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? ? ? ?????? ..?.? * -.|SB ABBEVILLE PRESS AND BANNER. M BY HUGH WILSON AND H. T. WARDLAW. ABBEVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1882. NO. 17. VOLUME XXVII. The Parting. Not "Farewell!" Oh. speak it never! Time and distance in it find Limit never?flying ever? Leaving darkened hope behind. Soon yon quiet vessel's motion. Soon shall yonder rolling ocean, Throw my spirit o'er the past Closing now etween us fast. Bid me, then, if aught be spoken. Bid me cheerily. "Good-night:" So that, waking, aye unbroken Memory link it with the light. Thus shall every morning cheer me, Bring thine image ever near me. With that word that seems to say, "Part we only for a day." Yet I know not why I ask thee Now to play a hollow part: .No, l will not, wiIJ not task thee Thus to vail an aching heart. Truth and thou were never parted: Part not now. though, broken-hearted. Truth thy faltering tongue compel Bitterly to say, '"Farewell!" Speak it, then, nor stay the sadness Brimming now within thine eyes: Weep, oh weep?nor think it madness Thus thy burning tear to prize. Man to woe was ever plighted: Then be mine with thine united. Oh, 'twere bliss, to him unknown, Mourning for himself alone. ? IVaxhinyton All.-itmi. Bread Cast Upon the Waters. After threescore years and ten spent in accumulating fame and fortune Colonel Yining had lived ten moretosee his fame a tiling of the past and his fortune take to itself wings and fly I away. Ten years too long, said the woridly-wise; hut not so thought the great reaper, for he often leaves his fruit to he mellowed hv the early frosts. or?/l in tlir^cn ton vonrc tliP fiTilltit i<)ll? diction he felt that he was indeed blessed, though he turned from the grave a wrmderer; for the ancestral home was sold by eager creditors ere the days of mourning were at an end. Kith or kin there was none in the world to whom he could turn, and as he sat in the oflice brooding over his lonely condition his sad face touched the heart of Major Legere. "Yining," said he, "life in this sleepy town of ours is rather a dull thing for a young fellow like you. How would you like to get away and see something of the world V" "Like it," said Yining, in a tone I meant to oe cneenui, -way (ion i yu? ask me how I would like to go to heaven?" " I don't wish you so well away as that, but if you can content yourself with a shorter journey I will help you on the way. I have business in New 'York which requires personal attention for the coming year, and there is no one to whom I can so confidently intrust it as to you. "Will you go ?" "I should like to go?if"?and Yining's glance rested sadly upon his rusty clothes. "Then the matter is settled, and I expect you to leave here the first of next week. Here is money to defray your present expenses, and I will give you a letter of credit to my banker. Take it," he continued, noticing the doubting curve of the sensitive lips, " it's a small part of what I shall owe you for transacting this business. Had your grandfather been a man to boast of his good deeds you would feel it Iwas your aue, ior ne muue u man m me. So count on one friend as long as Bob Legere lives." The lawyer's rugged face softened at the recollection of the old days when he had cherished a hopeless passion for the beautiful Margaret Yining. At the appointed time the young man, with a hearty " God bless you" from Bob Legere, was speeding northward. New York, with its Babel of tongues, its rush and roar of human life, its squalid poverty and glittering 1 splendor was a revelation to Vining, accustomed as he had been to the decaying gentility of a southern town, with its horror of modern ideas :md its devotion to the traditions of a dead past. At an early day Vining presented himself at the banker's, Mr. McKaehin's, and was admitted into his private office. The low-ceiletl room, with tlie ight straggling faintly through col>webbed windows, the dying coals in the grate emitting a feeble glare, and the opened letters scattered around on dusty desks, formed a fitting frame for the central figure, a small, spare man with iron gray hair; erect as porcupine quills, a face like a withered crab apple, and keen blue eyes, in which twinkled a gleam of humor, as lie caught the critical glance taking in the appointments of the room. A puzzled expression deepened the wrinkles in his forehead, as he looked from the card in his hand to the face of his visitor. "E. V. Coulac," repeated he, as if to himself. "Excuse my curiosity, sir, but your face is strangely familiar, though I am sure I have never heard your name oeiore. \v nat is it in i nil i "Edward Yining Coulac." "Any relation to Colonel Vining, of Bel Air?" "He was my grandfather, sir," said the young man, drawing himself up proudly. The banker grasped his hand eagerly, exclaiming, with a tremor in his voice : "Mr. Coulac, for his sake you are welcome. There is no human bcinsr that |H| was near to lilm but what has al laiin H on John MeEachin." Bjjl Then in a brisker tone than usual, as ^B| if ashamed of the emotion into which H he had been betrayed, he resumed the HH conversation on business topics; yet his gaze lingered ahnost fondly upon the bright face turned to him, and as BH9 Vinir j rose to go he said: "Mr. Coulac, H to-morrow is an anniversary with me, nnd if you will dine with my family ;md a few guests I will explain to you why the sound of your grandfather's nf forty years schoolboy's received liini cordially, and presenting 1 him to his daughter Flora, said: " Mr. | Coulae lias special claims on our hospi-1 talitv which you will gladly acknowl- \ edge after the story I tell you to-day." | A soft hand was extended in friendly greeting, and a pair of merry blue eyes j shot coquettish glances ol' welcome | from under brown fringed lids. lie ; was beguiled into such forgetfulness of j time and place that when, at the close | of dinner he was roused by Mr. Mcj Eachin's voice, lie felt like one waked ' from a dream. i " Mr. Coulae, I have long promised my family a story of your land forty ; years ago. anil if you will not tluiiKme i rude I will toll it in your presence." ' You can say nothing, sir. to make ! mi' love my country less, as I believe you would say nothing to wound the ! feelings of your guest." The hanker nodded with an amused smile as if to say, "We'll see about that," and proceeded: " It is now some forty odd years since a peddler could he seen plodding his way through one of those prairies whose rich hind has given the name of 'the black belt' to many counties in the southern part of Alabama. Xot that the appearance of these travelers was an unusual occurrence, for it was in the good old days when the planter ruled his domains like a feudal lord, and extended the hospitality of his home to tlie passing stranger, and the peddler with his pack served to while away the leisure hours of the ladies of the mansion, and to vary the monotony of tlie plantation life for the dusky Dinahs of the quarter. This particular tourist carried all his worldly gear in his pack, but he was rich in youth, in health and in Yankee pluck. Ashe trudged along under the October sun he whistled as joyously as the mocking birds in the magnolia groves near the great house he was approaching. It man became even as a little child. Of the vast landed estates once his, only enough was left to defray the expenses of his burial. The friends who had gathered around him in his day of power had all gone before him to the spirit land. The grass grew green over the graves of two noble sons and three lovely daughters, and the sole scion of his race was Edward Vining Coulac, the son of his best beloved daughter Margaret. With her wit and beauty she had been the pride of his heart; but in an evil hour she had met Henri Coulac, an unprincipled adventurer, and in spite of the -warning of friends and the prayers of her father she trusted her fate to his keeping. Ere the honeymoon had waned the man she had sworn to honor had earned her bitterest contempt: and after squandering her property and humbling her pride, he deserted her when her situation would have excited the sympathy even of a stranger. A few months after her return to her old home a wailin<r infant was placed in her arms; she scanned I his features eagerly, then with a nmr-1 mured " Thank God, lie is all mine," placed him in her father's arms and found fur herself the rest of the broken-hearted. Deprived of father's and mother's love, in the midst of poverty and sorrow, the boy yet throve like the magnolia of his own southern swamps, which hides with beauty and fragrance the deadly miasmas of its birthplace. Ilis ambitious spirit and buoyant temper cheered the last days of his grandfather; when the trembling hand was laid upon his head in dying bene was near the hour or noon, ana as ne was near the quarter he thought lie would rest there, and perhaps secure sonic savory additions to his scanty lunch. As he opened the gate a towheaded urchin called out: 'If you uns comes in liyar I'll sic my valler purp on . you.' Just then a woman, whose shining black face and portly figure could belong to none other than the cook, sallied round the house carrying a rough, unpolished horn. Upon this she blew a blast so loud and long that the traveler fancied the walls of another Jericho were to tumble at its hoarse summons: Seeing the stranger at the gate, her native hospitality prompted her to accost him, whereupon the boy again called out: ' You ole C'hloe, if you don't make that 'ar beggar go away from thar I'll tell mv par.' Now the recollection of sundry dimes, tied up in an old stocking leg in her ' ehist,' made her very sensible of the duties the community owed to this class of pilgrims, so setting her arms akimbo and muttering, 4 You shut up your gab, you poor sanddigger,' she proceeded to arrange with the peddler for his noonday repast. The overseer* rode by and regarded them with a scowl, which in no wise interfered with Chloe'sgood humor, for she repaid him with supreme contempt. With a keen eye to her own interest she had not failed to consider the good of her fellows, and had arranged for an exhibition of the peddler's wares while the overseer enjoyed his evening siesta. So a merry group gathered in front of Aunt Chloe'scabin at the appointed hour, and a brisk barter was being carried on with much lively chatter when they were interrupted by the grufT voice of the overseer : ' (Jit out of here, you rascally peddler, with your worthless traps. These chaps heads are so full of your nonsense that they are no manner of account.' Then turning to Cliloe: 4 You black wench, you, when my family orders you to do anything you'd better do it.' one iHMiin.ru 11110 iit-i icium, mu frame quivering with indignation as she replied: 'Mas'r didn't send me here to be ordered round by the likes of that tow-headed Billy.' Meanwhile, the peddler wasleisurely packing his wares, when the overseer, his wrath increased by Chloe's impudence, ordered him to trot nj).' "'1 walked on to your land and I'll walk off, and nothing you can say or do will make me trot,' was the cool reply. " 4 I'll make two of these chaps take you down and beat the life out of you, you impudent rascal,' said the overseer, in a voice choked with passion. '"You'll have one negro the less, then, foe while they are doing it I shall certainly kill one of them,' replied the peddler, straightening up and taking a calm survey of tht* brawny Samsons around him. "'Cyrus! Major! tie that Yankee sneak down and give him liftv,' came the order. " The negroes slunk back, affecting more fear than they really l'elt, for they rejoiced in the opportunity of paying off old scores against their brutal tyrant. 'I das'ent to touch that white man,' said Cyrus, trembling, 'fur he'll kill me shore.' " 'I'll show you how to come here teaching these black apes sass,' said the overseer, almost beside himself with rage and seizing the peddler; whereupon ensued a scuflle in which his brute strength was no match for the youth fill agility of his rival, and he scion cried lustily for quarter. The peddler, seemingly well satisfied, released his hold, and with a friendly nod to the negroes went on his.way. lie had reached town in the afternoon and was exhibiting his wares when lie was roughly seized and a sherill's warrant thrust into his hands, lit* was arrested upon the grave charges of intlicting the slaves to resist lawful authority and a murderous assault upon the person of their overseer. In the midst of strangers, and almost penniless, lie was thrust into jail to await his trial before the ensuing court. Humors of his dangerous character and incendiary mission lloated like thistle-down upon the wings ol every wind ; lor it was at an era when the seeds of sectional distrust, destined like the teeth of the fabled dragon to spring up armed warriors, were being sown broadcast. " A lew days before the trial lie sat in his cell thinking sadly of his far off home and his widowed mother, when lie was roused from his reverie bv the grating of the rusty bolt of his door, which swung open and admitted the jailer. He was followed by a man in the prime of intellectual and physical vigor. Aristocrat was stamped upon every line of his linelv chiseled face, and he carried himself proudly as ona born to rule. 'Colonel Vining,' said the jailer, 'has come to see what he can do for you.' A sudden hope sprang up in the heart of the prisoner as lie looked into the calm dark eyes and noted the confident bearing of his visitor. They were left alone, and after a conference that lasted far into the nijjht they parted with a fervent, '(Jod biess you, sir,' from the peddler. 'If my life is spared," said lie, 41 will repay your l\lliuur.?. " rnderstand. young man, J don't espouse your cause for the sake ol' a fee. I have just heard that none of these pettifoggers would defend you, and it. shall never he said while Edward Vining lives that a helpless stranger could lind no advocate in the courts of Alabama. It's not the first time by many that I have done what they don't dan? to do.* "The day for the trial rolled round and public excitement was at fever heat. 'I reckon Vining will hardly get a jury to his liking from this crowd,' said a lawyer, looking over the sea of surging angry faces. 'I don't know; I've l Jiever seen him fail to bend them yet,' HfcLiiis. reply; 'fyit if hj^acafigla hero, I think there'll he an appeal t< j Judge Lynch before yonder sun goe? ! down.' The jury was impaneled. and the witnesses examined. * The whok weight of evidence bore heavih against the prisoner, for the oversew and his family were the only witnesses whose testimony could he received The prosecuting attorney summed u] the evidence, llien painted him as :i midnight assassin sharing the hos]?itality of the simple planter and stealing from his fireside under covei of darkness to array his slaves against him. A hush like that of the grave, broken only by the labored breathing of angry men, fell upon the room a> he took his seat. This ominous silence was broken bv a low murium like the sweep of the distant tornadi as Colonel Vining rose and began t< speak. Soon the low, llute-like voici stilled the rising tempest, and the audience with impassive faces settled themselves to listen. "'lie's got 'em dead now,' whispered the lawyer. 'Nobody ever listens to him without going his way.' He too summed*up the evidence, and with such clearness did he present it as a tissux1 of falsehood that men hung their heads for having accepted it. With wither in*jf sarcasm lie lore into snrwis me character ol' the plaintiff, liis petty dislionesties, his known intemperance and liis unvarying cruelty. Then the silence became more intense, and men leaned eagerly forward, as with a touch of pathos in the silvery voice he recounted the leading facts in the prisoner's life. Now a mere hoy, he had left his Xew England hills to earn a living for a widowed mother, who (-veil then was watching for his return, little thinking that her hoy was in jeopardy; attracted to Alabama l?y reports of her warm-hearted, open-handed children he had learned to love them for their kindness to t ho wandering stranger. Then in glowing words, each one ' as a nail driven into a sure place,' he appealed to them by the memory of their own struggling youth to show mercy to the boy. One face softened, then another, and another, till under the spell of Ids matchless eloquence many a heard-featured, grizzly-bearded man saw himself once more in the young prisoner. Then a hand would steal quietly up to brush away a tear from a furrowed cheek, and even the keen gray eyes of the judge were dimmed by a suspicious moisture "When Colonel Viningsat down such n yfnrin nf imiiliiimp slionk flip house ;is had rarely waked the echoes of that sleepy burgh. When the jury broughtin the verdict, 4Xot guilty,' he led his client through the crowded room, entered his carriage and drove home. There they sat down to a bountiful repast, after which Colonel Vining ordered his buggy, and pointing to it said : "There, my young friend, is your chance for safety. Jerry will drive you to the next town and here is $20 to help you out of the State. Your baggage is all in there. These people are brave and generous, but like a lot of dry wood, only needing a spark to set them in a blaze, and your enemy is an unscrupulous rascal ready to furnish all the tinder they may need. Lot ine hear from you as soon as you reach a place of safety, for 1 had a hard pull lor your life to-day." " 'God bless you, sir: if lie spares me 1 shall surely repay you for this day's work,' said the peddler. '"Ten thousand dollars wouldn't huvfi temnted me to do what I have ~~ " " " I ? done for you to-day, so don't worry about tho debt: but while Edward Vining lives it shall never be said that a stranger was hounded to death in Alabama and not a voice raised in his defense. But go now, for time hastens and my work must not be undone.' '"May John McEachin's right hand forget its cunning, if he ever fails to remember this day,' said the peddler, as looking his last upon the lace of Ids preserver he rode away. "Y.ou see, Mr. Coulae, you needed no letter of credit to my bouse; your name is a passport to my home and heart. Let us rise now and drink to the memory of Colonel Edward Vining, the bravest man I have ever known." Beverently the guests rose and responded to the toast. This tribute to the nobility of Ids grandfather gave an added luster to Vining's dark eyes and a prouder grace to his lithe figure, Little wonder that Flora McEachin saw in him the hero of her girlish fancy; and as the days lapsed into weeks and the weeks into months, together they conned the old, old story. With Mr. McEachin's assistance Vining established himself in his profession and rapidly won friends and position. When another Christmas tide rolled round the marriage bells of Vining L'oulae and .Mora -uchiacmn nore tneir part of the burden of peace on earth and good will to men.?SprimjJkld Itepubliran. A Sea Captain's Revenge. It has often been said that there is no despotism in the world equal to that exercised by the captain of a vessel when at sea. This, of course, does not apply to yachts, for those are not registered vessels, but sail under a license, and the captain of such a craft could be discharged by the owner when in midocean if for any reason the owner found fault with his management, lint with merchant vessels when once out of port the authority of the captain is, bv the laws of every nation, supreme. It is necessary that this should be so. A ship when at sea represents a number of different interests; those who own the vessel, those who own the cargo, thofce that insure the mill and us eonicms, aim un-u j.im, but not least, arc the lives (if crew and possibly of passengers. There must lie a responsible directing head, armed with the legal power to enforce any order he may think necessary for the protection of these different, interests, and this authority could be lodged nowhere but with thecaptain. 11 is judgment maybe at fault, but if at the end of a voyage he can make oath that h< considered what he did to be necessary for the protection of the interests intrusted to his keeping, it is almost impossible to punish him for his mistakes. An example of this arbitrary power was given some years ago by the cap tain of a merchant vessel sailing from one of our Atlantic ports. The sliij was bound on a voyage to the west coast of South America, and her owner invited one or two of his friends t< I go down the bay in her and re turn on the nilot boat. When outsuh the weather became somewhat threat ening, ami the pilot, lioat was not inline cliately on Jiand. The captain ha<l lonj cherished a grudge against the ownci and saw in tiie situation an opportunity of revenging himself. In spite of com mands and then of appeals made for t In owner, Ins friends and the pilot, he jar his vessel upon her course and sailei out to sea. His involuntary passenger were, of course, in a wretched state u mind, coining, as they did, wholly tin prepared for a voyage around ('api Horn, and well aware that their rela tivesand friends would havcdouhts a to their existence. This led the owne to resort to methods which led the cap tain to construe to he mutinous, am hence he had the former placed in con lineinent, while the entire party, witl the exception of the pilot, were treatci very much as if they had heen com rnon sailors, so far as their food suppl, was concerned. When the ship arrive* at her port of destination the captaii was instantly dismissed ; hut that wa all the punishment that could he visite upon him. Why does a duck go into the water For divers reasons.. Why does it com out ? For sun-dry reasons. Why doe it go back ? To liquidate its bill. * Wh does it come out again ? To make a ru .An thft hfljilr > | BULL RUN*. > I [ How llcnrv J. Itiivumml nml Dr. Kiimm'II of llu> l.ondoii "TinifH" Itoilc I.Ike 31ml lor Washington?Humor* of the Ocrn-| "ion. i'rohahlv the best description of the ; wild .stampede which followed the hat tie of Bull Bun ever printed appeared ' in tlie I'ittshiirjx Disjxitch recently. 1 The historian is Kennedy Marshall, of " Butler. I'a., a prominent lawyer. Mr. 1 j Marshall at the date of the buttle was j a member of the Pennsylvania legisla 11 urc. and with hundreds of persona ] [ followed the army to see the eonfeler i ates crushed bv McDowell. Marshall ' was accompanied by Henry J. Kay' j inond, editor of the New York Times, ' j :uid Dr. Russell, the famous war corre': spondent of the London Tim<s. I "Raymond, Russell and I," began ' j Mr. Marshall, " were seated on the ' { roadside, taking lunch, at .'i o'clock in ! he afternoon. While we were talking together we heard locomotives whistling over on the Manasses rail'1 road. The trains stopped in a cut, out 1 of sight. Pretty soon out marched a lot of soldiers in gray, with a stand of brigade colors, and came at a double 1 quick across the lield. It was Kirby ' Smith with tin- last installment of I Johnson's army from Winchester, which had eluded Patterson. The panic which seized our troops when II these fresh lighters hurled themselves at the Union lines, already tottering with exhaustion, was wilder than anvthiii" in military history j since three Austrian soldiers, coming out of the woods to surrender after the battle of Solferino, put the winile J'rench army to rout fur a time. Regiments that had stood up to their work bravely since, i) o'clock in the I morning, melted away in a few min| utes at the si^ht of the gray charging j columns. There was no knowing I what force was behind Smith, anil Hunter's men did not wait to see. j They took the road to (Yntreville pellI mcli, every niiin for himself. The infantry charged their own batteries, cut the liorses loose, jumped on their backs and went to the rear at a gallop. Russell disappeared on the tide at the top of his speed. . Raymond drifted away from me, and I did not let many pass me in the race myself. It was the further the faster, and after covering what seemed to mo about live miles, 1 dropped exhausted beside the road to rest. " By-and-bye Raymond came along, lie had .found his barouche and he took me in. We whirled along in the crush fof ambulances, artillery horses, priI rates. officers ami camp-followers on 1'oot. ladies and politicians in carriages, and 200 or MOO steers, ;dl making the best of their way to Washington. A drove of cattle had been driven out behind the army to be slaughtered after the battle. They were stampeded with the rest and added to the confusion. Tnere were m;iny amusing incidents. Earlier in the day I had noticed L. L. McCuflin, of New Castle, since judge in this judicial distinct, now dead. He was carrying water to one of the Held hospital-;. Ifc had been one of the 'On to Richmond' crowd, had come down to stiffen up the President's spine, and was loud in advocating a vigorous prosecution of the war. " lie was a large man, and wore a long linen duster. When the rush in the rear began he ran with the rest. He was fat, and as the crowd gradually swept, past him lie at last began to nlnmcf within L-IilllK till* lllUOl HC (UIIIV7V II4VIU*. ?rasj? of his living duster tail. Blind with sweat and dust, he tripped on a log and fell flat on his stomach, or as Hat as he could fall on such ;t? round stomach. A zouave, who was hard at his heels, came down with emphasis on top. Mr. McfJullin was certain that the Philistines were upon him, 'and j with a weak endeavor to roll his eyes ] around that he might see his foeman's face, exclaimed: 'Great heaven, gentlemen, can't this thing he compromised ?' ' lie fore Raymond and 1 had driven far an ordnance wagon crushed intoour harouche and demolished it. I mounted one of the carriage horses. Raymond was in despair. 1 " ' (Jet on the other Horse, 1 crieu. ' 4 Hut I can't stick on.' "'Then gootl-evening; I'm going to Washington.' "'Ilohl on; 1 can ride behind the nigger,' exclaimed the distinguished editor, and he was about to climb up behind the colored driver when a carriage drove past with some (.'ongrcssj men whom he knew and he got in with them. " I galloped away, but before I had gone far I saw a regiment drawn up in line across the road, with lixed bayonets, stop]ling the fugitives. I took to the fields, executed a llank movement and got past with a lew others. When I came to the little field telegraph ollice, near Fairfax Court House, 1 was riding ahead of my party. A wire had been laid out thus far and dispatches from the Held were carried here and wired to Washington. The last messages sent had told how our troops were driving the enemy. '" What news from the lieldV cried the little operator, with his linger on the key. '" Our men are routed. They are " * * I + 1...-.I- 4 running mis way, i mikhih-w n.u-n t># i him as I galloped past. 11 ? cut loose his instrument, tucked it under his arm and took to Ids heels. When the next orderly came with a dispatch he found the 1 lattery dismounted, and that was how 1 came to he the first t<? carry the | news to Washington. " I overtook Hull Kun l'ussell, and we rode together for a while; hut his horse was fagged and mine was fresh, so 1 soon left him. Aft^r that I rode foremost and alone. At Hall's Cross lioiuis 1 was challenged hy a Dutch > sentinel. lien Morgan had my pass ! through the lines, hut I had an annual . I over the Pennsylvania railroad, signed , l?v Tom Scott. I showed llie* sentinel j till' name of Scott, told liini it was . General Winlicld Se<itt, the coin lnander-in-eliief, and lie passed me' . through. 1 got over the . Long bridge at Washington at 1) o'clock, just as tin1 countersign was lie ing given out lor the ni^ht. 1 rode . uji to Willard's hotel through streets i thronged with people, wild with cxi citenient over the favorable dispatches I that had come in from the front. The . j brass bands were out in force, and , soi n body was making a rousing'On . J to IJichmond' speech from the balcony . of the hotel. 1 walked into the ollice . under the sound of his inspiring words, . knowing how soon those cheers would r be hushed to whispers of affright. ' ' ?- - i 41... i n.,.? C I IliUlWM'K WilS Ivccjuiijj Iin- min i un ii, and as I pushed up to "(lie desk lie . stared at me, bareheaded and strcam. ing with dirt and sweat as I was, and O # ? | f finally recognizing me, asked me where' j I had been and what was the matter. s "4 J ediue from the front. McDowf all is licked out (if 1 lis hoots, and tin* . wreck of our army is not far behind me.' " C'hadwick dived back into his pris vate office with a scared face, and in a r few moments came back and took iiih . in with him. 1 ' There sat (Seneral .Mansfield, who . was in command of the troops around Ii Washington, with a bottle of chamj pagnc before him. "Mr. Chadv.ick informs me, sir, v that you report our anjiv retreating. [\ Are you a military man, sir?' "4 No, sir.' s " ' Then, how do you know, sir, that ,1 they were not merely making a change of front or executing some other military maneuver, sir?' ? '4 Well, general,' I replied, as calmly e as I could, while the gray-haired old s martinet eyed ine sternly,' 1 saw whole v regiments throw down their guns and it guns and caissons and gallop away. I saw officers, men, Congressmen and Texas steers running neck and neck down the road toward "Washington, and steers were the only things that had their tails up. It may have been a change of front, as you say, but?' * I don't believe a single word of it,' broke in the general, who had listened to me with evident impatience. "'Good-evening,' I replied, and walked out of the door. The crowd had got the news by this time from Chadwick, and I was almost pulled to pieces. Somebody noticed that 1 was wearing a gray suit, and shouted: * He's a rebel.' There were several suggestions that 1 be lynched for trying to stimulate a rising of the rebel element in the city. General Mansfield hurried oil' to the war department, and pretty soon a sergeant and a squaii ot souuers came ior me ann iook iiih to the department. President Lincoln and liis entire cabinet were there, with old General Scott, anxiously waiting for news from the front. Simon Cameron had known me as a member of the legislature and vouched for my loyalty. There was very Jittle said while I told my story briefly. " The President sat with his liead bent down upon his hand, and was evidently very much depressed. Simon Cameron, then secretary of war, was the coolest head in the cabinet. lie immediately consulted with Scott as to hurrying reinforcements across the Potomac, and orders were issued to stop all fugitives at Long bridge. They asked me very few questions, but after I had told my story and was dismissed, the newspaper correspondents nearly devoured me. Just its I came out .of the war department I met one of General McDowell's aids bringing in the ? * r.e ?? ICjIUlb UL \.:UI1U IKlllUX l >7 urtuavi Harvest Homes. Says the Pittsburg (Pa.) Dispatch: Tlio old-time harvest home picnic which, like so many other excellent old customs, has dropped out of general observance, is just no*?v receiving a great revival. A couple of years ago it suddenly sprang into usage again among some of the lainous farmers of Middle New York, and has rapidly spread beyond the conlines of that State, and beyond the limits of the farminfi class alone. In the rich farming country of Eastern Pennsylvania, and in Ohio and Illinois to the west of us there have been notably large gatherings. The farming folk have not been able, if they so desired, to make these picnics exclusively farmers' affairs. It has become quite the fashion among city and townspeople as well. The festivals being under the management of representative men from the countrv inuiipi.il n roannr-trihilitv nt?il decorum which does not always attend picnic parties which go from tho city to the country. It. never degenerates into a carouse, but retains its character as a decent, rderlv gathering for a day's enjoyment in the woods. Parents with large families of children, of the inconvenient size that tumble out (d' boats, gather stray toads to their bosoms, get beetles down their neck and squall have seized upon this new enterprise as an opportunity for taking them for a day of merrymaking at a picnic where there is no drinking and no lights. Besides, there is a fragrant suggestion of red apples and broad slices of bread and butter about a real farmers' picnic tli.U is very taking to city-living people. Of course, the farmers and their families constitute the largest }>art of the attendance, for the obvious reason that they can see more of their neighbors tliers than at any other place. Many a horse trade is consummated at the harvest home and new varieties of seed wheat . velirinirpii The wives and daughters go partly for the fun, and largely because it is the latest fashion. The railroad companies have not been slow to promote an enterprise which cultivates sociability, and hence conduces to visiting and consequently traveling. The rates of fare to anil from the harvest home are usually lower than on any other occasion. The custom of celebrating the gathering in of the harvest by a feast or merrymaking is older in England than the introduction of Christianity, and as formerly practiced had many features ^>f the old Druid dispensation. In England generally this festival passes under the name of the " Harvest Home." In the northern counties it was called the " Mcll Supper." In Scotland it was hailed under the designation of the " Kirn " or " Kirn Supper." And there were perhaps outer ioc;u n;uiie*. In tin1 old simple clays of England, tlic harvest home was such a scene as Horace's friends might have expected to see at his Sabine farm, or as Theocritus described in his Idyls. In these days the working people ol' a few contiguous farms only united in the celebration, but subsequently whole counties came together. The grain last cut was brought home in its wagon, called the bock cart, surmounted by a figure formed of a sheaf with gay dressing, presumably representing the goddess Ceres. Sometimes the figure on the cart, instead of being a mere dressed-up bundle of grain, was a pretty girl of the reaping band, crowned with (lowers and hailed as " the maiden," or in Scotland "the har'st queen," Of this we have a description in a ballad of liloomliekTa: "Home came the Jovial hockey load, Last of the whole year's crop, And (iracc among the green boughs rode, ltight plump upon the top. " This way and that way the wagon reeled And never queen rode higher; Her cheeks were colored in the Held, .And our* before the Are." 1 * - il.- i 1 I 1IC1TJCK (leseriocs me Ii.li vest, miuiiof liis (lay, the earlier half of the seventeenth century, and chronicles the cheering virtue of the "all-templing friimentie," the "smirking wine" and the "stout heere" which llowed freely upon the occasion. A custom obtained at the close of harvest of " Crying the Mare," as it was called in Hertfordshire, the"Xack," as it was termed in Devonshire, "(Joohhir Uhacagh" or "the ('rippled (Joat," as it was named in the Isle of skye. The last handful of grain cut l?y a farmer who.got through his harin ti.nl im in !i liiimilti * *~*?" > ! , tricked out with ribbons and sent with some rude preliminary ceremonies t?> tardier 'neighbor who still had som* grain still standing. lie in turr when lie completed his harvest work passed it on to the nearest tardy one and so mi until all the grain being cut in a neighborhood it was time for liarj vest home. The last man holding the handful of grain, which constituted the Mare Xack or Goat, was esteemed a | sluggard all the year through. In Seotliiml this last handful received more honorable treatment. It was cut by the bonniest lass in the district, tied j up with ribbons and usually preserved I in the farmer's parlor l'nr the remainder of the year. The modern celebration of the inI gathering of the harvest is by no i means the rude festival of former days. The progress of the farmer socially is very well illustrated bv a comparison of the festivities mentioned above with the amusement resources provided for at a picnic next Tuesday. There is to be a band of music on the grounds, and fat men's races, sack races and a boat race on the Ohio river opposite the ground. Swings, flying horses, croquet, baseball and the like amusements will make glad and tired the young generation. Altogether, the farmer of to-day provides his family with a decidedly greater variety oi euju,yiuem.? in<m ins remote ancestor in the days when "the TI1E.FARM ANI) HOUSEHOLD. Diiftt lintlm for Poultry. Cleanliness' is most important in fowl-houses. Dry earth in the form of |*U?UL*I, SCclLLUlCU CVCi%> \Minw, ? ill cll?sorli the bad odor.s, giving a wholesome atmosphere to the hen-house, and at the same time preserve the manure in the least offensive condition. Besides these purposes, a box of dry earth should be in a convenient corner of every fowl-house for the fowls to roll in. Dust from the highway is most convenient, lleplace the same by ijn equal quantity of good gravel, and the public will be the gainer.? Live Nlock .Journal. Iluein . An English gardener, Mr. Barnes, of Devonshire, in giving an opinion of the importance of hoeing, said he " did not agree with those who say that one good weeding is worth two hoeings. 1 say, never weed any crop in which a hoe can be got between the plants, not so much for i!;e sake of destroying the weeds and vermin, which must necessarily be the case if the hoeing be done well, as for increasing the porosity of the soil to allow the water and air to penetrate freely through it." He adds: "1 am well convinced, by long and close practice, that oftentimes there is more benefit derived by crops from keeping thorn well hoed than there is from the manure applied. Weeds or no weeds, I still keep stirring the soil, well knowing from practice the very beneficial effects it lias." llnrroiriMff Wet Ground. Avoid harrowing the ground when wet. It is also of little benefit to work it when dried hard. The best time is between the two, when the ground will work lip easily and become mellow. Some soils require two harrowings at a time to get the desired effect. Use the harrow pretty freely rather than sparingly. If the land is to be stocked down sow the seed before the hist harrowing. "We must have a favorable jook so iar as me ury seasons are concerned. With the wet it is more difficult. Fortunately we are not much troubled with an excess of wet, our seasons in this respect being more favorable than the condition reported at Kothamsted. It is with dry weather that we have most to do, and this not to prevent the loss of nitrogen but of water; and the mulch of fine soil must be the means to accomplish this. A (iood Cow. The only way to raise a good cow is to choose a good calf, feed it well and judiciously, and feed it faithfully, and do not get weary in well doing. It is belli by some that a calf fed upon such food as stimulate milk secretion will be greatly intluenced in the formation of milk glands. Certain it is that milking traits are hereditary, and this can only be secured by breeding under the farmer's own supervision?selecting the fittest, and feeding to attain the end sought. By raising his own cows the farmer has two chances as against one where lie buys His rows, it lie tans in selecting a good cow it usually happens that it takes her body and the milk credit she has made to equal the purchase money, not counting the summer's labor in milking her or the keep. If the heifer fails the farmer turns her into beef; the funds received are added to capital stock, the actual conversion of so much grass, corn and hay into money.?Oh io Farmer. Selecting Si'ed Corn. The importance of sowing of planting good seed cannot w ell be over-estimated. The law of "Like produces Like," is forcibly illustrated in the case of corn. There are instances where a difference in the seed made all the difference between a paying and a losing crop. In selecting seed corn great care should be taken that it is the best. It is not always an easy matter to decide which are tlio best points. For example, some farmers may prefer two medium-sized ears instead of one large one upon a stalk. We are content with one good ear to the stalk, but it must be long, sound, well filled out, heavy, early ripened, and one that is husked with ease. We ask for only one such ear, anil it is asking enough of any single cornstalk. An equally good ear with a nubbin on the same stalk is not preferred. In the latter ease the product may revert to tin; poor ear, to which it is so closely related. The selection should be made while the stalks are standing, and, if necessary, give the chosen ears special advantages for early and perfect maturity bv removing the "suckers," or anything else that would * XI .1 11- 1.: 4.1. ^ 1 4 ucpnvc mi' HicUK ui niiiMii^ nit* urai growth. The stalk can be esisily marked 1 iv some straw or cloth tied around it. So soon .'is ripe the seed ears should lie husked and placed in a safe place. It is a good plan to hang them in bunches hv their husks to the ridge-pole of the corn-house, thus providing good and safe keeping for the corn. The C'urliiiK of liny. The New York Times says that as a rule we sun-dry our hay too much; we scorch it with a dry heat instead of curing it with a moist heat. By our common practice we drive out the essential oils of the hay; we bake it and reduce it to the condition of a dry chip, in which its delicate llavor and aroma are lucf. uolnliln liln?r i? rliiimri'il tn in digestible wood, and the tender Laves and honey-laden blossoms are dried until they are so brittle as to be reduced to powder and utterly lost. In this.regard we might learn something from the foreign fanners. Once upon a time a quantity of American hay was shipped to England as a speculation; hay was cheap here and scarce and dear there, but the bales of green, dry, crisp stalks, devoid of tender leaves and of all fragrance, were neglected and despised, and were brought back again for want of a purchaser at any price. Our practice need nut be described particularly, it is too weil, known ; hut it may be compared with that of the English, farmers, and some American farmers who make use of their system. The grass is cut and exposed for some hours to the sun and w;nd until, it is thoroughly wilted and freed from outside moisture. It is then raked and the same day put up into cocks about four feet in diameter and five feet high. These are carefully built so that they will shed considerable rain, but hay-caps are provided to secure the cocks from slight wetting. In this state the internal moisture, the sap of the hay, ferments and produces j considerable heat, which drives oil' the water in the grass and softens. and chemically changes the sub- j stance of the fiber. Smic oi tin; woody j liber is changed to starch, and sonic of the starch to sugar, and in fact the very same process is undergone as in the ripening of a fruit in which the indigestible wotxlv liber and the acid are changed into yellow and digestible pulp j and nutritious sugar. After a suflicicnt time, usually two or three days, the curing process is complete; hut four or live days, or even longer, will do no harm to the hay. Then when the whole crop has been cut and cured, the first cut is ready to be put away. The cocks are thrown over, the hay is aired for three or four hours, and is then carted to the barn or stack. There it undergoes a second heating, in which it becomes soft and sweet and full of that peculiar aroma which gives to butter made from it the same delicious ilavor which it gains from gniss in its best stage. Farm unci Garden Note*. Two or three-year-old cattle will add one-third of a pound more per day to their weight upon prepared hay and roots than upon the same materials un der available the plant food already in the soil, without itself supplying any significant amount. Liming cannot, therefore, be successfully repeated except at considerable intervals. Where potatoes are planted deep, as they should be, the soil must be worked correspondingly deep, and the manure well and deeply mixed with it. The seed lying on the cold, raw subsoil, will not do well. Working the soil so as to get a few inches of mellow, rich eartli below the seed is what is wanted. It appears from experiments that a heaping teaspoonful of paris green to twelve quarts of water is just as certain to destroy the potato beetle as a larger quantity; but one pound of the poison mixed with 100 pounds of plaster may be applied by the hand, as it is Droved bv repeated tests that no bad results follow taking it in the bare hand when mixed in those proportions. The plaster is worth to the crop all the labor expenses. More care is required to make line velvety lawns than is usually supposed. It is necessary to have plenty of rich loam, suilicien't well-rooted manure or fertilizer, and the best of seed. If the subsoil be sandy or gravelly, a greater depth of loam is needed, or- the bottom must be partially puddled with either clay or peat; if not, any manure or topdressing of any description soaks away and disappears entirely. Professor Bell, of the Michigan Agricultural college, says that the young tree must be treated very much like a hill of corn; therefore, raise hoed crops in a young orchard. lie also, like most intelligent horticulturists, says it is a good plan to keep young trees mulched, to prevent rapid evaporation from the soil, keep the surface mellow and prevent the soil from freezing and thawing in winter and, from becoming overheated in summer. In n&ny. respects grass culture has not kept pace with improvements in nth or br:inrhes. We are continuallv getting new plants, trees, new fruits, new vegetables, new grains, but a new j;rass is never thought of. "We have the same orchard grass, the same redtop, the same timothy that we had over a hundred years ago, and, so far as the drift of thought goes, we shall have the same grasses for a hundred years to come. And yet there is no reason that we can see why there should not be improved grasses as well as improvements in any other thing, and there doubtless would be if public attention was drawn to the matter as it should be. The time for trimming must con form to circumstances. A very light pruning must be performed at almost any time; but the removal of considerable portions of a tree after the buds have opened or while the tree ia growing, always checks its vigor. But if very thrifty it will do no harm to give it some check. Peach trees are less' checked than apples. Pruning apple orchards in summer is frequently recommended, because the wound dries and heals sooner, but if the trees aro not vorv vigorous it should be done sparingly. On the whole it is better to prune large branches late in winter and coat the wound when dry with paint, grafting wax or shellac in oil. Reclpcs. White Mountain Cake.?One cup of sugar, one-half cup of butter, onehalf cup of sweet milk, one-half cup of corn starch, one cup of flour, the whites of six eggs, a little vanilla, two teaspoonfuls of baking powder; bake in layers. Frosting for above: Take the whites of Ave eggs, twenty tablespoons sifted sugar beaten very light; a little vanilla. Spread between layers ' and outside of cake. Tomato Salad.?Take the skin, juice and seeds from nice, fresh tomatoes, chop what remains with, celery, and add a dressing made of two hardboiled eggs, rubbed line and smooth, one saltspoon of English mustard, the yolk of one raw egg beaten into the other. Add very best salad oil poured in by very small quantities, and beaten as long as the mixture continues to thicken, then add vinegar till as thin as desired. If not hot enough with mustard add a little cayenne pepper. . Black Coffee.?To make coffee srood it should never be boiled, but boiling water should be poured on it just the same as for tea. A great deal of the aroma of coffee is lost unless it has been freshly roasted, and one reason why Germans and Freneli excel in their coffee is simply because they roast each day sufficient for the day's needs. It should never be ground until it is wanted for use. To make excellent, strong, black coffee, allow one and a half ounces or one and a half tablespoonfuls of ground coffee for each person, and to every ounce of coffee allow one-third of a pint of boiling water. Warm and fiot Springs. The springs called thermal springs are found in all latitudes, at various elevations above the sea, and in most of the geological formations. The word thermal does not, however, denote a spring of any particular degree of temperature, and is far from signifying that the springs to which it is applied are all equally warm; for any spring is thermal, the water of which is warmer than the mean annual temperature of the place where it occurs. In the equatorial regions, where the mean annual temperature is about eighty degrees, a thermal spring should have a temperature of about eighty-live degrees, while in the northern parts of the earth, as, for example, at Yakutsk, in Siberia, where the year's temperature does not exceed thirteen degrel\s, it need be only a little above that. The waters of thermal springs maintain an equable temperature, and must therefore come out of depths in the earth at which the variations in the tempera I lire 01 T.11(* air l in? iiuiiiuK f. iit.~ cording to Uoiissingault, this depth in the tropics is only 21 little more than our or two-feet, hut between fortyeight decrees and lifty-two decrees of north latitude it is between sixty-six and ninety-three feet helow the surface. JJesides the springs that are called thermal, many springs are found the temperature of which exceeds the highest mean tciniieralure of the year, and j arc called warm springs. Samples arc* the .spring at Carlsbad, 107 degrees;, that of Wiesbaden. 158 degrees ; those of Haden-Haden, l-r?4 to 111 degrees, J etc. The depth from which the waters come may be approximately calculated by the rule that the temperature increases one degree for every ninety feet below the surface. Ilence the water of the bubbling spring at Carlsbad is supposed to come from a depth of 7,900 feet. I A third class of springs, the boiling springs, geysers or hot springs, whose temperature is near the boiling point of water, are peculiar in respect to the) places where they appear. They are I found only in volcanic regions; are nil-! merous in Iceland, where there are more than a hundred of them; on the North island of New Zealand, where they are most abundant, in the neighborhood of the Roto Mahada or Hot .in,l nivir flu. VelloWstoriP lilkp. the Fire-hole ami the Madison rivers, | in the region ol' the "Wind River moun-! tains, in the United States, where I some 800 of them are grouped within a certain well-delined area.?Popular Science Monthly. "I want a good match safe," the customer said. And the boy promptly dipped a box of matches into the water pail and handed them out. " There," he said, "You can't buy 'em any safer'n that in all America. Wouldn't A JUST RETRIBUTION. 1 A Wretch's Perflily and a Young Glrl'a Infatuation? A Plot \VhIch Was Partially Carried Oat. Early on the morning of July 6, 1878, a carriage drove up to the Parker house, in Boston, from which alighted j a young and handsome man.. He gazed about him for a moment and i then entered the coach. lie had hardly . seated himself when a young'girl, scarcely nineteen, with a face as purely , beautiful as a rose-blossom, approached i the vehicle and seated herself beside . the occupant within. The coach then proceeded on its way through the city, 1 until it reached a retired spot. Here ] it stopped, the two alighted and the ; driver was discharged. The girl was ; Kate Roberts, one of two daughters of a poor woman who at that moment lay dying of consumption in a room in the ] poorest section of Boston, and her \ companion was George Davis, a gam- \ bier. '< Along a path the two walked, and, \ sioppmg neiore wnat appeared a ] gloomy-looking mansion, the man ( knocked. The door was opened and . the two entered and were ushered into \ an ante-cluunher, where stood a woman j of harsh and forbidding features, and < beside her was a man who purported to be the officiating clergyman. lie ( opened some book, the ceremony was ] mumbled over in a strange indistinct , manner, the ring was placed on the , finger of the bride, the pair were pro- ! nounced man and wife, the book was closed, tucked under the man's arm. , who, receiving his fee, immediately (lis- , appeared, From State to State the 1 couple traveled, and the young wife soon discovered that her husband was ; a brute. In the spring of 1859 Davis took up his abode in Cuba, and his treatment of his wife at this time had become , more brutal than ever. Having established a gambling den in company with one Scares, in that part of Havana known as the Caldera, he began to prosper rapidly. A shoit time had elapsed when Davis' wife mysteriously disappeared, and, though numerous theories were advanced as to her whereabouts, no definite clew was obtained. Among the many rich planters residing in Havana was an old'Spanish gentleman named Angelos Rio. He 11ci/1. fu'n Vmoiiflfiil An lique and Isadora. The former was a perfect type of the Spanish beauty, with lustrous hair, and speaking, sparkling orbs that flashed like diamonds when reflecting the sun's rays. Angelique had met Davis and had fallen madly in love with the fellow. "When her fdther ascertained the fact he grew frantic with rage, but his action seemed only to spur the daughter on, until one morning Cuban society awoke to learn that the rich and beautiful Angelique had clandestinely married a gambler. As a revenge for the ingratitude of his daughter, Senor Rio disinherited her and willed his entire fortune to. his daughter Isadora. It was shortly after this that he died. Moved by sympathy for her sister, Isadora brought Angelique and her husband to the family mansion, where they continued to live in apparent happiness. Senor Varlville, the famed lawyer of Havana, sat one morning in his office, when Isadora, accompanied by her maid Mercita, entered, and, with a winning gentleness, informed him that she desired him to draw up a new will . for her, having decided, she said, to revoke all others. The lawyer turned to his desk, and, arranging his .papers, awaited the necessary instructions. Isadora, with a singular inflection of determination running through her tones, spoke as follows: " I, Isadora Rio, bequeath my entire estate, with ail my personal enecis, 10 my beloved sister, Mrs. Angelique Davis, of Havana, Cuba, making her sole executrix." The paper having been signed, witnessed and sealed, Isadora, in company with lier maid, left the office. The difference between this last will and the former was that in the former she had bequeathed two-thirds of her estate to lier sister and the remainder to Davis, besides making him one of her executors. She had satisfied herself that Davis was a villain at heart, though she kept the secret foolishly to herself. On the night of April 9, 1880, the servants in the Rio mansion -were startled by the report of a pistol, and, following the direction of the sound, rushed to Isadora's boudoir, where they found their mistress lying dead upon the lloor with blood flowing from a wound in the head. The police were notified and detectives began an immediate search for a clew to the assassin. Davis was found in his room ;ipparently asleep, but the whereabouts of Angelique were at the time unknown. The belief that she had met with foul play from the same source began to be entertained by many, while the officers were beginning to si pcct her of some complicity in the crime. In this condition of affairs she entered the room, her hair disheveled and her dress almost torn to shreds. When informed of what had occurred she fell into convulsions and would no sooner , return to consciousness than to again relapse into delirium. On the follow' ing morning she was arrested on the charge of murdering her sister. In her evidence at the trial she stated that on the previous night, while walking in the garden adjoining the manj sion, she was seized from behind by | some unknown person, and in struggling to free herself was felled insensible to the ground. Upon recovering ! consciousness she made her way to the 1 1 ' 'i'?" '"'irnoil r\f tlio mnrrlpr I j llOHSt', itlli I 1111" it iiutiiwi v/ i of her sister. I The fact was elicited that she had, Jon the night of the murder quarreled ? with her sister. This was an import[ ant link in the chain of direct evidence, I while the circumstantial evidence was I equally as important. Iler story of her 1 absence at the time of the murder was ( considered a weak fabrication. The pistol with which the murder was com- : j m it ted, and which was identified as be- , i longing to her, was found on the i veranda near where Isadora was mur- ( j dcred ; her handkerchief and neck-scarf ; lay in the garden, but a few yards from ! where the shot was fired; footprints ? ? +i,,. answering 1UTS weir lUimu in uir awm mold of the garden, and a pair of gaiters belonging to her were discovered hidden beneath some underbrush, t The evidence was overwhelming?so the jury thought; for, after a short absence, they returned a verdict of guilty. She was sentenced for life, and 1 taken from the court-room insensible Though regaining consciousness, it was only to enter into the delirium of brain ' fever. I Angelique lay -in the hospital ward, her death momentarily expected. Davis, as an executor in one of the wills i made, determined to expedite matters, and applied f?>r administration papers urimi?rtv of the murdered Isa dora. On the day that he made application .a detective accosted Davis, and, placing his hand upon his shoulder,said: * Davis, I have a warrant for your arrest on the charge of murdering Katie Davis and IsadoroRio." Davis treated the matter coolly, and walked quietly before the committing magistrate. When the judge had finished the charge, Counselor Vnrville arose and said: " Your honor, the charges will be fully substantiated. Besides, 1 will add," he continued, " I drew up for the murdered Isadoro Rio a will live weeks after the one on which this man claims right to the estate. At the proper time this, also, will be substantiated." On the day preceding the occurrence of tin; facts just narrated. Mercita, the ten by Lopez Soares, the former asso- - ^HH ciate of Davis. It stated that, believ- . ;~JHH ing he was.about to (lie from injuries received in a drunken brawl, he wished "jMHflj to state some facts regarding a crime which he partly abetted. After he and Davis had opened their . H gambling den he discovered that Davis r was accustomed to brutally beat his HHR wife. One evening the three took 9 sail. Davis, supposing Soares to be asleep, struck his wife insensible to the " * [leek, and in an instant had lifted the body and tossed it into the sea from the stern. A great wave grasped it, and it was seen no more. Soares glided from under the tarpaulin where he had been lying, and reached his bunk unseen. ' Presently Davis approached, and with apparent excitement stated that his wife had been washed overboard. . When Davis had succeeded in having - - himself made one of the executors of H the will, he, at the moment, determined . to rid himself of both sisters, and he selected Soares to assist him, allotting to him the part of abducting Angelique. "When Angelique was attacked m the night of the murder she resisted ^ 30 desperately that her assailant, fear- ? \ ing detection, abandoned his job and fled to Cienfuegos. The handkerchief, . 9|j jcarf, pistol and gaiters belonging to Angelique were placed in their differ- - ~ ?nt positions by Davis, in order that no link in the chain of circumstantial evi?' :lence might be wanting whereby An- |HH gelique might escape conviction as being the murderess. At the trial the evidence would be such as to convict her, and as a consequence he would fall into possession of the vast estates. His part of the bloody work was to make away with Isadora, and well he succeeded. With such facts ' as these in evidence, Davis* trial a few |^H months ago was of short duration, and, . upon a verdict of guilty being ren- . rlprpfl lie was spntenned for life to the quicksilver mines of Alameda, in Spain. In those mines every breath inhaled is poisonous. Eating ulcers, ' that bleed and fester, fasten upon the . unfortunate's flesh; eruptions and ma- ' V lignant sores cover the body. The hair . falls out; the jaws rot; the bones ' 9B| crumble, and the skin turns green. Ilere Davis was conveyed, a just retribution for his past^heinous crimes. An- JSq gelique, recovering from her sickness, ' ' was immediately liberated, and at once . took possession of her just rights, in company with her faithful maid, Mer- H Dr. A. E. Macdonald, superintendent of the asylum for the insane, situated H| on one of the islands adjacent to New York city, in a lecture on insanity, Many learned men have been endeavoring for a long time to settle just ? llcllf luoaiilby lJf OlIU 1U 4g UVW WV ?*VM y to say that they have not yet suoceeded. But if I cannot tell you just what insanity is I can tell you one or two things that it is not. Insanity is not a disease of the mind. The poet speaks of the "mind diseased," but the physician does not. The *'. mind is no more subject to disease than s is the soul to death. The disease is in the brain, as purely physical in itslocation and characteristics as disease of ' I I any other organ, and if the mind shows ' its presence and effects it is only because mind is the product of brain action, and an unhealthy organ must always give rise to disturbed action. Insanity is so diverse in its degrees and phases that it is hard to draw the line and say just where soundness of mind ends and unsoundness begins. In fact, it is a good deal a matter of majorities. We who call ourselves sane happen to lie in the majority just now, and ' we have set up our standard and looked up a number of people who fail to meet it. Their number is increasing all the ; time, and bv-and-bye, if it keeps on, they . will be in the majority, and then they will turn around and look us up. Between the men manifestly cf sound intellect and those confessedly insane, there are arrayed rank upon. . rank of those in whom p. defect, greater or less, is seen. In some there is unmistakably insanity, in others eccentricitv as we call it; in others again depravity. Many men of mark have been found in these ranks. Some have occupied thrones, like Charles IX. of France, George III. of England and Frederick II. of Prussia, and have imj>ressed upon the policy ot nations the '*1H stamp of their disease; others, like Mohammed and Kwedenborg, have colored with the delusions of insanity the tenets of refigious sects; and es pecially from among men of letters have these ranks been largely recruited. Johnson, Swift, Pope, Gray and "Wordsworth; Byron and Shelley; Cowper, Southey and Charles Lamb?in all there was either marked insanity or a close and . v* undeniable approach to it. ' ^jj^H The one great predisposing cause is the inheritance of a tendency toward insanity begotten in some defect in the - j^H ancestrv, not necessarily itself insanity, but possibly some other nervous disease, and possibly, too, intemperance. The immediate causes may be either . moral or phys/cal in their nature. Now we have come to look more for physi- . |H c;d causes. Of these intemperance and other vicious indulgences are the j most productive. ; v The simple rules of life which afford Bfl the best protection iron other diseases should be followed by those who would avoid this, tjie most terrible of H| all. The keynote of the whole is the remembrance that insanity is a physi- w |H cal disease, whence it follows that its ])revention must come tlirough atten- *|H tion to the general laws of health. Amber. The best pieces of amber are now taken in the rough by Armenian merchants to Constantinople, where they are carved and chased and polished by the hand of the engraver, as mouthpieces Tor pipes. In the pipe bazaar of tlie great Byzantine edifice?which contains mosques, fountains and a labyrinth of arcaded streets, each a separate bazaar?are hidden away. amber mouthpieces, of fabulous value, I in every shade of color, lustrous as |H crystal, and set with diamonds ana |H rubies. Sunuorted bv sculptured col unins, anil decorated with arabesques, ' tins dimly liglited city in the heart of Stamljoul is full of marvels and treasures. Through its narrow thoroughfares camels and carriages and horse ? Umir ivni omnnff n rlonco lllt'Il HUVC til VII M H?, UlUVMg M UVMWV throng of people of every nation and Hj type?Turks in muslin turbans, Per sians in pyramidal bonnets of Astra- SB khan fur, Hebrews in yellow coats, with Greeks, Armenians and running footmen in gorgeous liveries; and in . this shifting crowd are dignitaries of the court, who spend perhaps 50,000 francs on their pipe collections; and . IB harem ladies wrappe.l in long white veils, who come for gray amber, gold- |H embroidered bags of musk and sandalwood, and the sweet - scented gums ' made by the women of Ohio, -which are sold in the perfumery bazaar of this great oriental fair. Amber, l:ttle es- 19 teemed ;is it is at the present time in jH Europe, and although no longer the important source of wealth that it H once was, still has a place in the lux- B ury and religion of the East. H According 10 me nocnesier umvu a boy called at the side door of the resl- [fl dence of a gentleman of that city re- H cently and begged for something to eat. The servant said they had nothing. * "Give me only a piece of bread," said H the boy. A white terrier dog that had ? H stood beside the girl was momentarily missed, but quickly returned, bearing H in her mouth a large piece of bread fl that had been previously given her to. eat. The dog wen^directly up to