Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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T EAVERTISINC RATES. 7 HE AERdv.e-remzs4w- at therat* $ 1 3for each subsequent insertion. Dou zs PUn.tsaEDcotma advertisements ten per cent on abcu EVEP.Y WEDNESDAY MORUNING, * m n , ua d ewberry 0. Rrtisements. By Thog. I.&R H. Greneker, ~ ''aetsmnsemre.t s e Editors and Proprietors. a d acordg . ____________ Special contracts made with- lrge adrer Se e tisers, wib lib ra1 ddutius os at:overt C pTbw is ed at the expfatton ot I MORNING, AUGUST 9, 187L N. 3tc tmfoWgtl= 0Vol. DNerms Cash.NT UG XTe~ maLrk denotes expirationofsb WHY HE MARRIED. "And don't you know when you -will pass through this part of the ,country again, Mr. Verley ?" "No I don't," said the old bach elr decidedly. He was something of a bear to sraswer so crustily when Barbara Smith stood in the doorway, with the shadowy lashes drooping over the soft brown eyes, and the roses melting into deep carmine on her rosy cheeks, until her musio. dress was plain in comparison. Sueh a pretty. big-eyed, loving little Bar bara as she was, in all the blonde fbshness of her eighteen summers, and the soft sigh that fluttered from her lps as the one-horse car riage drove away, was checked i0stantly. Barbara had no idea Obecoming a vic;tim to unrequited Ilove, though she, had rather fan cied Mr. Verley - during his brief sojourn t -her father's house. Mr. Verley drove away through the -rofing ;.reen draperies of the ZammerlWjane*s, whistling sadly as lhe-drav e. 6I shall be in very good time forithe 12.30 train," he meditated to Vimself. "Punctuality is the 46*l of business, and I never was Ame.of'+Le behind-hand tribe, thank 1rovidence. Besides, I thini it was becoming dangerous to re main in that place any longer. I am thirty-nine to-morrow, and that is just twenty years too old for me to go making a fool of my self. Fancy me getting married! No you don't, Joseph Verley, my friend." As he settled himself comfort ably in the crowded railroad car, and opened a letter, the subject again occurred to his mind with curious persistence. "The letter of my poor brother's executor came just in time, or I should certainly have fooled away more time than would have been sensible or profitable. Poor dear Harold ; I don't see what on earth possessed him to al sick and die on his way home from Venice and leave his daughter on my bands too. Why could he not have left a son instead of a daughter? I never did understand a woman's wars, and what's more, I don't want to. I am to meet her at Spoedville, and take her home with me." "0!" groaned Mr. Verley, referring despairingly to his letter. "And what I'm going to do with he'- whcn I get there, I'd like to know! I suppose she's a great creature, with ringlets and ribbons, and just as likely as not an Italian lover talkiug sentiment to her-a creature that reads By ron, and keeps an album, and eats slate-pencils and chalk. I'll scud her to a boarding school, that's what i'll do with my niece-and perhaps when she has gra-Iuated there the schoolmaster can sag gest some means of getting rid of her. Of course she'll have a dozen large trunks, and a bonnet box and a parrot's cage-that's the way women gener-ally travel, I believe. i am~glad I am out of the way of Barbara's fascinations n ow." Mr. Verley looked out of the -car window, in a sort of calm des-. peration at the pr-ospect before him. "I suppose she'll want a piano. -and maybe a poodle dog, a nd~ there's no knowing what else. I / don't see why Harold wanted to1 die and leave his daughter to my care just now. Speedville station -twenty-seven miles further. I wish it was twenty-seven hundred miles-that's what I wish." And with this vindictive senti muent in his mind, our hero, tied a red silk handkerchief over his * heaid, and tried to lose himself in a series of brief, troubled dreams, *-f wherein the vision of a tall, nice y-oung lady figured conspicuously. "Are we here already ?" he stammered. starting to his feet, as the conductor bawled out "Speed. ville Station," and seizing umbrel Ia, valise and traveling shawl, with the bustling bewilderment >eculiar to people just ar>used from sleep, he alighted. Speedville was rather a large sized village. situated at the junc tion of several railways, with an imposing American Gothic struc ture for adepot. Into this building Mr. Verley walked, looking right! and left for the young lady whose guardians hip he was to assume. "Of course," he responded men tally, "she'll be on ',he lookout foi me ; women are proverbially cu rious." But Harold Verley's daughter was not on the lookout for her uncle. When the crowd incident to the evening train had subsided and the people had gono their dif ferent ways, the only remaining occupants of the depot were Mr. Verley, a lame old man who sold peanuts and apples, and a decent king colored woman, with a '~ nt Madras turban on her bo took care of the build iemther of these could be so Mr. Verley, arter a sh. -Arplexed hesitation. a.d by dimso!f to the colorod wo man, who was busily polishing f the window with a piece of crum- e bled newspaper. "Ahem I was to meet my: niece here to-day, and I don't see t her." s "Your niece, sir? what is her a name ?" "Verley." "0, yes, sir; she has been here these two hours, bless her dear heart ; she's asleep now." i "Asleep I" gasped Mr. Verley ; 1 but the stewardess only answered I' him by bustling into the inner apartment and bringing out what appeared to be a compact bundle, d with a pink face at one end of it, and a mass of long trailing em- ; broideries at the other. Joseph Verley recoiled as far as the angle of the wall would permit him. "Why-it's a baby I "To be sure it is, sir," said the woman, "and as fine a little girl t as ever I saw; bless her sweet i blue eyes." "But isn't there a nurse or some; such person here, who would take charge of her ?" "There was a nurse brought her on, sir, a queer foreign-looking thing, with a yellow skin and hair: as black as night, and big gold hoops in her ears; but she talked something about the next steamer -I couldn't understand her lingo, sir-and went right back to New York on the two o'clock train." s Joseph Verley stood aghast, staring at the rosy baby as it lay crowing in the woman's arms, and wondering which of his lucky stars L he should call on to aid him in this unlooked-for emergency. A foll-grown young lady niece would I have been bad enongh-but a ba b! "So this is mylniece," he mut tered. "And what am I going to do with her?" He turned suddenly to the col- t ored woman. "What time does the next train I for Winfield leave ?" "In an hour, sir." t "Would you be kind enough to take care of the child till then? I suppose I must take it home with me; for I can't very well drown b it, or throw it. under the car wheels." "Sir!" ejaculated the astonished I stewardess. V But Mr. Verley turn3d on his p heel and strode out of the depot, a scarcely able at first to compre hend the disaster that had befallen him. The train was at the depot when he returned, and the woman await ed him with the sleeping infant in her arms. "Asleep, eh ?" commented Mr. Verley. "Well that's lucky." "Where's the nurse, sir ?" in quired the woman. "The nurse ? What nurse?" "Why, I suppose you want to. get a nurse!" "Never once thought of it !" ejaculated Joseph madly smiting his forehead. "Here-give the thing to me quick, the train is moving." He had hardly time to spring on board, as the locomotive gave an unerthly shriek while the baby followed suit in hoth respects. Hie st iggered to his seat, hold ing the umbrella and child in one hand, while in the other his valise swung backward and forward. I "There! there ! bless its little heart ?" he exclaimed, imitating the colored woman, "We won't ry-so we wnt" But the baby evidently had an opinion of its own on the subject, and would cry in spite of the va rious blandishments practiced by | the bewildered uncle-such as i shaking t h e umbrella handle, l bothin his watch, and trotting I bohknees. People began to look around, reproachfully ; young men shrug-| ged their shoulders, and young la dies "giggled." I "Hush ! h ush ! there's a darling!" wispered Mr. Verley. ~, But still the baby wept and wailed, and gnashed its gums, for of teeth it had but two. Mr. Ver Iy began to look round in the! ar in search of some matronly dame of whom he could seek coun-f sel, but in vain. There were only three ladies in the car, and they were young, with round hats and dimpled cheeks. '-They don't k-now any thing about it," groaned Mr. Verley, i i angush f spnt."Oh, why didn't go and get a nurse ? I suppos - there is no danger of a baby burst ing its lungs ; but 1 should think if there was such a contingency, this baby was in a fair way of: meeting it. Well, roar away, moy young friend ; I can stand it as long as you can." 1 Vain boast, as futile as vain, as Mr. Verley very soon discovered. The baby not only cried, but it screamed, it kicked, it doubled it self over in more ways than a contortionist's wildest d re a ms could imagine, and became appa- 4 rently frantic with passion. The perspiration broke out in bugec hak on Jo-mnh's brow : hefae lushed, and still the cars thunder d on. "What's to become of me ?" be >ondered, holding desperately on o the struggling intant by the ash that encircled its little waist, .nd watching its purple face with species of detestation. "I don't ronder Harold died. I shall die n a week if this thing goes on. Lnd it seems so easy for Barlara mith to take care of her little irothers and sisters. If Barbara Vas here-" And Verley pulled the baby up nto a sitting posture with a sud en jerk. "I'll do it," quoth Mr. Verley, I'll take the back express at four n the morning and go straigh here. Ah you may stop crying, -ou little hypocrite; but it won't lo any good; I'm not to be caught wice in the same trap." Bai-oara Stiith Wa watering ier tube roses in the bright morn ng sunshine, with the valise and aby in the carriage. "Dear me, Mr. Verley," she jaculated, blushing 'celestial rosy ed.' "Why, what asweet baby." "Yes, very sweet," he responded tryly. "It is my niece that I was o meet at Speedville." "Why, I thought that she was , young lady ?" "So did I; but it seems she's not. 3arbara, what do you suppose irought me back?" he added, peaking very fast for fear the aby would cry. "I don't know," faltered Barba a, crimsoniag still more. "Per iaps you forgot something." "Yes, I did." "What was it ?" said Barbara, a ittle disappointed. "I forgot to ask you if you would narry me "Dear me ! was that all ?" said he young lady demurely. "Isn't that enough ? Say, Bar ara, will you ?" "I'll think of it," answered Bar iara, evasively. "No. but tell me now. Quick he baby's waking up." "Well, then -yes." Barbara had taken the little hing in her arms, and disappeared etoro it had time to utter its raking yell. A week afterward Mr. Joseph rerley took the 12.30 return train ath his wife and niece, the h p iest of reclaimed old bachelors, ,nd it ;vas all the unconscious ba y's work. Ln Incident in Sto: ewall Jack son's Campaign. The Newton (Ala.) Southern tar says: A gallant officer who served in tonewull Jackson's command, re. tes the following, which I have ever seen in print. It is too good o be lost: At the battle of Port Republie n June, 1862, on the Sunday nor ning of the engagement with remont's forces, Ge.neral Jack on ordered the chaplains of his rmy to hold scrvices in t heir re pective commands. When about o open services, a battery of ar illery of the Federal General hlields' comnmand took p)ositionl ear the bridge, crossing the r'iv :r, at Port Republic, the town he ng in the fork of the river, near he junction. Jac:kson's head luarters were in town, a portion if his army on the opposite side, mnd just in front of Fremnont's .rmy ; Jackson was not apprised f Shields' artillery being nearer han three miles, until it opened ie on the bridge, trying thereby o knock it down, and prevent the rossing oft his entire army, leaving force ofonly about 12.000 men o comtend with Fremonit's force 4. nearly 40,000 men, splendidly quipped. Jackson's keen percep)tion at ee recognized the predicament. Is horse was at onfce saddled and he war-worn hero dressed in a ~ederal uniform. Thus mounted e crossed the smaller stream, ode hurriedly up to the artillery, tich was very near the bridge, nd in the low ground near the iver. Assuming the character of SFederal officer, he commanded hem to "limber up" and take neir position on an eminence iear by, that they might have a ~ood mieans of escape an<i better omm nand of the bridge. The ar illerv commander, withbout besita ig," obeyed the order, during chich time Jackson crossed the iridge, had a battery soon in posi ion, and captured Shields' ar illery. The plan of destroying he bridge being understood by ~remont, he commenced a rapid ~dvance on Jackson, who, so soon the bridge was secure, turned ipon Fremnont, whipped him badly hat day, crossed the river next norning, destroyed, the bridge,! md used up Shields more success ully that he had P'remont the lay pr.evious. The New Orleans Picaynuc adds: A similar anecdote is related of~ ;e neial Polk." A box containing the bod1es of five idren was picked up recently in tbc nc-r,--T- Me~.le T From the London Saturday Revlew. The Romance of Reality. rHE STRANGE STORY OF THE EARL WHO TURNED SAILOR. THE TENDENCY TO REACT FROM HIGH CIVILIZATION. The law courts are running the novelists hard, and the romance of real life threatens to cast into the shade the most thrilling sen sations of Mr. Mudie's purveyors. While Lord Chief Justice 1Bovill and his patient jury are engaged in their interminable inquiry as to whether Roger Doughty Tich borne, supposed to have been drowned 'at sea seventeen years ago, has survived in Tom Castro, the hors.-breaker of Dargo in the Austrailian bush, one.of the Scotch sheriffs has been very busy with a somew bat similar question as to the identity of Georgn H. Osborne, second mate of the Hera, from Boston to Melbourne, who was washed overboard in January, 1870. and George Hamilton Gor don, sixth Earl of Aberdeen,whose family had lost all trace of him someo time previously. It is a striking and very creditableproof of the discipline of the English press, that as regards the' Tich borne case it has been content simply to report the proceedings, and has scrupulously abstained from all farther reference to a question which is probably upp r moqt in the minds of most of the readers of newspapers, which ev erybody is talking about with the utmost freedom in private society, and which is every day the sub ject of innumerable rumors, com ments and conjectures of the most extraordinary character. In the Aberdeen case, however, the same reasons ior reticense do not exist, for it has practically, though not formally, been decided, and there are no hostile interests at issue in regard to it. The story of the young Earl is very curious and romantic, and has, perhaps. some thing more than a mere personal interest. What physiologists tell us of the difficulty of keeping up a highly cultivated breed, and the constant tendency it displays to return in one respect or another to its primitive wildness, is also in some degree applicable to so ciety. In every highly civilized community there may beobserved a similar tendency to revolt from the artificial developments and re fined tameness which mark the social condition. There is a vague longing for the rude simplicities of life when "wild in woods the noble savage ran," or N hen at least the limitations of personal freedom were less oppressive than they are now, and tbere was moore room in the world for the swing and play of individual ebaracter'. In most of us this remains a mere sen 'ment, but in some cases it brea - ,ut in starthing ceccentrici ties which p)uzzle many worthy people very much. Tiher.e was evidently some influence of this kind at work on young Aberdeen. w ben he suddenly threw up his name and rank aud plunged as a common sailor, under an assumed name, into the dirty drudgery and obscure companionship of a seafaring c'areer. When this hap pened he was twenty-five years of' age, had just succeeded his father in the title and estates, and had, as it seemed, every promise of a happy and distinguished career. lie had shown good parts in his' cllegre course at St. Andrew's, though his tastes led him rather towards athletic exercises. He was one of' the best idei shots in the country, and could bring down his stag with the best o'f them. He was on good terms with his family, and deeply attached to his mother. An alert,resolutc,thought ful youth, with something both of his grandfather's still re<erve and hard-headed common-sense, min gled with his father's earnestness and tenderness of character, re garded hopefully by his elders and pre-eminent in those exerci ses which suited his age and po-I sition and made him popular- with his companions, he seemed to start in the race with no ordinary advantages. But the i-ace was not to his mind, and he tui-ned away from it. On his fat her's death his own health had shown some signs or deli-acy, and he re solved to travel. Accompanying two friends, Lord Gjosford and Mr. Peterkin, to A merica, he part ed with them at Boston in the spring of' 1866. and was never af terwards seen by any one who knew him by his real name. He dropped his title, chose a pseudo nym, and seems to have been adopted at once and without chal lenge into the nautical society of Boston. An occasional scrap of letter to his mother alone testified to his existence, and gave a hint of his erratic movements. In October e had come back to Boston from a voyage, and found himself much troger zfter- 'thie tong spell of warm weather and sea-air," but not disposed then just to risk a ;'I return to the bleak English win- ili ter. Besides he had become ena- I it mored of the social liberty he en- si joyed, and could not bear to leave 1 that "land of freedom and common-! sense." He had had an invitation A from some missionaries to join c them in an expedition to Honolu- n lu and the Friendly Islands, and thought of accepting it. A few months later he gave a spasmod- a ically vivid account of his life at I sea, showing great zest for all v the little adventures of the voy- . age. "I never told you," he wrote, ri "my adventures on the African voyage, or about loadingsaltin the t, West Indies, or about the my2te- ti rious man, or about the wounded n cook turned sailor, or the amor- s1 ous mate, or the mat, in fits call- a: ing oa his mother, or about the I cook drunk, a Frenchman crying, b: the second mate bullying, or.t( about the captain drunk, the mate s< three-quarters drunk, the second t mate green, and the ship running: on George's Shoal,and beingsaved b by the undersigned, who was not drunk ; about the talking parrot s overboard, saved, saved, saved- o about the honest soldier-about the happy island, the Arcadia of a the Atlantic-about the French h cook-good times now for the b shell backs, plenty to eat, and . good at that-or 'A shark, a % shark!' Dork the hook-lie is tj caught, haul him aboard; frantic ii terror of the parrot-he tries to q commit suicide-the shark is kill- a ed -shark steaks for breakfast; a or about the undersigned sick If with cholera; he gets well ; he gets his too crushed ; lie knocks t off at 5.30 P. M., he turns-to again p at G A. M. next day-Spanish pi- e lots," and much more in the same t, strain. t, After a time all letters ceased ; V his family naturally became anx- c ious, and his former tutor, the a Rev. W. B. Alexander, was dis- 0 patched to America to sf-arch for him. While thus engaged, Mr. b Alexander, in 1870, heard of the t loss of one "George H. Osborne," 'I second mate of the Hera, who was b washed overboard and drowned in mid-occan, and who, it was thought, might prove to be the d youtLg man be was seeking. The S evidence laid before one of the i Scotch sheriffs to show the identify t: of George Osborne and Lord 0 Aberdeen seems to be sifficiently Y conclusive, though some further g information in minor points has I a yet, for the sake oflegal comp-lete. t ness, to be adduced. American G photo.raphs of the mate tally with English photographs of the d Earl, and Lady Aberdeen has "re- b cognized them all as without doub-t v portraits of her deceased son." a Osborne and the Earl were alike cap ital shots, and the Earl's rifle, (iden-s tified by the maker,) was provedn to have been sold by Osborne to a b man at Richmoud ~in the United r States. A peculiarity of gait was e noticed in each, and they both dis played a conspicuous "fondness for di the sea, mechanics, mathematics, n pictures, drawing and nmusie." p Further ther resemhled each other e in a liking for children. in strict ti moral conduct, and regular atten..:d tion to religious duties. The hand- Id writing of Osborne's accounts;jour-a nals, and other memoranda re- I latinst to the Hera is the same as that~of the Earl's letters, and a ihe captain of the Hera pro-jn duced a song in this handwriting', n called "The Rainy Day," which e Lady Aberdeen had often sung torp her son, and which was a great Ia favorite of his. The chain of ev i- ti dence has thus been put together o link by link, and the sheriff might p probably have given his decision t< at once had it not been for a natn- as ral desire to make the records oft ti identity so absolutely complete a and conclusive that there should u be no possibility of any question n being raised on the subject here- ti aftr,or any strange claimant from 'a beyond the seas putting forward o pretensions to the earldromi and es- ,h tates. When Lord A berdeen, drop-. h ping his title, first entered nautical ie society at Boston, as '"George HI. la Osborne," he had probably no If settled plan of any kind, beyond ec that of shaking himself free for a,v time from existing associations a and trying what he could make of t< life on his own peirsonal merits pr and by his own exertion. Hek .oon p>ieked up a knowledge of a navigation, which he imp-eved on:si board ship. In the African voy v age lie seems to have taken ser- ni vice as a seaman, judging from a v passage in oiie of his letters de- v scribing a trick by which he pro- t cured release from a distastetul e task-'undersigned paintingyards r -tired and hot, lets bucket fall- r covers clean white boat with paint -spatters captain over with paint C -captain swears-mate runs undersigned tries to look serious-p gets soap and water and cleans c boat-no more painting for under-e signed-just w hat he w an ted." Inp February, 1867, he bad gone as a i passenger in a brig to Galveston, s but during the voyage volunteered to ~as asai'r. tri sboo~p rent knowledge of navigation. 'he passion for an active, roving fe grew upon him as h1 indulged while scrvice on board ship pre- o anted new ebarms as he became s iore skilled in his work. p As might be expected, Lord .berdeen's romantic story has ex-| d ited a good deal ol vulgar amaze- a lent. That a young nobleman, 'ho might have had a fine house, r ood dinners, the best hunting n nd shooting, "warm corners" t ,herever he went, servants tot ,ait on him and toadies to flatter a -who might any day have mar- l. cd a pretty girl, picked from a I -ore, with another fortune to add P > his own, should renoutce all ie pleasures and advantages of s ich a position, and start for him- t alf, unknown and unbefriended, t H a common sailor before the last, in a dirty Yankee trading ark, seems to sone people so lit- P wly inexplicable that, it, must be t t dowu as sheer insanity. Cer- a tinly the life of young aristocrats, 'ho are described so rapturously I y Mr. Disraeli asliving. . 'stantly t I the open air, never reading, and ,U eaking only one language, their wn. is in many wars a very e let,sant one; but its f'ull enjoy ent is reserved for those who are no conception of anything d eyond, and who give themselves t p to it with a serene simp!iclty e -hich knows no doubt or after 3ought. If any scruples begin to e isinuate themselves, it the faintest a nestion arises whether, after all, h musement is the sole duty of man P ud the proper and sufficient,o ilfilment oi existence, the charm broken. It is certainly possible conceive a young fellow op- I ressed with a burden of physical nergy which he finds it difficult work off so as to satisfy any a beory of useful service in this -orld. Field sports begin and u nd with sport. As relaxation for man who can show a good set- S ff of other work they are all cry well, but they will hardly car reflection as in themselvesN he be-all and end-all of existence. h he destructive propensities so itterly satirzed in the saying t What a fine day, let us go and A ill something," have not been re aeed to a system involving the Mallest coneZivable amount of kill and trouble. There is a fan astic cruelty in the forperies f Hulinghan, where our golden outh, in kid gloves and with ci ar in mouth, beguile the summer fternoons with killing pigeons to he exhilarating strains of the kuards' band, under the eyes of! n eauty. and sustained by frequent t raught's of gin and seltzer. The est excuse for this w-eched tra- c esty of sport is, perhaps, the in. nity of its votaries. It is easy to nderstand a. young fellow~ of g pirit revolting against the effe-P inalte slaughter of helpless and ewildered birds ;but even the P wnre manly enterprises of the hase wvould fail to satisfy a cra ing for real useful workl, with I hi efinite object beyond that of I 1ere amusement and sonme direct" ractical results. A youing lord ~ asting about for employment in 0 bie service of human ity might, in- P ced, follow the exaniple of one istinguished memibeir ofhis ordelr. IC nd become an amateur fireman., r joi n anot her in chasse hux gueux. "T lut the field of activity is limited, 0 nd it is not easy to strike out a 1 cw line. A born legislator, it iay be said, should have no diffi-P ulty in finding appropriate oceu t nd make specebes and condemn be poor Lord Chancellor to an er-done dinner any night he leases ; but labors likc these areb yo barren to have much relish,r nd besides it is physical rather t han mental employment of whichb young noble is usually most in ant, 'and for wvhieb, indeed, itr inst be said he is by previous aining usually best titted. In nother age he could have buckledg n his armor and slashed about im to his heart's content on be. aif of distressed virgins and other hjects of compassion. But now days there is hardly any outlet >r importunate physical energies. xcept in sport; and sport, in its ery nature, paIls after a time on thoughtful, earnest nature, if >o exclusively pursued. It is robable that something of this1 ind happened to Lord Aberdeen, nd many another young man in T imilar circumstances perhaps en ies the mechanic or even the avv his honest hard day's work, t ith the legitimate satisfaction hich attends it. In Germany he old tradition of bringing upE very youth, no matter of what ank, to some handicraft, is still iaintained, the Emperor being, re believe, a printer, and the I rown Prince having also his b rade ; and even as a formality the ractice might perhaps be intro- e uced with advantage in other s ountries. The longing for a sim- 5 le life of direct physical activity Id Sa natural reaction from tbe re traints and perplexities of a com l-n, highly elaborated social sys- si The Dignity of Labor. In a nation of workers labor aight certainly to command re I >ect. And among right thinking i eople everywhere in this coun- t -y it does so. Supercilious dan es of cities and towns Nortl i id South may form an excep- f an to the rule .rhich accords I ,spect to the laborer, but their I anher, greater in the North) I ian in the South, is not sufficient f >give either weight or respect- I )ility to their opinions. Certain H aders of Northern opinion have e times past arrogated the cham ontbip'of labor, and have to- c ented the prejudices of their t etion and directed them against t ic peope of the South as con- . nmners of labor and laborers.- t his was done upon pure grounds e denagogisin for political pur ses, and was without founda- e on, as we know by observation i; id experience. In the moral I: >de of a certain class of men, "a r well stuclito is as good as the i uth," and this prejudice against I has been propagated with an ( dustry which can only be ac >unted fur by refercree to the cioni quoted. c Lobor has never been deemed N sgraccful at the South. It is ; tic that the people have, as ev- c -ywhere else in the world, the orthern States of the Union not cepted, always tried to get ong with the smallest amount of t bor, and thus to live as easily as racticable. Before th late rev ution, the circumstances of a t .rge class of our people were t tsy, and the necessity for labor, as not urgent on them as upon ie people of less favored sections, i,h. for instance, as the dwellers i mong the granite hills of New ' ngland. Moreover, field work i nder the warm sun during a 1 mng.unmer Is- fo-the white man 1 mewhat harder to endure, than 1 ic same kind of labor during the ort summers in Vermont orli ?ew York. And this fact mayi are developed an apparentlyll reater repugnance to labor on -t part of the Southern people. .11 these concessions we are ready ) make. But when it is said that -e are despisers of labor and ]a rers per se, we deny the charge. All over the South in times of L avery was seatered a large 4 ass of small farmers, each of I hom owned a few slaves with horn he worked, personally su rinteiding their labor. This I 'as a highly respected class a ong us, and constituted what; iir political orator. v:re accus )med to call, in the language of alogy, "tho bone and sinew of! te country." Among our wealth n!est people there were besides a reft many who bad amassed r~operty by personal industry. hese men, as a class, took a real 1 leasure in treounting to the ris. I ig generation, the story of their irly toils and successes. We ae known many young men in ood circumstances sent to college ~ter having served a few years at e plow-handles for the purpose I acquiring p)hysical vigor-, and a ractical knowledge of the pur its they were exp)ected to fol w. The idea that labor was de- I rading neve:- occurred to these! en. Not c-.ly are we accused 'S dishonoring labor- but at-c rep. i sented as being in a state bor ring on aniarebyi. Yet the e ~e of this lawless region produced I S00,000 bales of cotton last year. di an increased corni erop over ec production of the year pro-. ots-all t his in spite of the do. -ease and dieterior-ation of our ack labor. IIow are such results1 ~concilable with the hypothesis tt we are despisers of labor ? way with such pernicious false. ' >od. The surecst passport to the spcct of Sou thern society is a f nrse of honest industry. A- de >iscer of labor htere would be re u-ded as near-ly akin to an idiot. THE DIVIsIoN OF TXs.-InC exas, this fatil, the people will bes led upon to vote uponi the pro-i >sition to divide the State into re-e parts. The Legislature, at s last session, passed an Act bmitting the question to a vote, which the names of the three!i ates are Eastern. Middle and .t estern Texas. Easter-n Texas I es East ot the Trinity River, itdle Texas extends from thet rin ity River to the Colorado iver, and Western Texas lies est of the Colorado. Of these, t ec first is much the most popu us, having over 346,000 inhabi-i mts; Middle Texas ranking next. ut the least populous has over 0,000, the entire State as it now 4 .ands havi ig 800,000 inhabitants.: division of Texas into severalf istinet States was provided for y the treaty of annexation Tbe 4 adicals usually favnor the division, aiming that at least one of the i tates created must fall to theiri t, which will elive them two ad-;' itional Senators at Washington. Fivd h undred and twenrty-fivstbousand x hundred railroad train:s kave' Londou Honor Your Business. It is a'godd sign when a man ia >roud of his work o- his calling, ret nothing is more cdrtrnn tba;, o hear men finding fault con tantly with their pr.rticular busi less, and deeming themselves un ortunate because fastened to ir y the nepessity of gaining a live ihood. In this way frien fret and aboriously destroy all their com brts in the work ; or change their usiness, and go on miserably. hifting froai'doe th.ng to anoth r, till the grave, or poor house, ;ives them a fast grip. But while, ccasionally, a man fails in lifi' ecause he is not in the place fit ed for his peculiar talents, it hap. lens, ten times oftener, that fail re results from neglect, and even ontrempt, of an honcit business. L man blhould put his heart into verything that he does. Thern a no profession that has not is eculiar cares and-vexations. No ian escapes annoyance by cbarig. ng his business. No mecbanici usiness is altogether agreeable. ommerce, in its endless varietics, s affected, like all other pursuits, vith trials, unwelcome duties, and ispiriting necessities. It is t4 cry height of folly for a ihan to eareh out the fVdCt's' and buildens f his calling, and givehis mind ev ry day to a consideration of them. hey belong to human life-they re ineritable. Sioodiig ovef ben only gives them strength. )n the other hand, a man has )ower given him to shed beauty ,nd pleasure on- the bdthilist oil, if he be wise. Let' a: man dopt his busimess, and identify it rith pleasant associations; for eaven has given us imaginatiops; iot' alofid,to*41akedir pots, but to* mablb till nin to'beautity omely hngs. Heart varihi I vill cover ip innumerable defects. Look at; .he good things. Accept your ot as a man does a piece of rug. ,ed ground, aridbegin to gt out -ocks and roots, to deepen and nellow the soil, to enrich and >lant it. The Meanest Man Yet. S'orde years ago tlic Oulminating y-2nean decendant of nodo -ion -ich skinflints, in a New giand tate, was sick so nesrly unto leath that the atterldint docWr~ Lnd the doctors dalled id 6nult. ion, virtually gave him up. At. his crisis an old- did excelt )bysician, living neat the 8icirmaoy )ut whose fiiendship and profes ilonal services had been alienated' 'cr a iumbetrOfyenis past by sonio' lespicably mean act of the rich niser, heeded the despairing cry hat called him to the bed-side of iis former patient, and, by some appy resource, res,ued- his ene ny from death. For this he ut erly refused compensation, though, n an exceptionai humanization of cul, the man whose life he had aved offered it liberally. - In a few nonths thereafter the phycian iad occasion to call at the same ouse on other business. His on. y cow had stray.2d into a field 'elonging to his rich neighbor nd latc patient, and lhe went to. >fler-compensation ! "How much hail I pay for the damage done ?-" i asked. shamefacad at his oIwn tustion. The answer, after a ause, a sniitessed sigh, and terrous twitching of the iips, wae -"Nothing." But in the manner .nd tone of this answer there was omething to make the doctor Iraw froni his poeket a half dollar nd extenrd it toward his neigh ior saying: "Your must at least ake this." The man of score housands, with all their inherited aeanness, thrust both his hands cey into his~ pockets ; turned ed and palo alternately ; looked at he coin, then tried to look away rom it ; chioked-;-staturnered some hing int'o!i'erntly ; drew one and slowly from a pocket, and natched the coin lik-e a wild beast ! I cannot help it!" he sobbed, and ried aloud like a child in utter hame and conscious irresistible Consors.-In 1870, it is statedi; hcre were 10,000,000 dozen cor stst. or 120.000,000 pair imported1 nto the United States-a quanti v it is calculated. sufBecient to sup. Iy thuree pair to every adult fe nale in the country. In addition, he an nul domestic product of ewed corsets amounted to 1,500. ~00 pairs, manufactured by about w e I v e establishments. Near trasburrg, a city in Gertnany, here are 1,500 h and looms employ. d in weaving corsets for tbe con umption in the United States. )ne man as a weaver and two omen as finishers are required or each loom, which produces bree corsets daily. The sale of orsets, iu is estimated, increases ve per een t. every year. Corsets or males are also made, and about 00 de zen of this article of maseu ie apparel are imported intote: Jait.ed States every year.~ Gra Bri:ain spends as wuchr in t"o Lay .mnosa she does !n ticsa.