Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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♦ TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. 0.. DECEMBER 4.1883. ESTABLISHED 1848. O, ANXIOUS HEART. Be quiet, restless heart! The long light lies In gleams of lingering sunshine on the hill; The home-bound swallow, twittering as he flies, Makes silence seem more still. The shadows deeper grow, and in the woods The air a latent sweetness holds in fee; An odor faint of yet unblossomed buds— So like, dear heart, tt> thee 1 Far distant in the soft, cerulean deep, Where the horizon bounds the nether world, Great ships becalmed like brooding birds asleep, Lie with white sails Ipose furled, In peace the day is ended, and the night Falleth as doth a veil upon the sea; Along its bosom come with swift winged flight The gray mists, silently. O, anxious heart, how nature speaks 1 Her power How leisurely she uses 1 How intense The ii.tiuite peace of her most fruitful hour! How soft her influence! Time hath she for her storms to sweep the main; To rock the tree tops with her winds of wrath; To bring forth fragrance in the summer rain; And time for snow she hath! So, dear, for all thy eager soul desires, She keeps sweet times and seasons. In her mood Is hid for thee all passion’s subtle fires To round thy womanhood. Cease then ! and in this dewy twilight move As one who asks not whither, cares not why; This gift for all holds still theEternal love— God’s endless by and by. A HROKEX TRUST. I, Edwin Leigh, had been married just three mouths, and for twice that time a junior partner in our banking firm, Debenham, Lockyer, & Co., of Crutched Friars. I had cause to remember the day when a neighbor of ours, a young Ger man merchant, called, after dusk, at our house—Wolseley Place, N. W.—to ask me to take charge of a sum, in gold chiefly, which he had received in the city after banking hours. ‘•lam called off to France, and start by the night mail at eight o’clock,” said my friend; “nor do I care to carry so much gold with me among the piok- pockets of Paris, so please pay it in to my account when you go to the bank to-morrow—six thousand dollars.” I insisted on giving Herman Kratz a receipt for his six thousand dollars. “Dat is all nonsense,” said the wor thy Teuton, but he pocketed the paper I pressed upon him, and we shook hands and parted. I eould, but my efforts seeming useless, I turned to the doctor, who drew me aside. “There has been, it app^aij, my dear sir, an audacious robbery here,” he said, in a low voice. I started. “And poor little Mrs. Leigh, who alone witnessed it, as I gather,” went on the doctor, “has received a severe shock to nerves naturally weak.” “I have done my best, but I am sure her husband’s protection is the surest cure.” Again, with some trouble, Dr. Bland- ford contrived to administer restora tives, and then left his i>atient in my charge. Sitting down beside my wife, 1 gently took her hand in mine, and with much loving talk tried to draw from her what had thus alarmed her. But when I spoke indignantly of the scoundrel who had frightened her, and talked of sending at once for the police, Blanche started up, and clasped her hands imploringly. “Qh, no, no-never!” she shrieked out. “Edwin, deax Edwin, say noth ing to the police. He must not be pursued. “Let him go—pray, pray, let him go free!” This, I felt, was most extraordinary. Why should 1 let a thief go, if he could be caughtV And what could my poor Blanche mean? I began, for the first time, to wonder of what the stolen property could have consisted. That there had been a real robbery I could not doubt. But, unless some impudent snatcher had slipped In to abscond with a few spoons, or burglars had been busy, I could not guess the meaning of the disturbance. Mechauically I glanced around the room, and missed from its accustomed place my big dressing-case—new and handsome, with its silver mountings and parent lock—the very case in which, before *startlng for Manchester, I had secured Herman Krantz’s money. Where was the case now? “Blanche, love,” said I, anxiously, and in a quivering dressing-case ' ’ voice, “surely, the "Yes, yes,” she cried out, again wringing her hands, with a long wail of agony; “cruel, cruel—yes, it is that! But spare him—pray do not set any one to hunt him down—not if you love me —Edwin’ pray, pray!” And then her hysterical attack be came a paroxysm of so viokut a nature that Dr. Blandfoad had again to be sent for, and he had trouble enough to calm, by skill and care, the violent agitation under which poor Blanche now suffered. “There must be no more talk of an exciting character to-night. My pa tient must have absolute repose, said Mrs. Leigh that, early that morning, as the steamship Arizona was sailing for New York, a passenger, a young m^n, embarking had slipped from the landing-stage into the river, and when his body was recovered life was com pletely extinct. Strapped to his waist was a large morocco dressing-case, with silver mountings and a patent lock. In the side-pocket of his coat was a found a letter, stamped and ready to be posted, addressed to Blanche, and signed “Your affectionate brother, Jasper Langtrey.” “Jasper Langtrey.” At the sight of that name a light broke in upon me. Of my wife’s relations, who lived in the country, I had seen but little. Yet I had heard of the one black sheep of the family, a scampish brother of Blanche’s, who had caused sorrow and shame to his surroundings, and, having made England too hot to hold him, was supposed to be leading a gold- digger’s life in Australia. He, then, was the thief, as Blanche, when she had got over her first natural grief at the sudden tidings of her erring brother’s untimely ending, shuddecingly confessed. “He had, it seems, lately returned to England, but this I was unaware of; judge, then, of my astonishment when, yesterday, I suddenly saw him standing beside me. “It seemed that, finding the door below accidentally opened, Jasper had entered unseen, and come straight to my room. “When my first surprise was over, he told me that, as usual, he wanted money. I offerred him the little I had —the few sovereigns in my puise. He was awfully excited, and demanded more. I told him there was no more in the house, except the sum left in trust by a friend of yours.” “You told him that!” exclaimed I. “Yes, that was my mistake,” sobbed Blanche, “for his eyes followed mine. Imagine my horror when, seizing on the dressing-case with the money, he was about to leave the room. I screamed and threw myself on my knees at his feet, and clung to him, entreating him not to wrong thus my husband and myself, but he pushed me violently from him.” “ ‘I trust to my sister,’ he cried, ‘not to make a convict out of her brother,’ and then rushed from the room and from the house.” “And what could Ido, Edwin dear— it almost drove me mad—what could I doV” “My poor Blanche!'’ I said, pitying ly, as I took her in my arms and kissed her. 1 went to Liverpool, and there had being one of his also Includes soft ties). Mr. Paul Howard Paul, Howard Paul, the well-known en trepreneur, has probably carried one of his practical jokes too far. The joke of it is that he did not contemplate perpetratiug it at all. While in Bos ton recently, in reference to the en gagement of Mr. Wyndham and com pany at the Bijou opera house, he visi ted the great industrial fair, which is the pride and glory of Boston. He was much attracted by the display of goods at the tables of a prominent manufac turer, and claimed considerable atten tion from the young lady in attendance in examining the samj<les, toilet soaps hobbies (although he soap in great quanti- thought the young lady’s courtesy needed recognition, and hesitating to offer her a douceur of money, he begged her acceptance of two tickets for the theatre. The young lady, who was quite a beauty, colored, hesitated and finally declined, but Mr. Paul insisted. “Oh! no,” she mur mured, “I could not think of accepting theatre tickets from a stranger.” “It does not matter much,” replied Mr. Paul, “as you may never see me again.” “Unless,” continued the maiden fair, “you can give me references as to your character and position.” “Oh,” laughed Mr. Paul, “you want some references? Oh, I can give you any number;” and with that he wrote a list of a dozen or more prominent gentlemen in Boston and New York, which seemed satisfactory to the young lady. Mr. Paul thought the matter ended, but he finds that she has written a dignified little note to all his friends he gave as reference, making the most careful inquiries regarding him socially and pecuniaiily. These friends replied eulogizing Mr. Paul, hoping thereby to serve him. Satisfied by these replies the young lady has now addressed a letter to Mr, Paul, which has been for warded to him from Boston, saying she would be pleased to receive him at her residence, and it appears she is well connected. Whether this letter in fluenced Mr. Paul to defer sailing in the Britannic is not in our ken. Like a Fool. He stood at the ticl^gt window, slow- S. T a. m- dressing-case' up-stairs, meaning, of course, to convey.it to Crutched Friars next day. Dinner, however, was not over before there was a loud peal of the door-bell, and I received a pressing letter of in structions, sent by special messenger, from our principal’s private residence. Mr. Debenham requested me to start by early train next morning for Man chester on important business. It was the first separation between Blanche and myself, and it was a trial to both, for 1 loved my young wife dearly; however, the journey was ne cessary, so at dawn 1 set off, looking forward with pleasure to my prompt return, and enjoining on Blanche to keep an eye on the tall morocco case that contained Herr Kratz's deposit. I was detained at Manchester longer than had been expected. However, on the third day I reached it, the affairs which 1 had to arrange were satisfactorily settled, and I was able to telephone to my wife that I should return home that night. I started. The weather—it was winter—had quite changed. The cold was bitter, and the country white with suowrifts, while the loud, fierce wind brought fresh flakes with it. Still, wrapping myself in my warm ulster, I kept my place in the railway car, cheerfully looking forward to the pleasant welcome that awaited me. More than once I fell asleep, but al ways my dreams were of home, the pretty little wife, the eager greeting the warmih, the sense of comfort, the glowing fire, the hot supper, for the traveler returned. London, at last. Slowly through the blinding snow did my cabman make [his way to Wolseley Place, No. 2; but, that haven of peace once reached, I ran like a schoolboy up the flagged path of the tiny front gar den, leaving grumbling Jehu to follow with the portmanteau. Sarah, our housemaid, hurried to an swer my impatient ring, 1 did not, at first, notice the girl’s affrighted look, nor the flaring candle, snatched off the drawing-room table, in her hand. Sarah had enough to do to prevent the candle from being extinguished, while 1 had to push hard at the closing door, before, along with freshening wind and driving snow, I could effect an entrance. “You seem surprised, Sarali,” I said. “Oh, sir, you don’t know what it is. No, there’s nobody there,” she said wildly, as I rushed to the drawing room, the door of which was ^jar, one candle on the trim table, the tire ex tinct, the room empty and cheerless. I left Sarah to receive my portman teau and pay the cabman, and dashed up-stairs. There, in my wife’s bed room, a bright fire burned, candles flickered, and kind, white-haired Dr. Blandtord stood before the fire. There was a strong odor of ether and other drugs, and the medicine-chest stood open on a side table. Stretched on the bed, her pretty head almost buried among the soft pillows, but in the same dress she must have worn that day, lay Blanche. When she heard my step and my voice, her hysterical sobs redoublea, and it was almost in a shriek that she cried out— “Do not ask it, Edwin, no, no, cannot lell you. Do not question me, or it will kill me!” died lire in the lonely drawing-room, to tell me that Blanche had sunk into an uneasy slumber, and that Sarah was w ith her. What a night I spent! No sleep visited me, after the fatigue of my journey, so profound was my wretched ness. I was a ruined man, I felt; ruined and disgraced, for I could no more replace the six thousand dollars eft in my care by the German—himself not rich—than 1 could give any reason able explanation of the robbery. My wife's behavior was so singular, and her anxiety lest the villain who had made off with this large sum—the oss of which meant rum to our pros pects—should be captured, was so inex flicable, that the suspicions of the world at large would cling to us both. 1 felt myself miserable and perturbed. What could Blanche’s evident sympa thy with the robber imply ? unless indeed he sudden shock had disordered her jrain? The early post brought me a letter from Paris. My friend, Krautz, in formed me cheerfully that he found a lengthened tour m France would be required in the interests of his firm, and that he was writing by the same post to our banking house in Crutehed Friars, to request that the letter o:: credit on Rouen & Lyons, might be sent out to him for the amount of six thousand dollars. “The sum you paid in for me will be handy, now,” said the unconscious German. I groaned aloud as I read the words. “Your mistress is asleep?” I asked of Sarah. The answer was in the affirmative; nor, until I had the doctor’s approval, could I venture to disturb my sick wife by approaching her. My task was clear before me, and it was no pleasant one. I must be at our office at the usual time, more as a self-accused culprit than as a colleague. Certainly, I had been guilty of noth ing worse than carelessness. But then a banker has no right to be careless. And much of the affair could not be explained. Blanche’s behavior presented a riddle not to be guessed. My object was to insure Herr Krantz against loss, and to entreat that the firm would advance the money due to him, deducting the amount from my annual share in the profits. Still, six thousand dollars. “We will take time to think of it, Mr. Leigh,” said the principal. And, good-naturedly, he advised me to go home, since, in the present condi tion of my mind and spirits, I was unfit for the routine of my daily duties. I reached home, and met Dr. Bland ford at the garden gate. “You will find Mrs. Leigh better now,” he said. And, indeed, I found my dear wife calmer, though pale and trembling. Clearly, it would be rash to allude, for the present, to the robbery. I spoke soothingly to her, and I could not have been half an hour in the room before a telegram was brought to me. It was addressed to Blanche, and came from Liverpool. “I know nobody in Liverpool,” she said wonderingly. “You read it, Edwin.” 1 did read it. it was from the Chief Superintendent r:«*uw«rwn<ci» CbnESti money, which I was proud and thank' ful, on my return to London, to pay into the bank to Herr Krants’s account. left directions, and the necessary sum, to provide for Jasper’s decent jurial. Here is the letter which he had penned: “Dear Sister Blanche,—All is well, i start for America this morn- fug, per Arizona packet from Liverpool. I shall send this back by the pilot boat when out of the Mersey. I trust to you not to betray me. I will repay the money when I have made my ‘pile.’ I rely on you not to betray me. Your affectionate Brother, “Jasper Langtrey.” I need not say that this letter, which I carried back to my wife, cleared away every doubt between us—every doubt from my mind. My Blanche and I have continued, as icfore, the most trustful and hapniest couple of any that I know. Herr Krantz did not learn until his return to England, some months afterwards, the daager he had so narrowly escaped. WUconiiln’s Wonder, Village Whittier* I soothed my poor darling as well as of the Liverpool police, and informed A strange case has come to light in Waupina Wisconsin town around which ther, still hangs an air of impenetrable mystery. Every woman is gossiping about it. Last spring a young woman named Gertrude Fuller became the bride of a young man—calling himsel Frank Jlubois, and to all outward appearances they have since lived hap- jily together. They have gained a ivelihood by painting and other odd jits of work, and not even their most mtimate friends have ever thought of them except as passing a quiet, happy honeymoon at their modest little home. Last night S. J. Hudson, of Belvidere, lli a former resident of Fond du Lac, Wis., presented himself at their door and claimed Gertrude Dubois’ whilom husband as his wife, who had deserted him and his two children. The gossips are greatly excited over the matter, some going so far as to claim that the woman herself has been de ceived as to the sex of the person she married. This was the story told by reporter sent out to investigate it. Gertrude, in reply to this question, maintained that the person she lived with through the summer is a man, and her stepmother upholds her in this assertion. Hudson, who lived in Fond du Lac previous to his departure for Belvidere early last spring, left here for the for mer place last night, being unable to obtain an interview with his wife. He states that when he left Fond du Lac, Mrs. Hudson was to follow him, he having left her a ticket for that pur pose, and that he has not seen her since. Frank Dubois, otherwise Mrs. Hudson, left here on the noon train north. In spite of the assertions of Gertrude and his step-mother the people here believe Dubois to be woman. Looking at past events in the lights of the present, many little things, unnoticed at the time, point directly to this conclusion. There is, in fact, no doubt upon the subject and the people are satisfied that Miss Fuller’s husband Is Mrs. Hudson. Why the two women should have done so remarkable a thing as to marry each other cannot be imagined. Mrs. Hud son is a masculine-looking person, an< it did not require a great deal of trou ble to disguise her sex. iltft v ly unrolling an old-jftfcjor'M leather ^StSTmaanfiss by the shouting of the Jpt" - ^*2 their trains. After he got about a yard and a half of wallet un rolled he suddenly stopped and said to the ticket agent; “Is that clock right?” “No, sir,” promptly replied the a- gent. “’Tain’t?” shouted the startled pas senger, stooping down and making a sudden clutch at a lean and hungry carpetbag. “Tain’t right? Well what ’n the name o’ common sense do ye have it stuck up there for, thenV” “To fool people,” calmly replied the agent; “that's what we’re here for, to fool people and misdirect them.” “Well, by gol,” said the passenger, hurriedly rolling up his wallet,“then I’ve missed my train. I’ll report you, l willl” “Won’t do any good,” replied the agent; “it’s the company’s orders. They pay a man $85 a month to go a- round every momiug to mix and mud dle up all the clocks so that not one of them will be right and no two of them alike.” The passenger gasped twice or thrice, but could not say anything. The tick et seller went on: “It’s the superintendent’s idea. He is fond of fun, enjoys a joke, and it does him good to see a man prance around and hear him jaw when he buys a tick et and then his train has been gone two hours. It saves him the expense of going to the circus.” “Which way is the clock wrong,” the passenger asked in despairing ac cents, “fast or slow?” “Don’t know,” replied the agent, “That’s part of the fun, not to let any-. body in the building know anything stick. about the right time. All that I know is that it’s ab#mt ninety minutes wrong, one way or the other.” With a hollow groan the passenger dropped his carpet bag aud wallet and and made a rush for the door, upset- 1,mg every man who got in his way. In about two minutes he came back, crestfallen and meek, and took his jlaceat the end of the line. When once more he walked up to the window, le said, as he named his station and jought his ticket like a sane man: hat made you talk to me like a iar?” “What made you ask questions like a fool?” answered the ticket man. The little village of Oxford, Ind., to which public attention has been attracted by the cruel murder of the young and pretty Ada Atkinson, has some eight hundred souls—mostly slow, contented, hospitable, stupid, Hoosier houIs. And they all whittle. Every store has its woodeu box sitting before it, and every box has its whittlers sit ting upon it. Near the public square is a railing—a long scantling on three posts—evidently once intended to pro tect pedestrians - against a yawning excavation, but now risen to the im portance of a free whittling post. Here one may study whittling as a fine art and a science. Here one who has noth ing else to do—and what else can one find to do in Oxford?—may studdy the characters of men by their whittling— know the carpenter by his chips, as it were. Hera is a wee, pearl-handled pen knife with blade not an inch long, held in clean, delicate fingers, while a tiny sliver is broken from the scantling aud poised, pointing toward the breast, as a woman holds a pencil ihat she vainly hopes to sharpen. Tue whittling is done towards >he thick of the thumb that steadies the end of the little sliver, and mites of shavings timidly fall at the feet of a “dude” whittler, who does no; belong in Oxford, but is probably a .traveler from some Boston millmery house and charges his cigarettes to his expenss account. How different from the genuine Oxford whittler! He whips out a huge bone-handled knife—a good handful of a knile—and throws open the great four-inch blade with a loud, sharp click that proudly proclaims: “There’s backbone in our family, I’d have you to know.” Striding con fidently up to the railing this whittler rubs tne blade back and fourth over the soft, weather-drabbed pine, and makes the assault. B-r-r-rip! and he has a stick large enough for any school master's rod—as large as any school master should be permitted to use— and the whittling begins. The stick has not been cut from the scantling; the knife started it and the sheer force of the whittler tore it off. And so also he whittles. His knife is not sharp, for this whittler is none of your lazy fellows who sits around the house all day with nothing to do but wear out whetstones and keep knives sharp. He is a vigorous, active man, who, although there is nothing worth doing, is never idle. He forces the knife into the stick and pries off sliver after sliver as he begrudgingly stays long enough to hear the latest villlage gossip; and when his stick is thus brok en into bits he hurries on to the post nflBtfpi for although-La ,Jha> not a Qpy- puat naefcago rinuu up v ago last Valentine’s day, he goes to 1 post office on the arival of every mail and, with the others, complains that the postmaster is slow in making the distribution. The justice of the piece is a thought ful whittler. He made a dollar and six bits in fees last vear, and whittled away 83 worth of wood. His knife is neither sharp nor dull. It is like his wits— surprisingly dull over the straightest- grain questions, but wonderfully keen when knotty problems get in the way. He breaks off a piece of wood with his stumpy fingers, and sits on the edge of | the sidewalk as if he had come to stay; and why should he not stay since he has all the time there is, end can do nearly as much business there on the sidewalk as in his little temple of justice hard by? Before proceeding to whittle he thinks it over a long, long time, and turns the btick end for end, and end for end again. Finally, breaking into a low, soft whistling of old “Coronation” or “Pleyel’s Hymn.” he cuts a notch in one end of the stick, and, half listen ing to the gossip of his fellow-villagers, he goes on whittling and whittling, whittling and whittling. Now and then he slices a long, even shaving from the stick, and squints along the surface to see if it is straight. Then he sits and looks at the wood and thinks, and thinks, and thinks! What will he make of that stick? Simply nothing. He will squint along its sides and make it as level as the villagers suppose his head to be; and he will smooth it down until it is as glossy as the elbows of his coat. But, after all, he will have only a smooth, straight Does it symbolize his thoughts? and the hand of time that will come to raffle and to tarnish and to spoil that fresh and clean and beautiful gash. The villagers rub the place with their scaly fingeis and pronounce it a splend id cut, and each in his turn gives the keen blade a trial. Some—clumsy creatures!—cutting only a notch, apparently as American tourists climb Mount Blajio—just to say they have done it. Others take the knife up fondly, and with gleams of sal isfaction on tueir prickly faces, make ong, slow deep passes through the easy pine, hanging on and on with their very souls. No gushing actress ever burned a kun into the fluttering heart ol a jealous finer with more I-wouldn’t- let-go-if-I-could-a n d-l-o o n 1 d n’t-i f-I would-itiveness than these villagers drew the shining blade through the modestly willing heart of the yellow pine. And the knife is declared the best piece oi steel that has ever came into Oxford since poor Bobby Dobson —peace to his ashes! —brought over his famous Sheffield blade, that wore out a dozen handles and io.ir generations of whittlers before it was lost, and became the ol j ‘-ct ot a search that will never end. When Woman are Sea Sick, THE VERDICT -or- THE PEOPLE BUY THE BEST! Kb. J. 0. Boxa—near sir: 1 bougnt me ant Davia Machine sold by you over five yean ago lor my wife, who haa given It a long and fair trial, t am well pleased with It. It never gives any rouble, and 1* as good aa when drat bought. J. W. no LICK. Winnsboro, 8. C., April 1833. Mr. Boao: ion wtth to know what 1 have to say in regard to the Davis Machine bought of you three J ean ago. I feel i can’t say too much In its favor, made about (80,00 within live months, at times running it so fast that the needle would get per " ly hot from fricUon. I feel confldenl 1 could not hi fectly Is he sitting on the edge of that side walk dreaming of the new Jerusalem and reminding himself that, notwith standing tho gloss of varnish on the tortuous paths of vice, the straight way is the smoothest way? Nobody knows. He only whittles and whittles, and speaks not his thoughts. Aud here comes the young man with the brand new knife that his visiting uncle has just brought from the city. He is in breathless haste to sho TO it to the villagers who, each in his turn, takes its German silver handle in his hand—actually takes it in his own band —and looks from the knife to the sparkling eyes of the villagers who duster around and tip whmks back at The Large*! Organ In the World. I h lnl) as if to say: “Ain’t she a daisy, A ruddy-faced steward sat on the rail of an ocean steamer and clicked his heels together as he smoked a brier- wood pipe. He was short, stocky, and cheery. “Were you ever sea-sick?” asked the reporter, planting himself before the steward. “Oh, yes. I suffered once. I got over my first attack without much trouble, however, and have not been hit since. When I first went to sea I put myselfr in excellent condition for the malady. I hadn’t taken a bit of care of myself for two weeks. I had been eating good-by dinners for three days, and kept it up all the night be fore I allied. The result was disas trous. I began to think. my case over when I got over the attack, and made up my mind that anybody could do a good deal toward preventing sea sick ness by careful dieting and a little medicine, I have never been bothered since, and 1 ’ve been at sea for twelve years.” “You must see some very amusing cases of sea sickness.” “Theyare seldom amusing tome,” said the steward solemnly, “because they always recall my own experience. Most cases are pathetic, though 1 smile sometimes when the braggart keels over. On every trip we have at least one man who boasts of his ability to withstand eea sickness. He always says that the trouble is as largely men tal as physical, and that a man of in- ^ykP.ward it off has us—not for the man.” “Are women more subject to sea sickness than men?” “Yes, but, on the other hand they stand it better. A woman struggles right up to the point of despair against the—what I might call the impropriety of the thing. She isn’t so much tor tured by the pangs as she is worried by the prospect of becoming dishevel led, haggard, and draggled. She fights against it to the last, and keeps up ap pearances as long as she can hold up her head. Then she becomes maud lin and pathetic. She takes to her room and invariably asks three questions. First, whether people die frequently of sea sickness, then how many miles we are from shore, and lastly, when we will get there. She also often asks me how deep the water is, and if I think It possible for any one to go seven days without food! The doctor is always talked over. I am asked time and again if I think he is capable and efficient, and if I have confidence in him. When the patient gets so ill that she loses interest in the doctor, she usually lies on her side and cries by the hour. Luckily the more violent attacks only last a short time.” “How is it with men?” “Oh, men give in at once. They bellow like bulls and make a great rumpus until they are compelled to to take to their berths. Then they grumble and swear until they are wel enough to go on deck again. A great many passengers come aboard loaded with medicines and schemes for the prevention of sea sickness. I never knew a preventive yet, except the one I mentioned when we first began to talk.” Hot from friction. I feel confldenl 1 could ave done tbe same work with a* much ease and so well with any other machine. No time lo*t in adjusting attachments. The lightest running machine 1 have ever treadled. Brother James ana Williams’ families are as much pleased with their Davis Machine* 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. Respectfully, ELLKN STEVENSON, Fairfield County, April, 1888. Mr. boao : My rnscnme gives me perfect satis faction. I And no fault with it. The attachments are so simple, i wish for no better than the Davis Vertical Feed. Respectfully. Mbs. R. Millino. Fairfield county, April, 1888. Ms. Boao: 1 uougnt a navis vertical Foed wing Mauhlue from you four years ago. I am lighted with it. It never haa given me any o able, and has never been the least oat of order, t is as good as when I first bought iL I can cheerfully recommend It. Respectfully, Mrs. M. J. Kiriland. Monticello, April 30.1883. This Is to certify that i nave beenmsing a Dans Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for over two years, purchased of Mr. JTO. Boag. I haven’t found it possessed of any fault—all the attachments are so simple. It never refuses to work, and is certainly the lightest running In the market. I consider it a first class machine. Very respectfully. Minnie M. Willinghan. Oakland. Fairfield county. S. 0. Mb Boao : t am weu pleased in every partioui with the Davie Machine bought of you. I think a fim-ciass mac nine In every respect. You knew ' yon sold several machines of the same make to different members of our families, all of whom, as far aa I know, are well pleased with them. Respectfully, MRS. M. H. Mobley. Fairfield county, April, 1883. of work we have to do. No puckering or ■kipping stitches. We can only say we are weU pleased ana wish no better machine, CATHERINE WTLIB AND SISTER. April 85,1883. I have no tault to and with my maen ne, and don’t want any better. I have made tne price of It severs times by taking In sewing. It is alwsys ready to do Its work. I think It a first-class ms chine. I feel I can’t say too much for the Dans Vertical Feed Machine. Mbs. Thomas Smith. Fairfield county, April, 1883. Mr. J. O. Boao—Dear Sir: it gives me m ic!i pleasure to testify to the merits of the Davis Ver tical Feed Sewing Machine. The machine I got of yon about five years ago. has been almost In con stant use ever since that time. I cannot see that it Is worn any, aud haa not oost me one cent for repairs since we have had it. Am well pleased and don't wish lor any better. Yours truly, Kobt. Crawford, Granite quarry, near Winnsboro S. C. We have used the Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for the laat five years. We would not have any other make at any pnoe. The machine has given us unbounded satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mrs. W. K. Turner and Daughters Fairfield county, S. C., Jan. ST. 1888. uaving bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine from Mr. J. O. Boag some three year* ago, and It having given me perfect satisfaction lu every respect aa a family machine, both for hea / y and light sewing, mud never needed the least re pair lu any way, 1 can cheerfully recommend it to may one as a first-class machine In evsry particu lar, and think It second to none. It la one ot ths simplest machines made; my children use It with all ease. The attachments are more easily ad justed and it doe* a greater range of work by means of iu Vertical Feed than auy other ma chine I have ever seen or used. Mrs. Thomas o wings. Winnsboro, Fairfield county, S. C. Gold in South Wales. The largest organ probably ever con structed was lately completed at Ludwigsburg. It is destined for the Cathedral Church at Riga. There are in it 7,000 pipes, 124 stops, with pe dals, &c, proportionately numerous. A very complete “swell” arrangement allows the increase and diminution of sound to be effected with a singular perfection and delicacy of effects. The filling of the pipes could not be carried out by organ-blowers, but is effected by machinery worked by a gas engine of four-horse power. This organ is 20 metres high, 11 broad and 10 deep (about 65} feet, 36 feet and 33 feet respectively). The largest wooden pipe is 10 meters (321 f®8t) high, and its cubic contents are 706 cubic feet, while by a curious contrast the smallest pipe is made only a centimetre and a half high (little more than half an inch), and is attached to the greatest one. though? ’ He turns up the handle aud reads the name of the maker, a famous one, and every villager says: "G Whil- likensl” The owner stands close, first on one foot, then on the other, anxious that every villager see the knife and envy him, yet impatient to get to work on the scantling with it, and more than half afraid that somebody will cut with it before he does. Men come from the other side of the square, even the stiff-backed whittler from the post office, and tbe fat justice gets np with much exertion and many grnntfi—all to join in the excitement of tbe day. The own-r takes his knise, and, with the air of a man who has been elected chafrman pro temper of a grange meeting, approaches the scantling, the envied of all observers. With a brave, almost boastful Mash that betrays the very magnificence of faith he assaults the scantling, and peals, as from a yellow cheese, a long, smooth, curly shaving, laying base a virgin surface so smooth and mellow that one feels like Mwiplainlng against the winds and rains Notwithstanding that the search for gold has been carried on for thirty years in the colony of New South Wales, Law fields or new deposits are continually being discovered, some of them in localities which were supposed to have been thoroughly examined. Some of the fields recently discovered promise to equal in extent and richness any discovered in the early days, while the oldest fields, though appar ently exhausted, so far as the miner, unaided by capital and skill, is capable of exhausting them, yet contain de posits of gold which will yield a rich harvest to the skilled miner who shall bring to bear upon them appliances such as are being successfully employed elsewhere. Gold has always been found in association with certain for mations, and the extent of country occupied by these is about 70,000 square miles, or nearly one-fourth of the whole area of the colony—a con siderable portion of which has not yet been touched by the pick or the mi ner. We Have had one ot the DavU Machine* about four yean and have always found it ready to do all kind* of work we have bad ocuaaion to aa Uan’t see that the machine is worn any, and worka aa well aa wnen new. m T „ Mrs. W. J. Crawford, Jackson’* Creek. Fairfield coantv, S. C. My wife Is highly pleased with the DavU Ma chine bought ol yon. She would not take double what she gave for It. The machine has not been out of order since she had It, and sha can do any kind of work on It. Very Respectfully, MontlceUo, Fairfield county, S. C. Jab. F. Fkrb. Bonanza Flood’s Naw 1’alacs, Bonanza Find’s new palace, to be erected on the north side of Califotnia street, San Francisco, will be a two story-and-a-basement structure of lOOx 100 feet superficial area. The foun dation will contain 1,000,000 bricks. The central hall will he 45x32 feet and 25 feet high, the dining-room 45x30-, the Ubrary 26x39, the grand reception- room 26x29, the drawing-room 45x30, and the hall and music room 50x37. These last three rooms may be thrown open and made one. No estimate of the cost has been made public. The DavU Sewing Machine U simply t treas ure MU. J. A. GOODWTN. Ridgeway, N. C., Jan. 10, mss. Agent-Dear Sir: My wtfa vis Sewing Machine oonataau and It I j, O Boao, ha* ueen using a ] ly for the past four yeara, and U haa never needed any repairs and works just aa wall aa when first iKiughL She says It wdl do a greater range of practical work and do it easier and better than any machine she has ever need. We cheerfully recommend It aa a No. 1 family machine. Your traj, Jar. q. Davib. Winnsboro, 8. C., Jan. 8,1888. Mr. boao : l have always found my DavU Ma chine ready do alt kinds of to work I have had oc casion to do. I cannot see that the machine la worn a particle and It wotks aa wed aa whan new. Respectfully, Mrs. R. C. Goodino. Winnsboro, 8. C., April, 1888, Mr. Boao : My wife has been ccnstantiy using tbe DavU Machine bought of yon about five years ago. I have never regretted boring It, aa ttla id way s ready for any kind of family sewing, either Heavy or light. It U never oat of fix or ueeatug tepalrs. _ Falrfiftld, fc G,, Mirtk, 1M*