University of South Carolina Libraries
. X* *r »V ' . \ l //: L f i () l i i i tri-weekly edition. —^sn WINNSBORO. S. a. DECEMBER 20.1883. ESTABLISHED 1848. * V 7 fj lilt A FANCY. Sweet Summer went forth to the fields With roses entwined in her hair; Her footsteps as light As her glances were bright, And all that she looked upon fair. • ^ x Grave Autumn, beholding the maid, Grew cheery in chanting her charms; They met, but alas! All her strength seemed to pass, And she languished to death in his arms! Now sombre grew Autumn and sear, As he clung to the maid in his woes; Then Winter passed by, And, with tear-stricken eye, Hid them both ’neath a mantle of snow, THIS ANGtL OF THE CHAPEL, I will tell the story as it was told to me by one who had often been a wel come guest beneath the roof of Jean (Pie?sis) Lament. During the early part of the reign of Louis Philippe, Jean Plessis was tried at Chatillon, in the Department of the Cote D’Or, for highway robbery, con victed, and sentenced to death. At the time of his trial the prison was under going repairs, and what cells were fit for use were so entirely filled that the pre fect was obliged to consign Plessis to an old chapel of the Marmont Castle. On the evening previous to the day appoint ed for tne execution, our malefactor was visited by the Abbe St. Augustine Armond, who had come to pray and exhort. The abbe was a good man; a genial great-hearted, self-sacrificing man, who was at all times ready to do and to suffer for his fellows. And this the prisoner knew. “Stop!” said Jean Plessis, when the abbe had begun an exhortation. “1 must ;isk you to listen for a little time to me. Will you do so?” The prisoner was earnest, and appar ently siuceie. He was a yonng, good- looking man; with a bright, keen eye, and an intelligent face. The abbe bow ed assent, and Jean Plessis resumed: “Abbe, 1 have done many evil things; and there are many evil things which 1 have never done; I have never taken money from the poor. I have never brought shame where the flush of con scious virtue might have been but for me—never! Do you remember the poor mender of roads who& wife you visited in her last sickness? -Did she not tell you of the friend who had given them food when they were an hungered; and who paid their miserable rent when they were in danger of being turned out of doors? It was Jean Plessis who did that. But I ask no favor on that score, Abbe. I only mention it that you may know I am not all evil—not all bad. “Abbe St. Armond, I wish to reform. 1 have seen enough of suffering—enough 'of the evils of sinning. I could not ask to live, if I intended to go on in my evil course. But, could I be saved now, I would reform, and devote the rest of my life to deeds of usefulness and good, j. would, at least, work evil no more. 1 think, Abbe, I never was a liar. When 1 was at my worst, I abominated a liar. So, what I tell you now you can depend upon as true. “Now, Abbe Saint Armond, wiil you go to your pillow to-morrow night, feel ing that you have given poor Jean Plessis up to his death? Will you live all the rest of your life knowing that it had it had been once in your power to save a poor fellow creature to a life of reformation and peace, and that you re fused him your aid? Answer me.” The abbe knew not what to say. He was lost in astonishment; and he finally told the man that he must be more ex plicit. “Abbe, it is in your power to save my life. I feel that the angels are calling upon you to do so. Or, will not you be the angel to sot me free?” The abbe shook his head. He did not understand yet. Then the prisoner liointed to a small window, away up in the gable; and said he: “Abbe, you are a strong man. If you were to stand up against that wall, and suffer nie to stand upon your shoul ders, I could reach the crossbeam easily. Once upon that, I could gain the ledge above, and pass out through that win dow. There is a large tree on the out side, the branches of which brush against the glass when the wind blows. Do you understand me now?” The good father understood; but he was not convinced that it would be well to do as the other wished him to do. “I ran say no more,” the prisoner murmured, with a mournful shake of the head. “If you will not be the an gel to help me—to save me—to give back to virtue and honor an erring son of sorrow,—if you will not be that angel, I have sued in vain?” It was enough. The heart of the good man was touched, and he yielded. He closed his eyes, and stood up against the wall; and when he next opened them be was alone. He and the candle were the only things In the old chapel that had life. By and by the jailor came in, and found the abbe sitting like one in a trance. He went forward rnd shook man by the shoulder. “Abbel Abbe! where is the prisorer?” The abbe looked up, and rubbed his eyes. “Where is the prisoner?” “Tell me rather,” replied the abbe, solemnly, “where is the angel? 1 beard the prisoner speak as with an Atigel. He called him an angel. My eyes were closed. When l was permit ted to open them I saw the man go out through that window. All else was as you see it now, save my conster- Aation.” This same story the abbe told to the prefect and to the officers of the court, and it come to be a belief throughout the Department of the Cote D’Or that a miracle had been wrought in behalf of Jean Plessis. The Abbe St. Armond had gone in to pray withttm/and while the holy man was engaged in prayer an angel entered the prison and bore the malefactor away through a hole in the roof. Naturally the abbe came in for a large share of the credit and honor in this wonderful affair, for it was gener ally believed that his intercession had caused the angelic visit. After these years passed away. Louis Philippe bad been forced to dee from his capital and from his kingdom; La- jnartine had been President of the Grand Republic, jirid power; and Louis Napoi elected President, and thinking of being empei cold, blustering winterVevening'^the Abbe Augustine, 8t. white-haired old jihan, a strange road, bonder of the „ He had ret out from Dijon tn§ jo v that should have occupied a week—had set out alone, on a good horse, not anti cipating so severe a storm. At length, fairly benumbed with cold, and fearful of;the worst, he discovered, through the thickly whirling snow, a light directly ahead. He gave thanks to God, and pushed on, and very soon he came into the court of a large farm house, the barns and numerous other out-buildings of which he could plainly distinguish. He had strength enough to slip.from his saddle and kick with his foot upon the door. His abrupt summons was answered by a man, who came with a lantern in Ins hand. The abbe had started to tell his situation, when the man laid a strong hand upon his arm and pulled him into the halll. “Tell your story, man, where there is more of comfort than is to be found out in the storm. Have you a horse?” Upon receiving an affirmative answer, the man gave the lantern to a stout boy, and bade him go out and see that the horse had comfoi table quarters and plenty of food. Then the abbe was led to a large sit ting room, where a bright faced, pretty girl, of fifteen, or thereabouts, was set ting out the supper-table. The mother was in the kitchen, engaged in cooking for the meal; while three children, younger than the girl first mentioned, were sitting near the fire, two of them engaged in peeling chestnuts. The guest saw all this before he had remov ed his overepat. He knew not why it should be so,- but he had a strange sense of home-like feeling. It seemed to htm as though he had a particular right to be here. Had the house been his own, he could have not felt more inclined than he felt when be had com pleted his swift survey of the comforta ble and cheerful apartment. And during this brief space the host had been as busily watchful as the guest had been. The sacerdotal garb had first attracted the farmer’s nolice, and then he looked At the aged tree. He looked, and a great light shone in his eyes, and a glow of happiness over spread his kindly face. He helped the guest to remove his great-coat; then caused him to sit in- & chair, when he went down upon his knees, and began to pull off the wet boots, and chill, damp stockings. Then he brought dry stockings, and warm, soft slippers; and very soon the abbe wax comfortable as could be. v “There, good father,” the host said, when he had done all that he could think of “what more can I do towards your comfort before our poor supper is ready?” “Indeed, my son,” the guest return ed, deeply moved, “you have already thought of more than 1 could have asked for. Y ou have made my body comfortable; and you have warmed my heart, which is better than all else.” The host bowed, but offered no fur ther response; and after a little time the guest went on: “Your attention to my comfort, my son, has more than gratified me* * it has surprised me. 1 am an old man', as my frosty blow must show; yet you are the first person who ever knelt at my feet to do me service. ” “Ahl” said the host, with more feel ing than the occasion would seem to call for on his part, “we may some time entertain an angel unawares. I have, ere this, seen an angel in an #>be’s garb.” The abbe started. He looked ear nestly into the man’s face, and the truth burst upon him. It was the male factor, whom, more than quarter of a century before, he had helped to escape from the little old chapel of the Mar mont Castle. He was about to speak, when the other placed his finger upon his lips. Then he said, in a whisper: “My wife, to whom 1 will shortly introduce you, knows everything; but not so my children. ’ ’ Tne abbe understood, and was silent. Shortly afterwards the wife—Madam Lamont—entered. “I am Jean La- mont,” he whispered and then: “Jean, whom do you think the storm has sent to us?” She saw the great tears starting from his eyes and coursing down his cheeks; and she knew before he had spoken another word. Yet he went on: 4 *It ia 11 '‘The Abbe Saint Arr)wmcZ?”shecried, as he broke down. Yes,” said the guest, “I am the poor abbe.” She caught his hand, and pressed her lips upon it. Then, to her children, who were looking on wonderingly, she said: “My children—once—a great many years ago—when your father was in mortal peril—when he would have been a dead man before another sun had set, had it not been for the noble devotion of one man of all the world—in that supreme hour the one man came and saved him—and this is the man I The Abbe Saint Armond I Down on your knee, my beloved, and bless him!” And down they went; and while the abbe wiped his streaming eyes, the bles sings of pure hearts were poured out upon him. ^ By the time the meal was ready all bad gained their composure; and while they eat the host told his simple storjj— to d it without referring to the old life furtl&r than to speak of the one and only time in the past when they had met previously. At that time he had been but five- and-tvfeflty'years of age; he had never known his parents. His mother had died when he was an in'ant, and his long taken by the authorities where his mother had died, “and under their fostering care,” he said, “I bad been reared, one might almost say until you met me; for the influence of the teachings I received In childhood made me what I was. “However, after I felt the angel of that old chapel, I made my way to this forest, and here let myself out to the farmer who owned this place; and with him I lived while be lived. When he had died—lhat was eighteen years ago, and little more—I had packed up to leave, when his daughter, Jean, to whom the whole property had been left, took my hand, and with tears in her eyes, begged me to stay. “And then, Abbe, I had to tell my story; for I had come to love that dear girl, and I would not deceive her. So when I could muster the strength and nerve I told the whole from beginning to end; and the end was my love for her, 11 which was bidding me in honor to go.— She heard me through, asked me a few questions, and then threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. ‘Jean!’ she cried, ‘if you will be my husband, and be as true to me as you have been to my father, I will be your wife, and share with you all my worldly goods.’ “And so, Abbe, you have the story. You can look around you for the sequel. These are my children. Augustine St. Armond is the oldest. He will be sev enteen on New Year’s day. Hal Does the name strike you familiar? If it does, you ought to know why I gave it to him! Joan, the next; was fifteen last month; and these others are growing up, I sometimes think almost too fast. But I am happy, Abbe; and not the least of my happiness henceforth shall be the blessed privilege of this hour. “And now, good father, let us unite wirh you in a prayer of thanksgiving to the Giver of all Good.” The abbe prayed with a fervor such as he had never even approaached • be fore, and the Amens that followt d in response were from the depths of thank ful hearts. Over Three Precipices. One of the most incredible of won derful accidents or adventures that can possibly happen to a man and leave life in him is that experienced by Peter F. Gates, son of the famous hotel kee per at De Witt, Iowa, and who is well known in Davenport, where he once resided sevsral months. Peter Gates is superintending the work of the mine of the Gunnison Mining and Exchange Company. The great altitude of the mine brings winter about it very early. As early as the middle of September snow storms commenced. Peter writes that he left the cabin with his report and vouchers ready for mail ing, an overcoat belonging !• one of the men and a gunny sack filled with cloth-, ng, and all strapped together on his back, all in “apple pie” order—and then— “I fell over the cliff on my way down. I InLumHaH if. kn* toot, titip several months, but it came near being my iast in fact. I had gotten one hun dred feet above the cabin when a snow- slide turned loose, knocking me instant ly from the trail. For the first four hundred or five hundred feet I struck the ground but four or five times—and my last fall from the top of the preci pice to its bottom was about one hun dred and twenty feet. It seems in credible that I could have tumbled down three successive precipices with out being killed; but everything was in my favor. The pack 1 was carrying and the snow which I went down with helped break my fall. I am badly bruised about the hips but with rest and a lower altitude the doctor thinks Iwlll come out all right in a month or so.” The letter was written at Crested Butte. Mr. Doe says that to one who has seen the place of this accident Pe ter’s escape is of a pierce of luck that may be termed miraculous. The cliff which Peter was swept from has an almost prependicular height of a thou sand feet from the bottom of the preci pice, and it was the great masses of snow which had accumulated ou its sides that broke Peter’s fall every hun dred feet and then went on down with him to the next one. In January last a man was swept off the trail by an avalanche in a similar manner, and dropped into the abyss a thousand feet below, and the body has never been recovered.^ t A Dog Show, Too Many “I am constantly learning something ne % yPadd ocklMacsj&Mitchell) thMoWMyTtheatre in Vuliamsburg afro Mr evening’s performance, “but I was not prepared to learn in the newspapers this morn ing that my name is Baker, and not Mitchell, as my parents and my numer ous brothers and sisters have fondly supposed for some years. Our hither, a Scotchman, J8 years uM, lives at r; er, Lomax, my brother, have been on the stage. All these were, my moth er’s children by a former marriage. Then I have two younger listers. As to the claim of Mrs. John Able, of Bloomsbsnv New Jersey, that) I am her sister, I have concnideQ from all the circumstances that the woman is honest in her belief, though how she could deceive herself so I cannot under stand. It is a fact that tills woman’s brother, William Baker, claimed me for his sister some years ago. I think I was playing in Denver when I re ceived the first letter from him. I have been claimed as, a sister by several other people. Some years ago when my mother was aliye and trave ling with me, an Italian traveling with his valet followed me from town to town, told hotel-keepeiVand people whom we met that he was, my brother, and made the most complete arrange ments for my accomodation. At Whee ling the man’s attentions began first to be perceived, though he kept entirely in the background himself. Ontbeftay to Lexington, Ky., we forbid that even the conductors bn the railroads had been cautioned to care. us by this same man, and at the Lexington hotel the valet was left to sesve us. The man had said' everywhere^ihat he was my brother. My mother finally met hjm and con'vincid him dl his mistake. >It Was evident to us thali jus was pnder an innocent delusion. A man once wrote to,-Mr. Paddock 'rom Covington, Ky., when we were at Long Branch, that I had married him years before, and that wfrhad a son 12 years old, and declared h« would shoot me at sight. As regards jyhe extraord- nary claim of these people at Easton, there.are hosts of people in New York who know rr ^r —« will laugh at the singular mistake, which seems to arise entirely out of my name of Maggie.” A New laduntrjr. A writer from London says; I dropped in at the Duke of Wellington’s riding- school last evening to see the St. Bern ard Dog Show. The Duke’s carriages had been pushed aside in a corner and covered with brown Holland cloths and some temporary barriers had been erected, at which pay-takers mounted guard. I never spent a shilling more to my satisfaction than w the contem plation of the three hundred noble ani mals which are here shown. I am thoroughly of a mind with Madame de Sevigne, who said that the more she saw of men the more she liked dogs. What grand, self-respecting creatures these St. Bernards are! Surely there must be something more behind those wonderful eyes and good, wise fore heads than a mere brute’s brain. One of the immense fellows hero exhibited has saved forty lives on the Alpine heights. Most of the dogs are English born and a rare adjunct to a well-regu lated country home is a friend of this sort, a detective who quietly stands by, with every faculty for defense or attack on the alert until the true character of every guest is amply disclosed. A dog as big as a lion, who will not barm a baby and yet will fight a dozen burg lars, with unquenchable ferocity, is In deed, a friend in need. Would that a new intelligence for detecting evil in tentions might be developed in Saint Bernard’s, that dynan^ite murderers father—a soldier—was killed not long might be frustrated before they could afterwards in battle. He had been wreak ‘their cruelty on thnocent heads I of the town — —-It appears that the total number of periodicals published in Italy is 1,878 of which 160 appear daily and 537 wee)dy. Among the provinces, Lomoardy takes the lead with 917, closely followed by Rome with 210; then comes Piedmont aud Tuscany, There Seems ie bean exorbitant value attached to small boys in Brooklyn. At least such trill be the universal opinion if the Brooklyn man who Ira sued a school teacher for spanking his small boy, aid Did his damages at $3,000, should be suooeaaauL Few persons will believe that the man has been damaged to the extent of $3,000 by the sptfnkiog of hm small boy! No matter how highly he may estimate his boy’s services, it is unreasonable to sup- dose that he was deprived of them for a period sufficiently long to make his loss equivalent to $3,000. Let it be con ceded, for the sake of argument, that the boy could not ait djwn for six con secutive months. He could still have rendered to his father ail the services which a small boy is capable of reuder- ing, and the parent's loss would not have amounted to any. appreciable sum —much less to $8,000, H the suit proves successful there is not a boy in a,, Brooklyn school who will not clamor to be spanked. At the utmost the pro cess of spanking cannot be stretched beyond five minutes, M least by any female teacher. If a boy can make $3,000 in five minutes he can support nia family in affluence by two yearly spankings. As for the boy who should secure a daily spanking—as almost any boy of average ability and conscientious devotion to iutgr/oould 46—he Wbuld make his father a million aire. It is hardl/ probable thank the plaintiff m the suit now pendiug will recover his $3,000. Wuen cor courts datimate a zaaa'sg life to be worth only $5,000 they can baldly withoonsistenoyvaiuethe spanking iff a small boy at $3,000. Statistics. Statisticians have pronounced the United states to be not only potentially, but actually, richer than the United Kingdom. Counting the houses, furni ture, manufactures, railways, shipping, bullion, lands, cattle, crops, invest ments and roads, it is estimated that there in a grand total in the United states of $40,770,000,000. Great Bri tain is credited with somethinsrttSB than $40,000,000,000, or nearly $10,000,000,- less than the United States. The wealth per inhabitant in Great Britain is estimated at $1,160, and in the United States $865. With regard to the re- mtmeration of labor, assuming the produce of labor to be* 100, in threat Britian 56 parte go tfttfte Jahaimw^ to capital and 23 to Government. France, 41 parts go to labor, 36 to capital and 23 to Government, in the United States 72 parts go to labor, 23 to capital, and 5 to Government. Pro/. Looker, the ninglish soer,thinks it very probable that hi life on the planet Mare je very muoi lateutnee may be ap much more susceptible ee I make the vision quite m good, heart ie probably not so great, but it i by no means less in proportion to lessened power of the sun's reys. Ti observer sgreee with others in sffirmii)| that several remarkable i inland sees, some of them connected bbaits with still larger sees, ahd not ■» cunneetod-ppe pqp ~ the southern hemisphere, in whiah,M the ease with the earth, the water i seems to be much greeter than in northern hemisphere, Aa Ola Vctcraa. David Yan Arsdsle died in New York on the 14th of November. He belong ed to an old Dutch family, and raised the flag on the Battery on Evacuation Day. The Yon Arsdale family traces its genealogy back to Jon Van Arsdale, a knight of Holland, who flourished in 1211. The family was a notable one, and there is a quaint old fortress in the Netherlands to which it has given a name. Symon Jansen Yan Arsdaleo, a descendant of the knight, emigrated to the New Netherlands.in 1653, and set tled at Fiatl&nda, beoomine the progen itor of a numerous race, which inter married with ail.the leading iamjlies of Long Is’and. His great-great-grandson, John Von Arsdale, was the famous h'dater of the flag. He was born in 1756, and with his father and four brothers he took the field under Wash ington and fought with bravery through the war for Independence. He was wounded at Fort Montgomery, and was held a prisoner of war for nine months in New York, obtaining his release through an exchange of prisoners m 1778. After this he was employed against the Indiana in the northern part of the State, and it is relatea that he was once again made prisoner by the savages, and with two companions es caped from torture and death only through tue drunkenness of his cap- tore. John Yan Arsdale remained in the service until 1782, when he left with the rank of sergeant. On Juno 16, 1783, he married Mary Crawford, the daugh ter of a Scotch Presbyterian settler on Long Island. On November 25, follow ing he raised the flag while the British boats retreated to tbeir ships. The de feated soldiery, before leaving the oily, had gratified their spleen by a last in sult to the Americans. They had cut the flag halliards attached to the tall staff on the Battery, they had detached ail the cleats from the pole, and lest any agile fellow might saooeed in o.imb- ing it, they had covered the sun ace with sludge to render it slippery. Yan Arsdafe, who had been a sauor boy be fore he entered the Revolutionary army, went with hundreds of other citizens to the Battery to see the flag raised after the evacuation. When the difficulties of the situation were realized he at tempted to climb the po.e, but after two or three attempts was forced to give up the endeavor. According to the common story, wood and a saw were procured; cleats were made, and the young soldier-sailor made his ascent, nailing on the stops one by one and then climbing on ih-m until he reached the iSwoirftnwmf fe&a: lather saw, a ladder near by, fetched it to tic foot of the pole and seconded to the top of it, carrying {he flag halliards fastened to his waist. Whatever dispute there may be as to the minor circum stances, there is no manner of doubt as to the broad fact that John Yaa Arsdale reeved the new gear, aud ran ap the flag on the morning of the first Evacua tion Day. He lived for many years after, making his livelihood by sailing packet boats in the waters aooat New York. He died in 1836, and on many anniversaries he npeated his actions of November 25, 1783, in the presence of applauding crowds. David Yan Arsdale, who died on the 14tn, was the third son of the old Revo lutionary hero. He was boro Septem ber 1, 1796, in a country house on a grassy knoll situated where Soammel street now runs. Early in life he fol lowed his father into seafaring life, and lor many years he found an occupation in the coasting and inland trade. In the War of 1912 oe proved that he was not unworthy of his father. In 1824 he married Mary McGary, and it may be mentioned us oharae^- tatio that from that time to the day of his death he lived in only two houses. It appears that Mias McGary's father hid built himself a country house on the site whioh in later days became No. 262 Rivmgton street, near Oo'umbia street, it had a brick front and side and rear wails of frame oonsiraotion, after tbe style ot the day, aud it was surrounded with beautiful shade trees. Young Yan Arsdale before his marriage Lved where Ludlow aud Broome streets intersect, and it Is told that his sweet heart was very much exeiouted as to his Sffqtgr whenever ne Came to see her, so wild aud so frequented by roughs were the roans and woods that lay between their dwellings. The old man often told his daughter that he had earned home a “oord ot wood,*’ he was sure, in sticks given him aa weapons of de fense by his betrothed as ho left after an evening’s visit. One night she had nothing but an old spade handle, which she insisted on his taking for want of a better weapon. He resisted, but the lady oarriod her point. It was fortu nate she did, for that night, indeed, the young man was beset near his home by two or three highwaymen, whom he with diffloulty routed. After nts wedding David Yan Arsdale went to live at the Rivmgton street house. He stayed there for lort£ years, and then moved to No. 442 East 121st street, where hu body now lies. For the past forty-aeven yeais Mr. Yaa Ars dale had been an employe of the Barge Office, having been appointed under Martin Yan Boren Hu wife died twenty-three years ago, but he is sur vived by two sisters, respectively eighty six and eighty-two years old. Hu daughter and hu grandchildren have ... WM m very member of the al Onoroh, venae Oharoh. i that I ever F the usual oupful _ ' sweet milk. This i to the oake that water ro formula for these is: few Orleans molasses, ‘ 'Tone oupful of sweet l of lord, one U aud of soda, of salt The J being melted, should be (rubbed with the floor the same ee for pie enut, The Land of the Sky. The Washington Star has a letter from Asheville, N. C., giving an ac count of tbe impetus that section has received by the opening of railway com munications. Tbe writer says: The Western North Carolina rail road, which ten years ago successfully crossed the unoroken range of the Blue Ridge, is at last completed. The bard, natural difficulties it encountered in its pathway across sixty miles of an almost impenetrable mountain country, led to many discouraging delays, and even endangered at one time its further pro gress. The work is now, however, in good running order, and is a fright addition to the engineering triumph of the age, and a monument to the Skill and determination of its engineers. To this lovely mountain country and to Asheville it has been a God-send. Though it is now eighteen months since the shrill neigh of the iron horse first echoed among her hills, the activity of her trade and industries, and the large influx of strangers in that time, have been such as to surprise even her most devoted prophets. The “boom” is a big one. The most superficial observer cannot help but notice it, and 1 venture to say it is un rivaled by that of other towns which have risen to importance ou the approach of railroads. Nor is it to be wondered at. We have here a climate whose health-giving properties must ultimately become as celebrated as that of Aiken or Minnes ota. Although acknowledged to be equal to the Minnesota climate in dry ness, it is superior to it in equability and mildness of temperature, while its greater elevation, dryness, and cooler summer weather make it better for in valids than Aiken. I met many here -his summer both from the North and South who were afflicted with lung and throat troubles. I was glad to hear them tell that in coming here they acted upon the advice of their physi cians, for it went to prove the speedy recognition of this climate by medical men as a good health restorer. Irrigation on a Large Seale. The most gigantic irrigation enter- irises ever inaugurated in the State ol Jalifornia has been commenced in Fresno county, the canal for whioh will oe the largest in the State, and fed by King’s nver. The water is intended to irrigate 30,000,000 aores of rich land, at present barren through lack of water. The source of supply of this canal will »e higher than any other debouching trom the same stream. Its dimensions iMA« fls»A Jarert/iwAvl #aa4- aA xntom; levees an average of nfteea eet m height aud eight feet wide at the op, broad enough fos a wagon road. The depth of the water is expected to be five feet with a fall of eighteen inches no the mile. The dam in the mountain canon, whence the water is taken, will be a wonderful and permaueut one. It is twenty-five feet high, eight hun dred feet long, one hundred aud forty eet wide at the base and twenty five i eet wide on top. It is rip-rapped on the inside with heavy roox, aui every precaution taken to make it snifluieutiy strong to securely bold the great weignt of water that must be sappjrtei. Tue water is led into the oanai irom a large teadgate, constructed of heavy timoer, ono hundred feet in widtn and eighteen feet high. It is planked over so as to make a bridge for heavy wagons, aud ias wings to protoot it from the floods. The oaoal is expected to carry thirteen hundred onbic feet ol water per second, Fasting as a Dost or. “You are home late, sir.” “Yea. My business keeps me out until this hour every night. Might I ask what your business is in this house. “I am a physician, sir.” * ‘That does not answer my question. ’ ’ “Well, sir, if you must know, I have been attending a lady up stairs.” “How is she?” “Very much better. I guess she’ll )6 all right in the morning.” “Thank you; good morning,” and the door was courteously closed after the “physiciau.” This conversation occurred In the residence of Mr. Henry immerschitt, No. 159 State street, Brooklyn. Mr. immerschitt keeps an oyster saloon at No. 393 Fulton street, in that city, and is kept out every nignt until after midnight. Wheu he returned horns ast night the conversation just detailed took place between him and a man he met in the act of coming out in the hall. Mr. Immershitt rushed upstairs after lis interview with the “doctor,” and breaking into his wife’s room found her fast asleep. “Is there anything the matter with Katie?” he yelled, waking his wife. “No,” she replied; “why should there be?’ 4 The excited father then rushed to the room of his daughter Katie and found her fast asleep. He began to smell a mouse. An investigation showed that a most expert burglar had gone through the rooms of his house at his very elegant leisure, taking what ever suited him. All the jewelry of the ladies was gone, iucluding gold bracelets, a pair of diamond earrings, a diamond stud, a diamond solitaire fin ger ring and a plain gold* ring. All the bureau drawers had been carefully gone through, but no one was aroused by his work. “It was that—doctor,” yelled Mr. Immerschitt. “What doctor asked his wife and ?” daughter. “Don’t bother me,” he replied, and started to notify the police. He could, of couree give a good description of the thief whom he met in the nail, but the police have no clew to him yet. THE VERDICT -or- THE PEOPLE. BUY THE BEST! Mr. J. O. Bo 40—Dear sir: I bougut the krst Davis Machlue sold by you over flve yean ago tor my wife, who has given It a long and fair trial. I am weU pleased with It. It never Rives any rouble, and is as good aa when flrst bought. _ . J. W. tiOLICE. Wlnnsboro, S. C., April 1883. Mr. Boag: You wish to know whst I have to say in regard to the Davis Machine bought of you three years ago. I feel i can’t say too much in ita favor. I made about 180,oo within flve months, at times running it so fast that the needle would get per fectly hot from friction. I feel oonfldenl I could not have done the same work with aa much ease and so well with any other machine. No time lest in adjusting attachments. The lightest running machine 1 have ever treadled. Brother Jamea and Williams’ families are as much pleased with their Davis Machines bought ot you. I want no better machine. Aa 1 said before, I don’t think too much can be said for tne Davis Machine. Kespeutfully, Ellin Stivinson, Fairfield County, April, 1883. Mr. Boao : My machine gives me perfect satis faction. I find no fault with it The attachments are so simple, i wish for no better than the Davis Vertical Feed. Respect folly, „ . Mrs. R. Milling. Fairfield county, April, 1883. M r. Boao : i nought a Davis Vertical Feed w mg Machine from you four years ago. 1 am lighted with it. it never has given me any o uble, and has never been the least out of order, t is as good as when 1 first bought it. I uaa cheerfully recommend it. Respectfully, Mm. M. J. Kirkland. Monttcello, Apnl 30,1883. This Is to certify that I have been using a Dans Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for over twjyears, purchased of Mr. J. O. ttqag. I haven’t found 11 possessed of any fault—all the attachments are so simple. It never refuses to work, and is certainly the lightest running In the nurkek I consider it - first class machine. Very respectfully Minnik M. Wh.linqbau. Oakland, Fairfield county, S. C. Mr Boao: 1 am wen pieaseo in every particui with tbe Davis Machine bought of you. 1 think a first-class machine In every respect. You knew you sold several machines of the same make to different members of our families, all of whom, as far as I know, are well pleased with them. Respectfully, - Jtea. M. H. MoiLir. This is to certify we have had m constaat use the Davis Machine bought ot you about three years ago. Aa we take In work, and have made the price of it several times over, we don’t want any better machine. It w always ready to do any Kind of work we nave to do. No puckering or skipping stitches. We can only say we are well pleased ana wish no better machine, lathkrini Wtlii and Sistir. April 25,1883. I have no fault to hud with my machine, and don’t want any better. I have msde tue price o( It severs times by taking la sewing, it Is always ready to do us work. I think It a first-class me chine. I feel leant say too much for the Dans Vertical Feed Machine. . Mrs. Thomas Smith. Fairfield county, April, 1883. It gives me much Its of t Mr. J. O. Boao—Dear Sir: _ pleasure to testify to the merits of tbe Oavls Ver tical Feed Se wing Machine. The machine 1 got of yen about five years ago. baa been almost In oon- siaut use ever since that time. I cannot see that it is worn any, aud has not cost me one cent for repairs since we nave had it. Am well pleased and don’t wish for any better. Yours trniy, host. Crawford, Granite Quarry, near Wlnnsboro S. C. We have used the Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for the last flve yeara We would not have any other make at any price. The mac tuns has given ns unbounded satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mrs. W. K. Turnsr an* ' Fairfield county, S. C., Jan. 8T Having bought a Davis Vertical Feed sewing Machine from Mr. J. O. Boag some tnree years ego, and It navlug given me perfect eatlafaoUon In every respect as a isinlly inacuine. both tor kes/y and light sewing, aud never needed me least re pair In any way, 1 can oueerfully recommend It to any one as a first-class machln • la every particu lar, and think It second to none. It la one ot the simplest machines made; my children uae It with all ease. The anacomente are more easily ad justed and it do«s a greater range of work by meant of ita Vertical Feed than any other ma chine I hare ever seen or used. Mis. Thomas Owinm. Wlnnsboro, Fairfield county, & c. We have had one ot tbe Davis Machines about four years aud nave always found it ready to do aU kinds of wore we nave had aouaaion to aa Can’t see that the machine is worn any, and works aa well aa wnen new. Mas. W. J. Crawford. Jackson’s Creek. Fairfield county, 8. C. My wife Is highly pleased with the Darts Ma chine bought of yon. She would not take doable ■vast sue gave for It. Tho maohlno has not been out of order since ah# had It, and she can do any kind of work on It. Very Respectfully, Jas. F. Fail. Montlcello. Fairfield county, 8. C. The Davis Sewing Machine is simply a treat- ure Mrs. J. A. uoodwtn. Ridgeway, N. C., Jan. IQ. is8S. J, O Boao, Esq., Agent—Dear Sir: My wife has ueen using a Davis Sewing Machine constant ly for tne past four years, and it has never needed any repairs an i works just aa well aa when first bought. She says It will do a greater range ot practical work and do it easier and better than any inacuine she oas ever need. We cheerfully recommend it as a No. l family machine. Your tnuy, Jas. Q. Davis. Wlnnsboro. S. C.. Jan. 3, IMS. Mb. Boao : i have always fonnd my Davis Ma chine ready do ah kinds of to work 1 nave sad ee- eaalon todo. 1 cannot see that tho “ 4 r~ la worn a particle and it wocka as wed as wn anew. RMpeetfUlr, Via R. C. uoODDta. Wlnnsboro, 8. C., April, 1M, Ar MAflAOin writer asks: “How shall we nubs* toe Indiana ?” This is a diffl oalt question to answer, bat perhaps the best plan would he to petrify them, and sell them for segor store signs. This idea is worthy of ooasiderstion, anyhow, Mr. Boao : My wife has been constantly oeiag the Davis Machine bought of yen about sve years ago. I have never regrettod boring It, aa n » always ready for any rind of family sewtim, either lugvyur light. It Is aevsr oil of Ox os seeding ▼oryrespectrny, Fairfield, 8.0, Marsh, ims. ‘ ^ \] rx afei- ■ ' *»V. . % 11 ■r?*