. • The colonel’s words were Idle now. As though any misery could grow out of the deep heart-love Roger and I felt tor each other 1 How small, how un worthy of him and of myself, had been my idle coquetries of the past. Never mind, I had all my future to atone. Then came my wedding day, when the outer world gave me its smiling benison, in bright sunshine and balmy breezes. I was Roger’s now—his very own— and could have defied the universe, in my exquisite happiness. Six months later my husband entered pur little sitting room, one morning. bearing in his hand a letter stamped with an official seal. “Be,” he said—my name was Bea trice, but I was too undignified for its possession, and so they shortened it to Be—and his voice trembled a little— “it is very soon, darling, to remind you that yon are a soldier’s wife; but I am ordered to report at once to Fort- , under Colonel Lake’s command. They anticipate trouble with the Indians. God knows how I hate to leave you, my precious little wife, but there is no alternative. I must start within twen ty-four hours.” "Leave me?” I cried, starting to my feet and throwing myself sobbing upon his breast. “You shall not leave mel Take me with you, or you will break my heart.” “Child, it would be madness for you to undertake the hardships of frontier life. I caunot consent. ” But 1 pleaded so pitifully that at last, reluctantly yet gladly, he promised we should start on the evening of the next day. When I had time to think it over, I remembered he had said the post was under Colonel Lake’s command. I shuddered. He it was, doubtless, whose influence had ordered my husband from my side, since he had not dreamed of my accompanying him. Oh, what further evil might he not work him? Was it not my duty to tell Roger all, and warn him against him? My cour age failed me—I would wait and watch. At least he should only strike at him through me. Our journey lasted three weeks. I was worn and exhausted at its close. The colonel himself met our ambulance on its arrival. “\ r ou have brought your wife?” 1 heard him say in amazed tones, in an swer to some remarks ol Roger’s, after the first greeting. "We will do all we can to make her comfortable, but it is very little. Besides—” He added something in a voice so low that 1 failed to catch it. A moment later I caught sight of his face, as Roger lifted me down in his arms. I almost cried out in my sur prise. His hair, winch had been black as the raven’s wing one short year ago, was almost white, lie looked fully lifty years of age. The sigiit caused my fear and resentment to vanish, and I held out my hand. “Won’t you welcome me; Colonel?” I said. lie bowed without seeming to notice my outstretched hand, inurinurtxl some courteous words of greeting, then turned away, to give a command loan orderly standing near. 1 saw very little of him in the weeks that followed, They were weeks full of excitement, for the Indians were constantly molesting us, and fears were entertained that they were meditating an attack. Indeed, they had expected one on the very night of our arrival, and this was what the Colonel had con- tided to my husband. Still, spite of all, I was glad to be here. Away from Roger I should have sickened of suspense. Now 1. was by his side to meet and know the worst. “Why are not you and Lake better friends?” he said to me one day. “1 cannot understand it.” Nor could I explam, now that I kept silence so long; besides, Lie distrust was wearing away. Although distant and reserved, quietly repulsing all my advances, I felt that Colonel Lake would work Roger no wrong. Until one morning my sophistries fled. The Indians had made a sortie. No one knew their numbers or their strength. It was necessary to send out an advance guard from our little gar rison, though each man who went well knew that he might never return. At 11 o’clock my husband, to my amazement, entered my room in full uniform. “Good-bye, little Be!” hesaid. “Pray for my safe return, dear. I am ordered to command the advance!” “You shall not go!” I cried wildly. “It is his revenge! Fool that 1 have been to have trusted him.” “My darling, calm yourself. What do you mean.'” “Wait here a moment!” 1 exclaimed. Leaving him iranstixed with aston ishment, 1 flew across to the colonel’s room. He was buckling on his sword as I entered. “You have done this thing,” I began; “you have seen how happy I am, and you must convert it into agony. Res cind your orders—leave me to my hus band! 1 throw myself at your feet, at your mercy.” “I would have spared him if I could. He is the only officer at the post cap able of just this attack, l accompany him, Mrs. Lee. The danger is divided, and equal for both,” “Go, if it must be, to your death 1” I answered, cruelly. “You have no right to drag my husbaud with you. He shall not go!” But words were useless though I fancied, as he turned away, I saw a tear glimmer ing in his eye. Still I pleaded, clinging to Rog er’s neck, when he crossed in search of me. At last they tore him from my sense less form, and when i recovered con sciousness they were far beyond the reach of my entreaties, but not my prayers sent to a higher throne. “Punish him, oh Godl” l cried, in my agony, “but spare my husband and bi ing him back to me. He said I should suffer. Ah, what was iris suffering to this intolerable torture and suspense?” The day wore slowly on. At night fall, when my brain was bursting, we heard the note of a distant bugle. Some, at least, of the little band had re turned. Like a white statue, I went forth to meet them. They came slowly, bring ing with them some shrouded forms. Among the latter I knew that I should find my husband, even as, finding him, I knew I should go mad. But no! Leading the van he came, sitting on his horse, though in his eyes there smiled no welcome, and on his face was a ghastly pallor; but I was not a widowed wife. I tl r i v myself on the neck of the horse, 1 kissed his mane, his forehead. I clung to Roger in my wild joy at see ing him again. “You are alive—you are alive!” I said over and over. “Yes,” he answered, “but at what a cost! a man to-day has given up his life for me.” He sprang from his horse then, and led me to the litter in the rear. The white, dead face of Colonel Lake looked up at us both. “We have killed him, Be—you and I,” mv husband said “He was the noblest man that ever lived.” And then he told me all the story. He had ridden ou a little in advance of the command, when he suddenly had been surrounded by the foe. Fight desperately as he would, he would soon have been overpowered, but that the colonel Jhad seen his danger. Spurring his horse ahead of his men, he had flown to his rescue, charging down in the very midst of a shower of arrows. “it was a deed worthy of a god,” my husband continued. “I thought we were both unhurt, almost miracu lously so. We were beating a retreat to our command, when one of the wily savages launched his tomahawk at my breast. The Colonel saw it glittering in the air, and throwing himself before me caught the blow. The next minute we were in safety, but salety gained too late. ‘Don’t regret it,’ ne raid, pressing my hand: ‘Fell her I did it for her sake, i loved her, Roger, my boy. I have not cared much for living since; and now—now that I have spared her the suffering I would once have wished her—I am glad to die. Ask her to forgive me those rash words —I never meant them—and let her fu ture happiness buy my atonement.” I have been Roger’s wife many happy years now. He was too noble to re proach me, though I told him all; but through my happiness mingles ever my heart’s self-reproach, and the wonder if, at the judgment bar of God, Cam’s brand will not be upon my brow. Tickling the Poles. As the Polish procession made a long halt ou Monroe avenue, Detroit, a ward politician of considerable note hurried into a store and called out to the pro prietor: “Here’s my chance now! Half a doz en of those Poles are m the saloon after beer, and now’s my time to get in a lit- ■tle fall work. I want to make ’em a speech.” “Well, you may.” “But 1 want to tickle ’em. What was the name of that great Polish hero? Kos—Koski—hang- It, you mast have heard of him!” “Y-e-s, I have. It was either Kos- metic or Kosmopolitan, but I’ve forgot ten which.” “Oh, blazes—they’ll be gone! Kos— Koskiusco—that’s the chap!” “What did he do?” “Hanged if I know. Let’s see? There’s an old poem about him, I be lieve.” “Yes—yes—hurry up! Hang it! Why didn’t I post up on this thing yes terday!” “And it comes in somehow: “‘And freedom—and freedom—and free ’ ” “Yes, I’ve got it.” “ ‘And freedom shrieked when Kos- kiusco f©ll * ^ - “She did! She did! Bless you, that’s a big pointer for me! He fell. Wheie did he fall?” “Haven’t the least idea whether it was at Austerlitz or First Bull Run. Like enough he fell off a house.” “He fell,” mused the politician. “Freedom shrieked. It must have been on a battle-field. For Heaven’s sake try and remember what field it was ” “No use. Even if I could remember that, I wouldn’t be sure that he was killed.” The politician dashed out and appeal ed to the first man he met with: “Say, you—where did Koskiusco fall? Quick—1 can’t spare a minute!” “On his ear, 1 guess!” was the heart less reply. The orator rushed for the saloon and mounted a table, but hardly had he said: “My dear patriotic Poles," when the band struck up and the procession moved. _ How Will Curleton Wrote Hu Poeuia. “Under what circumstances was your poem, ‘Over the Hills to the Poor House,’ written.” “While at school I was interested in visiting the almshouse and chatting with the paupers. Among the acquaint ances I made there were two very worthy people whose children had abandoned them in their old age. The father told me his otory. The details were not, of course, the same as related in the poem, but in them was the idea afterward elaborated.” “Did it dot have a strong moral ef fect?” “it did; it was published in the “Harper’s Weekly” at the time, with illustrations. In two months a friend wrote me that the verses had produced on him such an effect that he immedia tely sent a check for $100 to his parents, whom he thought had been by him too much neglected. 1 have heard of cases where people have been taken out of the poor house by penitent children. In this connection I might instance the case of an old man who died a pauper at Cleveland. When his satchel was opened and its meagre contentJ exam ined a copy of the poem was found carefully railed up. From these and numerous other affecting incidents, 1 believe that the poem has done some good. ‘Betsy and I Are Out’ has come back to me at numerous times. When stopping at a hotel in a large city re cently the proprietor came up to me, and, in a very demonstrative manner, told me that those verses were the means of reuniting himself and his wife.” The years write their records ou human hearts as they do on trees, in inner circles of growth which no eye can see. The chief use of education is to multiply motives for action—for, to have- many faculties is to have many impulses. Beautiful Women. Only women with handsome forms shobid venture to wear large pattern fabrics in 1 the tell-tale Jerseys, a style of dress extremely trying even to figur es sym metrically proportioned, and yet bad taste will pull the classical-looking Jersey—a really convenient garment- over forms conspicuous in avoirdupois, presenting a “stuffed out” expression that is anything but admirable; and the bony, lean figures, with protruding shoulder blades, flat chest, and other wise ugly, will also don the Jarsey, and Hogarth’s line of beaq^;y becomes/ai- visible. Fashion favdrs close-fitting sleeves and scant skirts, modes that faithfully expose the figure, and when one can look and admire, good taste governs, but too often this style of dress suggests ridiculous comparisons and the result is derision. On a round, shapely arm, “skin tight” sleeves are not objectionable, and particularly when the plump shoulders gracefully taper, and from the elbow to the wrist a gradual sloping is observed. But who can admire the arms “by a large majori ty” that tight sleeves now exhibit? Arms exposed that show combative strength are far from pretty. It is all very well for a lady to lie strong, but someh jw a powerfully built arm does not seem exactly feminine. Shirts drawn closely over the hips should not be patronized in the extreme by every lady. There are forms of sculp ture-like beauty, and on such “pull backs” are admissible, although when worn to excess this whim of fashion is not commendable; and particularly is this style of dress to be avoided by short and very stout ladies, who should ever study to conceal form, instead of giving prominence to it. These figures look better in drapery disposed in small, rip pling folds giving narrowness to width and thereby adding to height, and then the too great plumpness of the figure is admirably obscured. Of late fashion favors pointed waists and “baby” waists, styles that are extremely trying to some ladies. Pointed bodices are only becoming to those who possess per fect forms—the length of waist, size of bust, and hips must all be of the “hap py medium” moulding—and the “baby” waist is only becoming to fiat-chested figures, since this style of dress adds too much to the well-developed. There is much to be said respecting every department of dress and the ap propriateness of the various modes, colors, and sliades to He majority of women. Those bles^pd with perfect forms and lovely faces can wear what ever they please; it’s all the same; their beauty overahadows all dress defects; it is, indeed, a power. “All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth.” Since the present fashions are so rich with color and elegance and artistic de corations, It behooves the plain-looking and those who are not exactly perfect in form to make a study of appropriate ness in dress, and also give their atten tion to the nice distinctions found in color blendings and the effect of shades upon the complexion. And above all, have a care that the conspicuous dress decorations are really becoming, before accepted. Fichus on narrow shoulders are not in good taste. Poke bonnets on very large or very small heads have a detrimental effect, even to a pretty face. Shoulder capes are pretty thrown over tall and well proportioned figures. Extremely short walking costumes are only becoming to the low in stature, and when the feet are small and the ankles shapely. Suitar. Suvar is a u atm article ol diet, yet 1 dare say the ancients lived very comfort- aoly without it. The people of England were without sugar until the f juneenth century. Though sugar is found in nearly all the fruits, vegetables, seeds and meats that constitute our food, it would be very inconvenient to be deprived of the manu factured and refined sugar. There is per haps nothing we eat that works more mis chief, especially with the liver and kidneys than sugar used m excess. The evil begins in babyhood, when the unlit or gruel for baby’s botile is unduly sweetened. Too starchy food may alio produce unpleasant results, as it is one cause and aggravation of some diseases of the kidney -, Ytter considerable experience with healthy children who seldom showed any great ihirst for water in infancy, and who were not fed sugar or candy or sweetened food when very young. 1 am lad to believe that wnen little ones keep calling frequently for water, it is because they have been im properly fed, and the irritated stomach demands the cooling influence of water to allay its tendency to inflamation. A mother of en complains that her child is troubled greatly with a sour stomach, but tins case is no longer mysterious when the mother, to quiet the hale one so thai she can continue her account of the case, sets down before her a little dish of sugar, from which the child may help itself. Most mothers wduld give candy or a cookie instead, though some feed their children lumps of sugar from the bowl, believing that the cbiidren need sugar, and might better have it in that form than m any other. In any case of this kind there is a very frequent call for water. Do, you know now vinegar is madetf You can get plenty of it by simply mixing sugar or molasses with water and keeping it warm. A sour taste in the mouth alter eating sweets, is of very common occur rence. il is the acid cuu-ed by the fer mentation of the sugar left in the mouth, w tb the saliva that causes th.- decay of children’s teeth—this and the lack of boat- forming material in the daily- food. Vine gar “eats” l>me, as one can tell by leaving an egg in vinegar. Bus of sugar or candy left to ferment among the teeth destroy their enamei, as well ns d:> pickles. The child Uiat is fed ou sweets naturally ctaves pickles as an antidote, but well-fed chil dren are contented with plain nourishing food if properly prepared, and sufficiently varied. Many imagine toat all cmldrea should have tree access to both sugar and picklea in order to supply what they sup pose to be natural cravings, and to prevent thefts of sugar from the family bowl. A mistaken policy. Story of the Joannotto Expedition. Mrs. De Long nas edited the book of her husband in relation to the voyage of the Jeanoetto. It is an interesting story, and in it Ds Long thus speaks of bis com panions: “Chipp is as he always was and always will be—calm aud earnest. He has always something to do and is always doing it in that quiet, steady and sure manner of his. He smiles rarely and says very little, but I know where be is and how reliable and sure he is in every re spect.” Danenhower is “the same as ever, does his work well and navigates correctly.” Melville is ‘ as bright as a dollar and as cheerful as possible all the time. He sits on my left at table and helps me to carve and serve oat. We broke a pump rod two days ago. Some engineer^ would have wanted to stop a ship a few days for this, or, perhaps, turn back. Not lu; he says ‘all right; we will run without a pump rod, hey, brother; and when we get in I will make you a new pump rod or fifty of them.' 1 believe he could make an engine out of a few barrel hoo; s if tie tried hard. He is one of the strong points of this expedition. He and Dr. Ambler are much alike in some re spects. The Doctor is a ! l I would have him, bright and cheerful under all circum stances. During our bad weather he was around all the lime, cheering up Collins aud Newcomb, holding up the Chinese cook when necessary, and facing the music like a man. lie and Melville have chris tened Newcomb ‘Ninkum.’ and occasion ally I hear one of them sin/ out on seeing an albatross, ‘Here, Ninky, quick! Come and catch a gooscl’ ” Mr. Collins suffered a great deal from seasickness, but be soon got all right. “Collins :s the same Collins, getting pi! puns all the time—some of them good and some of them wretchedly poor. For a white we steadily refused to see his pirns, and would all look at him as Innocently and inquiringly as babies when he got one off, asking him to explain it two or three times over, until he finally exclaimed that our intellects must be weakening in proportion as we increased our distance from !San Francisco. Now, however, we let him pun away, praise the good ones amt condemn the bad." During the early part of the voyage they bad a pleasant enough tune, between Mel ville's high spirits aud Collins’ puna. Sing ing seemed to be one of the amusements. There were so many good voices aboard that Captain De Long proposed getting up a choir, with Collins at the or/an. The Jeannette left San Francisco in July, in October she was seized by the ice and held fast. Here begins the tragedy. The record of each day is one of alternate hope and despondency. Tue merest straw was clutched a* ooly to break in their bends, “.here Is a wonderful sameness in our daily life,” wriies ihe c >inm inder, “and l can as tet devise n > efil neat way of chtn'ing the momtony. ” Oj Curist- mas Eve, “in order that some little con viviafciy and good feeling might be occa sioned or encouraged,'’ Captain De Long served out turec quarts of whiskey among the men and .vlelviiie "msxed a fine com-, pound Irom Irish whlsaey presented by , Paymastor Cochran, ’ and those alt j lined in drinking a merry Christmas to the ab , sent. ones. “At Iasi Christmas Day I dawned—the first pa s?d aboard the Jean nette.” “Inis is the dreariest day 1 have ever experienced in my life," says the journal, ‘ an-J it is certainly passed in the dreariest part of the world." And yet he will not c >mp!ain, tor up to that time they have had no sciious tnisbtp. They tried to be joPy, hut did not make any success of it until dinner, when, fore and aft, they liad such a eta id banquet that they were tor a time lilted out of and beyond the contempladou'-fot their surroundings. Kveiything m their rooms was frozen hard. Tue frost in the lower drawer of Captain I >e Long’s bureau was so solid that he had to work with a hammer and break the ice before he could get a pair of pantaloons out. The rooms were otten literally hung with ice, which while it stayed solid did no harm, but which when it melted and dripped down on the sleepers was as bad for the health as tor the comfort. A chase alter a bear was a i&vonie break in the monotony of ship life. Mr. Co lias started in pursuit of one, revolver m hand, one day, but sj er be had gone a mile and a half over tue ice and snow he relinquished ^tho cha-e. Even after they are shot they 'manage to run away and die in some spot where they cannot be found. It seems necessary, says Captain De Lou', “1° fill a bear so full ol shot that he ca mo! carry it to induce him to give up the ghost near the ship.” “Septunber 5, 1880 —One year on the icW And we are only 150 miles to the nor;hward and westward of where we entered it.” Another Christmas day has come aud they are still fast in the icc, but they seem to be in bet ter rplrits than they were the year before. On Christmas Ere they had a minstrd entertainment in the deckhouse. Notwith standing the dreariness of their surround ings they managed to crack jokes and to laugh at them. - Ou the Ja>t uight of the year they had a jollification, but alter that their case be came loo desperate for any fun, aud it was not many days before the Jeannette bad to be decried. It is astonishing how well Csp’.ain De Long kep. up. He seems never to have had an hoar 8 Illness, and was thus enublai to write his record. Soon we come to the last stages of this sad chronicle. These have already been pub lished to the world. The doting lines of this book are peculiarly striking, coming from the hand of one who has suffered so severely in the cause of Arctic research:— “Tue voyage of the Jeannette is ended The scientific results obtained were far less than had been aimed at, but were no. insignificant. Something was added to the stock of the world's knowledge; a slight gain was made In the solution of thc Arctic problem. Is it said that too high a price In the lives of men was paid for Ibis knowlege? Not by such cold calcula tion is human endeavor measured. Sacri fice is nobler than ease, unselfish life is consummated In lonely death, and the world is richer by this gift of suffering. ” lutemperauce in alms la the source of many of the life-failures whioh we constantly witness. None are ruined by the Justice of God but those who hate to be reformed by the grace of God. We ought not to judge of man’s merits by his qualifications, but by thp use he makes of them. •- Cubby is the best food in sea-sick- neaa. Ad Expert Burglar Dead. Prisoner No. 701 at the Eastern Peni tentiary, Pa., who,would give only the name of Bill Johnson, died recently in the hospital of a complication of diseases. In a few days he would have been released, after serving a term of three years upon the charge of attempt ed burglary at Simes’ store, on Market street, near Eleventh. Philadelphia. During the entire time lie was in prison the man refused to tell his real name, and said he was satisfied to be called Bill Jjhnson. It was learned from some of his companions in crime that he was the sou of a well-known and honored Kentucky family, who long since had mourned for him as dead. He said he had married sisters and brothers, and his Southern pride was too great to permit of his bringing dis grace upon them. Johnson was one of the boldest and most reckless burglars and thieves in the country. He was about 30 years of age aud very intelligent. Early in life he allied himself with three notorious robbers in Cnicago, and was known to the Western detectives as Razor Joe. from the fact that he always carried one of those deadly instruments, aud was exceedingly free in Lie use of it. His associates were Reddy Beesley and Western Charley, and it becoming un pleasant in Lie West he removed his quarters to New Yo.k and formed an alliance with B..iy Forrester and Charley Van Merer,and made a success ful robbery for a large amount at Hol yoke, Massachusetts. They were ar rested, but the funds was in the hands ot a party who was not suspected, and, after the tnieves broke jail—the money was divided in New York—Johnson went West and robbed a bank in Wis consin. He was convicted and sentene- ed for a long term, but was taken out of jail by his comrades and again came East. He joined with another person known as George Lesley, or Western George, who was murdered for making love to another man’s wife. After the Nathans robbery, when Billy Foirester was arrested upon sus picion and taken to Joliet Penitentiary to serve out his unexpired term there, Johnson went to Chicago as the man’s friend. He also was sentenced to the same jail for twelve years, but after serving two years succeeded in making his escape. He came East again, aud finally lauded at Cherry Hill. lie al ways blamed the man who was left out side to watch while robbing Sims’ store for betraying him and his companion. Johnson had always managed to eceape Irom every penitentiary in which he was placed, aud when sent to Cherry Hill began arranging his plans. He was placed in a cell that is lighted from the top, and he said that when he looked up and could see nothing but the sky above him he concluded that he had better stay where he was. This idea was strengthened when he learned that Billy Forrester, his old partner, had been detected in an attempt to break out. The deceased had been kept alive for some weeks by medical skill, and bad as Ins nurse the venerable burglar Ike Marsh. A detainer had been lodg ed against him, aud even had he lived his lime out he would have been taken to Joliet to serve out ten years he owed Illinois. Katina at Mignt. Popularly, it is thought injurlou , but unless dinner or supper liave been late, or the stomach disordered, it is harmless aud beneficial, t. e., if one lie hungry. Four to five iioqrs having elapsed since the last meal, invalids aud the delicate should always eat at bed time. This seems heretical, but is not. Food, of simple kind, will induce sleep. Animals, after eating, instinctively sleep. Human beings become drowsy after a full meal. Wby ? Because blood is solicited toward the stomach to sup ply the juices needed in digestion. Hence the brain receives less blood than during fasting, becomes pale, and the powers grow dormant. Sleep theretore ensues. This is physiological. The sinking sensation in sleeplessness is a call for food. Wakefulness often is merely a symptom of hunger. Gratify the desire aud you full asleep. The writer recently was called at two a. in. to a lady who assured him she was dy ing. Tne body was warm, the heart doing honest work. To her indigna tion, he ordered buttered bread (hot milk or beef-tea were better) to be eaten at once. Obeying, the moribund lady was soon surprised by a return of life «nd desire to sleep. The feeble will be stronger at dawn if they eat on going to bed. Fourteen hours lie between supper and breakfast. By that tune the fuel of the body has become expended. Consequently, the morning toilet fatigues many. Let such eat at bed-time, and take a glass of warm milk or beef tea before rising. Increased vigor will result. “But the stomach mustiest.” True. Yet when hungry we should eat. Does the infant stomach rest as long as the adult’s? The latter eats less often merely because his food requires more time for diges tion. Seldom can one remai n awake until half-past teu or eleven p. m., with out hunger. Satisfy it and sleep will be sounder. During the night give wakeful chil dren food. Sleep will follow. The sick should in variably eat during tbe night. This is imperative. At uight, Lie delicate and children may take, slowly, warm milk, beef tea, or oat meal gruel. Vigorous adults may also eat bread and milk, cold beef, mutton, chicken aud bread, raw oysters, all, of course, in moderation. Do not eat if not hungry. Eat if you are. Beware of the first he; it may require a dozen to hide it, in any one of which you are liable to be caugnt. Whatever you win in life you must conquer by your own efforts, and then it is yours—a part of yourself. Theoretical reformers begin tbeir great work with others, but the practi cal reformer begins with himself. As water runs down from the swell ing ffiills, and flows together in the lowly vale, so grace flows not but into bumble hearts. THE VERDICT -or- THE PEOPLE BUY THE BEST! Mr. J. O. Bo ai»—Dear Sir: 1 Itou/nt tue Oral Davis Machine sold b; you over live veaii ago lot my wile, who haa given' - long •u'd fair inaL 1 am well pleased with it. U never gives any rouble, and u as good as when a rat bought. J. W. BOLIOX. Wlnnsboro, S. C., April 188S. Mr. Boas: \ ou wish to know what 1 have to sa/ In regard to the Davis Machine bought of joa threa f ears ago. I feel 1 can’t say too much in its favor. made about *80,00 within five montus, at times running it so fast that the needle would get per fectly hot from friction. I feel confident I could not have done the same work with as much ease and so well with any other machine. No time loti in adjusting attachments. The lightest running macluue 1 have ever treadled. Brother James aud W imams’ families are as much pleased with their Uavis Machines bought ot you. I want no better machine. As I said before, I don’t think too much can be said for toe Davis Machine. Respectfully, ELLBN 8TBVKNS0N, FairU-ld County, April, 1883. Mu. Boau : My machine gives me perfect satis factlou. l Ond no fault with It. The attachments are so simple, i wish for no better than the Davis Vertical Feed. Respectfully. Mrs. B. Mii.i.ino. Fairfield county, April, 1883. Mr. Bo vo: I uougnt a navis Vertical Feel ew mg Machine from you four years ago. 1 am el! g tiled with It. It never has given me auv ro uble, and has never been the least out of order. It Is as good as wlieu I uret bought it. I can cheerfully recoiumind it. Respectfully, Mas. M. J. Kirkland. Monticello, April 30.1883. This Is to certify that I have been using a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for over twaysars, purchased of Mr. J. o. Bong. 1 haven’t found 11 possessed of auy fault—all the attachments are so simple. It neverrefuses to work, and is certainly the lightest running in the market. 1 consider it a first class machine. Very respectfully. Minnib M. Willimobam. Oakland, Fairfield county. S. O. Mr Boao: l am wen pleased m every pamcui with the Uavis Machtue nought of you. I think a Ursi-class machine mevery respect. You knew you sold several machines of the same make to ditlerent members of our families, all ot whom, aa far as 1 know, are well pleased with them. Respectfully. MBS. M. H. Moblbt. Fairfield county, April, 1883. This isto certiry we have nai m consii'ic use the Davis Machtue liought or you about mree years ago. As we take In work, and have made tue price of ;t several times over, we don’t want auy better machine. It is always ready to do any kind of work we nave to do. No puckering or skippmg stitches. We can only say we are well pieassJ ana wish no better machine. 1 ATHBHINB VVVI.IB AND SISTBU. April 85, 1883. I have no taint to hud with my macn ue, aud don’t waut any uetter. 1 have mi de the pnoe or li aevera times o* taking la sewmg. ft is always ready to do us work. I think it a flrsr-class ms chine. I feel i oau'tsay too much for the Davis Ventcal Feed Machine. Mbs. Thomas Smith. Fairfield county, April. 1883. Mr. ,1. o. Boao—Dear Sir: it gc erRs of the Vuvla Ver- jives me m iou pleasure lo testify to the merits < tical Feed Sew.ng Machine. Tbe machine I got ot yon about live years ago. baa been almost In con slant use ever smce that time. I cannot see that it is worn any, and has not cost me one cent tor repairs since we have had it. Am well pleased and don’t wish for any better. Yours tru'y, Robt. ORlWFOKD, Granite quarry, near Wlnnsboro 8. 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. Tbe machine has given us unbounded satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mrs. W. K.Tuknkh and Dauiihtbimi Fairfield county, S. C., Jan. 3;. 18s3. Having bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewmg Machine from Mr. J. O. Boag some three years ago, and it having given me perfect satisfaction lu eveiy resjiect as a tauilly mar nine, both for hea > and light sewing, and never needed tne least i n pair in any way, 1 can cucerfully recommend it to any one as a first-class machlnr in every partten lar, and th nk it second to none, ft Is one ot th« simp est machines made; my cfiil Iren use It wit i all ease. The attachments are more easily a t Justed and it does a greater range of work oy means of its Vertical Feed than any other us • chine I have ever so ’’ or used. Mrs. Thomas uwinus. Winusboro, Fairfield county, 8. C. We have bad one ot tue Davis Machines about four yeara aud nave always found It ready to do alt kinds of wont we nave had occasion to do. Can’t see that the machine is worn any, and works as well sa when new. Mas. W. J. Ckawforp, Jackson’s Creen, Fairfield countv, 8. C. My wife is highly pleased with the Davis Ma chine bought of you. She would not take double wnat sue gave lor it. The maculae has not been out of order since she had It, and she can do any kind of work on it. Very Respectfully, Jas. F. Fhbk. Monticello, airfield county, S. C. The Davla Sewing Machine Is simply a trsa. we MRS. J. A. UOODWTM. Ridgeway, N. C„ Jan. 10. Is83. J.O Boau, Esq., Agent-Dear Sir: My wife has ueeu using a Davis Sewing Machine constant ly for the past fonr years, and It has never needed any repairs am worka Just aa well aa when first bought. She says It wdl do a greater range ot practical work »nd do it easier and bet-cr than any macalne she nas ever used. We cheerfully recommend It aa a No. 1 family machine, Your tru.y, Jab. Q. Davib. Winusboro. S. C., Jan. 3, 1883. Mr. Boau : I have always foand my Davis Ma chine ready do all kinds of to work I have had oc casion to do. I cannot see that the machine Is worn s particle and it worka aa wad aa whan new. Respectfully, Man R. O. Uoooinu, Wlnnsboro, 9. C., April, 1883, Mr. Boao : My wife has been constantly using tbe Davia Machine bought of yon about are years ago. I have never regretted buvmg it, aa it la olwaya ready for any clod of family sewing, either itaavy or light. It la never onto! fix ox ueenmg "»*“*■ TWHWMM,. A. W. Lam, Fairfield, 1C., March, UN. •US!