Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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Tm4 evrtsmel Mnsrte at th_ae f 5 THlE FERALDI is renusnEI) PBolumn adfortiefnen ttD per&EtuatOTe. EVERY WEDNESDA lit feetigs,obitusdt es EVEY EDNSDY O1~IN,of respect, sante rates per square as Odnt At Newberry C. I., adetiisements Speia ntiesin local solumn 20 cents By Thos. F. & R. H. GPenckor . ie ennon ad wih he mum her of inlsertionls will b-e kept in ti tforbia Editors and Propricors. and charged acerdingly. Special contrabts ni-tde with Iarge a'dwr . K ee 6---- ~ tiser., with liberal deductions on above rates. Invariably in Advance. -- - -F- - --x. w t Tt paper is stopped at the expiration of nT with Nesns and Dlqpeh; time for which it is paid. 1 VII.WEDNESDAYTMORNING, FEBRUARY 1 The :, mark denotes expiration of sub- l eIi -riptio-. - - - ---__.. ....___r_- :_____n_n___n__N a ms_of_D_DISh W o m en LOOKING UNDER THE BED. It is the babit of many persons to take a look urder the bed be fore retiring for the night. Mrs. Evergreen, my beloved wife, i: -dulges, if indulgence it -an be called, in this peculiar practice. I have often remarked to Mrs. Ecergreen, when I have seen her pt*ying under-the bed, ti ,-t it was a silly habit, and that the sooner she gave it up the better. To this.-. gentle admonition my bet -ter-half invariably rejoins: '"La, Evergreen! what harm 'does it do? It's a kind of satisfac ticxi to know that nobody's under there, and then I don't think of -sucl.a.ho:rible thing after I'm in -bed #' - "I think, my dear, vou might just-as well pursue your investiga tions further and look in the bu reau drawers and the clothes bas ket." "Ecergreen," she will rejoin, "didt-nntion the idea, or I shall erttinly do so. Come to think of it, a man could very easily get int.the clothes-basket!" cCertailily he could, my dear, quite easily as Falstaff. You should certainly inchide the clothes-bas ket, and by-the-by there's the chimney: w.hv not look up that as well ?' "s ow, Evergreen, you're laugh ing-at me.. But I can't leave off the habit, and I never will. It's a comfort for me to know that there's nothin; wrong about it, and I don't see why you should deprive me of it." So under the bed goes the can dle, and, no signs of hu:nanity be ing diseovered; Mrs. Evergreen is able to re;pose in peacee. If it were not for inereasing this mental idioeracy on the part of-Mrs. Evergreen. by giving her some good reason to apprehend danger, I should relatte to her what I am aboit to lay beo,re the read 'er. In this n:rration, therefore. I ask the public most particularly to bear in miiid that Mrs. Ever green is slightly superstitio0f: and that what I lave ti s:V mnst un 'i6rd no circum=talccS be imparted to the lady. If for two and twen ty Z ears (that is the period of our %wed.ied life. an'l happy years have they been)-if, I say, I have for this long period refrained from ~imparting the matter to the be 11oved sharer of my jovs and par -taker of my sorrows. surely thc .public w;ii! keep mine. I was not bad looking when I -was in my twenties. I think 1 :-may go further, and confidently .say that "Gus Evergreen" was o -decided favorite among the girls .of' Oakville, and I really believed that I could have had any of them -for the asking." As I before re marked, Mr-s. Evergreen is not -presenit, and I indulge my thoughts :somnewhat more freely than would otherwise be the ease. Fred Evans, who had been my -chum at school, catme to make me a visit at Oak ville for "a day or two," as lhe said, when lhe camne; but he made a week or twvo easily -enough after I'd taken him about a little among the "young ladies." When that time had expired Fred said he really must-go, as he didn't know what his father and mother woeld think of his long absence; but it ended in his relieving their anxiety by a letter and sending for his trunks. I knew how the matter was perfectly well, andi that Belle Bronson had bewitched him out of his five senses. Fred tried to put it on to the "country air and the quiet which was bene fitting his health, ete." but it was no us' trying to deceive me, and I told him so. Then lie owned up frankly, arid I promised to help him all I could ; if he required any help in-the prosecution of his suit. She had a larger share of beaux than the other girls, but all their attentions came to nothing. I feared it might be so with Evans, and warned him accordingly-; but Fred said that "without her, life *was naught to him." Things went on in this way without any definite result until Fred received *a sudden summons home ou ac count of his mother's illness. When -he came back to renew his visit he insisted upon staying at the Oakvrlle hotel.rather than wear out his w :lcomc at our house; and finding remonstrance unavail mng, there he went. The iandlbrd gave Fred, at my suggestion, his best bedroom, "No. 20"-I am par ticular in mentiomng the number. "IIe shall have No. 20," said Down bury. "Any friend of yours, Mas ter Augustus, shall have the best room I have to give as long's I'm landlord." Belle Bronson, because of the sudden arrival at her house of some country cousins, was obliged to give up her room--her mother's cottage being a small one-and to occupy for a single night a room at the hotel. We would cheer. fully have offered her guests ac commodation at our house, but we were in a similar predicament. An agricultural fair had brought many strangers into the place, and our own guests were so numerous that I had given up my room to two of them, and had intended asking Fred Evans to let' me pass the night with him. For this purpose I went to the hotel at a late hour, and proceeded at once to Fred's room, but to my surprise f'und no o c there. I did not even notice that his trunk was gone, or suspect the fact, which afterwards became appa rent, that "to oblige some lady guests for this night only," as ,he landlord expressed it, Fred had consented to give up "No. 20" and occupy a small room in the rear of the building. The gas being turned tip I took a book to await his return, and hearing at last what appeared to be steps ap proaching; the room, and supposing it to be Fred, in a morntary inl pulse to play a joke upon him I slipped un<ier the bed, a large and high one, intending to imitate a a cat as soon as ie entered the room. The door opened, and I was un the point of' indulging in my ventrioqual faculty by giving a long-drawn miew. when from my hiding-place I beheld Belle Bron son take quiet possession of the apartment. My aston"iincent was so great, and the s-nse of mortification so intense, that I did :.ot. as I sh!ould have done, make mysclf immedi ately known to her. Thus the opportunity for discovery and ex planation was lost. I dare not move a hair, but hoped sincerely that some excuse mighlt take her out of the r'oom for a moment, and so facilitate my escape. Shre. however,!locked the door'.r'emovedl tie key and, as I knewv by tie sound, prepared to r'etire. Finally she kneeled dowvn beside the bed, ad clasping her hands arnd bow. ing her head (so fearfully near tc mine that I cor'ld hear the soft wods in my very car', she offer'ed up her eveining pc?ayer in a mnan~ nr so full of feeling, and with such sweet accents of womanly tenderness and devotion, that I felt as if she was air angel bending over the vilest of mortals. Trhat prayer went to my hear't; but one portion of it went through it and held it captive. Never shall I for. get my feelings of surp)rise and Imy deep emotions when I heard hr utter these-words: "Bless my~ dear mother, sisters, and f'riendls; bless all arrounrd me,.and, 0 God! bless him I love, Augusturs Ever green, and shtower down thy mer cis over him. Amen." If I breathed shoi't before, after this my.-breath seemed to desert Ime entirely, and I verily thourght that tire beating of my heart wvould btryv me. B3lle, pure as an an gel to ine then, arnd white as a snow-flake, proceeded to turn ofi tre gas arnd to get into bed. Whrat thoghr ts rushred through my braiin! Above me lay a young and unso p )histiated girl w holly unconlscioru that the one she loved lay so close. l to her, and who had for the fir' time been made aware of her interest in him, by hear'ing words which sIne supposed wient only to Heaven ! Belle had lain perfectly motion less for several minutes and was, I flattered rmyself, losing herself in sleep, when suddenly shre exclaim' Ied to herself, "There--I haven't looked under the bed !" A horror ran through me ; all is lost; what should I edo ? Belle r'ose and I ard her feeling for the matches. She struck one an- was moving41 toward the gas-light. when the lucifer went out, leaving all dark ness again. Blessed relief; but how brief! Again I heard her feeling for the matches and try to light one after anothe', Ats they failed to ignite; then and "Oh dear, there are no more !" escaped from her lips. "Safe ! safe I" whis pered my soul to me. Belle groped back to the bed, but did not immediately get in ; she stop ped and lifted the curtains which hung around the bottom and cau tiously passed her arm under and around as far as it could reach. I almost felt her fingers graze my face as I held myself fearfully and silently back against the wall, too far, just too far for her reach. Ap parently satisfied that no danger was near her, she lay down in the bed again and I counted her respi rations till she was lost in slum ber. As for myself, sleep was utterly out of the question. I never was so wide-awake in my life. How I lay upon that hard carpet and thought the night out! thought of her, and her love for me ; thought of myself, and my love for her. With the morning light fresh fears came upon me lest my un conscious room-mate might yet peer beneath the bed for robbers before she left the room; but my fears were groundless. She rose and dressed expeditiously, for she was to join her cousins at an early breakfast, and she had overslept herself. When at last she took the key, unlocked the door, and departed, I lost no time in slipping out of my shameful place of con ecalincnt and escaping from the hotel. On the stairs I me; Fred coming out his room, who exclaim ed: "Why, what's the matter with you, old fUlo ! You look like the last days of an ill-spent lifo. And your coat, too-why its all over feathers and dust. Where have you been ?" "Why, I slept-slept out last n ight; that's all. Our house is full, and so I had to find quarters elsewhere: I'm just going home to dress." "I should say so decidedly. I see it all, old fellow ! You've been on a lark, and had to put up in the watch-house; come now, own up and,,i tell us all bout it." -'o lark at all, F red ; nothi ng of the kind. I assure you." "-Well if not a lark what kind of a bird was it ? From the looks of the feathers I should say it was a goose." "You're the goose, Fr-ed. But. seriously, I've a word to say to you of a most important nature Be a man, Fr-ed, and make up your mind to hear something ex eessively disagreeab)le. It must be tol you soonier or later, and I may as well tell it no,v." "Good Icavens, Gus! how earn est you >ok at me; you don't mean to say that-that anything has happened to Belle Br-onson ?" ".Don't men tion her name again, Fied, or think of her any more, for she'll nevcer be anything to you. I have it from one who knows all about it, that she has long been attached to somebody else, and that somebody else means to ma ry her- Ther-'s no mistake about i; so bear up1 and tr-y you. luck elsewhere."' But Fr-ed Evans was not to be d isorag'ued by mer-e hearsay. IThat very day he went to see Belle, determined to knowv his fate from her own lips. Soon after lhe left Oakville and I did not see him again fur several years, when, meetinig him in town one day, I insisted on bringing him home with me and presenting him to his old flame, Belle .Bronson-the p-esent Mrs. Ever-green. AIx G;us !' said he, after dinner, Iwhen my wife and the little Ever greens had lefa us to ourslves LA h, Gus, you servedi me a shabby tick when you allowed mec to lose my heart to the girl you were all tlong intendling to marry yourself -a very shabby trick, one of whch I never suspected of you !' So I had to tell him (in strict condence, of course, as I tell you rader) all about the bed room af fair at the Oakville Hotel. and the in oethat grew out of it. "Bonnie Prince Charlie." n th It was in the year .1746, after w< the battle of Culloden, that "Bon- fat nie Prince Charlie" lay hid in the passes of Glen Moriston, and a' dared not move out, for posted far lik and wide from the point of Ben tal Attow to Beanley were the Eng. do lish red-coats. It was known rm that the prince was in hiding in kil the glen, and the English Govern- w ment were resolved to intercept lit him in any attempt he might hi make to reach the sea-coast. But th there were some who, "death and exile braving," were bent on re- Sel leasing him from his perilous po- hi sition. tr "Ye'll not forget me entirely, Si( Mary, hinny, if so be ye'd never " see me mair gin this night be an ower. 'Tis a lang, dreary way I'm traveling this c'en, and there's de nane so sure-footed but wha'll slip gI ane day. Kiss me ane mair, and tr< gic me your word ye'll think on ap your Jamaic till ye meet him hi again ; it might be on airth, but it Si mann be in heaven." lo "What for are ye so downcast an this e'en, Jamie ? 'Tis mony a p time ye've walked frae Invermor- ga iston to Caenaeroich sync ye put CL the pack upon your shoulder.- tr Cheer up, mon, and sure I'll ne'er w forget ye till ye're back hame on of the morn. Ye mnak' me greet wi' th your dolefu' wailings." e "Dinna greet, lassie ; it may be st< I'm wrang, but I've a weight that he presses down my hairt and fore- en bodes sad wark for me twa. But th gin I return or gin I fa' asleep so among the stones in the glen, 'tis to a' one, sync we maun meet again. sk My lassie and my king is a' the It warld to me." of The pedlar shouldered his pack and slowly wound his way down in the little path from the Highland ciachan. At the foot of the mound w, he stood and looked back. The last rays of the setting sun ded the rich brown heather of 5E the thatched cottage to a ruddier la h,ie.: nd turned the flaxen locks of his 3Iary t' a halo of gold. }. tic The high hills behind formed a back-ground of deep indigo to the licture, and fondly the pedlar in gazed on that well-known scene; then, waving his hand to the tall l girl who stood shading her eyes firomn the sun to look after him, reumedT his course. It led him over miountains and moors. through woods of' pine-trees; and by the foaming, turnbling river, MIoriston. It was a still, fr-osty winter'sli night ;eachI footstep that lie took bi rnd the dying~ leaves or' re sonided along the highway. TIhe moon. gradually rising from a bed of' clouds, illumined the whoiec scene, gave a mysterious v:hite ness to the snow-capped distant t mountains, and sparkled diamond- it like upon the crystal drops of dew T and hoar-frost by the roadl-side.-b The f'eathery birch-trees. all blown s and bent by their frequent con- i tests with the wind, now restedli motionless from their ceaseless mumrig. othin g disturbed the quiet, save the pedlar's foot-w steps, for the very deer, accus toed to his frequent journeys to d and fro, knew him, and lay still in their coverts. Often and often had lie trod that path, whistling PC gaily, perhaps, as he went, or ac thinking of his Mary; but now lie te trodl gloomily, drearily, no sound te on his lipS but the dull, dread pire.-h sentiment weigThing? down his ed heart. hi "Whist!"'shouted a voice sud- 0o dely in his ear, and the pedlar i statd back several paces. A " tall gilic stood before him,having e: -isen, as it were, from the very earth itself. The pedlar's alarm C* was, h.wever, short-lived, IIe d( recognized a fr-iend, and it was P1 with a "Well met, Sandy. From ar were spring we ?" that he ad- g~ vaned with out-stretched han~d. er Th gilli e took it, and replied: "Ye're late, mon. I've been wait- r ing for ye this hour and miair. I1b come from ane ye know," point- in ing with his finger toward the ou rocks beside the Moriston, "who w bids me tell you dinna gang yer n rod this night, The gleu is ehoek a' f' o' rek-coats, and ye might ai -1c bc mistaken for ane ye are a 't, and trae those nistahes cre's no turning back. Ye know ,el ye're uncv' like him in the "And do you think, Sandy, 'tis for nought I'm made so unco' :e him ? If so be by such a mis ke he were enabled to leave his n i' the rocks, where he lies iir like a poor beastie than the ng o' this land, would it be I d hinder sic'a blossedness ? 'Tis tie sic' a puir lad as I can do for m; but ye mauna stop me frae at little." Sandy returned no answer. The ntiment was too nearly akin to 3 own feelings for him to con adict it, yet after his commis >n he dared not encourage it. 'arewell, mon," was all he said, d sprang into the thicket. The pedlar continued his march, ep in thought. By-and-by the en opened out wider ; the trees es ceased, meadows and moorsj proached the river banks, the us receded further back on each le, and then tose skywards more tily than before, more rugged d bare. Now again they ap oached nearer as the pedlar ined the head of a glen-the ienaeroich, as it is called. A butary torrent came rolling its ttcis into the Moriston, and far the sound of water falling over e rocks broke upon the pedlar's r. The gray down was just aaling across the horizon when neared his destination. The d was very close ; bu~ what was at end to be ? There is another und besides the walling waters be heard now as the pedlar irts round a turn in the road. is the regular tramp to and fro, a man on guard-of a sentinel. "Halt !" cries a stern voice, and stantly two soldiers, one from .ch side of the road, dart for ,rd. the pedlar also sprang forward th an involuntary instinct of lf-preservation ; but it was too te ; he was eptglt and pinioned. "Who ai-e you? and what is ur business ?" were the ques )ns now addressed to him. But returned no answer, "It is the devil himself," chimed a third voice, leaping from a .k. "Shoot him, boys, before escapes. I know him well." "Tie him to that tree, said the -St soldier. 'and we'll make short orkl of the re bel." A word now might delay his te, but the word was not spoken. the pistol was fired at his head. cried, "IIurrah for Prince Char !and sank deadI-a martyr for s king. A small cairn, surmounted by a noden cross, now marks the spot here he fell. It is .' worthless :ute, but the deed wZs d golden , and needs no carved marble insure its memory. Nor did fil to bear fruit in due season. e soldiers, put off their gaard the supposed death of him they ught, were taken at a vantage. the dead of night Prince Char crept up the bed of a torrent, ~ssd the sentinels, and escaped the sea-coast. The sacrifice as offered uip and accepted, for is good that a man should lay un his life for his friend." An inquiring widow, who ap aled to her departed husband to ise her whether she had bet. r make a purchase she was con mplating (or at least is said to ve appealed,) has been answer the communication being pub bed in the Banner of Light, (an gan of the Spiritualists,) and be. g in effect as follows: "My an er is. do just as you please, be. use I know you will any way. don't forget-people's dispositions, en though I have been through 'ath. So, Nancy, do jus tas yon ase. If yo-1 want to buy, buy, d if you get into trouble by it, t out of it. You are smart ough." IscMA.A human fiend who sides in Marblehead, Mass., went >me a few weeks ago in a fit of toxication and threw his wife it of doors and broke herleg. It as set and doing well, when a ght or two ago he returned ain under the influerre of liquor, d deliberately broke the limb :in in two j.daces. 1 wo cruci anu uabLU nu mcn.mur'_ira were perpetrated TuestTwv in New York. Thr 4th ward rufflans threw an unfc tunate down a flight of stairs Water street, killing her almc instantly. The other murder more revolting to read of. drunken man was administerii his usual beating to his wife, b continued it so long that the lod ers on the same floor burst in tl door to stop it. The poor victi was found on the floor and t man in bed feigning sleep. Aft a few convulsions, death put : end to the woman's sufferint Previous to this, however, t: brute on the bed had been rorac and the landlady besought him go for a physician ; but he sa "Oh. no." he had often seen h that way before ; she would be i right in the morning. Niot likii the expression of her mouth, thrust his fingers into it, trying, he said, to straighten it,and wou have choked her in his drunk< attempts if the two bystandc had not removed his hand I force. The reporter who visit the place says "the face of t dead woman was a pretty o still, and showed marks of havii in youth been very beautiful ; a death had obliterated all marks dissipation, if any had ever foul a place there. All around t room sat some dozen or more N men watching with their dead. Poverty, like a grim spectre, s upon them and all the surroun ings of the place." How JOHN RoBINSON IIEL SCULPTOR MiLts.-It may be ne, to some of our readers-this fa that John Robinson, the cire manager, has contributed vast to the advancement of art in ti country. Clark X'. 1, the famo sculptor, inarecent interview Wi a Washington Star reporter h this to say When a-boy I spent a good d< of my time about Wade Han ton's stables, studying the poir of his horsc. He had a lar stable of rac hnr=es, and impo ed the famous Argyle, that bc everything in those (lays. Aft< ward I ctmtidied hore' anatomy a action with John Robins-n, t old circus man. He had an cxc lent idea of a horse and its mus( lar action. Robi:son, who was very sharp critic on equestri statues and pictures, wrote n after seeing my statue of Jat son, saying that in his judgme "it could not be improved or and, in concluding, lhe said 't old General (Jackson) was ve fond of fine horses. and has ma than ounce visited those under i care and management.' How -ro PlA1ONm: Youn .I cAL PAPER.-TIake a city wceeh because it gives more "news when you want your printi: done send to' Cincinnati and a it.-Then curse the filinge edit because lhe is poor, and his paTi don't amount to much: The are some pec'ple in (fic nor!d are ashamPed of. They have abc as much soul as a last year's gra: hopper, and we have about much respect for the' one as t other.-Ex. THlE FoRCE oF IIABIT.-At church in Essex lately, the ele feling unwell, asked his frier the railw~ ay porter to take I place for one Sunday. He d so, but being worn out wi night work fell asleep. Wh the hymn was announced, neighbor gave him a nudge, u on which he startled up, rubbii his eyes, and called out "Chan here for Elmswell, Thurston, a Bury !" P. T. Barnum, after four yea of diligent searching after curio ties, is about te establish a col< sal museum, menagerie and e ens, with which he proposes tra cling through the country. A California paper says the are ledges in the newly discover mines of Ne w Mexico which staa up like a row. of Broadway stor Brignoli, the bridegroom, b recovered S7,833,33 from a Nort era rail road, for injuries Cri.CC wh!c nreCln West. ee With a flock ofathousand fowls, at least six acres are requisite. in Some have given this rule, an acre st to each hundred. This area should is be fenced in with boards or pickets, A and houses erected, large enough g to accommodate one hundred fowls Ut for roosting, shelter from storms, g~ and laying. It is not essential be that these houses should be ex m pensive, but they shouldface the hefceth ie south. and the fronts should be er partially or entirely glazed. The in glazing should be by sashes, which s- may be opened easily by hinges be: abose, and may be left open I through the stimmer, to permit a id free circulativn of air, The care id of these houses should be entrust r ed to a capable person, as on their 'r proper manragemtint the success of g the poultry lsrgely depends. In be addition to the poultry-house, as 'there should be provided numbers Id of low sliet- beneath which the' Nn fowls may take shelter from the rs heat of the sun or from storms. Care should be taken to prevent ed tt.e ingress of vermin, skunks, he weasels, c., to the ground, ad ne one or more goods dogs should be g confined within the enclosure, care being taken to secure dogs which of will not trouble the fowls, but id which are good watch-dogs, and be vigilant. An abui dance of pure o water is also absolutely necessary, - and unless a brook rins through, at or a pond is located on the land, d- water should be brought by a iam or pumped by a wind-mill i ED from a well. Fowls drink a great vs quantity of water, and it should be ct of as pure quality as can be ob us taired. The preparation of the ly grounds and building of the houses ;s and sheds having been completed, I us the stock may be procured. For I th all practical purposes the common as dung-hill fowl is as good as any, as we have proved completely to 3 our satisfaction In sek'cting : p. stock, take hens from one to two 4 ts years old, bright-eyed, red-combed, eclean-legged fowls, as large and t. well-frrmed as can be obtained. at There is no need of a crower with r. the large fl,ocks, the breeders be nd ing selected and kept scparate he trom the others; for laying pur e!- poses, bens do better away from a U. cock than with one, and if a num a ber of maie birds are together, the an fights and troubles will be in e. cessant. Thle carec of the poultry kis not great after they are phiaeed nt in the park. Th,e fowls selected Sfor l'reedling purposes shouid be he kep)t in flocks of twenty, in yards rv seprate f-one the others, and each rec flock should have a male bird. ~These birds should be the very best to be obtained, strong, well formne,i, and hardy, and the cock 4- should be two years old, healthy, I) strong, and courageous. We be lieve that a Brahmna cock, such as we have described, crossed with ;et the dlung-hill fowls, would get bet oter and mfore -a,rketablk chic-kens than wvould any other breed. TIhis. re however, is for the poulterer to ek dlecide.-asachusetts Ploughman. ut ss DJEsTITUTION IN GERNIANT.-A as Germnan paper states that in the he province of Westphalia, at the be gining of October; there were a 11,S17 married women. the wives rk andl widowsi of soldiers, together dwith 22,713 children, obtaining re .lief from the public funds. In idIanover, 9.624 women and 26,418 th children were dependent upon the en public for supponrt. In the Rihen a ish provinces there were 14,312 : p_married women and 2'J,619 father less children wh-lo were utterly a destitute. Thus in only threei dPrussian provinces there were, Last October, 35753' women and I, 78.750 children in a condition of II rsmisery and want, and it is believedt ( thatt destitution to the same ex >tent prevails in the other provinees ir. of Prussia. The price of pro.: ( v.visions is extraordinarily high. < The Providence (R. I.) Journale re has "the best authority" for say ed ing that a comet of large size willt id suddenly make its appearanee on sthe night of the 19th of June, 1871, and "during the next fo-ur weeks <~ as the fate of the world will be decided."< ..Fortunately the world has seen so --many harmless coiaets that it has< y; It,bc nanra of them. 4 The vcry names of the Spanish vomen are a constant reminder of. heir worship. They are all named. at of the calendar of sa?nu and -irgin martyrs- A large majority ,re christen'ed Mary' but as this acred uinm'e by muchit se has lost .11 distinctive neaning, gme at. ribute, some esp'ecidl frtfddttio4r >f the Virgin, is always coupled vith it. The names of Dolores, Iede-des, Milgrds; recsll Qut Jady of the Sorrous, of th'e Gifs; f the Miracles. I knew a hoy: renish little gypsy, who bore-the' earful name of Lagrimas. The nost appropriate name I rert or these ldrge-eyed, soft-voie6d cauties, was Peligros, Our Lady f Dangers; Who ddtild ieslsi tfid omfortini assurance of "Cot uelo ?" "Blessed," says my Lord ytton, "is a woman wbocons'ols.' Vhat an image of maiden purityI oes with the name of Nieves, the irgin do fiie snows ? From' a' ingle cotilion of Castilian girls, -ou can construct the whole listory of Our.Lady. Conception; tn'nunciation, Sorrows, Solfcct1de; ssumption. As young ladies are ever called by their family names, u always by their baptismal ap >clations, you cannot pass an ev ing ?n a Sptnish fcrutid *ittdi, cing reminded of every stage in he life of the Immaculate Mother, rom Bethlehem, to Calvary ad eyond.-Atlaitid e.IdnfIlj: INDIGENOUS LE oNS.-. Cor lespondent sends us the following ecount of a remarkabl- spring in [exas: "Aboit sixty miles north if Galena, near the town of Lit rty, there is a spring, the water f which is Qiute deid, tesembling emonade, and those hd titste it ike it so much that they drink it Imost ln:niodcrately. When you 'eel hot, it is qttWd delicidas ; PAd inder any circunistances, hbether rou are hot or cold, the drinking )f it produces perspiration, with to unpleasant effects aftetw f: rhe spring has no apparent outlet r inlet. It is probably sixty feet ide and it is cobeted *ith a' white froth or foam, which, upon lose examination, appears Jikd ream of tartar on a wine eask. [t kills insects, worms and other ;mall animals that come near and ise it. No fish or other evidence )f life is seen within its wate." A t a trial in kn Alabama towrr ~ot long siiWe, one of the wit: eses, an old lady of some eighty ears, was closely questioned 6 he opposing counsel relative to be clearness of' her eye-sight. "Can you see inc 1" said he. IIow well can you see me ?" per ~isted the lawyer... '-Well enough," responded tho' >ld' lady, "to see that you are ~either a negro, an Indian rror a entleman:" The answer broughit dowrn d ouse, and silenced the attorney. SIRUP FROM THE SwEET POTATd: -It is reported that Mlr. Chai-k Delamore, of New Orleans, has dia. overed a process by w.hich hd :on verts the juice of sweet potatoew nto a beautiful golde'n -.i-) rom fifty-two pounds of potatoes; vith rude mnachinery, I'y an iuV: ~redient kinb*h only to himef; ie luteldy ma~de two and thred u1art&r gailouns of' ?i sifuj. 'He hinks he can make it a price led4 han canie sirup. Oni Friday1 the 20tLh'ltii; Ir. Williri johnison, an old and torthy citizen of Camden, was ound dead in his bed; His death s said to have been occasioned by ating fainzted oysters the pre ious night: HIe was buried by s brothern of the Masonic Fra enits-. In counection with the firfa! eath of' Mrs. Maggie Bleck :Cf oran, in Washington, the Paris Frue Kentuckian satys : "A funeral ortege crossed h-er bridal coach; at .exington. and the supstLri6us hen predicted death.. A conple ourt West have been, livorced oo account of a<difference f opinion on the subject of baptisur -one maintaining the necessity >f immersion to salrationu, tha A.-c th. se-ener of jrinklir.j