The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, December 20, 1883, Image 1
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tri-weekly edition.
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WINNSBORO. S. a. DECEMBER 20.1883.
ESTABLISHED 1848.
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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. ‘ ^
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