Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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Vol. Ix. WEDNESDAY --NORNLOG, AUG-UST 2,l 1S30 o 1 THE HERALD IS I'UBLISUED .IVEltY WAUNESIAY Mo!INING, At Newberry U. IL, BY THOS. F, GRENEKER, Editor and Proprietor. Terms, %2.i0 per .icun .lnvariably in Advance. ' The paper is stopped at the expiratior 0 tiate for which it is.Vaid. .7 The .4 mark denotes expiration of sub peription. 4octrii. IE DYIN44 .MTHtER. We were weeping roind her pillow, For we k:aw that she must die; It na,: night within our bosoms It mAs 1i0ht upon the sky. There were seven of us children, 1, the eldest one of all ; So I tried to whisper comfort, 14it the blinding tears would fall. (in my knees niv little brother Leaned his achi~g brow and wept; And may sister's long black trczses O'er my heaing boson swept. -The shadow of an awful fear C;-rne o'er me as I trod, To lay tihe burden of our grief Before the throue of God. "Oh ! he kind to one another," Was the mother's pleading prayer, As her haud lay like a snow-dlake, Ou the baby's golden hair. Then a glory round her forehead, Like the glory of a crown, And in the silent sea of death The star of life went down. Her last breath was borne away, Ipon that loving prayer; And the hand grew heavier-paler, In the baby's golden hair. A RACE WITH DEATH. -0: "Sir, you're an ass !" "Sir, I'm not ; 1 camo here to sue for your daughter's hand, and "And you expect me to give my daughter to a man who, whatever may be his other qualities, has not a copper in the world to bless himself with ?" "I know I -have no money it present, sir, btut I have hopes" "A pretty thing to begin house keeping on ! Supposing you were marwried to-morrow, do you wish to live or die the day after ?" "Live, sir, of course." "Why of course ? To live you want food ; if you want food, you want money; and as you have no money you would get no food ; and no food means starvation ! Do you see that, sir ? "Yes: sir ; but" "But ! There's no but in the ease. Now take a bit of advice from me, Mortimner, as one of your fiahers oldest friends. Go and eatrn a liv'ing;' and when you can show mue that you can support my daughter if I give- her to you mind you, if-1 shall be ready to talk to you. Good morning. Bah! and the testy Thut good natured old gentleman stumped out of the room, ieaving me speechless sit* ting on the edge of a chair with my hat in hand. All my hopes had been rtithlessly dashed to the ground. I had expected to arguc the point with Mr. Clavering as B3essie, his daughter, had assured me that it would be all right if I only put the matter properly be. foro him. We hi a d mutually agreed that he would be sure to give his consent, and had laid no end of plans for the future, in which everything but the question of money had been exhaustively considered. The abrupt manner ini which this had now been brought disconcerted me not a little, and I left the room not qulite so cor tain that I did not resemble that ge nerally' good-natured but other w i s e unreliable quadruped to which Mr. Clavering had likened me in the course of our conversa, tionm. At the door I met Bessie, witli an expression of mingled anxiety and curiosity on her countenance "Well, Jack, what did pape say ?" "T'hat I was an ass, B3essie !" "Ohb, I. hope you did not quar rel. I was afraid there was something wrong, as I heard himu ordering deviled kidneys for lunch and he never does that without he's in a passion." "Bessie, the old gentleman ask. ed me how we were going to live.' Well, did you not tell him in a little cottage, with a garden in front, .and a piggery, and a kitch en-g~arden, and a fowl-house and alit tle daixry, and-" "Yes, yes ; but that's not w~hat le meant. iIe wanted to know where all the money was to come~ from to pay for all this." "\fhy, you were to provide th< money, of course. You were tt eatrn it." "Certainly; but your fatthei wanited to knmow how."' "How ? WVell, y- o u would there now, you ought to kniow best, surely. D)on't you ?" "No, I do not, Bessie, and ] think we ought to have though of this before." "'Jack, I don't wonder papa go ini a passion with y'ou, you're st stup)id.. I have a great mind t< get angry with you myself. "But sweetheart, don't you reali l. tin we nought to have consid eiea how we were guing to buy what we wanted ?" "That was your business, not wine; and Jack, if you look at ine like that I'll box your ears." "No, you won't! I think you're all in a very bad temper this morn. -Do yon ? Now I tell You what it is Mr. Jack. Till you find out how we're going to get money to live on 1'won't have anything more to say or to do with you at all. Don't coie nleari me non. I don't love you a bit; I never shall, and I never did ! And, Jack when you have found out how you'll come and tell me first, won'tyou?" And away dashed Bessie, leaving me at the garden gate, to which we had walked during our conversation. It was a lovely spring morning. All nature seemed in ecstacy at the prospect of approaching sum mer. I alone was sad. I could not help feeling that I had made a mistake, and that I must have lowered mys O considerably in the estimation of old Mr. Clavering by appearing so thoughtless and in considerate. True, I was Lut nine teen, and having lost my father earlf3, had been brought up and educated by my mother alone, and so perhaps .had rather less knowledge of the worid than I should have acquired had I been sent to a publie school )ir to the university. fy position was by no means a bad one. The only son of a distinguished military officer, who was not wealthy, but left what little he had to his widow duringt her lifetime. I might be said to have possessed a good education, and what was, per haps better, good prospects. I had been invited by Mr. Claver ing, who was an old military comrade of my fiather's to spend a month with him at his resi dence at Morecombe Bay. Du ring my-stay I had learned first to like an'd then to love his daughter B)essie, and when my visit ap Proached its termination had not only declared my love, but had asked permission to marry, with what result is known. Hfavingf been always tolerably well sup plied with money. I had never yet been brought fiee to face with the great educator of humanity-the necessity of earning one's bread and was, therefore, rather igno rant of some of the principal du ties of life than unmindful of them. The bluff, common-sensc of Bes sie's father had compelled me to consider matters from a practical point of view, and I was now per I haps more angry with myself than with any one else. I walked on but finally resolved to return to the cottage and saddle Moro for a ride. Moro had been my father's charger, and had been left me, with particular instructions as to his care. iIe was a splendid horse of jet black, color, of enormous strength. By thle kindness of my host I had been allowed to bring him with me, and many a pleasant ride had I had on his back with Bessie (flavering. A s I re-entered the pleasant galr den attached to the cottage I strove in vain to catch a glimpse of Bessie, and reached the stable without havin&. met anybody but the old garden~er, who saluted me with the usual "IIow 'de d6, Sur?9" I was soon by the side of' Moro, who gave a neigh of' deligh t as I en tered. It did not take me long to puit onl his sadldle, and as I left the yard I learned from the old groom that Miss Clavering had -ridden out alone about a quarter of an hour before me. I was c&rtainly much chagrined at this, and made sevcr al mnental resolves to be fully re venged as soon as I could get a convenient opportunity. I tur'ned down a lane that led to the bridle path along the top of' the cliff, nd letting the reins fall over Moro's neck, abandpned myself' to building castles in tihe air; in the erection of which Bessic took a very prominent part. The spot was adirably adapted to mieditation. To my left a smal! wood, through the breaks in which glimpses of' the rising upland were caught Iever-y now a n d then, str-aighit ahead a broead expanse of purple heather, andl to my r'ight the rug gd steep eliffs, at the foot of wrichi lay a vast ti-act of sand, as the sea, owing to the flat shore, retires a distance of near-y four mies; far- away in the distance the b-ighit dacigwaes, with a sail or two in sight, andl over the whole a gloiius ex panse of blue, ac'oss which the light mornmng air blew a fewv white scudding Pclouds. . Some three and a half miles f-om the shore there extended iight along the coast a low sand bank, which was aL once a source of pieasure and dangmer' to the in habitants a n d the fisharnmen. When the tide flowed the sea beat against the bank for some time. till at last with an angry roar, it suimounted the obstacle and came teaing down the incline like a vrv avalainehe. .ilany accidents r'esid.ting in loss of life hamd talen place. owing to the ignorance amnd ....,.lesnes otnoi'm -o nd others. who. lulled into a state of fancied security by the distance of the sea, would wander about on the sands till overtaken by the tide, when they were placed, as it were in an instant, beyond human as sistaric, arid ~were invaribly lost. Danger signals and notices had been put up in every prominent position by the authorities, who were accustomed also at the turn ing of the tide to fire a signal-gun; but, with all that, the sands were so tempting, and the very breeze that wafted across them so deli Cious, that & day seldom passed without some party or other, gene rally mounted, venturing upon them. As I looked down I could see nothing but a solitary speck in the distance, which I soon after made out, through a little pocket glass I always carried, to be a per. sun on horseback cantering along. I paid no particular attention at the time and continued my way, gathering up the reins as Moro broke into a gentle trot. I was now on the edge of the cliffs, where a Single false step would at once have prceipitated me on the sands below, and consequently, al though Moro was wonderfully sure-footed and well acquainted with the path, I moved along with considerable caution. The beauty of the scene and the exer eise soon dispelled the gloominess that had oppressed me, and as my blood began to circulate more quickly my spirits rose and I com menced to sing riight merrily. The path now took a sudden turn by a deep gorge, and as I did not wish to go round it, a distance of nearly a mile. I resolved to put Moro across it; so patting him gently on the neck, for I never touched him with spur or whip. I called to him; the noble old horse understood me at once, and in creased his speed. On we went, the pace getting faster aid faster, till, at the gorge, Moro rose with a splendid bound and alighted safely on the other side. I now got a full view ot the saids again, and found that I was considerably nearer the person on horseback below-in fact, that we had been moving toward one another. At that moment Moro suddenly stop ped, and tossing his head in the aii-, gave a loud neigh. Somewhat astonished at this proceeding, I looked more carefully, and per ceived by the flutter of the dress that the person on horseback was a lady. I became more interested, and taking out my glass, discover ed that it was no other than Bes sie, who had been cai-tering atong on the sands on a mare that her father had lately bought her. Mo ro had no doobt recognized his stable companion. I debated with myself whether I should return, rand by taking a short cut, meet her on her way home, in order to upbraid her with her misconduct in going out alone. While I was cogitatrng, More uttered a snort of alarm. I looked and beheld a sight that for the moment took away my breath. From some catise or other P>essie's horse ap pearedl to have taken fright and became unmanageable; all at once it tore away like the wind in the direction of the sea. At the same moment I hecar-d the distant boom of the sign al-gun which announced that tire tide was just about tc tur-n. The full horror of the situ tion now flashed acr-oss me; unless the mare could be stopped in time, my love would be over-taken by the sea, and lost before my eyes. A cold chill took possession of me, and for a moment 1 sat motion less. Bessie's figure was already becoming smaller as she was borne rapidly onwardl. "Now or never, Moi-o!" 1 said, as I rose in the stir rups ; and the gallant old horse seemed to under-stand me, for he impatiently p)awedl the air with his forc-feet. The next thing was how to get upon the sands. "The gor-ge ! oh, the george !" I touched Mor-o, and in a few seconds we had reached it. It was a frightful declivity, and the descent seemed impossible; yet it was my only chance, and I determined to make the attempt. Carefully, and with the gi-eatest caution, I guided More, and after a few moments o: agonized suspense gained t h ( sand. I knew I had only onc cur-se beforo mo-to putrsue the mar-e andl then attempt to race the tide. "'Moro!" 1 shouted, "Mor-o ! we r-ide to save my love ! More shook himself as if he knew what a tr-oniendous effort was de mantied of him, and settled dlown' to his wor-k. By this time Bessie was quite half the distance toward the sea. \Would I reach her in tme ? Ini order to lighten the weight, I thi-ew away my over coat, my hat, coat and waistcoat. I cal led upon Moro; lie seemed t fly. \We wver-e gaining upon the mare evidently, but still the aw. fiil question rose to my lips: "Would it be in time ?" I could already hear the r-oar and sur-ge od the wvater-s, and the rising wind warne<i me- that the tide would tha imrig probably exceed its uIsua l 1. ei ghit. Il v bloo d wvas thor either save my loo or to periAh with her. We were now but hilt a mile apart. I sho-ted till I w.s hoarse, but all to no L'ffe-t., for thL wind was dead int omr: '-cecs. More seemed to parLticipaLte i-I ry. ex citement, and strained ev,ry tierve to overtake the mare. We werv not more than two hundred yards distant from t h e sand bank against which the waves were dashing with unwonted forc*c An. other second and the mare would have passed the bank, bc over whelmed by the raging w aters,aad all would be lost. I scroam-,d ia my agony. I thought [ heard alow wail in response. I shut my eyes, as I could not bear to look, but opened them again immediately, as Moro gave a whinny of plea sure. . "All h what is that ?" The mare had stumb!ed and thrown Bessie, and then plunged wildly, i in her terror and fury into the waves. In an instant I was along side my love, had dismounted and was kneeling by her. "Bessie! Bessie! oh my darling, are you dead? Oh, speak to me! speak to me!" After a few moments, wich seemed to me an age of torture, she opened her eyes and said, faintly :"Jack, my best beloved, save yourself; the tide will be over the bank in a second or two. Give my love to dear papa." Then, ex hausted, she fell back in a dead faint. I tore my hair in despair; I raved like a madman. What could I do ? At last I became calmer, for a desperate resolve had taken possession of me. Moro should have a double burden, and we would try and outstrip the tide; we would race with death. I soon placed my darling across the sad dIe, and leaped up behind her as the first spray came flashing over the bank. I knew not an instant was to be lost. We started for the shore. d patted Moro. I said to him, "Moro, you bore my father through the ranks of death at Balaklava. Oh, save his son!" To add to my agony I now perceived that a storm was impending. The sky was overcast; heavy drops of rain began to fall, and every now and then a lurid flash lit up the darling air. We were now but two miles from the shore, and if I could only reach the gorge in time, I know we were saved. I called again upon Moro. The noble horse for the first time uttered sighs of distress. A new terror now seized me-would Moro's strength last ? I turned and looked, and tlhrough the blinding rain saw, to my hor rar, that the sea was alrealy breaking over the bank. It would be upon us almost directly. lurged Moro on afresh,but the poor animal appeared unable to increase his speed. Boom! boom!. "Ah! what is that ? Thank God, we have been observed, and they are hastening to our help ! The signal-gun ! "Mo ro, my MIoro, but a few seconds longer!" We tore along. Bessie still lay insensible in my arms. The cliffs now rose frowning before us. Another hundred yards and we are saved. "On Mor .on ! I hear the roar of the dle.cendinN tide." Ouce more I turned, and~ as the s ning flashed, I saw the wa tL r-aging and surging almost at the horse's heels. At that moment Mtoro stagg~ered. Thte sea was up on us and ovet us. I heard a ring. ing in my ear-s. I gave one laLst, one agonized shtriek, and remem bored no more. I awoke and found myself in a warm bed, surrounded by compas sionate faces. Mr-. Clavering came forwiar.d, "You must not excite yourself, my boy," ho sa~id. "Bes sic is well." "And M.or-o ?" I asked. "Is well too," he said. Do you want to know wvhether [ married Bessie ? If you doggo to Mor-ecombe Bay, ask fot- the Hlaw thtorno's and maybe you'll see an old black military charger, almost blind, with two or three curly. headed little ut-chins on his back, all laughing and clapping theit hands as he car-rics them daintily up and down the path. "John," said a doating pat-eni to her got-manidizing son, "do you -really think you can eat the whole of the pudding with impunity ? "I don't knowv, ma," answered tbc young hopeful; "but I guess I car with a spoon." "TIheo wind's getting round," i-e marked Bibbs to his friend Bug. gins the othoer day, when ii chan&ged from east to west. "Glad of it," t-eplicd Buggints, "it's been sharp long enough." Therec is a time for all things IThe time to leave is when a young laby asks you what sort of' a day it is for- walking. *Whty do honest ducks dip theim heads untder the wateri? To liquid ate their little bills. Conversation enr-iches the uin derstandling, but solitude is the school of' genius.-ibbonl. Whiois it who is always expect in g quarter, anid yet never give: 411E LIGHlT BRIG.DE. TRUTH1 ABOUT THE FAMOUS CHAROE "NTo TiE .1LoUTH OF HELL." At last we have a historical blunter gracefully corrceted and a hanisome defense of'a brave soldier whise name has under been acloud. It has been popularly decided that CaDtain Louis Nolan, of Lord Rag h.i's staff, being an impetuous sol dier, purposely misconstrued the actual meaning of an order which he calried into an authorization of the senseless sacrifice of the Light B3rigade, and that hiis o1Ny excuse was that lie was the first mat killed in the charge. Lauuee Poynt-, i* the Galaxy, after re viewing thle topography of the battIc-field and the position of tihe forces, says : As it was, matters stood thus when Nolan left Raglan, bearing the "fourth order." The Russians were oustered on two hills, the English and French cavalry stood looking on. Lucan was in his usnat ervous, irritable-state, when the g.Lilop of a horse was heard. A tall, slender young officer, with , trim figure and black mustache, was con.'ing down a steep descent tt fullspeed, with a white envelope stuck in his belt : and evey eVC was on him in a moment. It was Captain Nolan, in his scarlet .shell-jacket. a little forage cap set on oe sido of his dark curls. his fice fall of joy and &. - gerness. An .tudible murmur w e n t thronf,n the ranks. "O.rders come ! Nolan's the boy that'l show us the way to movo." For NLan was w4ll known and unie.-sallv beloved. In another moment he h a d dashed up and saluted ; then hand ed his letter to Lord Lucan. The cavalry General torc it open with the neryou.s haste character istic of every movement of his lordship. When he read it over, his countenant-e changed. Then his lordsnip broke out something in this style "W y, good heaven's, sir, what car. lie mean. With the little forie at our command we can hard ly iold our own, much less advance. IL i perfectly suicidal. How can we advance ?" _,olan's eye began to blaze. le had just coie fron the high grounI whence the whole Russian po siti(n could be seen at aglance Knowing that his order contem plated the doubling back of the Rufsian columns and saving the gurs in the redoubts, he was im patient of the pragmiaticdA objec tioa of' this captious old man. ;n a stern, distinct tone he spder ',o Lord Luc-an: "Lord Raglani's or'ders are that the cavalry should attack imime diatdly." "Attack, sir ?" cried L ucea r angrJly. "Attack what? Wha Nolan threw hi.s hoad back in digcant!y, and -pointed to th< Causeway Ridge, where the Rns sians were busily at work trying t< hau! away the captured guns. Th< group wvas standing at the right o: the north valley, "There, my L ord, is your enemy, and thiere are your guns." The Captain forgot that lhe was talking to an excitable and imprac ticable man. Wrong headed Lucar chose to fancy that lie pointed t( the end of the riey, and with al the obstinacy of his nature kep to tl:e error. 'Very well, sir, very well." hi said angrily. "This order shall be obeyed. wash my hands of it." He wheeled his horse and trot ted off to where Cardigan sat it front of his brilliant lines gnawm; -his gray mustache and chafins over his inaction. Then said wrong-headed Li can: "Lord Cardigan, you will attach the Russians in the valley." The Earl dropped his sword ii salute. "Certainly, my Lord; but allov inc to point out to y'ou that thier< is a battery ini front, a battery of each flank, and the ground is cov ered wvith liussian riflemen." "I can't help it." said Lue-in snappishly ;"it is Lord llaglan' positive order that thme light bi adle is to attack the enemy. W have.no choice but to obey." Then Cardigan bowed his head 'Very well, my Lord,." was a' le said. Thben tuirning to his stafi 'The b'reiado will advance."' h said qiuietly. Meantime, N o I an, after hi sharp passage of ar'ms with thi division c2ommanl~der. had riddel oft to the light brigade himsel wher'e he wvas cheeirfully talkin; to his sworn comrade and friend Captain Moirris,of the Seventeenti lancers. Now that he had mtain taned his position as mnouth-piec of' the coinmmander-in-chief, agains the impudent, finult-lundinug of Li r... he felt h-ony. llis belove: eavalry was to be -anlhed at last on this qlorious mission against the UC Way !idg,1, and already lIwuaville was preparing to :s sault the other flank of the Rus W1ho (nLI_ 1Vofder1 that enthusiai1 tie Nolan told Morris that he was rig to see the brirade through the eharge ? It was his priviiege to do so, and his heart beat high with hope. Little did he know of the extent ot pig-hle:uied stupidity natural to the wo Iieml bers of the English aristovrarv v ho respect ;vely coniiani.le and ;ed that clarge. A clear. sharp voie was soon h !ard inl front of 1he briga(, now tormud iII tlrcc iines. .ord Lucan rode awvay to tire 11av ie . an ri Nola. galloped r.mnd t4o tle rear to tihe left of the brigadle. aS tLhe sharp voh-(e C ried -ight briigade, forwarl -trot imarchIi iI a1 0 moment the front line was away, as steady as if on parade, at a rapid trot, following an erect gentleman, mounted on a chestnut thorougibred, and wearing tight scarlet trousers- and a blue fur trimmed jacket, the front a per feet blaze of gold. The erect gentleman was as slen der in figure, as alert in gesture as a boy of'twenty and yet that man was lifty-seven years old. and the Earl of Cardi--an himself. But hardli had they started wher. Nolan uttered a cry of as tonishment and rage. "Good God ? are the fools going to charge down the valley ?" lie shouted. ! Then, setting spurs to his horse, he dashed out of his place and gal loped madly across the front, waV ig his sword. "Whore are you going, ny lord?" he shouted. "That is not Lord Raglan's order. Change front to the right! This way ! This way! The batteries on the ridge!" Lord Cardigan was as hot-term pored in his way as Lord Luc4n. The audacity of an offioer prosum 4ng to oross'his fl-ont was enough. For that officer to address his briM ade was an additional insult. lie spoke not a word, but pointed rimly forward with his sword. Solan's words wero lost in the thunder of hoofs, and all that was seen was his figure crossing the front and wildly gesticulating. pointing to Causeway Ridge. Then the Russian batterics opened. There was a flash, a boom, and a second flaA in the air, a lit tle cloqd of white smoke, and a loud spang! as the first shell burst in the faces of the trotting line. Poor Nolan threw up his arm with a fearful shriek, and fell back in his . saddle, stone dead,. struck through the heart. With a low groan of rage the rushing horse men quickened their pace, and dashed on, at a wild gallop, into the valley of death. The seceret of B3alaklava perish ed with Nolan. A THRILLING .SIoDE IN TII.E LIFE of IBUEIALo BILL.--Buffalo Bill was at Hartford, Conn., the other day, and while visiting Colt's armory the l.arge number of spec tators who had assembled to see the fhmous scout desired him to favor them with an oxhibition1 of his skill as a marksman. Bill gave the ehow of tobacco in Iris mouth to a small boy to keep warm, a small pic of white paper was put up on a barn door fifty rods distant, B. William seized a fine, new rifle, spit on his hands, and in the manner sooften described by Ned Buntline raised the r-ifle until his nose rested on the stock, fired, and a picket was knocked off from a fence ten feet to the left of the barn. "This rifle-barrel is crooked," said Bill. So saying he hit it over a stone to straighten it, then shot again, this time barking the shin of an old pie-woman on his right flank. A third trial, and be hit the barn fair in the centre, and the shout that arose from the as semrblage attested the joy of the spectators at his success. Bill is just as good an actor as he is a marksman, which is very remark able in these days of corruption and bri bry.-Da nbury News. IA lady wished a seat. A portly, h land.seme gentleimu brought oue and seated the lady. "-Oh ! you're a jew. cl." said s-he. "Oh~ ' no." he replied li'm a jeweler, 1 have just set thc A man writing poetically of the weather, says, ."The backbone of Wiinter. is broken, but the tail wags yet occasionally. The following is extr-acted fr-om h mr oy's com~position on "ba b'-':'l"Th mother's heart grives 4th joy at the baby's 1st 2th. W hy are the (queen's pastry cooks~like the Canadas ?-Beeause Lhey are the Quneen's doughmin ' ons. e B decisive or mild, as the cir. tcumstances in which you are~ -placed maIy requiire. .Suiit youi i conduct to the noccasion. THE' DUT.11-:11ANS INSUR ANCE, POLICY. A "'- i story dt i of a 64hr Ilan b', I Ie nan I I nI I t. wv ho had tam[il.te prectionim to isn t i e of his wif Cor 5.0n0. and his ; S::hi lrd' . believ.mi lkth for-1r mi-1ht (lie anld the ltterl 6e burnt. ami he couhi not -0t :ilolI without soi e c eu-4)11)nsat lor tile h>sS. Both pnoiciets hai been tanken froii the same agent. In 1 few lilonths after time stable had beei insured it was destrLoyl by fire. Smidt quietly not; tied tLe aint. and hinted to him that he wouid exeet tile SI00 at the earliest pos sible unn.Te gn toc sent a varlcnltoer to aertain -he C-1St Of erCeCtiIn-i a new stlabbl 'If the same I tl ijL ' )JILT1.3. scer tained that t he pioperty was inn sured Ivr iunre than it wasn wauitir. The builder re 1'rted that he coulid replac the stable with new mate rial for $500, but unfortunately there was an ordinance p)revent ing the erection of frame bullings -the old stable having been of w ood. lie was asked to estimate the cost 'of .a brick stable, and reported the amount $750. The agent then notiied Smidt that he would build him a new briek sta ble in place of the old fi-ame one. but SmnidAt became very indignant at the proposition, saying: "I do not und-erstand c.is insu race business. I pay you for nine hundred dollar. and when mv shtable burn down von make me a new one. I not want a new shtable. I want nine hundred !ol lur. The ;qgent reasoned with Smnidt. but all to no purpose. When the stable was about finished Smidt Went to consult a lawyer. think ing he could still get the amount of the policy, beside having the new stable. The lawyer, however, informed him that the company had a right to make good the loss by building a new stable, and express. ed surprise at his bringing suit against them. "But," said Sm'idt; "I insure fjr uine hundred dollar, and dis felier put up den shtable for seven hun. dred and fifty dollar-1 do not un derstand de insurance business." Finding thathe could not comptl the payment by law, he became disgusted with the insurance busi ness altogether. Calling upon the agent, Smidt said: "Mr.. :gent, I vant you to Stop de insurance on mine vife. I do 110 pa any more monish dat way : I not tindorstand dis insu rance business." Agent surprised : "Why Mr. Smidt you are doing a very foolish thing. You have paid consider. able upon this already, and if your wife should die, you will get 85000." "Yab, dat ish vat you tell me now," said Smidt. "Yen 1 pays you on my shtable, you say 1 get nine hundred dollars if it burnt down. So it was burnt, and you not give me mine monish. You say, 0, dat was an old frame shta ble, and you not pay me mine nine hundred dollar. Vent mine vife dies, den yosay to me, 0, she vash an old Dutch woman; she not wort anydings; I get you a new Eng lish vife! And so I lose mine five tousand dollars. You not fool Smidt again. I not understand dis insurace business," A Boy wino PomN A HOM:. The lion. A.11L. Stephens, of (Geor gia, in a recent address at a meet ing at Atlanta, for the benefit of the orphan asylum and free school of that city, related the iollowing anecdote: A poor little boy on a cold night. with no house or roof to shelter his head, no paternal or maternal guardian, or guide to protect or direct him on his way. reached at nightfall tihe home of a wealthy planter, who took him in, and fed and lodged him, and sent him on his way with his blessing. These kind attentions cheered his -heart and inspired him with fresh cour age to battle with the obstacles of life. Years r-olled on, Providence led him on and he reached the legal profession. His host had died ; the cormorants that prey on the substance of man had form ed a conspiracy to get from the Iwidow her estates. She sent for the nearest counsel to commit her cause to him. and that counsel proved to be the orphan boy long beore welcomed and entertained by her deceased husband. The stimulous of a warm anid tenacious gratitude was now added to the ordinary motive connected with the pr-ofes.sion. lie unidertook her case with a will not easily t. be resisted; he gained it ; the wid ow's 'state was seenro-d to her in p)erpetuity. and Mr. Stephens ad ded with an emphasis of emnotion that sent an electric thrill through' the house, "That boy stands be. fore vou." A nman adv1ertise., for a eunipeteni prntounidertake the sale of a nev m,edicine-anod aidds th at it will prove hinhie 1u..r.,ti.e td the underta.,.r) ADVERTISINC RATES. MyIertimemns in:wrte-i at terail* 1)! 5; to p-r mp tarc--one inh-tor first i-erti I...1 1 7.o. lor Cach Sbsquet nisertion. Im Ubi c111:11u a1Iver cnit ten per cent ou a:;;e. No-,Ices o f meetin;ts-. obituarie, :nI I -1-u1 It! ofnopec, t. n:Cnte r:te c,ber :c're n t :1.1 ~ rO-Col-ma wr-h.nde. A.iveii-emen:i not, maried with ti,e n.:.n h-r -*;:'nertio:-- wi!l be kept :n tilu forbid auid charge-1 accor-dingly. speci. c,trae:s ndie with large adve!-V ,isruev:os on above rates. ARI F. -11%]LYG. 1 --: ,111hrNe-i:-:s l ii L s D s t fi:. - Tertus a't, in ;t:ile ::ti:! lh;iti'e. etlln hi ihe (hipa Srlina. fiua i the ! i:,:le :!.i l in th l uaters.. th Ahuitic .-:1-r Inh v ts. k)"- spn;al' :Ml diLg:1 itz yut hor in orth is Lit. I ~ ~ ~ -1 1ii .':5 4.h e i . ist 112 i: W qpi,* Franie. thl.- ::-di:t th.. tru, sardit:eio at 1 0 1. () 1. c2t 1,02(ut practiced 11':t' van 'l thed illfeti- Whlen tw;e Jtnri. e 1 I'll heri:1e The -y eaI Iarn"'. fs Well as the mice -arineu:s nhe pfeha l tish eiien Alaii tOi- the Young fish.is those fully grom art too carge for the boxes. Th true sardie hve attain, ed their ful rwth. lu babit as well as iij -eneral appearane the wn tribes arx aii initar. The fish when taken are first wash ed. the salted a little thea thourough tv eased nd gr ae t ai. after whie. The trC sl,rc.d u a*ttal(*ie, of light Will(w or wtr-w.rk. and wx are1 to We sul Wid Wind. They re he ol a while in olirV oil,wan .U th boxes with oil to fill up. The~ uual mode of capturing thiese fili ; b e lar net cagled a seine wliIhich y comes owr:a t 1- ftan is of liuht wilekl o w;r-wk . Lat ill. -Yagena)i. The cork. of the supe r1t), lit scrVe :Is buuys. wl.il-- -.he lead:; posied tof the siukc in. secure to the bkt a wiUle indicular position in face f thsal . Often the esn tiWoi byat tha2a le large tcle seine, c a mee svich omesdownto u afro dain ag e Ted. cd fweeping the wt rwith it J.- some considkrable distane.v th e n a Wel a as n en du riton. in the 5prat fishery. off th ecnasts of Bre tw . T ias is fm r te l . 4ne.prt a witer work, ilt htfor saconiesl proper is carried on chiefiy i May,. June and July. Whe a hoal appeiars, a1 bait. con sisting of the spawn of large fish, much a:' which is brought from Norway, is thrown over to keep mtyriads togtether. The shoals of hirring og ' suprats are very capricioue in their movements ; why they should be now here and in half an hour far away, no mortal can divine. We are equally at a loss to tell why in some seasons they approach cer tain coasts and headlands and absent themselves at other times. Many foolish niotious have prevailed as to tile cause of the disajpperance of sho.als fromt waters which they were wont to frequeit.-^ The firing of cannon o:, ship or shore is thought by somei to account for their absence. A newly-installed cler gyman whose parish bordered upon the ocean. havinu said hie meant to tithe the rod~uct of the seai. thus injun dicious remiark was believedi to ha:ve such an efflet upon the~ finny tribes that for niany years they kept aIwaY from those coasts. THE SKULL OF SHAKSPERE. A eertain French Baron, whose scientific tastes led him to collect the skulls of celebrated persons, one day received a visit from a mani withI whom he was accustomecd to deal. "What do you bring ime here?" asked the Baron. as the man carefully unwrapped an enveloped package. "The skull of Shakspeare." "Impossible." "I speak .the truth. Moinsieur le Ba ron. IIere is proof of what 1 say.'' said the dealer, producing somepa pers. 'But," replied the Baron, drawing aside the curtain which concealed his own singular collection. I salready pos sess that skull." "lHe must have been a rogue who sold you that," was me remark of the honest dealer. "Your father." said the Baron in a. mild tone."he sold it to mec about wenty-ni'ne years ago." The broker was for a moment dis concerted, then explained, with viva city: "1 comnprehendI. Be good enough to observe the small dimeucsions of the skull on your 5helf. Ilemiark the nar row occiput. the undeveloped forehead where intelliuence is still mute. It is Shakspeare to be sure. but Shak speare as aecild about twelve or fourteen years old, whereasi tis is that of Shiakspeare when hei had attainedi a certain 'age. and1 hiad become. the great genius of which Englandl is so justly proud." The Baron bought the second head. A Frenehani wriig in the .Jour nial Pour Tours says : "Respect for women requires us never to doubt a word of what The utters; self-respect requires us never t oeive r wor of what she says.' Till late Samuel 1 Brown f Cin einitati, left by his will 8150iI to foemtl a university. It is strange he didn't think to leave a similar amount to Ipay off the national debt. With those who are of a gloomy turn of mind, be reserved; with the idle, be cheerful; wit.h the old. be eroisr witmh th yong be merry.