The Greenville enterprise. (Greenville, S.C.) 1870-1873, January 04, 1871, Image 1
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THE GREENVILLE ENTERPRISE.
j * UW 1 "* ' i iwm - I in*, in I i f i , ?
Dnjotcfc to linos, Politics, 3nlclti|ntcr, onit tljc 3mproofmntt of l!)e State anir Cowntnj.
JOHN C. & EDWARD BAILEY, PRO'RS. . GRkEHVILLE, SOUTH CAROLINA, JANUARY 4, 1871. VOLUME XVII--N0. 33.
Hoaaowirriox Two Dollar* per annum.
ADTBuriHKUKHT* inserted at the rates of
one dollar per square of twelve Minion line*
(this slsed type) or less fbr the flrst insertion,
tit; cents each for the tecoud and third insertions,
and twenty-five cents for subsequent'
Insertions. Yeurly contracts will he mode.
AM advertisements must have the number
nf iuse/tions marked on them, or they will be
Inserted till ordered out, snd obarged for.
Unless ordered otherwise. Advertisements
Will invariably be "displayed."
Obituary notices, and all matters Inurlnjr to
to the benefit of any one. are regarded as
Advertisements.
Work and Win.
Up ! awaken from your slumbers;
There is work fer you to do ;
Would you plod along life'* pathway
With no better aitn in view
Than your silly, selfish plearurea T
If another's way is dark,
Shed some sunlight o'er his pathway.
Lend a band to steer bis bark.
Each one has bis work appointod?
ilas some field to labor in,
While ambition points lis upward
To the motto, " Work and Win."
Do not think yourselves degraded.
We have our respective spheres ;
All cannot l>e doetors, lawyers.
Merchants, ministers or peers.
Every person has his station ?
Has some duty to perform,
Which, if nobly done, is worthy
Of the highest honors worn ;
Let us live, then, truly, nobly,
And in life's ineessant. din,
Have some aim for which to labor.
With the motto, 44 Work and Win.
There are thoroy paths before us.
Paths that other feet have trod,
Until, wearied with life's burden,
They were laid beneath the sod,
We must all toil up the hill side?
Up where bravest sons have bten,
Never falt'ring, always striving.
With the will to work and win.
^For ttje 1'nbirs.
From tbe Darlington Southerner.
ROSWKLL SINCLAIR.
OR,
FORGIVENESS.
UY MRS. K. IJ CHER8BOROCGII.
"Do you wish to kill mo. Mr.
Siticlftir? Take your limine] from
my throat, please."
lie relaxed his grasp, and she
sank with a smothered sob on the
conch, while she put her delicate
fingers around her throat, as if to
tfincir tl.n i\tiin <.f tint ir?tit liOnrl flint
hud just lift it. She propped nervously
the diamond neck lace that
encircled her throat. She slmd
dcrcd. for she remembered that it
wag for such baubles the had Bold
herself.
Ilcr husband Btood sternly
watching her; .tow she quailed
before the fierce black eye that
seemed devouring her with itB
angrv gaze
k Regine," he said at length.
She simply looked up at him.?
Oh! what a woe begone, heart
broken look met his gaze.
" I have nearly killed von, have
I not ?"
" Would you had," she 6aid passionately.
*k I hnd better be dead ;
deatli tvill be sweeter to me than
lite?life with oil this bitterness,
this woe."
Why did you deceive me?" he
asked sternly. " You know my
nature; you knew the depths of
my love; did yon not know that I
would sooner see yon dead at my
feet than know you had deceived
me?"
She mode no reply. She knew
that she had deceived the inan she
hnd married; for long before she
bad ever seen him 6ho had 1 vcd.
with all the passionate ardor of
her nature, one who was now unto
her as dead.
4k You do not answer my qnesfi/tn
nv ...I... I .1.?
?ivm^ mminaii 1 "* 11 | IIOVU J IMI IKI1ID
deceived inc ? Why did j'ou mnr
ry me when yon loved another?"
And again the fierce eyes glared
angrily on her.
She snio, choking down the sobs
that were ready to smother her?
" I married you for the rfeason that
many a woman marries?for a
support."
"Thank yon, madam; I appreciate
the compliment in being
chosen to clothe, house and feed
you. It is delightful to have a
wife on these terms," and the dark
eyes of R- swell Sinclair glowed
with anger.
44 Well, madam. I hope that you
have been supported to yonr satis
taction," continued the iionicnl
voice. " I believe that 3'ou have
bad all tbat any reasonable woman
eon Id wish ; yon have bad plenty
to eat. You were poor wben I
married 3*00 ; I think 3*011 bad but
two gowns, you now have twentytwo,
doubtless, and your neck is
encircled by diamonds."
The miserable wife pnt np her
hands and unclasped the diamond
necklace, and gently laid it on her
husband** lap.
f
44 That is right, madam; before
3'ou go hence, yon must strip yourself
of your finery and your jewels."
She looked np at hiin with a
wild, startled gaze.
44 Yon will not turn me from
yon, Roe well ?"
44 Drive yon, certainly not; 1
shall simply request you to find
other quarters."
44 A woman cannot easily make
a home, Roswell."
4,But she can mar one easily,"
he replied bitterly.
441 have no one but you, Powell,"
was the pathetic answer.
44 You have uot me, or rather,
yon will not have me long; for I
hare heard this night that which
has set my whole being on fire,
and to-Ynorrow we part forever." i
lie an?se and hastily paced the
room. Then seating himself, he
said:
" Regius, I am not a man of
words, but of actions. I am not
a meek angel ; tliero are some
things I never forgive, and the i
man or the woman who deceives
me once never haa a chance to do i
so again. I bury them?btiry 1
them tit A grave 60 deep that, 60
far as I am concerned, tltey never
rise again. I cast them so far
from my sight and my affections
so completely, that, even in mem*
ory thev live no more. I have
buried two men and one woman
in this way; and you have dug
your own grave, and now I am
ready to throw 3-011 into its depths.
To-morrow you leavo 1113' house
forever?forever."
u O, Roe well, have 3-011 no pit3*
in your nature."
41 Pit3*! Was there an3? pity in
your tones to-night, when I heard
you say, 4 Robert, I was alwa3'8
true; you forgot, but I remember
ed.' Did I not bear yon exact a
promise that Robert Arlington
should keep inviolate the secret 01
his early love tor 3-011, for 3'ou said
3-0111- husband was somewhat peculiar,
a little jealous, and he would
not be pleased to hear that his wife
was once the betrothed of Robert
Arlington. Ah 1 how 3-011 started
whert 3-011 saw my eyes at the window
that looked into the balcon}',
and knew that I was in possession
of 30111- carefully guarded secret.
I have heard it said that women
are natural liars, and, by heavens,
! wlu-n I think of tl?? hlnol- tnla?.
hood by which you got a husband, I
I think the saying must be true."
Itegina grew deadly pale as her i
husband hurled these bitter words I
at her. lumiliated and insulted
by them, she yet could only listen
in silence.
u Well, madam, what have }'ou <
to Ruy ?" 1
She dashed aside the tears that
were blinding her, and said : "I |
did love Robert Arlington, but it j
was before I ever saw you. He
proved untrue to me and married '
another. We never met again nn- i
til last night." I
u Ilad you told mo this four. <
years ago, when I asked yon to |
innrry mo, you would not have I
been my wife. Do you remember
that I asked von if von had ever i
loved any other, when yon said
yon loved me ?" 1
" Yes." j
41 Why, did yon not tell mo the
truth ?"
" It is 60 hard, Roswell, for a
woman to con teas to tft'.l the truth."
6he paid bitterly."
44 Had you no other reason,
Rcgin a ?"
* Yea."
44 What?"
441 was an orphan and poor ; I i
knew the paths by which women
gain a livelihood are beset with
thorns that wound them at every
step. I had not tho courage to
tread that thorn)' way ; I did as
many a woman does, marrieo for
a support. I knew that I did not
love you, and if I had only have
had the noble courage, the self-con*
fidence, that some women have, I
would have gono forth and taken
my stand beside the working sis*
terhood- I did yon no wrong,
Roswell Sinclair, when I married
yon. I brought you yonth and
beauty and laid them at your feet
(or gold. Even though I did not
love yon, I wa? attentive to your
wants, and yon have ever found
me docile a*?d sympathizing "
Roswell Sinclair, the man who
never forgave, turned pallid at this
recital, and his eyes flashed indignantly.
Ha waa a tirmul limn, niwl
it went through his heart like a
sharp sword, this candid confession
of the woman he loved. He sat
speechless; there was anger, resentment,
mortification, in his
glance, but no pity, no tenderness,
no forgiveness.
Regina Sinclair looked an instant
at the hard, resentful face
before i.?r, then she arose and
threw her arms around bar hueband's
neck and said:
u Roewell, da forgive mp.M
lie ehook her off and said bit-1 jl
terly: , Mrsa. ;; h
"There are female Judos' as
well as male, who even now, as
they did of yore, betray with a
kiss."
" But you will forgive me ?" she
pleaded.
" By forgiveness, yon mean that
I will suffer yon to remain in my
house?tliese old ancestral halls?
A. I. - *. *11 - 1 Jf -1
uiui x win snower uiamonus upon
you, and gite yon velvets to wear,
and in return yon will give me
tolerance. But no, I will tell you
no; tho same house can hold no
longer the deceiver and the deceived."
u You turn rae into the streets,
Roswelt; 1 have no home but this."
44 No, no, tnndam, I am no such
a brute as that; only take your
prscnce from my house, and 1 will
pay for your lodgoment elsewhere."
44 Forgive me, and let me sta3',"
plended Kegina Sinclair.
441 never forgive 1" was the
stern reply.
44Never forgive!" and Regina
shuddered. 44 God have mercy
on those who never forgive," and
turninsr from her husband, slm
threw herself on the couch and
wept bitterly.
The next morning when Itoswell
Sinclair sought his wife's room,
she was gone. She had takon
nothing with her; her rich dresses
were all folded up in the large
chest; her jewels were in the
ebony and silver casket where 6he
had kept them ; her desk stood on
the rosewood table, and even her
work-box remained on the bureau,
lie sat down and glanced around
at the deserted apartment, that
spoke so eloquently of its departed
occupant. A cold chill seemed to
come over him ; i e shuddered as
he grasped nervously at the arms
ot the chairs. lie looked up at
me picture in its glowing colors,
which his wife loved so well?
Hagar going forth into the wilderness.
IIow prophetic it sectnccL;
out into the wilderness, the great
hluck wilderness of the world, had
gone Hegina. lie tried to think |
that he had acted right, even while
conscience whispered that he had
done wrong. He solaced himself
with the idea that he had been
deceived?grossly wronged?and
that ho had meted out a fitting
punishment to the deceiver, and i
he was avenged.
" Vengeance is mine, and I will
repay," saith the Lord ; and the
human hand that snatches the word
of * engcunco from the grasp of Divinity
will find that its blade cnts
both ways?him at whom it is aimed,
and he who aims it. Forgivoncss,
like charity, carries a double
blessing; ho is blessed who forgives,
and lie Is l>l<**&ed who is forgiven.
It was years before the re
vengeful, haughty spirit of ltoswell
Sinclair felt this. In the
meanwhile, he wrapped himself in
the mantle of cold reserve, and lived
in miserable solitude in his
proud ancestral halls. When some
memory of the woman ho had ban
islied intruded itself upon hi in, he
strove to beat back tbo unwelcome
visit by, " she basely deceived mo,"
for be hnd not yet learned to forgive.
Ilni8 in bitterness of heart, lived
Ro8well Sinclair in his gloomy
house, asking no sympathy and receiving
none. A shadow rested
upon his home and upon his heart
?a great darkness tiiat could be
telt.
Dark clouds, too, lowered over
his country, which at length assumed
the lurid glare of war. Glad
for anything to break tbe gloomy
monotony of his life, Roswell Sin
clair was among the first wounded
and taken prisoner.
Six years had elapsed since the
night ho had parted with Regina.
His dark hair was silvered with
grey, and lines of sorrow were
engraven on his face. As he lay
tossing in fevered sleep, on his little
Cot in the hospital, Sister An
gela, the nurse, was arrested by
the vision. She bad not seen bint
before, as she was at a distant post
when the prisoners had been
brought in the night before. She
gazea long and anxiously at the
flushed sleeper ; though sadly
changed, she remembered well that
proud, handsome face. What bitter
memories rushed over her as
she gazed at him ; ono more look,
than tlin tnrnAtl inntinr?ti v<?!v nvrnv
But her sympathy soon over-powered
all harsher feel in its. and re.
turning, she took lier seat on her
low chair beside the sufferer.
Then the whole past rushed to
her mind. She remembered how,
in her early girlhood, Robert Ar.
lington had won her love. She
had promised to marry him, and
after waiting patiently three years,
he proved .'lalse to bis vows, and
married another. It was terri*
ble blow?a blow that seemed to
crush out all the sweetness from
her life. Then her parents died,
to
and she found herself a penniless
ofphan. Then it was that she met,
for the first time, Roewell Sinclair.
Tier beauty attracted 1.im, he proposed,
and though she almost
shrank from his fierce love making,
she accepted him, and, in a
lew months she found herself his
wife. lie carried her to his proud
home: he surrounded her with al
meet Oriental splendor ; he loved
her, but it was with.that jealous,
exacting love that makes a woman
almost as miserable as positive indifference.
He was passionate,
jealous, exacting and unforgiving,
and she pinea even amid the
splendors that surrounded her.
She had guarded tho secret of her
early lovo well from the * jealous
f;nzc oi her husband, but, in an unucky
moment, he discovered all.
She had been driven from his presence
out into the vast, weary world,
and she carried with her only the
bitter memory of tho many years
of harshness and cruelty. The
large, hot tears gathered slowly in
?i.,. c:? A??i.. ~~~~i.~
iiiv vj to vi uioivi u9 out;
reviewed the b?tter past, and gazed
upon the sleeping form of the
man she had once called husband.
Yet no resentment filled her heart;
she was ready?she even yearned
to say?4i I forgive "
The night wore on, and Sister
Angela kept her watch hesido the
wounded man. An angel?ft pitying
angel?watched him as he slept,
but ho knew it not. The long ro.ws
of cots looked ghastly beneath the
faint rays ot the lump, and some
of the faces of the occupants were
pallid and wan. The 6ilenco was
broken only by the deep breathing
of the sleepers, and a half-smothered
groan from some sufferer as he
vainly tried to court sleep'. Occasionally,
some soldier dreaming of
home, would cry out th<* Jovod
name of o??*?r or ot wife, and laugh
happily in his sleep. Onco only
did Roaw.ell Sinclair wake daring
that long night. IIo asked for
water. Sistor Angela handed it
to him ; lie took it from her and
drank eacrerlv. then, thankimr her
o - . - I o -lie
went to Bleep. .
L>ut one. night, the last night of
his stay, us she walked through
the war.I to sec how her patients
were, she halted for a moment beside
the bed of Roswell Sinclair,
lie opened his eyes and looked at
her, and putting forth his hand he
said :
" Itcgina I"
That one fitm'diar word'swopt
all the bitter past away, and Sister
Angela burst into tears of gratitude
and joy.
" My darling, my darling, am I
forgiven?" said Roswell Sinclair,
in low, broken tones, as the hand
he held in his grasped him tighter.
Sister Angela could only weep
and grasp more tightly the hand
and sob, " Yes, yes, forgiven."
" Even as I forgive, O tny wife,
m? precious wif?, how blessed a
thing is forgivness 1"
And the next day the prisoner
went his way. Sister Angela, too,
was missing, and when tho war
was ended, Roswell Sinclair and
Sister Angela wero found in the
old ancestral house together, but
tho naino 6ho then went by was
Regina queen.
Divino spirit of forgiveness, if
thy white wings could only enfold
al' of earth's children, what ceaseless
melodies would make musical
tho world.
Tht Great Fire in Richmond.
Wo copy the following graphic
description of the late terrible conflagration
in Richmond from the
New York Herald. The writer
was one of those who barely escaped
with their lives:
Not a year has passed since?
swiftly, suddenly and without a
shadow of premonition?this city
was plunged into a depth of. gloom
almost without a parallel in the
annals of any city on this continent,
by the falling in of the floor
of the Court of Appeals in the
Capitol building. Since then fl.xxl
has spread desolation throughout
the State to add to the list of horrors
that have marked the last decade
in this beautiful land, aud
now I have to chronicle a calamity,
which coming at the timo it
does, makes lis feel that it is written
by the fates, " City of tho Seven
Hills, thou art doomed."
THE DEMON OK KIBE
has again ravished it and added to
the destruction of property and
loss of life. Desolation, destruction,
death, oomtf hand in hand
witli tlift Ton 1\ ini? T Ouf
n IVM IIIV 1W V II I II &. 11 Christmas
Evo, which never, evon
in tlio dark da)s of onr civil strife,
wan Slight but a timo of merrymaking
and rejoicing throughout
tho Old Dominion?found nearly
every house in the city the scene
of festivity. Christmas morning
found the cypress where the holly
had been tb? night before. At
half past two o^clock A. M. a oanopy
of fire hung over the whole
city. In one short lionr, certainly, <
five if not moro souls were, not 1
hurled, but dragged slowly into 1
eternity, through the most horrible i
death gates known to humanity. 1
Only Dante, in his wildest flights I
of poetic imagination, could have <
depicted one-half the horrors of 1
ntn i>UA?l.>U U* ~1~UH> BI'irfBWOOD
IIOTKL..
Not since the burning of tboold (
Theatre has Richmond witnessed
such a 6cenc. ,
Built without any brick parti
tions above the first floor, the
flames having once gotten a head*
way, any attempt to check them
was worse than futile. In a few
minutes efter the fire was discovered
by the watchman, who happened
to pass the pantry where a (
stove had been negligently allow- {
ed to burn, and which, becoming
rpft tint pnmmuniniita^ fAtlin
- -w.| vviii>iiiuiivi*iVVl IV iUV UWI ^
it had rushed with lightning speed
frotn cellar to garret, and by the
lime the fire department had become
thoroughly organized for j
work, the whole interior of the immense
structure was one sheet of
living flame?mad, wild, hissing (
flume?in its resistless, desolating i
sweep, hurling athWart the frosty
ekv masses of burning timber, like^
some volcanic demon laboring to \
disgorge itself?now silent, as if to ,
gather new strength ; now roaring,
cracking, thundering, as if striving
to drown
TIIK SIIKIEKS OF ITS VICTIMS,
the hoarse, contused cries of the
(i rnmnn #!?/-* eU i?!ll wl??nflon !??
iii vmvii) uiu on* 111 niiisuuo i/l iuv
engines and the agonizing 1mm of
the swaying crowd ot citizens below,
ready to do and die in the
cause of humanity, but powerless.
" SAVE MY CHILDREN 1"
Here a hmtlior looking frantically
for a sister, or a wif? pleading for
some tidings of her husband, who
when last seen was braving fire and I
smoke to save some relation ; there
a man stupified by horror and j
tear; beside him another, whose <
gallant spirit knows not the mean- i
ing of the latter word, and who, |
having saved one friend, is prepar- i
ing to rush again into the jaws of
death to rescue another. Here is j
young.
SAM ntNES 1
who has just brought two friends
from the fourth story out and rush- 1
ed back for a third, who is 6een at
tho window of his room from the j
street below ; but now the stairway k|
is in flames. Only 0110 chance re- J
mains ; it is to iuinp. lie prepares
for the fearful leap. Brave hearts
will catcii him, if he crushes them.
Too late ; the tire fiend has claimed
him. A volume of black, stifling
smoke envelops him ; angry, 1
/ _L. J .t i - . 1
iurKCd names leap liKe serpents'
tongues from without the mass, and j
his gallant soul is in eternity.
Creeping, writhing, hissing dur- 1
ing the lulls of the winter's blast?
rushing as it springs fresh from its |
lair?the demon finally seizes upon
two '.urge buildings adjoining the (
hotel. Then the scene, if possible,
becomes more fearful than before,
mingling as it does the falling of
walls and the crashing of the floors
with the other. ,
HORRORS OP THE SCENE.
At one time it appeared as if
the destruction of the whole block
tfas inevitable. The night was the
severest of this winter, the spray
from the streams falling in hail upon
the half-dressed inmates of the
hotel, as they stood watching the '
means of egress from the building,
to 6eo if the next that rushed out
was a brother, sister, husband,
wife, son or daughter, or to givo a
word of encouragement to some
one poised between two horrible
forms of death, and powerless, except
to cry ont above the din below,
'
u SAVE ME ! I AM BURNING !"
This heart-rendering appeal rang
out from more than fifty windows, (
and rang out only once. It is not
known positively that there were ,
more than five actual victims of ,
the flames, but the universal fear .
is, that this does not approximate !
the number. One short hour and <
the fire fiend had dono its worst. (
Its progress had been stayed, bnt ,
two-thirds of the block fronting
Main street, and running back ,
nearly the same distance, was a .
fiery charnel lake, still smoking {
and seething, but conquered.
When *
THE FIRE FIRST BROKE OUT, I
and tho cry rang through tho
house, repeated from mouth to
month with fi antic and despairing
energy, your correspondent, whose 1
room was in the left wing of tho I
building, in the third story, woka
up, and, after getting on some
clothes, rushed into the long pas
sage, now tilled with smoke. A
terrible scene met the eye through
the smoky atmosphere. The forms
of half dressed males And females
conld be seen rushing, they knew
not whither, and shrieking with <
4
despair. Proceeding further to
the head of a staircase all egress
was blocked up vrith an indiscrim*
mute mass of luggage and people
trying to escape. Rushing then
to the right wing of the building,another
staircase was reacliod which
brought one to the second floor,
and here the long corridors but
served as flues to conduct the flame
through the building. Continuing
on, ine ground floor is reached at
last, and then the cold, icy air |
strikes the face.
PITKOC8 SCENE.
Here I saw the wife of Captain
McPhail in her bare teet, with a
blanket wrapped around her, while
her husband, half-dressed, carried
their infant child, whose piteous
cries could be heard above the din
offalling timbers and crashing
floors. But there was
AN ACT OF CUIVALRY,
worthy of mention. A young
man named Towers sprang forward,
pnlled off his shoes and
^ave them to the ladv, and divesting
himself of his overcoat, wrapped
the child in it, and carried it
a distance of several squares, to
the house of a friend of McPhaiTs.
Again, there was another cry,
ltA MAN AT A FIFrn STORY WINDOW."
I looked up, and there was C. A.
Schaffter, the State Superintendent
of Public Printing, clinging to
the sill of a fifth story window.?
Ilis feet reached the upper row of
tylaoa in tho IaiieHi ofni'M irm/lAm
?((V IVMI via UiVI J ** 1IIUV ?T j
and be kicks out the pjpies. lie
places bis feet on the sash, moves
bis bands cautiously to the cap of
tbo window and then descends to
tho sill of that window. In this
way the gallant ScbafTter came
from story to story, amid tbo
plaudit8 of th? erowd, by wbom
tie was seized and carried out of
danger when be reached the
ground.
AMONG TUB VICTIMS
is Mrs. Kernsly, the housekeeper
of the hotel. In vain was she
urged by the proprietor, Mr. Lock
to escape; but she wanted her
trunk. This she got, but then she
wanted to save something eUe, and
afr last all the avenues of escape
were cot off, and she was swallowed
up by the devouring element.
Besides this lady and Hiucs,
among tho known victims are
t? r> 4 -? 1
iji iimiiiia uiuuilH Jia CierK OI
the Libby Prison during the war,
Samuel Robinson, ot New Orleans,
cigar vender, and II. A.
Diotnas, a pent, of the panorama of
Banyan's Pilgrims Progress; W.
II. Pan, of Danville, Virginia,
United States mail agent, and J.
B. Fariss, messenger of the South
L-rn Express Company. A nnmber
of strangers on the register
are missing, some of whom may
have gone off on the morning
train.
TIIE FOLLOWING NAMES,
however, appear on the register
who are not believed to have gone
uu
Samuel Friedman nnil Ilenrv
Kroetii, New York.
D. N. Cannergorc, of Cincinnati
; C. George and E. II. Andrews,
of Syracuse, New York ;
J. II. Wilcox, of Lynfchburg; N.
Beimstem, of Washington ; A.
Licl, of Tampa, Florida; II. G.
Krotte, of New York ; and John
II. Holman, Jr., of Jackson Tennessee.
W. II. II. Stowell, Congressman
elect from the Fourth District, was
registered and is also missing.
The Spotswood Hotel was valued
at $140,000, and insured in
northern companies, represented
by D. N. Walker, for $60,000.
Messrs. Branch <fc Current were
insured in the North British and
Mercantile for $5,000. Messrs.
Sublett, Luck tfc Co., proprietors
of the Spotswood, had their furniture
insured for $20,000, and their
wines and carpets for $7,000, in
the North British Company.
The National Insurance Company,
of Baltimore, loses $S,000, and
il _ - I < v ?
me vx>iuiriemai, 01 rsew lork,
$8,000. 'All tlio gooes ready
for delivery in the celler of the
Sonther 11 Express Company were
destroyed. The company's money
safes are buried in tho ruins.
Among those who had very
narrow escapes were M. Maillefert,
of New York, engineer of
the James river obstructions; S.
A. Pearce, of Columbia, S. C.,
private secretary to Senator
Sprague, and Mrs. E. Magill, proprietress
of the theatre. The Do
Lave Troupe lost their baggage?
The hotel register wos found tonight,
and there are only six strangers
not accounted for. It is
probable soino of tho citizens
have taken some ot them to their
houses. The namo of the housekeeper
burned was Mrs. Emily
Kenoearly.
The business honsos destroyed
were Messrs. Branch & Currants
crockery store, Adams' Expresi
Company'a office, Howes' machine
store ana other 6inaller stores.
The sun that went down last
night upon the happy anticipations
ot all classes of citizens, rose with
a glory seldom equalled, but to flash
bock from the icicles that hung
from
THE BLKAK RUINS
all the grandeur of mvraid rain
| bows like death and destruction
decked in diamonds. It is impose
siblc to gather anything like a full
statement of the incidents of this
last catastrophe, or to depict its
horrors to-day. It is as if another
funeral pall had been spread over
the entiro community.
A Real Lady*
One summer I was boarding
with my family in a farmhouse by
the seashore. Our host was a pitiful
miser, starving himself, starving
his family; and, a fortiori,
starving his boarders. Sick of human
nature, sick of petty, miserable
contention, a party of us started
out one day, in a wagon, for a
6ue beach some miles awav. to trv
to forgot our woes in the kind lap
of mother naturo. As wo approached
the beach, we stopped at
a farm house to ask permission to
put our horse in the barn. Knocking
at the door, it was opened by
a motherly-looking woman of 50,
in spectacles, the glasses of which,
however, far from hiding, seemed
only to serve, like varnish on a
picture, to bring out the light aud
warmth of a pair of loving blue
eyes underneath. She gave us the
heartiest reception. "Put your
horse in the barn? Certainly 1
You'll find plenty of hay there.
Come out to spend a day by the
beach,|have you ? That's right! I
do like to ace the young people enjoy
themselves '. Won't you eat
your lunch in our applo orchard,
it's so nico and cool and shady
there? And would't you like a
pan ot sweet milk to have with it?"
14 Bless your dear, loving heart," I
cried internally. 44 Then the stern
necessities of farm life do not shrivel
and wizen and dry rot souls after
the manner of Old Grimes we
are boarding with ! But perhaps
this old lady had trodden a more
silken path."
I looked round the room. There
were milk-pans enough to make
one's life one eternal sconr. Her
dress too was trussed up ; her arms
were bare, and with that battered
and callous look about the elbows
which betokens hardy usage. 44 No
children, probably ! "that accounts
for it." Presently a rustling of
bed clothes and an incipient wail
from a neighboring room. 44 Ah t
that's your grandchild, I suppose 1"
44 No, that's my baby." I was
about as increlulous as Sarah of
old ; but she went on. 44 I've had
sixteen children I" Sixteen children
! All these milk pans, ordinary
work of the farmhouse, and
room still in the heart for such a
reception as we had had, for such
a generous 441 do like to sec ycung
people enjoy themselves," for such
hearty proffers of the hospitality
of the apple orchard, and of a full
gallon of sweet inilk ! Ah ! I see
it. 44 Where there is room in the
heart, thero is always room in tho
house," room for all these children,
and then room to 6pare for a
bevy of pleasuro seeking, do-nothing
strangers, who would seem sent
only to suggest the complaint:
Why must my life be a ceaseless
toil ol nursing, scrubbing, ripping,
sewing, while these people can lie
on the rocks all day long, counting
the breakers, ceded by the spray,
dozing off to the music ol tho pulsing
ocean.
1 could tell a great deal more
about this blessed woman?how
she refused all pay, feeling she was
already paid amply in the delight
of kindness itself; how she manifested
a delicacy of politeness
worthy of Chesterfield himself;
Chosterfield 1 forgive the wrcng of
.naming his hollow, artificial typo
of manner in such a genuine presence?
but still an exqmsite delicacy
of politeness, by replying when
1 went, after a preliminary embarrassment
in the stable over the
horse's collar, and said blushinglv,
" Madame, I am ashamed to sav 1
do not know how to harness that
horse I" "Of course not; everybody
can't do everything !" and
this in a tone as though she were
already overwhelmed with amazement
at the number oi things I
could do. IIor replying thus, 1
say, and then running to the back
door calling to two of her sons in
the Held. * Here, vou, lie lr * Clay !
Daniel Webster ! (room stili that
heart, we see, tor a streak < h ro
worship.) Come here and he .is
Sentleman harness his h *'
tut I cannot enlarge further. 'V
not she, however, illustrate ? I
ously the creative power of a V
heart?creative power to m C
small house big, narrow i
abundant, w^rk play, a emit
r) here room", broad and ai
> _v\~ .