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ABBEVILLE PRESS & BANNER. BY HUGH WI1 SOX. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, MAY 23, 1877. . YOLUME XXIV.--NO. 50. ' I T1F4HWOOD AND ITS PEOrLE. I The arrivals of "tender feet" in tliia ANOTHER FIRE DISASTER. Ten I'crxniM Burned and Criinlied lo !>ca ill .llontrcnl. An awfully disastrous fire occurred the building of the Oil Cabinet Coi: puny, in St. Urbain street, Montre:i Ten persons were killed, and nnuiy rao were seriously injured. The buildii was five stories high, of wood, ai flimsily constructed. At five o'clock : the morning the fire was discovered, sir an alarm quickly brought the firemen the place. The flames at first were co; fined to the upper story of the buildiui bemg ciiecRcu ny tne now 01 wiuer iru thirteen nozzles; but soon they brol forth again from the windows. Tl Jiremen were working in various parts < the building, as well ns outside. T1 lire descended to the lower stories wit extraordinary rapidity. Shortly bef<>] six o'clock, men in the second stoi were called from their post, and r sooner had they descended from the wn dows than the flames belched forth spit' fully, as if to overtake them. Reekie: in tiieir endeavors, they raised n Skinu< ladder, and three of them ascended wit hose. The water that tliey poured in! the lower stories seemed fur the time I obtain the mastery; but suddenly t) wind changed, and tho flames envelope the whole street. Tho wind instant] veered again, and the firemen who ha a. tended were found at the foot of tl: ladder terribly burned. The heat in S Urbain street was so terrible that tl shinglo roofs, doors, and window frnm( ipnited; but they were prevented gettin ablaze by the Bremen, who naa ine wits about them. At about six o'clock the wind ossisfc the flames more effectually thau befor It raised clouds of red-hot splinters, at deposited them on the roofs of tha adji cent dwellings in Vitro street. The o enpants of the rickety-built tenemen became alarmed, and moved their goo< in a remarkably short time. The he) from the works get fire to a sal wm ai. the dwellings adjacent; but a continuoi pouring of water soon put that out. T1 lire in the upper flat did not abate i fury, however, and the basement becan ablaze, and the roof, which fell in 1 sections, increased the fuel that fed tl flames. After the whole of the roof lu fallen, the upper portion of the wal bulged outward, antl it was apparent all the spectators that the walls we: sure to fall and that nothing could pa'* the buildings adjacent (common wood* shanties) or the firemen close by. Chi Patton, who had sent his men into i alley, was awake to this fact, and ran I call them- out. Redely, Nolan and Holtbv, of Engii 1, were on the roof of Beauchamp store directing a stream on the houses i . Vitro street. The chief had barely g( the words out of his mouth calling the: away, when the rear wall fell and burit them. He received injuries from whic it is doubtful whether lie will recove The cry instantly went up that the mo were buried. Jack Beckingham, of ei gine 9, entered the alley with two other to endeavor to rescue the buried mci Holtby had by this time wriggled out < the min.j, but the other two were burit almost up to their necks. They wei powerless, but conscious, and wci roasted alive. Beckingham and his con panions were utterly powerless to sai them. Chief Pat ton's sun rescued h father, with the assistance of Mr. Charl< Garth. Beckingham went out for hel] which he soon obtained. Even with tl additional aid the two buried liremc could not be extricated. Beckingham went out for more assis ance. He had barely emerged from tl alley when the other jfbrtion of the wa fell, and covered all who stood withi reach. Intense excitement ensuei Firemen run frantically about lookin e Tr .u ,,.?u of ,.r>n 1\'X U'UIIIIMV.1, t? van ?no ?%V ^.*vv w/*. menced amid the scorching ?V brh. was found that the falling wall lir razed to the ground the rear portion the undertaker's store, and there in tl ruius lay the bodies. Within a foot < the surface was discovered a heap them, some lifeless, others iu the thro of d.atli, and others barely consciou The maimed wore carried as tenderly a under the excitement of the occasio: could be expected, to nn ambulance, a: taken to a hospital. The dead were p; in tho coffins that were close at hand, ai taken away. Ten persons were kill* and as many more were badly burn* and mangled. A Case of Spontaneous C'ombnstion. The San Francisco Post has the ft lowing: A most horrible and si eke nil death occurred in Kernan's saloon, tho back yard of the city hall, being i less than the spontaneous combustion < a human body. The victim was a mr who had not been move than a month i the city, but during that time had bet frequently arrested for drunkenness. ?. wandered about alone, seemingly d men ted, occupying his whole time : drinking the vile poison of the city froi and Barbary Coiust dens. He has t\vi< been treated for delirium tremens, at on the morning of his death was di charged after a longer time than usus With a seemingly insane desire f driuk he continued from half past aev< o'clock drinking steadily at various bar and the large size of each potation pror ised to speedily send him back to tl hdspitaL About ten o'clock he staggered in the room nearly insensible, and feeb asked for a driuk. This was vefushim, and he staggered toward the g jet to light the stump of a cigar he en ried, while the barkeeper turned away attend to his duties. A moment aftt ward he heard a low moan and noticod flash of tire, and turning around he St Harlev falling to the floor, his head e veloped in black, thick smoke, whi flames issued from his mouth and cai A horrible smell of burned flesh fill the dir. Not a moment wa* lost in i tendiug to the suffer or. He was beyo] relief, however. His face was perfect black, partly charroil and partly cow r with a moist soot His eyes wore ope His mouth was completely roasted on t inside, but, with the exception of 1 head and hands, no part of his body bo L marks of his horrible-death. A lett found in his iJCoket, addressed to I Harley or. Hartley, furnished the ou cl.QW-to his identity. John B. Young, of Cincinnati, Obi while transacting somebusiness inn li oflice in New York, happened to lean t far out of the window anil before iie con recover his balunce he fell out. In fro of the building stands a gas lump, ai the unfortunate man struck upon this his descent, the sharp iron fixtures at t top impaling him and passiug throu, his body. Several people who were pa: ing assisted a policeman to remove hi) but it was with extreme difficulty tl they succeeded in lifting him free of t pointed metal, which had passed into 1 bowels. v THE MINISTERIAL liUliEAl'. lit Ail InielllKenee Oltleo in New York l"< I'ri-iii-liorK Who are Out of Employment. ju " Yes," said the Kev. Charles C. Go: a. to the reporter of a New York paper, ' ministerial bureau is an oddity in 01 country; but it is none the less a uecc (tT sity. 'Preachers are often thrown upc ,[] the world without the immediate oppo tunity of locating themselves comfort; uj l?ly, and churchesare almost as frequen ly left without pastors. It is my ho] n_ that through the agency of this buren ? many of these mutual wants may be su] ^ plied." ce i " Have you had many applicatior ie from churches ?" ,,? " Yen- few so far, for the reasoi ,e perhaps, that I had not advertised tl h project," ,e "Is there a reasonable prospect tin 1. you will meet with success in your ui ^ dertaking ?" " That, of course, is a question < Q.: time. Educational bureaus seem to su ,8 ceed, labor bureaus are not all failure %r and I have heard that one or two matr ]~ monial bureaus are raeetmg witu exec () lent encouragement. Why should not 0 ' ministerial bureau succeed, dealing, as [0 must, with hundreds of churches an ,.j thousands of preachers?" v " There must be a wide field for yc j to work iu." ie " Yen ; the business of s-upplyh { churches with pastors, or of iutroducii; ^ unemployed preachers to trustees in }H other employing authorities, is of itsc itn extensive one. But I propose to mnl ? J the bmeau a medium of exchange b tween pastors; an agency through whit the piistor who wishes to remove to p better climate, a more congenial neig! borhood, or to a field in which his se vices may be more liberally remunerate* ? can make his wants known, and can I placed iu communication with persoi |s who are in need of just such a nun 11 '1 his branch of the business will be cos 1. ? ?0>1 1 l(J UllClt'U III Micil a \\ u> mac unit viiu * ls no possibility of engendering ill foelii ie between the pastor and liis jieople. E jn continues his labor with them nniil tl )0 arrangements for a change are satisfy )V torily made; he gives notice of his ii .0 tended removal, nnd at the appointc u| tifhc he severs the old connection au j8 ; takes on with the new. Many a preachi to : in the country is wearing himself out i re a climate which his constitution cainn stand. He is poor, his acquaintan< with the outer world is limited, and h e?; only prospect is to work himself ou IU j and die where he is. This bureau wi [0 give him facilities for the needed cluing i such as he never dreamed of. The inst 1C tut ion is in its infancy, but I believe tin >g it can be made a great convenience ar |n i a great blessing." L)t } - in* The Eastern War. h ! The New York Graphic oxpressi r- itself a * follows concerning the war b 'u i tweon Kussia and Turkey, and its ult :1" mate result: 8? The E istern war may be said to hai ' i actually besrun. The Russian embasf ! have quit Constautiuople, removing tl Russian arms from tiie doors of the rc cilices. The czar lias reviewed 01 re corps of his army at Uraeriuka aud Bi 1"1 sala, and his address to the soldiers ai ]e officers showed that iu his view liostil ,s ties have already virtually commence* 's A detachment of Russian soldiers is r P? ported to have reached Bucharest, whit 10 is two hundred and fifty miles from tl 'n mouth of the Truth and nearly fivn hui | tired from Kiseheneit*. Jf this is the fa ' T> 1. ..1 mil* miuwu no muvn KjiiK/xf-sj j 10 preparing for hostilities as statecraft i " | conducting negotiations; and while si 111 has amused Europe v.ith diplomat , overtures and toyed with the porte 1 'o offering terrr.s that could not be accep J" j ed, she has ucen putting her armies i ^ ' lighting trim and getting them into pot | tions to strike the most powerful blov the moment, war is declared. Turkey ie in as g iou lighting cojidition as she c? u* be. Her troops have been kept nndi l>* arms in anticipation of hostilities sin< :'s, the close of last summer's suoccssfi campaign, and the victories Uiey won : s> Servia and Bulgaria incite their marti "? ardor. It is reported that 20,090 Ci e.issians are all ready to be poured upr :1* Rouinania in case that province dete UJ ' mines to remain neutral; which meai 5iJ that tiie atrocities perpetrated last sur : mer in Bulgaria are to be repeated on larger scale, unless liussia is able to pr i tect her ally. The Turks will doubtle j fight with fanatical determination ar >1-1 persistency. They have everything ig ' stake. It is a life and death stmgg in with them. It will surprise uo one. 10 1 they gain decided advantages in the b af' ginning of the struggle. But the co: in test is too unequal to make its ultima in issue doubtful. It is eight millioi >n against eighty; and while the eighty a [c united under one head, with a powerf e- organization, and the immense baekii in which the greatest empire in the wor ut cau give, the eight are divided, virtual resourceless, with no credit abroad, ar id uo government tliat they can respect i s- depend upon. Russfa has managed tl il. diplomatic preliminaries to the conte or with so much ingenious address that n will be difficult for any European pow s, nave Austria to interfere, and the intc n- ferenec of Austria will be at the most f the protection of her allies. Unless England comes to the assis to anee of Turkey she must be driven ly the wall, and Mr. Ledvard has informi lhI the porie that it eau expectno help fro as England. Indeed, England has nothii ir- to gain by keeping the Turk in Euro] to one day longer. Constantinople is n >r- necessary for the protection of the I>r a ish empire in the East. The Suez eau nv makes the possession of Egypt a tho n- sand times more important- to Englai tie tlian the whole of Turkey could possib :s. be. JJut Russia will not be likely to c cd cite England's jealousy too much, a: tt- will stop short the goal of her ambitic -id Alexander is in no hurry to water 1 ly horse in the Bosphorus. eu . _ n. |1C Escorted by Wlr.iles. 118 The San Francisco Chronicle. has be 'rc put in possession of a curious story j?r Captain Jteis, of the British stearr Flour Je Lis, wlych recently arrived that port from Audrossau. The captf says that when off Staten island, wlii lies eastward from Cape Horn, the si: 10, encountered a school of whales, wlii ?w seems to have resolved itself into oo escort to attend her on the remainder ild her passage. The whales kept in clc nt company with the ship through thislo: ud stretch of thousands of miles, and i in not leave her until she iurived off ?S he Francisco and put in for the shore, wh ?h they took their leave with a series hh- lively flounders and an occasional spc 11, to assure the master they were (aking mt bumpers to his health. As the paasa lie around Cape Horn and through the 1 lis cilic wits a good one, it is fair to prcsui i that the escort was auspicious. J SEAT SS '* i\ KS i\'^ \ ODl|S^i^V^ '?ij J % l\j v >} I* \ V?A u- u /. f \> ;o^?i??>// \ s. ^,5/Y/ , i .-' ? . / r v\ i <r - C!/v^>'> ?u | ' *?,? a I ? f tj K^Slss?* :!^iW ...-: ! :i?^~ -^:T<y T'toSfENJE IB ' T/ "yslLlaTR'A f.; ,1 #sTCh-5^ \fJ ' ; I? / >t < i ?** I v i . af! JLUp^pous^\ I / c" " 1! \ ' '<** ' s? i I'/ /' fiK * .y i- j ^^ADRIANOPLEl,^; \ ' '^ " - ' it ^Sc^NS^iSg i': s^ -y J". /V > <c?~7&i^ H J >1^ . J,?- i Oa^ \ viv,' ^_/_/- ?? _ ?r ^tr.:5"/1 AWRg- ^ if I ^-^w.;\!.-k-\ v; p. >]j | Map of tlie Sent of War. :l We arc enabled to give our rea Icrs n ! | map of tlie positions of the Turkish and I J" j Russian armies in Asia Minor, having ! ; completed arrangements with ihe New j is York Herald for tno publication 01| . ' maps showing the couutiy occupied by j l~ both armies and locating the battle 1 >e grounds. At first it was thought that [ [p the opening scenes of carnage would j 1C take place 011 the Danube, but recent | e- events have directed attention to Asia I 1- Minor, where the first heavy battle hns j I been fought and where the rival armies j ^ are maneuvering against each other. | jn The town of Bajazid was seized by the J jt; Russians, the Turkish troops abandoning j ;e ; it without striking a blow, and leaving a i is ; large supply of ammunition in the hands ! j' of the enemy. The Turkish army at j e j Knrs was defeated by the Russians after | jl' a severe fight, and the Russiau army is j fit | operating to isolate that important place j id ; and eventually force the Turks into j I Erzeroum. The Russian army on the ' ' Danube will, in all likelihood, remain j passive until the army in Asia Minor has j | made further progress westward. The i 38 j passage of the Danube will be an im-' 1 uortaut movement on the part of the j j Russians, but will require a large army, i ,-e | and if they can take the towu of Silis?y j tria they will have gained a groat advance j tage, for tliey would then control the 11 i Danube to its mouth ami force the 1G 1 r_ j Turks to retire on the cant and west: ,d j side of the Russian line. el| LITTLE RUNEE, i'. ie L'* j I was catling woyd in the backyard one1 I Aovemocr any, wnen, an i mujujcu .1 mU[11 mcnt to relieve mv ariu? from the unusual in j strain upon them, 1 became aware of a lady , ie i coming up the path from the woods. She j ic | was very near mc before 1 saw her. A I >y ! glance had told me she was not one of the , t- j villagers. The soft warm colored shawl in ; she wore was wrapped round her more i ii. ! gracefully than any one could have worn rs it in our village. The intangible something ' js that accompanies the ladv, revealed her as m such to me?and she was the first lady I had ever seen. ' "1 believe 1 have lost my way," she said, I I " will you tell me where Deacon Tliax-' tons is?" , 1 1 looked in her face as she spoke, to ' see eyes and mouth as sweet as her voice.; r" i Her accent was courteous, but reset ved. 1 >n i dropped my ax, feeling all at once very ' r" | sensible that my rough green jacket and 18 battered cap were not at all becoming to me. ,1_ " If you will come into the road here, I II can show you the way better," I said, wish ?* ing that ray college leirning had polished ss . mv address as much as it had disciplined ul , my mind. at . She followed me down the path, saying as 1 le ' she went: if "1 am an entire stranger hero; 1 am e- I staying at Mr. Thaxton's and I wandered u- i oil", and got lost in the woods. At one time te ! 1 thought I had the project of a night is j there. 'Everything is very strange here.' re j She spoke with an apparent freedom difu] ferent from the usual address of New Kng: land women. I wondered at it; her feay ! tures were entirely American, but her comjv j plexion had that peculiar dark pallidity s that seems the effect of some southern or I clim(V . . " II everything is strange/ I ventured to j say, "you will find a New England winter forbidding. Snail you dare it?" _ " Yes. but I am afraid of it." el Though she talked, she posses-ed the r" power tliat made me feel at as great a disor tance as though she had not spoken a word. I pointed out (he way, told her of the corners >t- that lay in the two miles between our house t<> and Deacon Thaxton's./ Then as she walked ?d on, 1 allowed myself to watch her'for a m moment jg In that elegant form with its sweeping pe i drapery, its graceful poise of h ad, 1 rcengot nized the woman of whom I had so often it- dreamed, but in my seclusion I had never (al before seen. I went back to wood-cutting u. j with the memory of that face and voice [U| diffusing a glow over my thoughts that was ,]y as strange as it was enchanting. I I do not know why I did not mention the lady at the supper-table that nijrht, but I did not. After supper Jane Dunlap, a * maiden of fifty, came in with her knitting. 11S There had never vet been a time, since she ' had reached mature years, that she did not know the full particulars of the minutest event that transpired. I waited patiently. Very soon I was rewarded, oil | "Haveyou seen that new girl over to by Deacon Thaxton's?"' she asked of mv ler at, I My mother looked up interested. " Why, t{n | no. Who is she?" cj, "You remember the deacon's wife had tjw 1 a brother, who has been a merchant in Cai?f| ! etitta these years and years. Two years ftn ' ago he buried his wife there; and now he ,1 has come 011 home with his only child. She ! lias come out to stay awhile with her aunt. ,se i She was born in India, and though she is "f > 1 i. u. 1 ?,i ! very pome uiiu hu-u iiiimi,^uu >i nn. > > '1" a minute that she doesn't appear just like ftn ; people here". cn Miss Dunlap pauwd. 1 fully agreed ?f j with lur last pen tenee. I wanted my mother 'lit t<( i|iu^tinns, for 1 was nut goiiij- to luok in up J"roiu my hook or become interest d ge at all. 'a- ! " Let me see," said mv mother, " I have ne i forgottflh what Deacon Thaxlon's wife's i name was. She was handsome in her day, % OF WAR BETWEEI \s(;l^| R^i nTE A ^fcw I. \ iEVASTqPO?^>^^ / \\ 'VT/ v J v ,-U ?.. ? 4 '. ! 1 ^ "t - kAsTA?UH?c &> / A * ''T' J -7, ' I? , a^'^&kL /?* :^X / yf i ^F^\r\ T*>r*O^JtV /Klin I remember?nnd she is sort of smart looking now, I think." " She looks well enough, but she is miglity proud?unbecoming in a deacon's wife. Her name was Grace?Martha (irate; you know Thaxton was most crazy after her." Miss Dunlap paused, and looked into the lire. I thought I knew she had a spite against the deacon for being bewitched by Martha Grace, when she herself was in the bloom ol youlli. ?ne commenced Kimung and talking. " This girl's father is in Boston about some business, and she is going to stay here this winter. I should think it would kill her, after that climaie. They've given her the strangest name; it's been running over in my head ever since I heard it?Kunee, Kunee (iraee." A week after that, as I was carrying my i mother up to the village, she wished me to j stop, and leave her a while at Deacon j Thaxtou's; she had not called there in a , long time, and she owned she was a little; curious to sec Mrs. Thaston's niece. Would j 1 go in with her? The very question gave me a tremor of i fear and delight. Xo, I would not go *.n? 1 I would stop for her when I came back. I ' caught a fleeting glimpse of the pale attrac- j tive face through the window, as I drove ] away. It did not leave me once during the j time that I traded at the store, and with j the farmers. When I stopped my horse at J Thaxton's gate, the front door was instantly | opened, for my mother had been watching j for me. She came out, and Miss Grace fol- j lowed her down the pathway. She had j hastily thrown a thick wrap of Mrs. Thax- > ton's over her shoulders, and she shivered as f-he leaned on the gate, i tliougiu nermorc j beautiful than ever, and my heart l>eat i heavily as she extended her hand to nie, j and said to iny mother, wlio was waiting for | me to help her into the carriage. " You did not know that 1 had seen your ; son before, Mrs. Lyons. He once guided me j through the unknown wilderness that lies j between your house and this. J I* I didn't ; thank you at the time, Mr. Lyons, I was j none the less grateful." I stood like the witless dunce I^vas, not knowing what to say; I was too vividly conscious of the touch of those lingers to have had even my u-ual self-possession at my command. My mother relieved me by j speaking. "Indeed, I did not know he had seen you j ?he had never mentioned you to me; and in such a little village as this we are always i interested in new comers." She laughed. "That is unfortunate; I am to suppose that I was not of sufficient importance to ' be mentioned." Vv nwitlinr wns now iii the enrriarre. I ! turned ami said: "To.tell tlie truth, Miss (Jraec, I was al- i most sure that I dreamed I saw you coming i down that path from the woods. I did not i think of telling our meeting for a faet, no J more than I should have thought of relat- j iug as such .1 vision of the night." 1 *' Am I, then, very ghostly?" she asked. " Not ghostly; a vision is not necessarily 1 a <jho>?. I am happy to be convinced that i you are tangible and will not fade away, so ! that I may hope for another meeting." She smiled sweetly, not distantly. "I am so tangible that I think of trans- j forming myself into a Yankee girl. Can I i tell you anything more practical than J that?" 'No; that satisfies me. Now I may hope j to see you again." I bowed and drove away. ! 'PL?. ,r.f 1.ia+ nnhimn mnnili rnn ! ! JL I1U uuvr? UI maw laon nu.u..... ...v...*. . , rapidly on. I went to the little social gath- | : erings, the lectures, the pinging schools, be- . I cause Miss Grace, true to her promise of j becoming a Yankee girl, went to them. At | first I stood somewhat aloof; bolder young ; j men talked with her more than I did. Slitwas a great favorite with all; even the j girls liked her. The sudden flashes of i l unique simplicity charmed them, and dis- | : sipated envy. Evening after evening I had j seen one handsome young fellow monopoi lizc her attention and walk home with her. j The fact actually made me morose. O.ae night I managed to sit beside her at , a singing school. The cold night air had i given a soft, warm blush to her face. 7 had j thought tlint I liked her pallor belter than ; any color, but the color made her brilliant, i Two or three drooping leaves of geranium ! were in the braids of her hair. That perfume ever after brought her to my mind j more vividly than anything else could do. I seemed gifted with a power to move and act my natural self, and I allowed no one ; else to approach her that night. As we I walked home beneath the glinting light ol j the stars, I noticed that she had become ! almost silent. J)id my presence oppress and bore her? It was "too cruel to believe. " I hope I am not defrauding Hnrlowe of j any right you have given him, hv thus takj ing possession of you," I said, at last. She looked up; lior eves smiled. * If I had given him a right, you could i not defraud him of it," she said. " Then it is not his presence that you regret," I said, feeling my soul in my eyes as i 1 spoke. "You are lonely, hftmcsick, per1 haps, for the warm land of your birth. Do you find cold hearts in this cold clime of j ours?" j "The hearts are warm, I believe, Mr. ! Lyons; but sometimes it seems as though I j were transported into some frozen region, ; some place where there is nothing akin to me, and I shiver with undefinable fear. That is foolish, I know.'' We had reached the gate where I must 1 1 - 1 .1-- 1 1 leave ner. i rewuneu uic mum m i;jucc I clasp. "Oh, do not say there is nothing akin to von here. That leaves mo in the land of strangers; i cannot hear that. The earnestness with which I spoke called a color to her cheeks that had so lately paled. " Kccall that sentence," I pleaded. ' l>o yon really wish it?" she asked. * TURKEY AJNJJ ?tu. \^i V \ </ ?"M?vrcs 1 \ /'G?Jr^\- 5V'* >4^2* cp\ / X" '4 ' \\ 0^T\ *"' :.J s-jp< S^% v ? r ir-#""-"''.^ \.?^---A " Yes; it is exile for me." She withdrew her hand from mine, but she spoke softlv: " I recall it.5' I knew that J ought to go, but still I lingered. " Mrs. Thaxton said that you were going to M. to-morrow. May I take you in my cutter?" How I feared lest she should refuse that simple request! But she did not, and I walked home elated with the pro.-pect of a prolonged Ute-a-fcte with her. "Aren't you going to Avork this atternooh?" my mother asked, as I came down in my best clothes instead of my working suit. " I am going to carry Miss Grace over to 1 M.,'" I said. 1 feared some dampening remark. It came. "Miss Grace is very kind to the young men." " Is she "Have you heard whether that report i about her having a lover in Boston was true ! or not?" she asked. " No, I have not.'' I went out, shutting the door with violence. Now I half wished I was not going to ride with Miss Grace, I felt sufficient bitterness to make me wretched all the afternoon. Banishing with an efi'ort the gloom from myface, I greeted Miss Grace in my j usual manner, only somewhat more con- | strained. But the qui^t geniality, the j sweet grace of her appearance charmed j away mv reserve. For these few hours, at i leant, I would be happy. The air had been growing colder and 1 .older?the srow creaked under the sleigh; j but after an hour's sitting by the warm ! fireside of our friends in M., and an addi- j tion of extra wraps, we started home with [ no fear of cold. A gray vapor was rising in the west, and : gradually overspreading the sky; a biting I wind from the northeast swept over the \ road, cold and merciless. It was only for j my companion I feared; for myself, I wan ' familiar with the fierce cold of our winters. 1 "Call all your fortitude, all vourendur- I ance, Miss (irace," I said, "for to a child of j the sunny East this must be almost linen-1 durable." "If I were onlv warm, she replied, in a j smothered voice /rom under her mufllings, i " I should think this grand. You see it's beginning to snow, and a snow storm is still a novelty to me." Night and the storm carae on apace. Illy horse began to lag through the thick coming snow. We had reached that part of our j journey where there were no houses. Lone-' l v pasture lands or woods stretched away on ! cither Bide. The cold was intense. I began I to fear it myself, and felt it, too, accustomed ! as I was to its intensity. Miss Grace had ! been silent for a long time. I bent toward j her. She raised her eyes to mine. " I feared yon might be feeling the ef- i fects of this cold," I said. "How does it i a fleet you ?" " Very strangely," she said, slowly, in a ' low voice. " It is harder to bear than I thought; but I don't sutler so much as I did." , Her words pierced my heart like a knife, i T threw my arm about her; I diew htr ; close to inf. j "Miss Grace, rouse yourself! Oh, for1 God's sake, do not yield to that feeling of j rest and peace that is coming to you! It is death. Throw it from you!" ller head sank on my shoulder; her ! breath sighed over my face, and thrilled ! I ine even men. "Oli, it is sweet! Let me sleep!'' she murmured. " It is the sleep of death !" 1 said, with my soul in my voice. " As you love life, as you value the happiness of those who love you, refuse yourself. Stand up in the sleigh, stamp your feet, swing your arms. I)o not keep still." She obeyed me; the first moment caused ! an exclamation of pain, but for a moment I I would not let her delist. She sat down. " Mr. Lyons." Her voice was faint and , low. I bent my head to hear. " Unless we j can reach shelter soon, I shall be obliged | i to yield. It is really beyond mv endurance." j i could not speak; my heart was weeping ! tears of blood. 1 could have offered her | ! the libation of my life, could have mitigated j j the agony I knew she was suffering. I re- i mem bored the l<%g cabin of a wood-cutter 1 and his wife. 1 had ;een it perched upon j the side of one of those hills. I had watched for it ever since having cntcrerl | upon the deserted road. I knew that unless a light burned within I could not find it; even then it might be doubtful. I thought if n/ii?iflijtnndinf mv efforts, which I j did not for one instant remit, if I did not ''soon find shelter, Miss Grace would yield ! to the cold fiend that sought her. Her ; vigorous will could not long sustain the ! attacks upon a frame always unused to } cold. My straining eyes were at last rewarded | by the faint glimmer of a light through the j storm. Fiercely, impatiently, 1 urged my ! tired horse up to the door. With Mies | Gracc in my arms I tried to enter. At first ! the inmates were startled bv my imperative ! summons, but in a moment they unbarred j the door, revealing the ruddy glow of the , fire within. Motionless, senseless, T laid l Kunce on the wooden settle, where the veli low light played over her ice-cold face, j The woman who had welcomed us under: stood the treatment needed te restore ani' mation to the almost pulseless form. She had ! a fire built in the inner room, and took Kunce there. All night she watched, and I worked, and when morning came, the i smile in the languid eyes of her patient ; would have rewarded hours of even greater anxiety. 10:irlv in the nior.iiiiK I rode home, to j loll the story to the fearing one*, who had j waited through the dark hours for tis. Two or three months after the tearful night, I stood alone with Kunee in the little I parlor at Deacon Thi'x ton's. I stood hold SSJ.il. lik C ^ ^ ,.v^ 5 ^./v^-^lfclil) -V ^xUf^Si 'V SSTSSsfflffL ": WwmS <r ^ T\V ? u 5> WMT &0Lg \ ing licr hands in mine, looking down r eyes that shown sweet and humid throug tears which were not of sorrow. " And the absent lover is a myth," I saic " Yfj. nnil alwavs was." " But the present one "? ",You know; I have told you; the preser (ne has my love." And with the love of Kunee Grace ni happineR" is sure. A Son's Legacy. The will of the late R. H. Macy founder of one of the largest retail dr goods and notion houses in New York *vas offered for probate in the snrrc gate's office, and one clause in it prove of special interest as showing that th sons of wealthy self-made men do nc always follow in the footsteps of thei fathers. After leaving the bulk of hi property to liis wife and daughter, wh are named as executresses, ihe will coe tinnes: I am grieved to say in this solem: manner that my experience lias bee] such with my son, Rowland H. Macy jr., that I cannot intrust him with th care or management of any property He has never succeeded in supportin, himself. On the contrary, though ho i now twenty-nine years of age, he ha been entirely supported and maintained by me, and although I have done everj thing in my power to aid him in estat lishing habits of temperance and sc briety, yet I am compelled to acknow] edge the failure of every effort made b me and others to that end. Hispassio1 for strong drink has not hitherto bee: controlled by him. In view of thes T lmvrt it wise to make th following provision for his support an maintenance during Lis natural life : direct that my said oxecutresses, or th survivors of them or their successor do, ns soon after my decease as conve niently may be, invest in United State government bonds a sum the annual in terest or income of which shall amoun to SI,000, and that they pay to my sai son the said interest or income when an as collected, unless my said son sha] contest this will or undertake to defea its provisions, in wliich case I direct thn he have no part or portion of my estat* The estate is valued at between $500, 000 and $1,000,000. Irrigating the dry lands of Colorad from wells by windmill power has bee recently found practicable by a larmei near Evans, in that State. With on Braall mill au acre of vegetables -wo watered, and the thirst of a herd c eighty head of cattle, horses, and shee was quenched. One Massachusetts woman has ha several husbands. Four have died an two have l*en divorced. The Policeman's Story. A TEMTEHANCE l'l.EA. I am a policeman 12,001; Boon on the force for years a score. Lots of HtoricB I have to tell, Queer, sad, terrible, ftinny, and?well, I'll Htop to tell you a little thing That happened a year ago last spring : Wean*, but watchful, I paced my beat, Up and down thro' a well-known street, When, a block away, I saw a throng, And hasten'd to see what was wrong. There I found a wee, wee girl, Dainty and pretty, fair hair in curl. Weeping, her hands in air she toss'd, Crying : " Oh, mamma, Oh, papa, I'a lost!" One moment she wept, another she smiled, And I thought of my own pet darling child At home, and safe in her mother's arms ; 80 I tried to quiet this one's alarms ; And lirst her sunny head I caress'd, Then lifted her np to my beating breast, And carried her, Bobbing, sweet little fay, To the station house, only two blocks away. Captain Caffry was then in command, Ho took the lost baby girl by the hand, And, sitting her up on the desk by his side, Pleasantly talked till no longer she cried, But dried up her tears, and soon, smiling ai gay, Was earnestly lisping and prattling away : ; And told of her beautiful mamma, her joys, ! Her big bearded papa, her homo and her toyi ; How she liesrd a wandering German band pla And, listening, followed them on their way ; Btopp'd when they stopp'd, and cross'd wh< | they cross'd, [ Grew fired, cried for home, and then found si was lost. I The door of tho station houseopon'd just the [ Admitting a " drunk " between two of onr mei : Not dirty and ragged, and spoiling for fight, j lint what you might term a "respectable tight Led np to the desk ho just lifted hia eyes, j Started back, nearly fell, with a cry of surpris | Of tenor, of shame : "My (iraeo! Can it be i The instant had made him as sober as she. | " My papa ! Dear papa!" They kiss'd ai caress'd. | Both weeping, as she nestled close to his breas I " Quite a scene!" said tho captain, his faco in clow: j "I think you're been pnnishwl enough. Y< niny go!" ! The father bowed low?the little one ymiled! Anil In; ])aHs'd through the door in the care hi* i-l)ild. j Do y?m know that 1 feel that he made a gre vow Just then, against liquor, and 'tia unbroki now! I ? PIcturtM of Life and Manner*! In the Ulack IIHIm Capital. Deadwood is the liveliest town in the United States, writes a correspondent of the New York Sun, and each hour adds to the population, business, bustle, conj fusion and wealth. Eastern reading is : as fiction to the people of Deadwood, who know nothing of hard times and dull trade. Here the trader, miner and gambler are all coining money. No taxes to ' pay, immense profits, a daily increasing I demand for goods, the richest mineral country in America, easily worked; no wonder the merchants and miners are ( happy. As for the gamblers and confidence men, Deadwood swarms with them. I In fact, since a little adventure of my I own, I am inclined to suspect that one| half the men I elbow on the street are of | the black-leg species. Mr. Vandamker of the "I. X. L." liotel recently introduced me to one of the sharpest, most successful, and best known confidence men in the country. "I am a blackleg," said my new acquaintance, "and you know it; out I never take ad ! vantage of a poor man?I mean a miner ! working for a stake?traders and meri chants are my game. If I can bleed a freighter, I do so without the least comi ! punction; I never resort to violence?I ! mean the knife, pistol, or black-jack, j While I would rather steal thau receive the money as a gift, I never leave a man I penniless. Do you want to see me at j work ? Well, come along into the 'Me. j lodeon.' Don't recognize me." - 1 We oassed into the crowded, heated it room. What a pandemonium J The h I bar at the right was lined with half j drunken men, laughing, chatting, swear' I ing, yelling. Further on was a rouge ct I noir table, its dealer loudly proclaiming | to a gaping crowd the fairness of the i game. By its side, a motley throng surrounded a lottery and chuck-luck table, * j the banker being a youth not over six; teen. At the end of the room waa a narrow stage, upon which appeared a pianist, banjo player, and three male singers. The men were in their shirt sleeves, '' i puffing away at old clay pipes as we ens'^ j tered, but the instruments soon struck ? | up a symphony, which was followed by a j very pretty ballad, well sung and accompapied. Making our way out of the ? room, we noticed a large crowd gathering at our right, and heard a hoarse r voice lauding the simplicity of ft game 8 which I soon discovered to be thimble 0 rig, with nut Bhells doing duty for thiml" bles, and which has given to the man be hind the table the sobriquet of "nut Q shell Bill." My companion pulled my a sleeve, and edged his way through the '* crowd to the table. e " Twenty dollars that you can't pick ' up the shell containing the little ball/' ? said Bill, as he passed the three shells to 8 imd fro, displaying the ball at every ? move. " Twenty dollars that no one can discover the ball, and he may lift the shell himself." As Bill turned to expectorate, my companion quickly raised the ' nont^r olioil nlftinlv showincr to the crowd the ball beneath, and replaced it. y " Twenty dollars," said Bill. "I'll go a you ten," quietly remarked my compana ion, "it is all the mone^t have." "No, e sir," replied Bill, " twenty or nothing." ? Then the two argued the point for a sec? ond or two, aud Bill being inexorable, mv 1 companion turned to a by&tander and e snid : " Come, pard, let's go in together. '? I'll put in ten with you." The person h appealed to, confident of his ability to 8 raise the right shell, complied; two lT ten-dollar bills fluttered upon the table; ^ the center shell was raised, but no ball ^ was there. Of course there was cursing, laughing, charges of foul play and ^ threats, during which Bill quietly picked i nn his monev and slipped through the | i crowd to the street. He makes but one !* i bet ft night. " j On the o'her side of the street, a little i lower down, stands "the Cricket," an| other great resort. It is a dance hall 0and variety theater, the latter being n I a novelty here. It was in the " Cricket" '> | that Gen. Crook danced in the same 6et e ! with Mayor Farnum. His partner is 8 | still employed in the hou^e. A violin 'f j and viola fnrnisli the music. Six girls P | are employed in the dance hall, and are i on the floor from dark until midnight, d their partners varying in social standing d ' from such dignitaries as those just men) tioned to the dirtiest, blackest and : coarsest of " bullwhackers." The men i dance with hats on, and huge cigars between their teeth, and seem to enjoy the j ten minutes' set, for which they pay a half dollar, besides treats for self and partner. The theater is reached through two doorways, one leading to the lower {>art of the house, the other to the galerj, which is divided off into seven ! boxes. Decorum is unknown to "Cricket" audiences, and, as a consequence, the performance is virtually one of show* and not for the ear. Great clouds of smoke fill the room, while many girls, dressed in the loudest fashj ion, peddle drinks through the audience. The performance begins with the first | part"of a minstrel show, the circle con sisting of "bones" and "tambourine " in cork, Wo girls, the interlocutor, and a banjo pi tyer uncorked. The grait aim of all is to be as loud as possible, and in this particular there seems to be no restraint. Singing and dancing fill up the programme. The performance continues until the last auditor leaves. The amount of money nightly squandered here upon wine, women and gambling is simply enormous. With drinks i and cigars at "two bits" (twenty-five ! cents) each, wine (very poor) at So per ; pint, and everything else in proportion, l(11 it takes but a t?ry short time to ran : through a big sum of money. Gambling ; is the great bane of the town. One can j find but few public houses where there : are not one or more games in operation, *;j while' in many saloons the tables are j counted by the half dozen. Yet there are many excellent people here. :u j Deadwood apes the airs and dignity of ! the oldest city on the continent. Postal ie sen-ice has been secured, and Postmaster Adarag, a carpet-bagger from Omaha, with a l>oiled shirt and shiny hat, opened j a regularly established office and began 1; j the sale of stamps. Heretofore it has ! cost ten cents to send or receive a letter, ?" j except by the Cheyenne line. The latter I lias the contract until the close of the e, j fiscal year, and will carry a daily mail, ?" as will also the Fort Pierre and Bismarck i lines as soon as they begin running, id I which will be iu about two weeks. The ' Sidney stage company has sold out to the it, j Cheyenne company, and hereafter daily a : stages will run over that route. ! The first daily paper in the hills, the )U j Time*, recently made its appearance ; here. Tt is a folio, live columns to the | page; has the Associated Press disi patches; is well edited, and presents a nf ?... x 1-:?1 o...WW.,...,,..,, it* ?,i;_ | Hilt* bVHi'K"1!"1""' "I'l'1'""'"1" 1 torn, Messrs. Warner ami Xewhanl, are at old Denver printers, ami are confident | of success. The I'ioncrr,- the first tii lilnck Ilills journal, will soon appear I daily. ' city alone average one hundred a day, ! and, as the season advances, the influx 1 becomes greater. Hotels can accommoj date abont one in ten ; the other nine I sleep in stables, tents, -wagons, etc. Yon : can safely assume that four-fifths of the entire number will soon be on their way back to the States with empty pockets.. ! All the good mining ground* has been 1 taken up. J A number of farmers have arrived,, | taken ranches in Red valley, and begun ! tillage. I counted thirty-six on their . | way to the Belle Fourche one day. They : will make money, as the soil is excellent for agricultural purposes, while the market will be the best in the country next winter, unless the business is over-done. Hay now sells at 3100 per ton, and it is very scarce at that figure. It I costs about S3.20 per ton to gather it. Another very fortunate speculation is ; our solitary ice man. He harvested J several thousand tons last winter, and, j as he intends charging five cents per ! pound, his profits will be enormous. Building goes on rapidly all over the | city, keeping sawmills and carpenters ! busy night and clay. Rents are out1 rtinrprmaW liicli a small Cabin of U11 I ?o~i ?-? ; planed lumber bringing $25 to $35 per | montli. Masonic and Odd Fellow lodges I have been established. Divine service is held every Sunday. A largely attended [ school has been opened. Mines are being opened rapidly, but | the abundance of water prevents a j thorough working of them. Merchants ' and gamblers have decided to take and ! pay out gold dust hereafter at the rate j of $18 per ounce?a reduction of two dollars. FARM, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD. Farm DrnJnatrn. All farm lands are greatly improved, and made more productive by being t properly drained. From experience and observation, I am satisfied that underI draining, if properly done, where it is I practicable, is much the best, yet, lands | which are quite rolling and hilly, would I in most cases be greatly benefited by I TYinVinrr Aann rlen/l fnrtWWfl f>VPrV tWO 01* I ~ 1 I three rods apart when plowing. But when the land is only moderately roll: ing or nearly level, make good sized ! open ditches, not more than eighty yards j apart, deep enough to go mostly below ! the top soil, in order that the land may j be drained below therootsof the growing | crops, then as the surplus water runs off, I tho air will-enter the soil, and rising np i through to the surface, aerate and warm the land, which helps to furnish good and wholesome food for the crops, thereby increasing the yield. But underdraining if properly done, is still better. Drains should not be far apart, and should be so laid as to run from the head to the outlet with some descent, and bo from two to four feet below the surface (of course an outlet must be provided). This would drain the soil more evenly and thoroughly reaching all parts of the land or field to be drained. By this 11--.1 -if anirOna ' meuioa Oi UltlllllliK inmu uiu ou* water is running off, the air is running up the drains, and rising tlirongh tha * 1 ground, aerating and -warming the soil, r ' making it fit for cultivation full ten days j earlier in spring, and continuing its ! warmth as much later in the fall,thereby lengthening the growing and 1 ipening I season, and, in raosts cases* preventing ! injury from early and late frosts, which, ! in some seasons; would add more to the | value of the crop than the whole cost of I the di-ainage. i Where the laud is favorable for i undftrdraininer. the cost need not be more than from two dollars to four dol' lars per acre, according to the prices paid J for labor and materials. The drains can j be made of pine boards ; a strip six and | one-half inches wide nailed on to tho , edge of a strip five and one-half inches . wide, and in lieu of a bottom, nail short strips across about four feet apart, to , keep the sides in their places. Tliiskindof ! drain will last many years, and do good service. Therefore, I would recommend I underdraining as being the greatest ; benefit to the soil, : But 'persons who cannot conveniently underdrain their land, should at least dig a > ! few open ditches, of good size and proper ! depth, for mains, and then when plowing make deep dead furrows, leading into the ditches, which will be found highly 1 beneficial.?Inaac JCsma/j/ in Rural JVen* Yorker. Domestic Helps. "rifh Soft Gingerbread.?One cup i fill sour crearu, one cupful molasses, one | egg, one teaspoonful ginger, one teaspoonful so Ja; stir rather thin. i Fried Cakes.?One cupful sugar, one ! cupful sour cream, one cupful butter| milk, one tenspoonful sodn, spice to I taste; mix thick enough to roll easily. ! Cologne.?One quart alcohol, oneqnarter ounce oil of lavender, one-quarter ounce oil of rosemary. II.?One quart alcohol, one ounce ojl I of lemon, one-half ounce oil of bergamot; I shake well. : Bakers' Graham Bread.?Make a ! sponge as for white bread with wheat J flour, say one square of compressed 1 yeast to two quarts of water; when light make up the dough with graham flour and one-half a teacupful molasses; let 1 stand to rise again, then make up the j loaves with the hands, and when light ; bake. To Cook Beefsteak.*?Slit the out! side or fat part, say every four inches, ' inWinn tlirrmnrli fn t.llP lpRll. which DrC I Wluuug J * j vents contraction and increases its tenderness. Have a bright fire and gridiron i hot before putting it on; turn over to 1 prevent burning. A steak an inch and i a half thick will be cooked in from seven , to ton minutes. To fry, prepare in the ' same way; put a little butter on pan or 1 griddle, and let it get brown before putting oil the meat.; cook quickly, and, whether broiled, fried, roasted, or baked ! in the oven, if you want juicy, tender . beef, never salt it before it is cooked. Beefsteak should be served the moment it iB cooked; otherwise it loses its flavor. llintM About Flowers. House plants ought to be stimulated gently once or twice a week, llnin 1 water, so refreshing to summer flowers, always contains ammonia, which also abounds in all liquid manures. If you i take an ounce of pulverized carbonato of j ammonia, dissolved in one gallon of i water, it win make spring waier even ' more stimulating to your plants than rain water. If you water your plants . once in two weeks with guano water ' (one tablespoonful to a pail of water), they will grow more thrifty. Chicken manure dissolved in water is excellent. Always keep the soil in your flower pots lons.\ A common hair-pin used daily, will stir the earth sufficiently. A minister who had twice married tl e same couple?A divorce ensuing bet went , the two marriages?remarked that h ? didn't wish to add a repairing depait ' ment to his business.