Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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t ??^1|(1^Mwrr^Brnpr_rl ? 1 - m? 1 ill i m >iirTW?rTimB i:ii.ijL_imiLJmi_________^,^_?___ jjLLjLjii__iiiijLiMiiiJTmTTT~~'**'~*~******~*"~?'1 < ?ajaaBegj^MPaa?a3L , ini'iiim?tag????? ?M???^WMBMB???? __ .. . " ~ " " ??? - ? ? - ~ ' ~ VOL. XLIII. WINXSBORO, S. C., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 188(5. NO. 17. AN IMPORTED BUTLER. ! , THE \EK; ?:IKKT!\<; iiKiom ; ! KJ.K<; x-. \TK5\M>\. Tht* (*hr<{t:crfil Cari-cr uT a >ia;i Vt :?> \Vau!i*i! to Eujov fli-c Money?A (iood story i>y M?"rice E. E::a!i. i I Mr. Feleg V. Atkinson was a good ; man, and, if he hud been a poor man, lie would have been a happy one. But, ; unfortunately, he was rich, and he had gone to Europe?:ls that amiable Sir j Lepci (1 rill in once said?to finish an education that had never been begun at i home. Peleg V. Atkinson, without the 'OJr.'" | which, in obedience to what he was as-! sured was a New York custom, he al- ! ways Lad engraved on his cards, was worth much at the foot of a chcck. j X It was a great name in the Philadelphia or.arts of trade. Third street knew and honored it, and it was not unknown in j "Wall street. As I said, lie was rich; he j had '-skimmed the cream oil* Europe," j as he phrased it, and lie had exhausted j all the pleasure that could be had from drinking sauterneat luncheon, when he preferred beer or ice water, and of mak-: ing a collection of modern Trench pictures. He had a Corot and a Meis so rimer, a Yibert and a Detailie. He i: never bought iv.-o specimens of the same ' artists work. He tallied of his pictures ! as ''examples." He had. orchids, a eel-!: lar of good wine, and two pretty daughters, and yet he was not happy, because i 3Irs. Peleg V. Atkinson was not happy. It is not easy for people accustomed to the pleasures of being well to do to j' bear the weight of riches. When I lirst knew the Atkinsons thev were thorough- j j ly contented. They drank ice water i when tliey chose: they dined at noon,: < and corned beef and cabbage was a de-1 < light to them. On hot days Mr. Atkin- i son threw off his coat :ifier dir ner, stuck | ! a pipe in his mouth, and sat in the back i < door in his shirt sleeves, virile Clarissa ] or Jennie played "Listen to the Mock-; i ing Bird'1 or "Silvery Waves" by way j; of refreshing him before he went down ; to the oflice at the factory. "On sont j < les neige d'antan?"' asks Villon. And 11 Mr. Atkinson, in after years of splendor, j often asked the same question, in less ; ] poetical language, as he thought of those : j happy days. Alas! there could be no j1 more sitting under the grapevine arbor ; and smokirg the pipe of peace.' Mrs. J i'eieg v. --UKinsoii woiuu no iuure luiiivu j j the mint julep with lier own fair hands j and come out to waken him from bliss- j ] ful sleep as he sat in the yard with a : newspaper over his head to keep 0I2 the ! ' ilies on blissful and drowsy afternoons. ; Then Mrs. Atkinson was satisfied that j her four white stone steps were equal in j i size and pallor to her neighbors', and j J that there was no window glass in the 1 1 whole town of Philadelphia more daz ziing than hers: but now ! Clarissa and Jennie played only j 1 Chopin; they could not possibly conde- 1 scead even to opera music, although not j 1 averse to a dash into Wagner occasional- j c ly. He dined by ca^cilelight^,^ in._i which he was always tempt 3d to cover c with ids napkin, lie iiad ta ten a ' house just outside of V>"ashington for tlie winter, for Mrs. Atkinson saw no chance of making suitable matches for her r daughters in her native city. The 1 < -'best"' society was closed to her; she. i lived on North Broad street, and there- ; fore Clarissa and Jennie could not possi-: . blv go to the Assembly bail; and above i 1 ail things?outside of heaven, of course < ?Mrs. Atkinson preferred what is called': society. i i Mrs. Atkinson, who was what is called ' a (Capable woman, had come to knothe j' social characteristics of American cities i! as well as she used to know the points r. /va/,/'i Prf-wTE'l cTifi *1?/) own ! ^ L/J. ?? ?kWX* X?? marketing at Philadelphia, decided that "Washington was tlie best place to begin the matrimonial campaign. She felt that a foreign establishment was preferable to an American one and less difficult j to arrange. The rich Americans, as she knew, were too uncertain of their own ? status to be ready to make what their: aristocratic connections would consider ; mesalliances. Titles for Clarissa and j Jennie would make all things easy, and ! in time she might, with such prestige, even come to glare at Mrs. Cadwullader Smythe at the Assembly ball, where the elect of Philadelphia gathers, at whose portal she stood, like Moore's Peri, "disconsolate." Mrs. Atkinson had acquired a haughty bearing, studied from Miss Morant's Bussian countess, in "The Danichefs." CXiiG Was JJilllLip U1H.I 1V>J imn. i^iipvcixi j5 j i with white hair a la ZUrne. de Pompa-1 dour. She seemed to be a great lady ! until she opened her mouth. Clarissa and Jennie had become, like ! their father, unwilling slaves to splen-j dor. But they had acquired a knowledge of the peerage, and they knew the pedigree of the new British minister to the remotest quartering. It was kind of the family to ask me to spend two weeks at their house outside of Georgetown, because it is not often that families of such quality remember their acquaintances of the past. I went, and when dear old Mr. Atkinson met me With a brougham at the station ray heart sunk. Siches had aged my old friend; splen dor had withered him: the anger which, held immense seal ring bearing his coatof-arms was thin and trembling. There were more wrinkles in his face than tinder the grapevine arbor. His eyes were restless, but he greeted me with the oldtime cordiality. The brougham cushions were heavily scented with heliotrope, a large crest?a lion couchant? was embroidered everywhere. There were two men on the box. One of them, a short, stout, red-whiskered personage, * in a brown coat, came down and spoke to Mr. Atkinson. "You "will not mind seeing to 3Ir. Fitzpatrick's baggage, will you, LudovicV You'll see Jtiis name on the bagsAir. Gerald Fitzpatrick." The man turned iiis ruddy face toward me, and smiled out of a pair of the most shrewd and humorous eyes I ever saw. "S.:re, sir, you're an Irishman; you havj the look of it, and an Irish gentleman, too."' "I'm very near to being an Irishman," I said, laughing. "I was bom there fifty years ago." The man laughed. "You're a drv one," he said, tipping his hat; "you don't look to be thirty." "I'm glad Ludovic has taken a fancy ?s\ r/Mi Tia o<m1 cfnIHnflr in Lis seat; "sometimes he dislikes people, and it's h^rd for us all." I looked at liim in surprise, 3Ir. Atkinson's manner to his employees at the factory was peremptory in tile extreme, too much so, I had thought. What had wrought this softness? "Isn't what's his name a servant?" Mr. Atkinson started as if afraid thai someone would hear him. "Oh, iu (lont talk of him that way. He's tit butler, you know. He does pretty much 1 what he pleases, though. Sometimes he t witnfcs to drive, and of course 1 let him. } Mrs. Atkinson imported him. He is r very expensive, hut he keeps us to the - mark, you know. He knows everything 1 that we don't know. Between ourselves. I I wish i was dead. I'm not lit for this sort of thing. 1 nearly disgraced myself yesterday when we had ex-Governor L Jimjams to dine with us by asking for I; beer with the soup. Marv Ann?Mrs. Atkinson?would have fainted if Ludovic 1j liatl not brought the sherry ancl pre- g tended not to have understood me. b Home!" Mr. Atkinson called out, as b Ludovic climbed on to the box. u "Yes," my old friend continued, 1; -Ludovic is a great treasure." He said g this in the tone in which one speaks of b being resigned to an ailiiction. "Lord Bentham had Iiira and he Las big credentials. }Irs. Atkinson's afraid of h losing him." Here the rich ram ';1 chuckled. It's about the only thing she ^ is afraid of. I sometimes think that ^ wlk-n the girls are married?but. by jt Ueorge! I hate to think of that?we'll 'u be able to forget our duties to society. ? liiches and social status are awful respon- 0 sibilities.He frowned gloomily. *;Come, let's have a drink. Stop at j, Parkins', " he called out. a. There was a sound of jrrumbiine: on c, the 'box.. The carriage stopped. We ^ were on the road that runs along the a( Potomac on the District of Columbia w side, and the river seemed in the ]1; twilight like a sword of silver hung in ]> the dark nothingness around, for the moon shone through a cloud rift on the Ci: river. a Ludovic's crusty accents broke the mxujl1cu. . "Faith, Mr. Atkinson, you're not w thinking of giving the gentleman one of Parkin's punches made -with American vj whiskev. The Irish gentleman's not tG used to it, and you'll only be demeaning yourself and me by offering him the n Like." Ludovie's face could not be seen j in the darkness, but his voice was un- .x compromising. *'Lord Bentman, that (jl owned the Lakes of Killarney, said to tne at cur last parting, 'Me faithful i>2 man,' said he, whatever ye do in Ameri- q ;a, never put hot wather in their \vhis- ju key.' And Parkins' isn't a lit place for the likes of Mr. Fiizpatrick, whatever ijj you may think, sir. that hasn't the ad- ,n vantage?sure, 'tis not your fault, sir? ^ :>f knowing the real stuff. Many's the l" t) . _ "1 ti. 1 } ; x. [ime x ve stopped at x'arians against mo | jn '.vill, and I wouldn't have Lord Bentman jc know for the world that I habitually ^ frequented a tavern where American m whiskey was made into hot punch. If ve'll wait, I'll brew a bowl with me own [lands, of the real stuff, when we get aome." "All right," said Mr. Atkinson, meek- 15 y. Ludovic disappeared, and the car- m ;iage moved on at a rattling pace. ^ 'Ludovic is queer sometimes." "Very," I said. "But he's taken a fancv to vou. It vould drive 3Irs. Atkinson mad?actualy mad?to have iiim leave, now that ~;( ve're expecting Sir Boylo Roche." , ^ "Who's Sir Boyle Roche?" I j "Oh, a young Irish baronet, whose ( ents have been pre-empted by the home rulers, and he's over here. Clara met 0( iirn in town, and he and she rather like ;ach other. Tvlrs. Atkinson's sjj^on^fe^. rT~ ihKc"it; il scents Tue :ushions." ni What next? I thought. w! II. ox Clarissa and J u-nnie looked very pretty \\ it dinner under the pink glow of the pi :andle shades. Their white gowns, just ti :ouched v\-ith aglow that bon silence roses in jives, fitted them to perfection. I took hi Airs. Atkinson, bustling in red satin, into die dining room, lhere vv*as no otner | ^ juest. Sir Boyle Koche was not to come j a for a week, and the Marquis de C'reve-j a. Comment of the Trench Legation had a i previous engagement. Ludovic in livery I g. performed his duties solemnly and man- j g. aged the other servants with extreme j ^ haughtiness. j f-i 4*They will gobble theii food,"hewhis-! Q pered behind my chair. "There's no ; roo/Orino- not to do that. The old man's a regular race horse for bolting his j victuals." Clarissa has improved. She was simple j . and unruffled. But Jennie has become in- ^ sufferable. Counts and countesses, lords " and ladies, floated backward and for.vard S between her mother and her. Theconver- * sation had such an excessively aristocratic flavor that Mr. Atkinson's reminiscence, ^ apropos of the purch, about the way his father started in the junk business,had the k e2ect of a chill, which Mrs. Atkinson par- " iially removed by asking for the prairie ^ chickens which "Captain Cavendish, her E Majesty's guards, traveling in the States," shad sent. r' 'They were spoiled, ma'am,"' said Lu- a dovic, shortly. a No more was said, although Mr. Atkin- c son opened bis mouth as if to express in- s credulity. 13 When Ludovic had left the room Mrs. N Atkinson looked severely toward her t lord. "You must not aggravate Ludovic c by contradicting him. He almost gave 2 warning vest^r lay when Clarissa asked c him to bring in the tennis net. A butler * never does that." ^ "I've never been used to butlers,"said 1 Clarissa, laughing, "so I don't know. 1 But it seems to me that Ludovic is more * the master of this house than papa is."' j "Hash!" whispered Mrs. Atkinson, as * the haughty menial entered. "We pay 4 him an awful price," she whispered to 1 'TT ? .1 XI i. I me. "ne s always lureabeumg w and go back. I'd let liiin go if I could give a dinner without liim," murmured the poor woman, looking really wor- f i ried. T ! That night Ludovic knocked at my j door. He earned a silver charing dish ] and a bottle of claret. He set it down on my table and revealed two prairie cliick- j ens done to a turn. "Sure,'* be whisper- ed chuckling, 4'I kept these for you, and ^ the rest I sent down to Mick Dooly's sick ] c oild. They," with a downward sweep of j his hand, "would not appreciate them." , Before I could speak he left. This was embarrassing. I felt, however, that j the triest return I could make for Mrs. Atkinson's hospitality would be to eat . the game and keep Ludovic in a good humor. Clarissa was very gentle: she showed mo the grounds and talked a great deal of Sir Boyle Boclie. Once or twice she called him Edward. Then she colored and was quiet. She seldom spoke of him except when we were alone. I asked if he were related to the famous Sir Boyle. She laughed and said no. This was" to be his first visit to AVentworth Manor? called so after Lord Wentworth Baron Atkinson, one of their recently discovered ancestors of the family, f liked her 1 CM.,, o,-., *T- flit more anu more*, one sw-mw 't.j. jw v/omeil sometimes. "Oh. dear," she said one evening, as she sat in a low chair, her slight figure surrounded bypufls of tulle and satin; 'how I hate all this!" The Atkinsons were having a "big dinner," as Atkinson pere called it. * 'How I hate the fuss and the etiquette and the pretension of it all! Why should we live such ?a sham life'? Oh, I like good manners and nice things. but not this strain of pretending what we : are not. Look at Jennie, with her Kng ish slang and determination to marry a itle. Ola, I know you'll say?I know -our compliments by lieart. ?Ir. Fitzpatick?that nothing is too good tor an Lmcrican girl; but some things are too >ad. and one of them is to marry :i title >ecause one is rich." "And the baronet V" 1 said with a bow. Oh." a mischievous lierht came into ter eyes, and she paused, then she mghed. ?I'll be honest with you. He's not a laronct. He's plain Edward Boyle, dry ;oods, Syracuse, X. Y. Papa knows to ut lit: was afraid to invite anybody here ut you without a title. When we're larried we'll break the truth to her gent-i r. Of eouiv mamma won't let papa | ^.'ii i? i... mi i x?v uo iuuti:, n uut UUt ?VC II e honest and bo ourselves."" Sir Boyle Iloclie!"' cried the footman. A tall# slight red mastaehed young man 1 an evening suit entered. I glanced at is face and met liis eye. it wasashrev/d ut pleasant face, with bright, good umored eyes and a broad forehead. He >oked like somebody. Who could it t ? At least he had a nice look, and I sentaliy congratulated Clarissa, in spite i her deceit. >n,n T I 1. a. *uxxj.L?^? v??,? x iuua ennie in, Sir Boyle leading with 3Irs. tkinsun; a rather rickety count from ,?me South American legation took C'larsa. I grew weary of Jennie's English jcent. until Ludovic entered with the ine cooler- He smiled in his usual aughty way. When liis eve fell on Sir oyle his face changed. "^Mother of Closes!" he whispered, ropping the aparatus he brought in with crash. , Sir Boyle looked up from his plate. ''Larry, as I live!''heexclamed. 'And;, hen did you come over ?" He forgot: iquette, jumped up and seize 1 Ludoc's hand. Ludovic's eyes tilled with ars. "Och, Eddie, ma bouchal! it's little1 Lought to find you again. Sure, when went away from the old cabin you wero bit of a bov. And so the mother's 'ad! I heard that, though I lost tr.ick ; you all entirely. And me dear littio otiier -hddie s come back to mo? tiianic od!?the only one of me blood I have . the world!" It was an odd scene. "Sir Boyle," in s evening suit, with a Jaqncminot rose his buttonhole, embracing the man in rery; Clarissa, pale and trembling; Jene amazed, and Mrs. Atkinson, standing the attitude of a Media about to mur:r her children. Nobody spoke. Mr. tkinson gulped down a glass of chamtgne. "Sir Boyle,*' his eyes moist, turned to r. Atkinson. "This is my only brother, Mr. Atkin n. uwing to circumstances vgry comon in Ireland, he left us wlien I was a lail boy. I came here and made the ;st of the cliances in your country " "I hear you've been making sheep's resat ^lisiClara there." interrupted udovic. "Veil, take him, Miss Clara," i added, leading the young man up to at young lady, with a sweeping, pamal gesture. "She's the best of 'em," } continued, addressing me in a loud liisper, "but" with a sigh, "I wish the >y had looked higher up in society." -Both Mir, -Atkinson and Lndavic. look lyVe must- u-s ? allocking misjtaJvO. ce conditio^ ou* 0l* country. _ A lien one's \P- of republican simplicity le s dauglit^tler's brother can marry r. Spriggs, k>" she said to Hon. George on bartendc^ce knov.-rt as the "charntat it was iK of Oskosh." He agreed .to another fi'cadful. Ludovic passed s own narae.^ilyj when he resumed 7 //T ?> The last I ht'^ariTte report thatir^ of the Atkinsons was castle in Italj^r- Atkinson had bought :res, which cai ytitJi an estate of live le Count of Sp"*ed "with it the title of till, I fancy tlitfghetti de Monte Eosa. paghetti de INIfc the new Countess of ippy because sPnte liosa is still unle count is hapy_e is rich. I know that f his butler, "er because of the loss ?*i lie Shot a C'e* *? tipede off liis Toe. A company of t?7 1 New Mexico, a^igrants had camped le party, who id one night one of round, was awakeps sleeping on the ijion on his toes, aed by aj>eculiar sena enormous centime looked and saw i"c fnnf. Onlv a fefede crawling across | le camp fire, and V feet from iiim was ber of the reptile. |e could see every arities and the effe^nowicg its pe<:uus in a fever of exe* of its sting, he love a muscle, he dtcment, Afraid to tiake it off. After aked not attempt to eached under his he^econd's pause he nd, taking deliberated, got his pistol, life-saving shot f< aim, fired. It was entipede divided an# the man. The ide of his foot. JBq dropped on each lost remarkable pa here comes the Vithin an hour afterft of the story, he men heard a terriTue shot was fired me of their mules tie<?e groaning from mi 1 ' 1 tt o 4*/ivx? "X'O tvI C .way. xney "went ? iv/.i >ne of tliem with his E?hem and found o an immense size. jt foreleg swollen Teased, as did the ago} he swelling inhe brute, until it tlied^" and groans of ninutes thereafter. Anlni about thirty nade, and it was dit Examination was rollet that had sevei\J>vered that the lad entered ;he mule's the centipede he hoof and inoculat<9ot just above x)ison from the rej)H it with the Spitapli. ji.?Tombstone ?The great secret of ; ~ .hroucrh the winter is to peping apples veil ventilated room orftore tiiem in a iept as near the freezing cellar that is ->le -without actually freez oint us ?>ossiIpples and potatoes sh ig the apples, sept in the same cellar, o: lid never be avoidable, the potatoes sh if this is unthe warmest part of the < nld be kept in barrels of ajjples, well he ;^ar, and the the windows, where, on $3ed up, near air outside is only a fe^r'vs ^'hen the freezing, they can" be t-riipgrees above breeze from the open wiiafed to a cold the same time, the atmtyws, while, at part of the cellar where inhere in the kept does not fall belowpotatoes are With a thermometer in ^Wy degrees, quite possible to cool ?v# cellar it is without injuring the potfitt the aj>ples unhead barrels until ti^fes. Do not! - 1 _ _ ; wanted. It is rarely a goc- appies arc over tlie apples to pick cy ^plan to sort ones. Better let them rT the rotten turbed. Apples in ripenin^ain undisbonic acid, v,iiich cannot cpve ?fl caraccumulate in the house cet{ allowed to be removed by ventilation^, but must terious gas, carbonic acid,0.1 his deleserving the fruit, and it i; jds in preadvantages of an outside c> pne of the can be allowed to reman f-r that this Agriculturist. J-American The retirement of Kauloar.-e? ria is spoken of in all Kurope)kom Bulga force of l"urope. ?ite united Our market reporter says "jM that the chestnut crop will Ixfftcport i? this we may conclude that wt-St.'* By immediate danger of uny m-v.6? in no paper. j&norons 1 I i FRED ARCHER'S END. A-. FA>101 > J(H JiEV KIU.S HIMSELF J A FEVER. , IH-1 Kritiarkaljie Career 0:1 tiie Ti;rf and !l Trai.:if End?.Some of Hi* >io><t Xoteworth Usee*", wish Oiher Point* of Interest. (From the Xev York Times ) London*, November 8.?Fred Archer tlie celebrated jockey, is dead. Hi death was the result of a pistol sho wound inflicted by himself while in ; delirium resulting from fever. It i reported that lie was ill with typhoii f fever. The iirst symptoms of the disease | appealed on Thursday, after he ha< been ] >resent at the Lewes races. \Vhei it bee une evident that his illness wa likely fco be serious, he was taken to hi, sisters, house at Newmarket. He rapid ly gre w worse, and had been in a raging fever since yesterday morning. He wa left a\one for :t few minutes, and Lis at tendrmt, soon after leaving the sicl roon i, heard two pistol shots. He hurriei back, and found Archer dying, having l.r .> v ivnli'av is-UVl/. JUJLULlACli. *>xcx-t .t ? v/x ? ViFrederick James Archer has for the pa' )t fi fteen years been not only the besi kr .own but the most successful of Engli: ih jockeys, and his record during the season just closing lias been as successful as those of the past dozen years, during all of which he .stood at the head 61 the list of "winning jockeys. Sincc the death of Tom French in 1872, he has been Lord j almouth's chief jockey, and that gentleman had the first claim upon his services. Alter him, in the order named, his time was claimed by contract "inr T,nWJ HiKsHnnrs "Dnkfi of West minster, lUatthew Dawson, of Newmarket ?his father-in-law?and the Prince of Wales, all of whom paid him handsome retainers. Fred Archer was about 5 feet 7 inches in height, of slim, wiry build, and rode at from 11"; to 120 pounds, keeping himself at that weight by the use of Turkish baths during the racing season. Archer was a native of Presbury, near Cheltenham, and the son of William Archer, a famous cross-country rider, who in 1850 won :l national reputation by winning the Liverpool Grand National Steeples chase on Little Charley, 147 pounds up. Young Archer, who was bom on January 11, 1856, seemed to have been born a jockey, for when but the merest child he was at home only on the lior.l- nf <1 dnnU-pv at r>nnv_ Ha was known as a bold and good rider over the Gloucester stone walls with the Cots wood hounds, and his childish treble was more frequently heard crying out that he "was in afc the death" than among the crowd that was at the end of the hunt. His first winning mount was made when he was but 11 years old, when he won a steeplechase at Bangor on the famous t.~^t jyuii v lljLtlllL Ui JLYCJUU J-XV; ?Ycl^> rt^/JJXCJLLl/JLl^ll to itfatthew Dawson, of Newmarket, when 12 years of age, and on Sei>tember 2N, 1S7C, when 14 years old, he won the Nursery Handycap at Chesterfield, on Athol Daisy. In 1872, riding at 77 pounds, he won the Cesarcwitch stakes on Mr. RadclilFs iSalvonas, a victory which was his real stepping stone to his fame as a iockor~u.nd fee fortnne oi ovofc $-j00,0th> which' he leaves behind him. Soon after this he succeeded Tom French as Lord Falmouth's chief jockey and it was in the employ of this noble patron of tne English turf that he won some of his most famous victories. In 187-1 he headed the list of vanning jockeys and lias done so ever since, his closest competitor for this lionor during tlie past live season, as lie is this year, being Charlie AVood. It was during the year 1-ST-i that he won the Lincolnshire Handicap with Tomahawk; was seconded in the Cesarewitch with the Truth gelding; the Two Shousand Guineas on Atlantic: finished third on the same horse in the Derby, riding 122 pounds, although his bodily weight was but 85 pounds.. He also won in that year the Woodcote stakes for two year olds with Ladylove, the Great C'hesire stakes with Andred, the Steward's Cup at Coodwood with Modeno, the Clearwell Stakes at Ypivmnrlrpf. wif.'i the rcntintance colt. and a host of handicaps, purses and stake races. His riding as well as his winnings in that year earned for him the nickname of "The Demon Jockey" and "The Xjnman," the latter because he always rode for "the tin." Patience, vigilance and courage were his characteristics, and to these were due his wonderful success. He was always ready, and nearly always first at the starting post, so as to secure the best - i? -lt~ -7 jJiUUU. J.1C UUt/'JL'U LUU OtUltCl lUlJJLHJIVJ and so profited in many of the starts, and, as his eye "was always kept on the starter's nag, he was never left at the post and rarely got a bad start. He always studied his horses carefully, and, by knowing their faults and good points, got everything possible out of them, bo great was his average of winning, and so thoroughly honest was he that "Archer's mounts" were always heavily ho/VL-rt/1 off-fir flia niioniTirr nf Ills wnnrlor fully successful career. Archer was wonderfully successful in winning what are known as the classic races in English racing circlcs, and won these events oftener than any jockey that ever lived. The Cambridgeshire is the only one of them he never won. In this race, run on the 28th of last month, he was second to Sailor Prince by a head, his mount being St. Miron, and he was second last year on Bendigo. He wnrt tli a l)prhv in 1877 with Lord Pal mouth's Silvio, in 1880 with the Duke of Westminster's Bend Or, in 1881 with Pierre Lorillard's Iroquois, in 1885 with Lord Hasting's Melton, and this year with the Duke of Westminster's Ormonde. The two thousand Guineas he won for Lord Falmouth in 1874 with Atlantic, again 187'J with Charibert, and again in 1883 with Galliard. Last year he won it with Roderick Cloete's Paradox, and this year with that wonderful horse Ormonde. For Lord Falmouth he also won the one thousand Guineas in 1875 with Spinway, and in 187!) with I Wheel of Fortune. With, these same | horses he also Avon the Oaks an the same year, as he did with Jannette in 187S> He won the City and Suburban in 1870* with Thunder, in 1877 with Julius C:esar, in 1879 with 3Ir. Loriilard's Parcle, in 1880 with Master Kildare, and in InSI with Bend Or. The St. Ledger he won in 1877 with .Silvio, 1878 with Jannette, in with Mr. Loriilard's Iroquois, in 1882 with Lord Falmouth's Dutch Oven?a forty to one chance and one vi the most sensational races on record; in 18H~>. with Lord Hastings' Melton, and this year with Ormonde. The champion stakes were taken by him in 1878 With 'Jannette, in 1881 'with Bend Or, in 1S82 with Tristan, in a walkover after a dead heat with Thebias, and in J 8S5 -with Paradox. The Middle Park plate was won by him in three successive years, beginning in 1883, Busvbodv, Melton, and Yin tin ~ the ramnig hoses. =0took tEelW Imrsr. T)i:itA r/n WIv^VI ,.r t- t r~ ?*' t_u xurraiie. I5u Gal anil Dtitcli Oven, and won tin Czarewitch for the second time in ]S7( on Iioseberry. He twice won the Frenel Derby, in 1830 with M. Lefevre's Beaumont, and again in 1883 with the Duke de Castree's Frontin. In 1882 he won x the grand prize of Paris with Mr. EL j | Rhymill's Bruce. His record of winning j j during the past six years is as follows: j j 1880, 121 wins; jS8I, 21f:': 1882, 210; j 1883, 232; 1884. 241; is*:,, 21H. He! I leads the list this vear also. Mr. Archer rode for Mr. LonharJ whenever that gentleman could secure Lis services, and with Poole he won the City and Suburban, the Great Metropolitan and the Great Cheshire stakes in ^ 187G. With Iroquois he wo:: the Derby, a Prince of Wales stakes and the St. s .Tames Palace stakes at Ascot, and the i , Doncaster St. Ledger. ' - TVi#? "T)Amnn .TncV^v"' rr><ir?f> n lvuv.n-u*- ! e able record during last month, winning I the Maiden Plate of KM) guineas at Xew^ market for the Prince of Wales with his two year old Lady Peggy, a ten to one chance. He wpn the 'Free Handicap 5 H;veepstakes at the same meeting with ~ Ormonde, and had a walkover with him ' on the 29th, his last race of the season, 5 in a private sweepstake* of ],()()() sover" eigns each, Melton and the Bend both ? being withdrawn. In the first three days , of the meeting Archer had 14 mounts, > winning five races and being second three times. The week previous to this ' meeting he had ridden for the first time ' oil tne Irish course at Curiugli. winning ^ .the Lord Lieutenant's cup for Lord | Londonderry on Cambusinere on Octo- ; ber 10. , Archer was married in February, 1885, ( to the niece of his old trainer, ?datthew | Dawson, Miss Nellie Hose Dawson. The wedding occurred at Newmarket, where Archer owned a famous hostelry, the Falmouth House. The wedding was ,; . attended by many ot the nobility, and ' the presents to the younff couple were ! of as great value as those ordinarily ; : given to a Prince. Mrs. Archer died in November, 1884, while giving birth to a j daughter. Archer grieved greatly over her death, and came to this country spending three months here and making the top across the continent. He had never recovered from the grief caused by the death of his wife, and remained on the turf only because he hoped by this means to partially forget his loss. He was not only the richest jockey in Hng- 1 land, bat the most popular one, and had ridden more horses, young as he was, man any jockey living ai me nine 01 nis i deatli. Shelter tor Stock vs. Food. 1 (\V. L. Jores in A'.lmta Constitution.) All are familiar with the expression ^ ' animal lieat." The epithet "animal/' x as applied to heat, would seem to convey c the "idea tliat it was a peculiar kind of a heat, differing from other kinds of heat. r But this is not the case. So far as tests s can be brought to bear upon it, it exliib y its the same properties and produces the ? same effects as the heat produced outside ? of animal bodies, by the burning of [ wood, coal, gas, etc., etc. As ordinary ? heat comes from combustion, or the ( burning of something, the inference t would appear natural that animal heat r also is produced from combustion or the s burning of something. And this lias + been shown to be strictly true. The life i a^d health of animals require that the v of thoir* bodies should be c loo oi EVikrftUheit's scale. But as the air aroundTFKnrrf-y is usually much cooler thau that, they ( have to generate heat in themselves, have i a furnace of their own, so to speak, \ which envelopes them. u Now, what is it tliat is burned in an a animal's body to keep its temperature up r to the natural standard? The answer is v food, especially certain kinds of food. Is t food anything like wood? Has it a simi- r Lar compositeur? Can it be burned hke n wood? Every one knows that certain | kinds of food, as fats and oils, burn very c readily; tallow, lard, lard oil, cotton sceu i oil and so on, for instance. Fats and c oils, it will be observed, are not confined c to meals or animal food, but are found r in seeds and other parts of plants as well. c The grain of corn and oats contain some j live per cent, or fat, bariev about two, v cotton seed about thirty, ground peas E \ irlioof twn I 1. ' iUi. "ClAj ?? UVUW US. VUU MM V) clover hay three, timothy tw? >, etc.; prob- ( ably no substance eaten by animals is j. devoid of fat. But other substances t found largely in food, such as starch, { sugar and gum, are composed of the rj same tliree elements that fat is, and are r susceptible of being burned in an ani- jmal's body. The burning is not as rapid c as in a stove, but the conditions and re- t (jiurements are similar. The lire in a Y stove must have air; the animal must draw ail' also into its lungs and from its v lungs into its blood, at veiy short inter- f vals. The stove sends out carbonic acid * i -* ?* xi.^ ; i xrom me enu ox its pipe, i,uu zuuuwu s throws out carbonic acid at every expira- ^ tion. The coal or wood iu the stove f burns up and must be replenished at * short intervals; the animal's supply of s fat, starch, sugar and gum is also soon f used up, and must be supplied two or { tliree times every day. J Now, the amount of heat that an ani- c mal must generate to keep up its natural f temperature depends upon the amount of r cold to which it is exposed. The colder r the weather the more food must be burnt Ill il 5WJVC L*J ii KJUIli nd-Li-Ll, lilt J greater tlie exposure to cukl the greater f tlie amount of food the animal must con- c sumc to keej) warm. It becomes, then, a s practical question, to a. certain extent, as f to the comparative cost of shelters to s protect from cold and of food to be t burned to produce heat. Is it cheaper to j protect from cold rains and cold winds, and thus economize the heat o f animals, or is it cheaper to expose them fully to r the weather and supply more food to ^ make up for increased loss ox heat? x Wlien it is considered how cheaply roofs a may be made of planks and stalls of { poles, which with pine brush leaned A against them on the north and west sides { would very effectually protect from cold j .winds, one cannot hesitate long in an- i swering the above question. t ?The first daily paper appeared in 1 London in 1702. The custom of auouy- 1 mous and scurrilous pamphlets was ' driven out, and, as discussion was free, 1 journalism gradually attracted the ablest t writers and its power began to crystalize ' into a reality. The penny papers of to- ( day. which enjoy enormous circulation ( in large cities, are not innovations but 1 simply repetitions of the Athenian Ga- \ zette, which began March 17, IGIK). Discussions of various topic.-; formed the ' matter thrown to the public in these ' times, anil such questions as, "Whose : was the soul of Lazarus for the four days 1 lie lay in his grave "What became of ' the waters alter cue Hood.' \v here aces extinguished tire go?" and "Whetherit's ( : lawful for a man to Ueat his wife," were 1 taken up and treated with ridiculous re-!1 riousness. 1 ?The tallest . T ' ? Geors* v in Lancaster, Pa., is _. averse}', son of Dr. Kersey. He xs 13 years old and seven feet high. Ho > is still growing. 1 ^ I\vr. prize fighters were sentenced to 1 .heState prison, in California, Frid:iy, for > n!vin<p ltu-ir ../....(inn ..i*] o,,,. t tiyiug i.?i lie on; of it. I J ni.M'ct .vnw;; Tin: TELErnoxK. 'I'aiKii:^ With !ii:* of m?* Throat aiiJ ih< of tijp !i? nd. 9 (Fr-rn tie Chicr.^ Herald- > Scver.il frit-mis met at the residence o; Tames Lowib. 7-52 West Congress street, io witness some of the very curious and interesting features of bis new system oi transmission, by contact with the both of the speaker, through a solid medium instead of Through atmospheric impulses. as practiced in all diaphragm instruments. In the new system the instrument is actuated by placing a button projecting from it against the side of the throat, the operator speaks, and the vibrations that occur in the exterior surf - ^ -ft 1 -L"L - -ix nice oi mo mroat uunug mo uuerance of the words are conducted by the button and its stem to the electrodes, and they being disturbed, in accordance with the vibrations that form the muscular word, so to speak, transmit a perfectly articulated, word. Conversation is carried on with facility through combined instruments, the tone is-much louder and fuller than fouhd in any of the diaphragm class, and its timbre is of a smoother and more solid character. One of its peculiar and very important qualities is that it is independent of all accidental sounds or disturbances which so often interfere with the good surface of the instruments of the telephone system; the speaker may be surrounded by any number of people talking loudly, and only his voice will be transmitted. The loudness and clearness with which speech is transmitted with these instruments is wonderful. During the exhibition of this curious new principle the inventor applied the button to the top of his head and trans matted speech in a perfectly clear voice, only not as loud as in the usual "way of holding; also to the back of the neck, carious parts of the chest and other parts of the body, all in a good, clear tone, every word well delined and ineligible. A test was made with a tenpound weight of lead, and through this, j is in all other eases, the transmission Evas perfect. The inventor has a line at his house in operation having a two-mile resistance. Se has taken out American and foreign patents covering this new art. W0ME3 :.\ THE WAR. low They Mo! Their Trials c:u! Oii'icuitic* in Times of Adversity. Southern women are always interested 11 any incidents connected witli the late rov- (-liat- nr.- nmn/1 <if trpvr s:ir>-. hey were ever called upon to make, and vould "willingly have bome ten times nore had it hern necessary. The Philaleiphia Times has two exceedingly pleasmt correspondents, both Southern wonen, and both portray vividly many cene.s and incidents familiar to our eaders. One, a lady who was teaching ichool in Alabama, tells of the originaliy of our women when necessity was the aw; it brings back the old times and old imes and old scenes; she speaks among >ther things of the substitutes used for ea and coffee, and savs: "I was perhaps tiost difficult of all to find a good subfcitute for coffee, which was twenty-five o thirty dollars per pound, and very few tad it or'could get it at tliat price. Some > km ted large of okm. accd if which vriicn parched was often misfy pnrc coffee. Yr.m potatoes, )OuTeS; sliced thin, cut in small bits, Iried perfectly and tsyn browned, were bought by some to be better than frowned okra seeds.* Browned wheat .nd burnt corn made a passable beverge. For tea rasi>berry leaves did very ticely. Many planted the raspberry ine all around ti.o garden fence, so as o gather 'tea' when wanted." Then she ;oes on to toil how we managed in le;ard to light: "As neither candles nor :erosene oil could be had we fell back m moulding candies, which had long ain obsolete. In lieu of kerosene, the ill of cotton seed, groundpea oil and the dl of coiu2>ressed lard served well the iced of the times. When there was no dl for the lamps or tallow for the canLies, which at times befell, mother wit i'ould suggest some expedient. I rcaember one evening at a neighbor's i lonsa. beintr Dleasinciv diverted on en- i L-ring the dining room at the improvised amp for the evening. It was simply # he round 'globes' ol the 'sweet gum'* ree, placed in a shallow vessel of oil. ["he globes, becoming thoroughly satuated with the oil, gave a fairy-like light, >eautiful to behold." Isext she speaks if the ingenuity we exercised in regard o our fancy articles, and how prouil we rere of our homespun dresses; she says: 'We soon learned to make fans of the ring leathers of the geese. When the eatliers were mature we would pluck hem, being very careful in plucking to tring the feathers one by one as they vere takeu out. All tlie right wing eatliers were placed on one string and he left wing feathers on another string, o that when we arranged the feathers or making the fan each feather could >e jjlaced in its proper place and would lave the fitting curve. We soon be:ame quite skilled in the art of making ans. Besides these for home use we aade and sold in the city of Eufauia aany fans for as much as 810 and $15 ^ T lvi.i.lrv nnfi fav niv nf I lie dark olive green fcatliers of the peaowl. The handle 1 covered with a piece >f dark green silk velvet. On either ide where I had joined the handle and eathers 1 placed a rosette made of the mall green and blue variegated feathers hat adorn the neck and breast of the >eafowl. FOl'K HOME-MADE DRESSES. *\Ve had all joined hands in the task of naking the slaves' winter suits and after ve had them flushed Mrs. G. promised is each a homespun dress. We set ? . xi e 1.: ii L 00 lit I lie xasiv Oi luiuuuy max Jttdi/ unu n few weeks had our dresses ready to vear. We had lo begin at the found?ion and had hard work getting through t, but we succeeded splendidly. A leighbor made lierseif an elegant dress, ;he material being an old, worn, black rilk dress : 1 iiut cotton. The silk was aveted up. then mixed with the fine vhite cotton and carded all together till ihoroughly blended. When spun and voven Jt formed a beautiful texture of jray. soft and silkish to the touch. The " jest Ul i-UU Vtuiu ?tW i;ui ujr x\jjl i sording and covering the buttoi s made I )f pasteboard, and otherwise trimming ? ;he dre:-:.s. V.'e soon found use for ail j ;he worn merinos, cassimercs and silks, i When mveled up, corded and spun | ?lov?.< anl capes were knit of them." ind so on through u long list' of how i nuAnlo r'i;i>;noWi jlnrnpstic ifikir?. The other writer, a Virginia; atly, brightens up the O.^xk days of r?j I i jy unmdi;g incidc-n:.-., showing th&t jvory cloud hivi iti l-Hycj; littiug." lot only that, ViT?t iiiAi ' . ^~"?" EVOOlfiil Tvuro 1>? oUr . - . .?,ve, cheerful ana willing endure, even unto the bitter end. A VL om::r. in {H-rfcct health, and ]>< >s>e?ing luxuriant tres>f,s. lost all her liair hi nm: ni.uht. Next day she had her servant arrested for stealing it front oil' the bureau. An Arkansas man nrui'le a bullet out of a pii'cc of ping t<>!.acco :t:u! shot it through tiie body of a wildcat. The animal died. ! ItTf* w? have another forcible illu^rral:<?n of liie fala! efTcfKof tfbrurrn on I lit* system. CHESTER A. ARTHUR DEAD. i? A STROKE OF APOPLEXY TEKMi.VlTES j THE EX-PRESIDEX TS LIFE. i Stricken in His Sleep?He Passe* Away I'eacefiilly and Painlc^iy, Unconscious of His M:rroundin^s?Expressions of Sorrow On A!! Sides?President Cleveland Sends a Touchii!^ Communication to Mrs. MoElrov?Public I ? Biuiaitip* tirapea in Mourning. Xew York, November IS.?Ex President Chester A. Arthur died at o'clock this morning, at liis residence, No. 123 Lexington avenue. He had been ailing for some time from a complication of diseases, principally kidney affection. He spent the summer at a watering place, and it was supposed, that this had strengthened somewhat his enfeebled constitution. His death was unexpected, it not being supposed outside his house that he was in any immediate danger. As soon as the news of 3Ir. Arthur's death was made public many Hags on public and private buildings were placed at liall" mast. 21r. Arthur had lived at No. 123 Lexington avenue for twenty years or more. A stroke of cerebral apoplexy suddenly, but not wholly unexpected by the attending physician, terminated his life. The stroke came in his sleep, between Tuesday night and "Wednesday morning, and he did not rally thereafter. His death was painless and slow, like the going out of a burned down candle, and for hours before the end came he was unconscious to his surroundings. His son and daughter, his sister, his former law -rarhicr Sliprman W. Knevals, and iiis closest friend, Sur- ; rogate Rollins, were at his bedside. All reports to the contrary. Mr. Ar- : thur's health has not improved during i his stay at New London six weeks ago, . ami at his return on October 1st he was < no better than when he left the city. As ] the time passed no permanent improve- 3 ment came, and the physicians feared ] some such sudden stroke as the one to ? which he succumbed. In his enfeebled ^ i condition even a light stroke of apoplexy { would prove fatal to the once robust | patient. With the beginning of the , present week a marked change for the < better set in. On Tuesday the ex-Presi- ( deDt felt better and stronger than at ;;ny c time since he was taken sick, and com- ^ merited hopefully upon the fact. ] It -was after midnight when his at- ? tcndant left him alone in his bedroom, a and nothing was heard of him during c the early morning hours. He was not t disturbed until his attendant entered his room at 8 o'clock yesterday morning, j c He found Mr. Arthur lying on his side, | c breathing heavily and could not rouse 11 Lira. Tlie family answered Ms sum- { mons, but failed to elicit any sign of a consciousness or recognition from the <] ex-President. In their alarm they sum- ; moned his physician, Dr. George A. j Pt.ters, who has been in attendance upon f Mr. !irthur throughout his illness, and i who responded promptly and at once saw that he was suffering from a stroke of cerebral apoplexy. A small blood vessel in the brain had burst and paralysis of 1 the right, side had ensued. From the ?iomeut tl-dii discovery was. made all i ,^>j*rTV&S KhOWirto be of no avail, hut Ji no efforts were spared to bring the pa- ti tient back to consciousness. They were n all alike a failure. Mr. Arthur lav mo- h tionless and speechless all day. He knew a what was going on about him. for he h squeezed his doctor's band and put out tl his tongue partly when asked to do so, 0 but he never spoke or gave any other I sign of consciousness. * n Last night at 6 o'clock an enfeebled a: pulse, more difficult respiration and s< other signs of physical failure indicated g to the watchful eyes of his physicians t< that tiie end. was drawing near, inu n change for the worse came on rapidly. o and his sister and children gathered at his bedside. Dr. Win. A. Valentine, n Dr. Peters's partner, and Surrogate ti liollins stayed with them during the d night. Mr. Knevals went hon.e at and- i'( night. Mr. Arthur's strength ebbed out w slowly and with it his life. It was 5 si nV-lnr'k when the find fiimr- T V liatl T been entirely senseless for hours, anil b died without a struggle. t) Undertaker Davidson was summoned I to take charge of the remains this morn- b ing. The funeral will take plaoe on t-3 Saturday at 9 a. m., from the Church of f; Hevenly Rest, on fifth Avenue, the liev. a: Dr. Parker Morgan officiating. o Mr. Arthur was not a member of any ? church, but his wife formerly attended v that church. One of the distinctive i'ea- p tures of the ex-President's character was ? his strong loyalty to her memory. ^ Mr. Arthurs remains will be buried in ?_ the Albany liural Cemetery, in the fanii- i: ly plat. ii " The lirst ofllcial information received a by the President of the death of the ex- ti President was conveyed in a telegram, n from James C. lieed, the latter's coniidential secretary. It was received at the tl "White House about (J o'clock, and merely n stated that General Arthur died this ( morning. The President was very much lj shocked at the intelligence, and at once (. indited the following telegram of sym-' n pathv to Mrs. McElroy, the ex-Presi- j c dent's sister: I "Accept my heartfelt sympathy in f, your personal grief and the expression of sorrow for the death of one wiio was lay j } kind and considerate friend. The wo- [ pie of the country will s&eerely mourn D tlie loss of a citizen, who served them s well in their highest trust and won their v affection by an exhibition of the best t' trait; of true American character. "GROYEK CLEVELAND.*' 3 The iiag on the White House was a placed at half-mast immediately on re- c ceipt cf the news, and soon after the Hags on all the public buildings in the s city were also placed at half-mast, and v arrangements also made for draping the 'J public buildings. The work of draping t the White House was begun before t o'clock. lj Secretory Bayard heard of the ex- o President's death about 11 o'clock, and n proceeded directly to the White House v to confer with the I'resident as to tbe proper course to bu pursued. Ail the { other members of the Cabinet arrived I alio-, i 12 o'clock. The death of ex-Presi- ^ dent Arthur was the only subject of dis- r cuss:on at the Cabinet meeting, and it *' was agreed t;> issue an executive ord-.r ' announcing the death of the ex-Pyesi- Yj dent and directing the pal-lie- buildings :: to be draped L" turning fur a period of s thirty days, and also that public*]>usi?iess 11 be suspended v>ii thf* day set. apart fur f the UiUd-JP::esic!e:it Cleveland subsequently . Lued a proclamation announcing che . i death of ex-President Arthur, ordering , ' 1 i-- ?~ on<l <1 PIlfLVT that me -u..\ecuu> ? merit buildings be draped in mourning lor ::hiriy days, and tJiat j>ublic business, j in the departments be suspended en the day of the funeral, ~ ( Ex-Secretitiy Boutwcll to-day an- ' nounced in the Court of Claims the | death of ex-President Arthur, and the I court adiourned until Monday as a mark I of respect to the deceased. Attorney j ' cnend Garland will to-morrow make ' oiiicial announcement- of tlie death of the ex-President to the Supreme Court of the United States. President Cleveland and several members of the Cabinet will leave here Friday night for Xew York to attend the funeral of ex-President Arthur. Senator Sherr^-i will appoint a committee of Senators to attend the funeral. POSTPONING THE FCNEEAL. In perfecting the arrangements for the funeral of ex-President Arthur, it has been determined to change the date of the ceivmonv until the mornine of Mon day. November 22, in order to allow time for the arrival of several of the members of his Cabinet and other persons of distinction. A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Chester Allan Arthur was born in Fairfield, Franklin County, Vermont, on October .3, 1830. He was the son of the Rev. Wm. Arthur, a Baptist clergyman, who cams-isJLriorica at the age of 18 from The County Antrim. Ireland. ExPresiuent Arthur's early education was acquired in the schools of Vermont, and he finished his education at Union Cor- -v_ lege, Schenectady, from which he was ? giuuuitiuu iii j.ci-7, uui-inij a prom in em position in liis class. After teaching school for a few years lie studied law, and liming been admitted to tlie bar lie funned a copartnership with Henry D. Gardiner, which was eminently successful. Ex-President Arthur was associated with Mr. William M. Evarts in the"'celebrated J onathan Lemmons case in 1852, in which the liberation of eight fugitive slaves was sustained by the Supreme Court of the United States, the ar^ru ments on that position having been made by Evarts and Arthur. Mr. Arthur early took an active interest in pohtics as a Henry Clay Whig, and was a delegate to the convention at Saratoga, which founded the Republican party of New York. In I860 he was appointed engineer in chief on the staff of Governor Morgan, of Xew York, and was afterwards made Inspector General and Quartermaster General, which last office lie held until I860. In 1865 Mr. Arthur returned to his law practice, and soon jeeame engaged in politics, having been ippointed Collector of the Port of New L'ork in 1S71-, and was reappointed to ;hat ofxice in 1875. In 1877 President Hayes ordered Mr. irthur to resign liis party position as Chairman of the Republican Central Committee of Xow York, with whicli )r<ler ?>Ir. Arthur refused to comply. He vas therefore suspended from office in .873 and his successor confirmed by the Senate, although the special committees :ppointed to investigate Mr. Arthur's >fficial conduct found nothing on which o base a charge of dereliction. He was a zealous supporter of the laims of General Grant to the Eepubli:an nomination to fJie PrpsiVlfvnrvc- in 880, arid, after the defeat of Grant, was dniseif nominated by acclamation to tlie "ice Presidency, with Garfield as President. On the assassination of Garfield, 11 July, 1881, Arthur succeeded to the Residency, which position he held until Ue election of President Cleveland in 884. THE LEES KtsslXG. 'wo in High Positions and Two More Coming. For nearly twenty years after the war he-sons ami nephew: c:- Robert E. Let? ived in retirement, devoting their attenion to the tilling of the noil and seeking o public notice. Ail at once, within the ist few years, they have come forward, ml just now it seems that they will soon are a large sliare of the good tilings in tie way of offices. General Fitzhugh is Governor and has still higher aspirations, le is already looking with a longing eyo pon the seat of Senator Riddleberger, nd from the present indications it would ?em that his longing is likely to be ratified. The next Legislature is sure -> bp Democratic, and there is hardlv a lan in the State who would enter into a ontest with General Fitzhugh. General lluny, his cousin, is Congresslan elect, and as it is the custom to re:im a member two or three times in his istrict, he has a good lease of office beare him. His small majority this tima ill not hurt him, since it was due to the scurity felt by his friends. Two other iecs are now looming up and will probaly shine in the political firmament in lie near future. One is General Gustis >ee, brother of Rnny. He has never efore dabbled with politics, but since iie recent elevation of members of liis . unity it is said tliat lie is waking up to mbition. According to the programme f tlie Leo enthusiasts, he is to succeed 'itzhugh in the Governor's chair three ears since. This arrangement is-a very retty one it it can be carried out, as 'itzliugh, by the Constitution of the itate, cannot be rc-clccted, and his term f ollice will expire just about the time liddleberger's seat becomes vacant. So the Governor steps into the United itatc-s Senate and Custis into the Execute Mansion at Iviclimond, there will ba o interregnum of the Lees. v, ?T "O " -M?i-v ?, tJLli&O icre is a fourth Leo who is likely to bob p into politics. He is a brother of tlie Governor and lives a very quiet farming fe down on the Potomac, in Staflord bounty. He lias never run for any office, or has he ever taken part in any poiitial canvass-. JSrow, it is said, he is to be rouglit iorward. partly as a means of Liyt'^or honoring the Lee family and arr-Vy to punish State Senator W. E. Icredith, of Prince William. Meredith, i will be remembered, was General Lee's lost bitter opponent in the Congresional Convention, and his course came ery near defeating the General. Now lie Lec men propose to have the Govmors brother nominated in place of Ieredith for Sta^e Senator in the Alexndria district next year, and thus acomplisli a double purpose. If political conditions do not change oon, the whole programme for the eleation of the Lees can be carried out. .'he Governor can go to the Senate; Ousts can take Lis place; Euny can stay in lie House, and the obscure Stafford i-nrlir'- <rn tr> IVw>- Sf.ii/> TIIA illy persons who object to this arrangement are the workingmen of the State, ho do take well to the old iamilies, ?A house of straw is now being contracted in Pliiladelphia, to be shipped o i In gland and erected on the grounds -I the American exhibition in London. ? is an American suburban YxLLa of the Host approved architectuai design, two :id ;i half stories high, and covering a puce ;.2x50 feet. 3.1 built entirxly of aaterial manufctffciired from straw? P'.lil? lUUAUCi, ?llil\V &uwtng. s:L^y Mooring and straw decoraioz::t the inside iluish being of very lamisoine design, executed in imitation )i rosewood, mahogany, oak. wainut and isli. The Augusta Ice Factory has been sold for sG.OOU to merchants of that city. A man with a big foot and one with a Utile foot went limiting yesterday, but neither of them did :non; than alarm'.he birds. .. 1< iVi-K- this is for iVir* Tv><ar> who pawned Ins overcoat hist spring. Smoking docs not agree with some people. l)!it it :ihv:iys seems to ?or>t the rlrinv> Dev.