Beaufort Republican. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1871-1873, June 26, 1873, Image 1
i?
The Beaufort Republican.
? tr ,tm AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY NEWSPAPER, DEVOTED TO POLITICS, LITERATURE AND GENERAL INTELLIGENCE, OUR MOTTO IS?TRUTH WITHOUT FEAR.
;u?.irrf;L.^ci;:v,L . .
VOL. TIL NO. 38. BEAUFORT, S. C., THURSDAY, JUNE 26, 1873. {S&'&VSS:
U i VI i /n 1 i Ji ?? ?*
NEW SPRING GOODS.
Jas. C. BAILIE & BRO., '
T> Biracrmur ask tocr aitkn9
JtVion to th? following DRSIBABLE GOODS ofI
fered by them for sale: S
| Vi<- > ' ' 5
f ISGUIH A-\D A.MKRICAN FLOOR OIL -I
CLOTHS.
J ^
34 feet wid<^ end of the best quality of goods manufactured.
Do yeu want a real good Oil Cloth ? If
so, come now and get the very best. Oil Cloths out
any site and laid promptly. A fuB Sue of cheap I
FLOOR OIL CLOTHS, from ?c. a yard np. I Table.
cloths all widths and colors. ' ^
CARPETS.
Brussels, three-ply and ingrain Carpets of new designs.
A full stock of low-prioed earpets from} 80c. a
yard up.
Carpets measured for, made and laid with dispatch.
LACK CVRTAIN9.
French Tambourd Lace, " Exquisites."
Nottingham Lace, " Beautiful."
Tamboured Muslin, durable and cheap, from $2.80 ir
a pair and upwards. ' a<
CORNICKS AND BANDS.
Rosewood and Gilt, Plain Gilt, Walnut and Gilt
Cornices, with or without centres. t f
Curtain Bands, Pins and Loops, V
Cornices cut and made to At windows and pnt np.
WIS DOW SHADES.
r 1,000 Window Shades in all the new tints of color.
Beautiful Gold BaxV Shades, *1.60, with all trimmings.
Beautiful Shades 20c. each.
Store Window Shades any color and any size.
Window Shades squared and put up promptly. _
Walnut and painted wood Shades.
RUGS AND DOOR MATS. ^
New and beautiful Rugs. L
Door Mats, from 80o. up to the beat English Cocoa,
that wear three years.
100 sets Table Hats, assorted.
MATTINGS. j
New Matting, Plain and Fancy, in all the different
widths made.
Mattings laid with dispatqb.
WALL PAPERS AND BORDERS. V
3,000 Rolls Wall Papers and Borders in now pat- 1
terns, in gold, panels, hall, oaks, marbles, chintzes,
Ac., in every variety of colors? bouutiful, good and
cheap. Psper hung if desired.
HAtrt. CLOTHS
In all widths required lor Upholstering. Buttons, ?
Gimps and Tacks for lamb. * X
CURTAIN DAMASKS.
Plain and 8triped French Terrys for Curtains and
Upholstering purposes.
Gimps, Fringe, Tassels, Loops and Buttons.
Moreens and Table Damasks.
Curtains and lAmbraqulos made and pnt np.
' PIANO AND TABLE COVERS.
English Embroidered-Cloth and Piano Table Covers.
EmlioHurd Felt Piano and Tallin f!nvpr? F
Plain and gold band Flocked Piano Cover*.
German Fringed Table Coven.
CRUMB CLOTHS AND DRUGGETS.
New patterns In any size or width wanted. pi
To all of which we ask your attention. All work
done well and in season, by
James G. Bailie & Brothers,
AUGUSTA, GA.
apl-17-ly. ' '
H. M. Stuart, M. D.,
Corner of Bay and Eighth Streets, T
Beaufort, S. C.
nastM i* ? W
DRUGS AXD CHEMICALS,
FAMILYMEDJCIXqS,J J j ^ s 5
FAXCY AXD TOILET ARTICLES.
ST A TIOXER r. PERF UMER Y, J
BRUSHES, JtCs, <tc., <tc.
Together with many other articles too numerous
to mention. All of which will be sold at the lowest
price for cash. Physicians prescriptions carefull) _
ompounded. fob.ll. |
pierce l. mm,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELOR AT LAW. '
Solicitor Second Circuit. ci
t Beaufort, S. C.
BepU-ly. '
JERRY SAVAGE & CO., 1
Wheelwrights & Carpenters,
Carta, Wagons and Carriages repaired In tha beat ?
Banner at low price*. ?
All kinds of Jobbing promptly attended to. ft
MAGNOLIA St., 1
BEAUFOBT, S. C.
J. K. Goethe, M. D. A
Dr. Goethe offers hta professional services to the
public. He may be found at his residence,
(iame Hill, near VarnsTille, C
Beaufort Co., S. C.
Jan.l-ly. Ki
A. S. HITCHCOCK, n
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELOR AT LAW.
BOUNTY, PENSION AND CLAIM AGENT. _
BEAUFORT, 8. C.
Pec.l-yr.
YEMASSEE
Eating Saloon,
AT THK I
P. R. a s. \ r. R. r. jrvrTinx
The traveling public will hire find good rneali on
the arrival of trains. ANo accommodation! for man
and beast, near the depot. Q
B. T. SELLEIIS,
YEMA8SEE, S. C.
Nov.21-ly. '
?? Ol
W. H. CALVERT,
PRACTICAL
Tin, Sheet-Iron, Copper & Zinc Worker.
DEALER IK
Japanned and Stamped Tin Ware*. Constantly on C
band, Cooking, Parlor and Box Stoves.
TERMS CASH.
Thankful for past favors, and hoping by strict at- ?
tention to business in tb? future to merit your kind
favor.
W. H. CALVERT,
Bay St., between Stli and 9th Sts., ?
BEA UFORT, S. C.
Apl.3-ly.
CHARLESTON HOTEL,
CHARLESTON, S. C.
mch2g-ly E. H. JACKSOK. ~
Redeem Your Lands.
The Acts of Congress and the Regulations of the
Treasury Department in regard to the Redemption
of Landa now in the possession of ths United States n
by reason of the Direct Tax Commissioners sales can
be had at this office. Price ten tents. By mail fifteen
cents. 1
PAUL BRODIE,
^ TI CHIT EOT,
BEAUFORT, S.C.
} * * ' U A' "A' /
Drawings of Models prepared for Patent Office,
turtles for apodal purposes, made at abort notice.
OS 31, P. O. decl-ly
William' Gurney,
COTTON FACTOR
| ! AND
Commission Merchant,
NO. 102 EAST BAY
AND
FORTH ATLANTIC WHARF\
CHARLESTON, S. C.
Particular attention given to the sale of and shiplant
of Sea Island and Upland Cotton. Liberal
lvancce made on consignments. dec7-ly
JOHN BRODIE,
Jontractor & House Builder,
Jobbing Punctually Attended To.
OFFICE!
Corner Bay and Ninth Street, b;
BEAUFORT, S. V. B
flecl-tf ; | It]
PORT ROYATi to
!AW & PLANING MILL, 'j
Beaufort, S. C. '
< . - ui
D. C. WILSON & CO.,. "
' " Mivtri.cTUEEBs or and dealehs in Jj<
'ellow Pine Tito anil Lnmlier,a
AS D
CYPRESS SHIN6LEiSfr fo
AUJO,. ,
Guilders & Contractors. 88
re
dc
Plaster Lathes, in
MAj I INI) 8 or mi
JOB SAWING- W(
Promptly Don*. Il
ta
looring and Ceiling Boards Always d?
on Hand. "
m
Orders for Lumber and Timber by the cargo ttrl
omptly filled. Terms Cash.
D. C. WILSON & CO. te
nov28-ly w]
THE BEAUFORT H0R0L0GIST! *r,
P. M. WHITMAN, p
Vatchmaker and Engraver, Pl
Mayo's Building, Bay Street. ^
Will give hie personal attention to the repairing ol wc
ATCHES, CLOCKS and JEWELRY. Ornamental
id plain Engraving done at short notice.
Oentlemen having flue Watches can test them at m
is establishment by one of HOWARD k CO.'S nr
00 REGULATORS.
Having added to my stock one of J. BLISS k CO.'8 P?
te Transit Instruments, I am now prepared to fur?h
Beaufort time to the fraction of a second.
Alfred Williams, ??
rRIAL JUSTICE,"
Crofut's Building, br
BAY STREET, BEAUFORT, S. C. ae
N. B.T-Court will be held every Friday at Brick hi
lurch, St. Helena Island. mch26-ly
A. MARK, ~ S
lOOTMAKEB, ?
Bay Street, Beaufort, S. C. l!l
Having opened a shop upon Bay Street, I am prered
to do first-class work. "j?
mch20-ly A. MARK. Of
PURE WATER g
J -
UL
Guaranteed by the use of the
MERICAN DRIVEN WELL,:!
' Bi
Now being put down in thla County. They are sjj
kt
Jlioap and Dixrablo, ^
id give universal satisfaction. Pure Water can be "i
troduced into any house by the AMERICAN m(
fUVEN WELL in a few hours. Apply to tr<
SU
M. L. MA1TIE, Sea Island Hotel, or to CQ
E. G. NICHOLS, Permanent Agent.
feb27-?m
CO
S. MAYO, ?
BAY STREET, BEAUFORT, S. C., \][
HARDWARE, ?
w<
iquors, Segars and Tobacco, ^
Net Varns, Fish Lines d Cordage,
nc
flass, Paints and Oils.
White Lead and Turpentine. Ai
Special attention given to mixing Paints, and
im cut to order of my size. febll 811
M. POLLITZER,
tb
Cotton Factor fr
, ANL> BL
Commission Merchant, Bfl
BEAUFORT, S. C. ?r
iepti
tb
The Savannah Independent,
A FAMILY NEWSPAPER, n<
staMished on the chkap cash plan, at the low rate jj1
of only g
ONE DOLLAR A YEAR: p,
Addreee, iD
INDEPENDENT, ]|J
P. O. Box 888. Savannah, Qa.
W. G. CAPERS, "
Upholsterer and Repairer, 2
Ul
Old Furniture put In good order, Picture Frame*
tad*. Matt ranees stuffed at the shortest notice.
Corner Bay and Ninth Street*. h;
febl>-ly 01
Disappointed. ot
I thought, to-night, to see thy face,
And mourn not for the eun gone down ;
But now the shadow in his place Hangs
on my cheated heart its frown. ^
I could not doubt that thy dear voice ht
Would cheer me more than bird or lute? tb
How can my heart to-night rejoioe, ' wi
With bird and string and voice all mute ? tb
ol
The breath of June upon my cheek m
I bore, impatient for thy kiss; F
Hy fainting lips their anguish speak, p<
The sweeetnees of thy breath to miss.
Oh, why did thy sweet steps delay, ^
Sines bird and song and breeze are gone ?
Slichted for hope of thee, the day! v,.
Without thee night puts sackcloth on!
Were I away, thou ehouldst not chide I
One heedless moment of delay; ^
I seek my sunshine at thy side?
Thy voice my song, thy smile my day. _
OUR SCHOOLMISTRESS. 8?
Jt
An Kngllsh Story. ^
I am a middle-aged lady, living quite D
y myself in the little town of St. at
ridget's, where it happened, and I (4j
iow the whole story from beginning
> end, and the beginning was this: ed
J was paying a morning visit to dear wl
d Mrs. Ambrose, our vicar's wife,
hen the vicar himself marched into
te room with his wideawake on, and
id?" Bother!" aB
I will do him the justice to say that
3 took off his wideawake as soon as he ^
,w me, and met the requirements of ro
ie occasion by addressing me.
" Mrs. Action, here's a bother!" all
"What!" we exclaimed hurriedly,
r we Baw there was something Berious.
"That?that ' prig' of an inspector
ys we must have a certified mistress,"
plied the vicar; and then he sat v>wn,
and we all looked at each other
solemn silence for full three minutes. stl
A certified mistress at St Bridget's!
hat meant turning out the dear old
iman who had kept the school for the
st five-and-twentv years, and had en
ught our girls to hem and stitch and an,
trn so beautifully that they got places ^
work-women far and wide! And she "3*
id taught both girls and bovs the best
anners of any children in Southshire, lo<
id had trained them up to be honest,
od-fearing men and women, besides "
aching them some reading and ^
iting, and the first four rules of P*'
itbmetic. Nearly all the children
10 had stayed long enough at the J?
hool could read easy words in large "1]
int, and several of the clever ones
id been known to write out the Lord's ?
ayer from memory, and to say the lac
ultiplioation table quite perfectly. an
hat could anybody want more ? Wo
mder Mr. Ambrose called the in- J111
CUI/Ul U ? UttllCU illLU DUlllCbllXlJg ~~
uch worse, but as my thoughts were ?e
it put into words they need not be reiated.
'1C
" Oh, dear! dear!" cried Mrs. Amose,
as the full meaning of the in- "r
ector's decision broke upon her; no
what shall we do ? Poor Mrs. Todns
will break her heart." na
There was nb little difficulty in sw
curing the certified mistress. ?n
" I'll write to Dobson," said Mr. Am- *18
ose to his wife. "r
And he wrote to Mr. Dobson the
it morning as soon as he went into 11
s study. 8a
Mr. Dobson was the principal of the 8a
eat training college at Hatlev, and an
il friend of the vicar'B, so lie might an
st as well have written to him sooner, ml
ily none of us think of all the right "e
ings to be doue just at the right time. "e
" If you want a mistress, offer seventy do
mndB," said the principal by return
post. J}11
And the vicar did offer seventy I11
lunds, though where the money was frc
come from I could not tell, and I P<
in't think he could either. 1?^
Back came another letter from Mr. 8V
obson, to say that he had a mistress ml
10 had just finished training?a
dow; exactly the person to suit St.
ridget's, anil she would accept the Pe
nation on certain conditions. I don't inl
low what the conditions were, except
at her evenings were to be at her own sa
sposal, only I know tiiat it seemed to uo
a very odd to Lear of the 6choolmis28s
making conditions, and accepting Pe
ch an enormous salary, as if she were wn
nferring a favor. an
The vicar said it was the result of 10
mpetition, the supply not being equal aB
the demand ; but I thought it might yv
i indirectly referred to strikes and '01
lions, though I did not exactly see
>w; but when there are so many
eadful things going on in the couu- m.
p, they work into each other in a
mderful manner. an
" It is a comfort that we are to have a t0(
(low," I remarked to Mr. Ambrose ;
she will be staid and respectable, and
?t such a responsibility as a young f'1
rl." . bu
" Oh, I don't know," sighed Mrs.
mbrose piteously; "I think I would
ther have a young person, even if Pr
e did wear chignons and feathers. 1 (
idows are so Pe
She stopped suddenly, remembering 8?
at I was a widow, and went on to a
eBh sentence ; but I wondered what ar(
ie was going to say.
"I know I shall be afraid of her," she BP
id. "And she is going to play the cr^
gan and manage the choir ; she will
s sure to want her own way in every- wi
ing, and it won't be nice and comfort- P1(
>le as it used to be. And then, my
?ar, she is certain to be quite young ; J
i middle-aced Derson would have taken J?
i6 trouble to train herself, even if she
wl the cleverness, which isn't likely. 1
epend upon it, she will be young and
retty, and all the shopmen will be fall- ca
g in love with her, and people will aD
,1k scandal, and there will be unpleas- .
itnesB." r ?('
??I don't see that it follows," I said an
kther sharplv ; but I did not like the
ay she spoke of widows. It is very
id; but women whose husbands are bi
ive always give themselves airs about in
s_ J think it is because they are jeal- th
as of 0" power of marrying again, fo
a Ting, M ^ were, two chances to their ve
ae; at least, I cannot discover any h?
;her reason, but, of course, there may
3 one that I don't know of. .
*******
In a fortnight Mrs. Henry arrived.
> was a long journey from Hatley to
L Bridget's, and the last four miles
id to bo done by road, in an omnibus
lat jolted a good deal, so that people
ere apt to be tired when they reached
is town. Mr. Ambrose, like the courtly
d gentleman he was, went down to
eet the new mistress at th6 Silver
ish, where the omnibus always stopid.
"Now they are coming," cried the
>or lady, as we heard the garden door
>en. "I sha'nt know what to say to
>r, Mrs. Acton ; I wish I hadn't asked
sr to come."
"It's no matter, for the vicar is alone,"
replied, looking out of the window,
lience I could see that gentleman raply
approaching the house.
He came straight into us* but his face
Dre an expression of dismay.
"Well?" we cried as he entered; then,
eing his face, his wife exclaimed, "O
istin, what is it ? Is she so very bad ?"
"Bad!" cried the vicar, standing in
^ '*TTTLnA Annl/?
JUL UI un, TT 11Ub i,iio iuvacuo wuiu
odson send her here for ? I wrote for
schoolmistress, didn't I, Mrs. Acton ?"
"I believe so," I replied meekly;
lasn't he sent one ?"
"Oh, do tell us what she is," entreat1
Mrs. Ambrose, wringing her little
jite fingers. "Do tell us what she is."
"My dear, she is a lady," said the
car; and then he sat down and looked
us, and we looked at him.
For a few moments we were too much
tonished to speak.
"A ladv! what shall we do with her ?"
sped Mrs. Ambrose presently, as all
e social complications of the position
Be before her. *
"That's the bother of it; I foresee
! sorts of difficulties," sighed the vicar;
>ut it can't be helped, and," he added,
ightening, "perhaps otherpeople won t
id it out if we don't tell them."
"How is she dressed ?" I asked eager"All
in black, looking small and
aight. somehow."
"Is she pretty ?"
"No."
"Then they won't find her out," I said
lphatically. "If a woman isn't pretty
d well dressed, and does not call herIf
a lady, she will only be found out
her own class."
"How can you know ?" said the vicar,
iking at mo.
"Never mind how?I do know; and
we and Mrs. Henry are wise enough
keep our own counsel and our own
ices, it will be all right."
"But won't she expect to be treated
a lady?asked to dinner and all
at ?" asked Mrs. Ambrose doubtfully.
"I think not," said the vicar; "and
?.v.o .inoo mo A?n1 heln it. Tf she is a
ly, she will recognize her position
d accept it"
I could not tell how.old she wm. She
glit have been thirty ; Bhe might have
en five-and-forty. I used to watch
r for half-hours at a time to try and
ttle the question to my own satisfac?n,
but I was always puzzled.
But she showed her authority at the
st sign of disobedience. There was
threatening, no talking about how
e would punish them if they were
ughty, but- the punishment came
if tly on the commission of the offence,
d in less than a month she had eBtabhed
such discipline as had never been
earned of under the old rule.
And she taught them so wonderfully,
lsed to listen in amazement while she
ve the lessons, and the children ben
to improve rapidly, .
We used to wonder, Mrs. Ambrose
d I, what Mrs. Henry did in the events.
Her dress was so simple that
edlework for herself could not occupy
r time ; yet she was seldom out of
ors, even in the sweet summer events,
until it was almost dark, and
en she used to walk up and down the
tie garden that divided her house
>ra the school for an hour at a time,
ire for the sake of exercise than enp-meut,
it would seem by the rapid
>ady pace at which she moved. One
?ht, when I was coming home late, I
>pped and spoke to her.
" You walk late, Mrs. Henry ; but
rliaps it is the pleasantcBt time dur?
the hot weather."
" It is the cheapest, Mrs. Acton. It
res an hour of daylight to come out
w instead of earlier."
It struck mo all of a heap, as the
ople say, to hear this woman, who
is earning seventy pounds perannum,
d appeared to have no one but herself
caro for, ^alk of "saving daylight"
if the cost of a candle were someing
to bq^avoided. I felt very sorry
r lier. I don't Know wny it came
er mc all at once, as it did, that her
e was a very hard one. But I put
7 wrinkled old hand on the little firm
lite fingers which rested on the gate,
d said?" My dear you must not work
> hard."
I was frightened when I had done it.
le was so self-possessed and reserved,
at I thought she would be angry ;
it, instead of that, the steady little
igers began to tremble and twined
emselves round mine with a clinging
asp, and then I found she was crying,
lidn't say a word more to her. When
ople are as old' as I am, and hare
ne through a great deal of trouble,
ey know what poor weak things words
e, and how often thcv do more harm
an good. So I held her hand without
eaking, and presently she stopped
"Sometimes-I feel so lonely," she
lispered, " and you are so kind ;
ease forget it, Mrs. Acton."
"Yes," for I quite understand her.
But is not your life too hard? Can't
u let an old woman help you, my
ar ?"
She took my band, and kissed it.
" No, it is not too hard, and no one
n help me ; but it will be easier by
d by. Good night.
And then she slipped away, as if
raid of saying more, and I went home
d thought my thoughts in silence.
*******
St. 'Bridget's was all alive, for the
shop was coming to hold a visitation
the town. No bishop had ever come
ere before within the memory of man;
r the last one had been old and ill for
tars before his death, and the shepsrds
of those days had not thought it
needful to go about among their flocks c
so much as is considered right in the c
present time, and sheep living, in re- \
mote towns had to make long journeys
when they attended Episcopal gather- j
ings. . r
But that was all to be changed under I
the new reign ; for our bishop was not
only a great scholar and a great divine, '
but a strong man also, who would go
into every.corner of his diocese, and see
with his own eves how matters were E
going on. He had only filled the throne E
for two years, and this was his primary *
visitation, and it was to be held in I
twelve towns instead of two.
St. Bridget's was one among the E
twelve, and Mrs. Ambrose had been v
thinking about her luncheon for weeks, a
when it occurred to the vicar that the ^
bishop might find it convenient to sleep d
at St. Bridget's for anight either before 0
or after the vesitation.
He was asked, and accepted by return v
of post. He would be glad to stay at t
St. Bridget's vicarage on the niglit of
the 26th, which was the date of the i
visitation.
* Mrs. Ambrose was delighted with the *
honor, but bewildered with the responsibility
; and we had many consulta- ^
tions about his lordshin's comfort, and
the proper mode of entertaining him,
and were very nervous lest something ^
had been omitted or forgotten at the d
last moment. c
But when he came, we forgot our
anxiety; he was so pleasant and genial, 1
and took everything so easily, that !
I thought he was much less formidable
than hit chaplain?a dignified personage
?who seemed oppressed by the dignity 8
of his office.
It all went off nicely : the luncheon 8
was charming ; the bishop affable, the .
clergy in full attendance. Only one ;
disappointment occurred.
Our singing in church was not up to
the mark. Mrs. Henry's voice was not j
heard once during the service ; and at ?
luncheon some of the visitors noticed L
the Omission. 1
41 Have you lost your lovely contralto,
Mrs. Ambrose," inquired -the rural c
dean ; 441 did not hear her to-day." .
44 Oh, no, our mistress is still with !'
us. I don't know why she did not sing; '
perhaps she has a cold," replied Mrs. j
Ambrose. ?
Then the conversation drifted into ,
educational channels, and Mrs. Henry ?
was forgotten. f
But I knew that she had not a cold, j
I had heard her singing magnificently, E
as I passed the church when the choir
were practicing an hour before service, j
and her silence puzzled me.
Presently the bishop's courteous voice
was heard saying: 441 hear your school a
is doing remarkably well, Mrs. Am- j
brose; will you take me to see it pres- _
ently?"
44Certainly, my lord."
And as Boon as the general gathering
had dispersed, Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose s
and myself accompanied tho bishop to a
the school-house. Neither the chaplain c
nor the rural dean came with us, for t
which we were afterwards thankful. I e
entered with the vicar, the bishop hav- I
ing lingered a moment at the door with o
Mrs. Ambrose to admire the view of the ?
Southsiro Wolds, with the sea glitter- e
ing beyond them in the distance. e
44 Here is the bishop come to see the b
school, Mrs. Henry," said the vicar n
bianuiy.
As he spoke, he glanced round the u
room, to see that all was in order. I,
not thinking of the school, was looking j"
at Mrs. Henry. She flushed crimson, and
then turned white to the lips. With
a hasty movement, she passed round to *
the other side of the great black board
on which she had been drawing a map, *
and the strango thought came into my "
head : "Is she trying to conceal her- "
self ?" 1
But the bishop was in the school by j,
this time, and the children stood at attention,
and stared at his apron and silk T
stockings with round-eyed amazement.
He turned to the mistress with a civil -v
littlo speech of congratulation. Half- t
hidden behind the board, she swept a ^
courtesy, but did not raise her eyes;
and the lower part of her face was covered,
as if accidentally, by her handkerchief.
His lordship walked about
among the children, and the Ambroses c
were delighted ; but ever as he moved,
Mrs. Henry kept behind him. ?
" Would you like to hear them sing, jj
my lord ?" inquired _ Mrs. Ambrose
i cheerfully. t
What could the bishop do but say
that he Bhould like it ? a
" A short song, please Mrs. Henry,"
said the vicar, as he ranged up to the j]
fireplace, where the bishop stood with
his hands behind him.
Mrs. Henry, still on the other side of '
the great black board, made a sign to j
the children, who put their hands be1,1'r.j
(L.im Horo trprA nuiet as usual.
mum. tuvm. -l , , c
but they were trembling. The song |.
begun : only some common school mel- ; ^
ody, but it startled the bishop.
" God bless me!" ho cried hurriedly, J
stepping forward, and looking round t
the blaok board.
Mrs. Henry had not sung ten notes.
Once started, the children went on by
themselves, and her voice was silent;
but the bishop had heard enough.
Straight round the black board ho
went with long eager strides, and in another
minute he had hiB hands on Mrs.
Henry's shoulders, forcing her to look ,
up. t
" I knew it," he said emphatically,
while Mrs. Ambrose and I and the vicar j
stared, and the children Bang on
noisily. r
He was holding her hand in both of ^
his now, as if he never meant to let it r
go again. . r
" My lord, you forget J" she said, trying
to escape. r
" Hester Murray, I remember /" was
all he said, but her eyes sank, and the T
<?nlnr KAm? flushinor over her face. Not- ?
withstanding the quaint cap and hide- [
ons gown, she looked beautiful then.
Mr. Ambrose came to his senses first, D
and covered the situation. Luckily B
the children had not heard a word. c
"My lord, I should like to have your ,
opinion on enlarging the school. We G
think of throwing out a class-room over
there." r\
And he pointed vaguely to the other
end, while all the children turned their C
heads in the direction indicated, and t
kept them there while the vicar talked (
in for three minutes abont alterations
if which I had never before heard a
Ford nor have I since.
" Ah," replied the bishop in a comlosed
voice, " if you want more accoinaodation,
it will be best gained there,
low does.it look outside ?"
And, followed by Mr. Ambrose, he
rent through the door, and I ventured
o look at Mrs. Henry.
She was standing in her place, and
aaking the children form classes as if
lothing had happened. Her face berayed
no sign of emotion; and when
took Mrs. Ambrose's arm and wished
ter good afternoon, she replied in her
isual voice. The little scene we had
ritnessed might have been a dream for
.11 traces it left behind. I got Mrs.
Lmbrose ont, and was thankful that the
loor closed behind ns before she made
. remark.
" My dear, what does it mean ?" she
rhispered nervously, as we stood in
he yard.
"Nevermind; only don't talk about
t," I replied in the same voice ; for the
lishop and the vicar were coming round
he corner.
"I think you dine at seven, Mr.
Lmbrose ?" said his lordship serenely.
"Yes, my lord."
n?mi T ?11 i-V- _ J
1 lieu x win banc a uubto ovivu* a
iave hardly had enough walking toiay,
and I should like to see a little
if your beautiful neighborhood."
Without another word we marched
ray down the hill, and a few minutes
ater we saw his shovel hat going along
he field pathway to the river.
We three went home in silence; bnt
a we parted at the vicarage gate, Mr.
Lmbrose said; " We always knew that
he was a lady."
" O, my dear Justin, I had forgotten
hat," exclaimed his wife, in a relieved
one. " Then you don't think it tinyhing
improper?"
Heaven knows what terrible things
he poor lady had been imagining durng
our silent walk; bat the vicar's
inging laugh swept them all away.
"Improper! No. It's all right, of
ourse; only it's no business of ours."
That was quite true; but nevertheess
I could not help thinking of it all
he time I was having my tea, and while
was dressing for dinner; for of course
was going to meet the bishop. And I
hought of it again later; for as my fly
tassed the school-house door, the
(ishop, who had evidently returned
romhis walk, was coming out of it, and
heard him say: 111 shall see you toaorrow
morning, Hester."
"Don't; you had better not," replied
Irs. Henry s voice.
"Nonsense," said the bishop.
And I privately believe that he ran
U the way to the ticarage; for he was
here before I was, and only kept us
raiting five minutes for dinner.
*******
Two months later her majesty's inpector
came to examine our school;
nd to his astonishment and onr glorifiation,
every child presented passed
riumphantly. We had reckoned on
ighty per cent.; we got a hundred.
Jut trouble was coming upon us, and
ur triumph was short-lived. One day
Irs. Henry came to the vicar, and gave
lotice that she must leave in three
aontlis. In vain he entreated her to
tay ; offered to raise her salary; to do
nything, in short, if she would only
emain. But she merely smiled anil
dhered to her determination.
Tiiow tflld mft almost with tears in
heir eyes, and I said: "It's all the
lishop."
At which they laughed ; but I knew
was right. I had seen, if they hadn't,
hat a change had come over our misress
since the visitation. She was
inppier, more at rest; the look of
trained weariness, so habitual to her
ace before, was gone now, and little
miles used to come rippling over the
ips that once were set so firm.
I was very sorry to lose her ; but I
ras sure she was going to be happier
way from St. Bridget's. And the evenng
before she left us, when I went
o say good-by, she took hold of my
and and kissed it, and told me all her
tory.
Her real name was Mrs. Henry Champeys.
Her husband, a captain in the
-th regiment, had been killed by acident
in the hunting field ; thus the
rice of his commission was lost, and
he found heavy debts, of which she
ad known nothing?debts which she
uglit never to have known at all?ready
o swallow up the little money they had
aft. Her own settlement of a hundred
year was all she had to depend upon,
nd there were two children?bright,
andsome boys?to educate and proido
for. So she put them to school,
nd went into training for a certificate ;
:ot it without difficulty, and camo to St
Bridget's.
" And I had to save every penny, and
ie very careful, or the dear boys would
iave suffered," shesaid ; "for I wanted
o provide for the future. It was very
lard work, and very lonely. I used to
rrite stories in the evening, and some-,
imes the magazines would take them,
ometimes not; but it was my only
liance of getting more money."
" My dear, my poor dear, how could
ou do it all ?" I cried, while the tears
an down my face.
" It was not so very bad, as I had
lot been used to a very happy life."
I don't know anything about Captain
lhampneys ; but I was sure he was a
>rnte after that little speech.
" But now are you going to be hap?y?"
I asked.
"Yes, I hopo so," she whispered
tutting her arms round my neck. " I
;new him years ago, before I was maried,
and?and?he says he never forgot
_ If
Q6.
" Of course not. How could he ?" I
eplied, and kissed her again.
" When I am gone, and it is over, (T
rill send you a newspaper,) will you tell
Ur. and Mrs. Ambrose all about it?
hey have been so kind ?"
I promised to do what she wished,
rnd with another kiss on her little face,
ind a glance at the shabby dress and
[uaint cap whioh I should never see
igain, I went home, and the next day
he was gone.
In four days a Timet arrived by post.
The following was marked:
" On the 23d, at St. John's Church,
Jeorge street, the Bishop of Southahire
o Hester, widow of the late Captain
Jhampneys."
I took it up to the vicarage, and said:
"I told jou it tu all the bishop."
" What do you mean, Mrs. Acton, eh
Our bishop married t Who is she, I
wonder ?"
"She teat Mrs. Henry," I replied,
calmly.
" Who ?" cried the vicar.
"Mrs. Henry?our schoolmistress."
And then I gave her message, and
told them all about it.
"Mind, we must say nothirg," said
Mr. Ambrose. "It is their secret, not
ours."
To which we assented, and therefor*
it is that no one has known the rights
of the story till now, though it happened
full six months ago.
A Remedy for Rhenmatism.
It has long been commonly believed
that the water in which unpeeled potatoes
have been boiled is poisonous. It
is now said to have been disoovered that
this poison, like many others, possesses
certain remedial properties.
The disease for which it is particularly
recommended is rheumatism, aDd
there is some evidence which goes to
show that the belief in its efficacy is not
wilhont beneficial effect.
A laborer, while in a state of perspiration,
a few days ago, became chilled by
a sadden fall of rain. This bronght on
an attack of rheumatism, which made
him so lame that he was quite unable
to pursue his usual avocation. The
g>tato water was recommended to him.
e tried it in the evening, and much to
his surprise, found himself on the following
morning as well aa usual. He
believed the result was attributable to
the use of the potato water.
Another case was that of a man who
had been drenched by exposure to a
cold storm. The second day afterward
he was seized with sharp pains of almost
unbearable severity, and indicative
of inflammatory rheumatism. He
used the potato water, and experienced
immediate relief from intense suffering.
This remedy should bp used only externally.
The potatoes should be boiled
with the skins on, and the water applied
as hot as it can be borne, to the part
affected, by rubbing. Of course we
know nothing as to whether it would
produce any such effect in other cases '
as it seems to have had in these two.
Carrying a raw potato in the pocket
has a similar effect. Many very serious
cases of rheumatism have been effectually
cured by this very simple
thing.
Beauty of Chinese Bridges.
Somo of the bridges in China are of
extraordinary beauty and magnificence.
There is one near Pekin built entirely
of white marble, elaborately ornament- ed.
Others are found over the canals
of still greater magnificence and with a
grand triumphal arch at each end ; and
some, instead of being built with arches,
are flat from one side of the canal to the
other, marble flags of great length being
laid on piers so narrow and airy that the
bridge looks as if it were suspended in
the air. From the amazing facilities
"?J-J *? nnmowMi. rainnlii for
imurueu uj mo
transportation of goods by water, these
bridges do not require to be built of
great strength, for only foot-passengers ?
use the bridges, which is the reason
they are of such an elegant and fanciful
construction. These bridges are built
with a number of arches, the central
arch being about forty feet wide, and
high enough for vessels to pass without
striking their masts. The great elevation
of these bridges renders steps necessary.
They resemble, in this respect,
the old bridges of Venice, on which you
ascend by steps on one side, and descend
on tne other in the same way.
Chain bridges were not made in this
country for more than eighteen centuries
after they were known and used in
China.
Action Respecting Forests.
A very important bill was introduced
into the last U. S. Congress by Mr.
Haldemon, of Pennsylvania, and has
now become a law. It provides that
every future sale of government land
shall be with the condition that at least
ten per cent, of the timbered land shall
be kept perpetually as woodland ; and
if the land be not timbered, then the
natpiifc is to be issued on the condition
that ten per cent, of the quantity is to
be planted with forest trees within ten
years, and kept forever as woodland.
If this be done, an abatement of fifty
per cent, is to be made on account of
the expense of the planting. A violation
of this agreement is to be met bj
the forfeiture of the land. It is also
proposed that any one who may wish
to acquire title to the public land, under
the homestead act, can do so by proof
of the fact that he has had, at the end
of three years after taking possession, at
least one acre under cultivation with
timber for two years, and that this shall
be continued until one acre in every ten
is planted with trees, in clusters not
+V.an airtaon fflat floart.
XUVIO kuuu A _
Bad Shots.
A California correspondent from the
lava beds says it is no disparagement to
the soldier to say, " As a rule, they are
not good shots," for such is the fact.
This, I take it, is owing to two causes :
First, they are not drilled enough at
taigeirshooting; Second, the guns all
shoot too high and wide, especially
after being fired a number of rounds. I
think I am a pretty good shot with a
rifle or a six-shooter; but I know a
Modoc would be tolerably safe before
me with an army gun?either carbine or
Springfield musket. I have tried them,
and, while you can shoot fast and at a
long distanoe, they will not do for target
work; and that is just what shooting
at Modocs is?and a very small tar- get
they are, too, generally speaking.
The safety of our men during the late
fight was owing, in 9 great measure, to
the fact that the guns used by the Modocs
were those captured in the fight of
the 17th of January, and almost invariably
they shot over their mark.