University of South Carolina Libraries
~A"V A Family Conip,alion, Devoted to Litferature, Mliscellany, News, Agriculture, Malqes c Vol. X. WED-NERSDA,Y MORNING, AUGUST 26, IS8.74No THE HERALD IS PUBLISRED ZVE11Y MEDNESDAY MORXING,. U-. Aewbtrr . (LL, Y THOS P. GRENEKER, EAitor andProprictor. Tcims, 2.5 per ennUM, Invariably in Advance. The paper is stopped at the expiration of time for whicb it is paid. T The .mark denotes expiration of sub ,cMIption. SOONER OR LATER. S!oncr or later the storms shall beat Ove.r my slumbers-from head to feet; S,.-ar or later the winds shall rave In it e lo-g grass above my grave. I s.:l notbeed them where I lie, Nohi.g their sounds shall signify, No()t!! ithe headstone's fre: of rain, -o:hiug tome the-dait day' ain. Sooner or later the sun shall shine W ib tender warmth on that mound of mine, Soo:er or later in summer air, Cover and violet blossom there. I sha 1! not feel, in that deep laid rest, The,sheeted light.all over my breast, NoC -er noteIftrse hidden hours Tha windeblown breath of tossing flowers. SA zcr or later the-stainless snows Sh:itd their bush to niy mute repose; S4:;r or later shall slant and shift, t A:, heap my bed with dazzling drift. Chii through the frozen pall shall seem, P , _-i no colder can make the dream Ti .ecks not te sweet and sacred dread ShrVading t5e city of the dead. S-.ouer or late' the bee shall come Ard fill the noon with its golden hum; Suoner or Wter, on half-poised wing, i Tiz blue bird'. warble about the ring- ti Rin,' and chirrup aVd whistle with glee; S N't -hbsmiezsll seem to me; e N 4: ok'theid be-utifuithings shall know I1j: Nidlyl &ir I6ver sleeps below. b Sooner or later, far out in the night, T,'.e-stars above me shall wing their Sfight. Sooner or later by darkling dews Ccui the white spark in the silver ooze. t1 N":r a ray shall part the gloom T Tf!:t wraps me round in the kindly tomb; ti Pc:ee shall be perfect for lip and brow Suoner or laterw-O! why ntt now? * OUEOWN. If I had known in the morning hlow wearily all the day T :mewords.uonid V.enid trouble my mind I said when you wvent a way. I had been more careful, darling,. Nor given you needless pain; P,twe vex "our own" It Witlook and tone We might never take back again. Fc.r though in the quiet evening v Tonfpa give me -the kiss of peace, O Ydt it might be That never for,me The pain of the heart should cease. hi }io.inany to forth in the morning Thmt never come home at night, And hearts have broken For harsh words spoken, That sorrow 7can ne~ver set right. w Ane haecreu houghts for the stranger, fil Adsmiles for the some.time guest, fr 6fiin .' for'"our own" The bitter tone, Thm. run we love "our own" the best. It Alh! Uips with the curve-impatient, .A hrow with that look of scorn, a 'Teea crudel fate V n-re the njgt too late. il To nudo the work of morn. st - THE CHURNING SONG. p A pron on and dash, in hand, O'er the old churn here I stand:-G How the thtk creamfspurts and flies I Now on shoes, and now in eyes!-. Cachug! cachug! . re .A !,-how soonlItired get! rc B.urethe butter lingers yet; Cachug! A ching back and weary arm Quite rob churning of its charm! Cachug! cacmag! Sng the golden specks appear! st Atel the churns ring sharp and clear, '-Cachink! re A~rrms, that have to flag begun, Work- on-: you will soon be done,l Cachink! ea chink e, SiTh flakes cling to lid and dasb ; th Iica the thin milk's watery splash! Calikh Sweetest music to the ear, t Calink! calink! Spas Dinsmore, in St. Nicholas for Feb 'THEY SAY." ov They say,-ab, well! suppose they do; as iJut can they prove the story true? Suspicion may arise from naught. Bia: malice, envy, want of thought, di Why contyourself among the "they" th Who whisper what they.dare not say? ge They say-but why the tale rehearse, flC An-i kelp to make the matter ,worse? la! Nopod canpassibly accrue F-rom telling what may be untrue; And is it not a nobler plan s To speak of ali the best you can? They say-well, if it should be so, he Whby need you tell the tale of woe? se: W il it the bitte wrongs redress, Or make'one pang of sorrow less? Wi1f isthyerring oneo restore, TO llenceforth to "go and s.in no more?" ap --e lto IF YOU LOVE ME, TELL ME SO! If you love me tell me so; , t I h4s'e read it in your eyes, su I hlave heard it in your sighs, Ut amy woman's heart replies, WE If you love me, tell me so. Should I give you yes or no? m<l ".y, a girl may not confess Thther answer wonld be "Yes," tal To such. qaestioning, unless He who loves -her tells her so.to I-yulove me, tell me so. Love gives, strength to watch and wait. sai Trrust gives heart for any fate; Poor or. rich, unknown'or great, k If you love me, tell me so. tel LOVE'S LA ND. ov4 -In the South is Love's land, sat Where.tbe roses blow, t Where the Summer lingers, Fearless of the snow. h There no Winter chills it, So its life is long Gentle breezes fan it,le LAge but makes it strong.ti tu,fer oeswte Nay,. frshA roe withe m,- - .-, :. - We !eeWtb *tvrv. k NIGHT OF TERROR ---o "Mrs. Discomb," said I. one ev( ting to a middle-aged lady wit1 rhom I was spending an hour il pleasant. conversation. "you appea o have met with many adventure a your younger days. You relat story so well, that I never tire o stening to you, so, if there ha. een any thrilling episode in yoni fe that I have not as yet heard should be pleased to have yoi arrate it, and I can assure yoi iat I shall be a most attentivt ste(ner." "I am afr-.id you're a great flat Arer. Mr. Williamson." she replied However." she added, "I will cor ly with your reqest, for a start ng event recurs to my mind ai iis moment. "Twenty ye"ars ag,o my husband as a deal'r in jeweh-y, and, alsC L most articles of great value. H( 'aveled almost incessantly. and opped but a short inne in eacll ty or town. I could not bear t& a parted from him for months at time, so I alwas accompanied himi his wanderings, and endured any hardships and dangers foi Le sake of always being with him. here were not many railroads in Lose days; they were 'like ang(rels sits-few and far between. "Late ina the summer of 1852, we, eroin New Orleans; he had fin hel hir business there, and was ady to leave. On making inqui s he found that there would be no ssel for Savannah, our next stop n:place, till the end of the fol wing month, so he decided to take 1e overland route. "Well we got as far as Opelaka. eorgia; w'thout meeting with any ry serious annoyance or danger. pelaka, at that period, was little ore than a village, inhabited by df-breed I n d i a ns, miserable, eacherous rascals, and a few bites, whose general character is ueqnally as bad. Every two eks a stage left Opelaka for Grif i, the terminus of the railroad >m Savannah. We got there time for the stage, but, through e stupid obstinacy of my husband a were left behind in that miser ile place. He had three trunks led with valuable goods and the age driver wanted ten dollars >re than my husband had ever id anybody else-that is, for an al distance for carrying thenm to "'George, give him what he asks,' said, 'rather than stay in this etched village for weeks. If we main here, we'll be murdered and bbed by those villainous-looking dians.' "'Annie,' he replied, 'I won't pay chi exorbitant charges to that oundrel; no. not if we have to >p in this place for a month by Esing to do so." "Well, as I said before, the stage t without us, for the driver re sedl to take the trunks for less an he demanded. "There was a squalid-looking ho .-tavern, rather in the village, pt by a dirty, ruffianly-appearing f-breed, which my husband and entered on the departure of the lge. "Can we get a team to take r trunks and ourselves to GrifEin? ked my husband, of the host. "'The roads are in very bad con ion, and you, couldn't get more n five miles fr'om here this after on. and you'd have to stop at a use where a m:n was murdered t week for two dollars. You'd bet 'stop here to-night- I'll make you comfortable as I can,' he replied. "'Well, then, I guess we'll stay re till to-morrow morning,' ob ved my husband "The host went to prepare a 'm for us, and as he left the artment a wvhite mrn stepped up my husband and said: 'ister. you'd better not stay in s shebang to night, for you'll rely get murdered if you do. There re five men killed and robbed in s ranch within the last two nths. "I'm a teamster, and I'll :e you to Griffin if you want me ''A pleasant prospect, nideed.' d George. 'If we stay here we're lv to have our throats cut, so he Is us: and, if we go on this after n and stop at the old tavern r night, mine host says that the e delightful fate will await us re. Between two evils choose least ; but, confound the vwhole dr ! I don't know which is the st. My friend," he added, ing to the teamster, 'I reckon 1 remain here to night. Be y to-start early to-morrow at -light.' if you and your wife isn't as dead a door nail, you man to say, mister. said the teamster, with a grin, as he walked away. "-Good heavens. George, I cried, when safe within the apartment that we had been conducted to by mine host: 'we'll be murdered, and only because you acted like an ob stinate mule,' and then I burst into tears. My.v dear. he replied, 'be a philosopher and make the best of our felicitous situation. There is one conolation-that is, if our throats are cut we shall have the blessed privilege of dying in each other's arms. Think of that. mv dear. and be hanp.' George.' I sobbed. 'how can vou be so heartless as to joke when we are in sn11h great danger of our lie 'if v-on'd had any considAera-. tin for my comlf.,rt and)1 ]mv safet-. yo' have4 giveu the stage dr'iver' wht he askPd. I1 shall never for Ive ou for acting s0-11o. not as long- as, 1 live., Woll. perbal. that wol't beo very long: so you'd 1 ter not aganst m1e, for if von should 1ap p-n to 0 i uddely. withouat p'r.*ond me. vour' s vul wonhint -. mi le "n rlyi. for I sav th;It he a very oi anxious. 1d was try. ing." to c-er Ime up1) by ming-1;l light of the situation. -bont six o( '>k the limt brouglt us some supper, which we patrtook of sparin-ly. for we w.-rc in no hunor for c-in-. AL llile o'clock Geor ordreo'1 twxo miil k pianhs. Whena- theL host h:e br'onght themif. and deposi?t"d the trav on tho tai'le. antl lefi the room. su.lefld (he Contents of on1 of ti -i21s pimch contains drugs, lie said : 4we have, indld, got into a murderer's den.' The windows were both shntter less. and oar room was not mor0e than ten feet from the ground. It IIwas a Iovelv. Clear, moonligt night, and we could see those treacherous half-breeds standing outside. gazing up into onr apartment. and looking as if t.hey' but waited till we were aslecp, whien they would be only too ready to assist the tavern-keeper to take our lives. -It's a slight consolation to know that you have your pistols with which to defend us if we are at tacked by those scoundrels,' said I. " 'Unluckily for us. as it happens. I placed them in my trunk yester. day by mistake, and all the trunks are down stairs. I should have had1! them brought up here, but I did not wish to do so, as I thought it might cause the tavcrn-kceeper to think that we suspected lie would rob us if lie got the oppiortunity.' ~Good God !' I cried. 'then we shall have to stan~d still, and be killed like sheep~ when slaughtered by7 the butchers. What neced von to h:ave caredl for' the man'ls sas piir slong awehad sonmething to defendl~. n'selves with. Oh. George. you have acted very rashly.' deariiU Annie. w..e'e got inlto)aF srape. and now we nuTst get ont of it as best w"e c'an. Wec must put onr11 trusit inl luck. alnd hlope we shall escape bodily harm.w -Not in luck, George, b)ut in God, I. solemnly repieod. "Our conversation had been ear.I ried on in whispers. for we were'( afraid < of being' overheard. About twelv'e o'clock the tavern-keeper knocked at our door and ashked: Are~ yon asleep, and is there any thing u w \ish to have bro'ulght to vonl ?'\My husbland answLeed ini he negaIC' tive. Three hours elapsed. wh1en the. ,lfl sam question w1 as r'epe'at ed. GerCge made no) reply, but. a slender. though heavy log of wood in his up-raised hands, stood near the d'oor, ready. to attack the firmst peso who entered. I lay,' trenm ling in an agony of feat' stretched ulon the bed. Tihe 51sspense was awul, and I was almost crazed with "My ey.es were fastened on the door, and m~y husband. who, statue like. stood beside it. The door had neither lock nor bolt, so anybody cold enter the room easily. Sud denly I perceived it move slightly, and by degrees it opened wide er ough to permit a man to come in. To my great horror I saw, through the aperture made by the opening of the door, the tavern-keeper, and in his right hand he clutched a larg'eF bowie knife. He thrust in his head cautiously, and as he did so, my husband struck him a heavy blow with his rude weapon. The wretch,. without giving vent to a cry or even, a groan, fell to the floor like a da weight. "'You've killed him, George,' I cried, though hardly above a whis 4..No, lie's only stunned. Just hand me that cord lying on the ta ble, an/d I'll pinion his armns so that lie w)n' be able to give us any tronbwhen !e reginls hiis seilses. -I obeye<l myV husband's orders, alI 1w 1 quichly', boulid the villain's arsa t, fe-t. so ti ht it would be IMIPoISble for him to mor when he emue to. At the first sign of Coni sen fla t he showcd, George 1 1"hn. and 1 then carried him to . , la . plaloe de him inl it. a 1. od 'h0.1' I tic door. - t dylght.' said George. tl( t.:ist'r will be here, but few pco i pI wll be ny and abouLand we shal be ablo to leve quietly. If this fellov hd Pm. any accomplices he wonk. rv brn:ht themn with him; he ha:r wi-.tohis pe:Ople will not 11. iss ,:I 1"1Cong aft we are gone. tty km-.\w Low T'e treated hi, we av the wholo tribe at our ees and 0 tin:V would make short wVIo"k t): in, us anId diViding the r. Oneo out of this (10 l."%pla. and we are safe., :h i (It ea1c, t1ouh anid n :'rIbefo:te or since have I liaei', th irst glenIled of ligh in th tnd i Lorhizonl with grteater v. T: iusier rFool made 1is app'lV. my husl)1l helped I).:,oIpu t;-e t_rmiks on 111s C:lrt, 1lw v; uildy-i\ dr-ivingr r'aidly1 (I "':iin, whiclh p1aeL we r: I Wintwo d , and without motig w'hI ZV other adveitie. "So v-oil see. Mr. 'illiaason," she Pid, in (co1lSion. ,ny life ihus far ha miun-red at least one thrilling1 (e:rn. I ,:Llnn ffoArl to lauii J_- at h peril-s ad fears of that - but is islot like1v t1att L 1 i'vI furct it or them as 2:1:1A F. H.E#H-AkW'S PLAN ('e1er'll Kcrshaw has written the filow!ing letcr to a friend Cv.:. N. 'C., J ul 27. 1874. M D Ai:n SM: Your valued 1a vor of th, 11th instant, is before neit fOr reply. I have arrived at critaIn cor-clusions in my own inind n regard to the matter up on which you desire the expres sion1 of' my opinions, and I give theni fr what they may be worth. Th,-e res.toration Ofanl ho'nest, econ omicail anid (cmpetenlt Governmnent to Smith Ca~rolina, at this junc ture. I consider the paramouint du tv of her citizens. Such means andi such sacrifices, consistent with honor. must be resorted to as may bie I<mnd necessary, practica hile an' i ex ped ient to accomplish that end. With us. it is no longer a q'ust ion of Republ icanism and Democracy. Theo struggle is for an hourV-st (Governent, under whlich we c-an live and prosper. liu (0omparisonl withi that, party Seking no0 jltitl tiuimphl, but snir the IsubLsti 1ttin of an hon - eH- :u.dl re-tonSile Giovernmiient for* :he( h,rie (If 1lundlerers whlo havec la-rown her back at least twenty y:sinthe mareb9. of imroe tiwnLt. weC are enit;tle'd to the sym harb and supporitL ol every rgt t hi!:ig man. wvhatever be hiis po liticall lpinions A beti ter feeling pm:.ejle( the who!e cotuntryV. It is a great pleasure to note the steady grw\th of 0 more kindly sentimienit and' ifeeling~ toward's the South on th 1nar:t of the NorthI. In act anid m:..a.., we .houhl at. all times cord "via'Ccireente the generous an-fien dly overturecs held ou t to 11s so frequenOtly of late by the No :thern1 pe'ople and press, with lIut disti nct ion oIf party, and espec :div hy the olieers and soldiers of hie 1 .ion alrmlies. wvhose mniranli mnous an d solier! v condnerit in hon - ori-ng- thec memory of' their fallenI 11)0 ''. on3 mantiy recemnt occasions, is theC best p!sIdge yet offeredI of a rec tor'ed. happy anid un iited A mer-ican Um. I am sure that in our etlfort to rcee the State, we will have the cordtial support of the public opin ion and press of the North ; but, mnore impJortant, because mor'e immediate than these. the aid of'the Federal Execultive. President Grant can do more for the sp)eedly restoration of the State than all other inifluenices from without; and although I have no political informatior, other than such as is common to ail having access to the papers of the day, still, from the perusal of these. I entertain strong hopes he will not withbold his great in flnence from so good a work. There is no overt hojstility to his administrations in any part of the South; cer tain ly none of any sort in an organized form in this State. On the contrary, the Conservative ele'ment look to him as their chief, if not only hope of .good govern ment; Congress has been appealed tand is p owerless to remedy the evils under which we suffer. The judiciary can afford no relief, for it has no jurisdiction. The execu tive alone can constitutionally and le~ily assist us. It would be tie cri%-%ngI glory of'Gener-al Gran t's a1m.i"nistration to effect a recon -triction, and restore to the plun dcred and ruined States of the Smnth the blessings of good gov r nment, and the opportunity 10 enjoy and to contribute to the fu e prosperity of the country. cannot think that he will be in ilerent and I know how grate Ally his aid would be appreciated I our suffuring SoI th Carolinians. (ould be be brought face to face k%'fh the monstrous evils which lgade and oppress us, nothing coInllti prevent him from employ ing Pr r1ero"tive of his vant power to crush them out forever. ACtvi- all, however, our relief de pends mostl' upon our own peo p)e. I et them organize and con solidate all honiest imnl who can rise above uniworthy prejudics anI par-ty slavery, to rescue the State from anarchy, ruin, and, in the enid. a bloody despair. Re specting the Republican principles of the' colored citizens, we should earne:tly seek their co-operation in the imoveient. The State has bern plnged into this ruin by ' the rapacity and dishonesty of> their trusted leaders, who have brought shame and obloquy upon I the party, whose honor and inte- V rests wcre in their keeping, and tranpied upon every right and in- t terest of the whole people in their insatiate greed flor plundor. They 5 ->we the State some reparation for I the past, and we snrely may hope q that there are some thousands hav- t ing2 sufficient honesty, intelligence I and patriotism to join the hue and N cry ag,ainst the robber band, N ot i ima:y would be required, for the I true majority of the Radicals Las I always been exaggerated. The t whites have never been fully poll I ed since the war, and the ballot s has never been free from frauds. To secure such co-operation, the I honest colored people should be < invited to a full share of all pub- ] lic office. Power entrusted to us N should be administered without I favor or prejudice, so as to secure t the best interests of the whole i peopIle, protc equally in the enjoy ment of' his just righbts every citizen, however high or bumble, i and promote the welfare of all I alike, so far as may come witbin i the legitimate sphere of govern menat. Upon suchb prin ciples on ly can harmony and good govern ment be secured in the present state of' society here. Co-opera tion in this good work would lead I to mnutual dependence, respect arnd< good will, and tend more to the I elevation and development of' the colored p)eople than all other pos. sible expedients. I consider these viens worth pondering at this I time with reference to the tax-pay er's' movement and the promised reform in the Republican party. Of course, the policy of the pee pie can only be settled by coin- .t ventious of their authorized rep- 1 resentatives, but it is well to take counsel together and to inter' chaiige views beforehand, in order< that the public mind may' settle down uipon such measures as may< be appr1o"ved after dlue considera tion. I tirmly believe the hour' I of deliverance is at hand, if' we< but be true to ouirselves. Indeed. I the crisis does not admit the] thought of' failure. Success is a necessity ; failui'e is death and disirrace to the commonwealth.- I I need not say to you that I do< not pr'esumie to dictate a policy, and consider' my opinions of much Itss importance than yon seem to attribute to them ; such as they aire, they are heairtily at y-our ser vice. Very truly, yours, J. B. KERSUIAW. "Marm what du you think Sal told Ned Bobbles last night when he was sparking her ?" "Shut up child Iwhat are you talking about?" "No but I hearn her, I did. She told Ned Bobbles last night she kinder felt-." "Hush you little rascal ! Hush, or I'll take your skin off!" and poor Salle looked as red as a boiled lobster. "Oh, get out. Sal. I will tell! She told Ned Bob-' bles she kinder felt skeered tu dethj and tickled tu !" t "Gentlemen," said an auctioneer, I who was selling a piece of land, C "this is the most delightful land.- t It is the easiest land to cultivate, t it is so light, so very light. Mr. Par ker will corroborate my statement ; I he owns the next patch, an.d he will a tell you how easy it is worked,'' I "Yes, gentlemen," said Parker, "it< is very easy to work, but it is a pla-C gney sight easier to gather the crops. T,ne truth. A TROOPER'S PRAYER. HlW ONE OF MORGAN S MEN TESTED THE PRAYER-GAUGE IN AN ALLEGHANY Soldiers rarely pray, but some tUies circumstances combUe to xring from then a short, earnest JpWI-al. Old John Iox. of Gen. John 'Morgan's brigadc. was a queer >ld bachelor, and nothing was more ;o his taste than a quiet sojourn of t week or two in some one of the eaSant mountain coves of old Vir ,inia. far awar from the humdrum )f catmp life and the erash and din f batti. He was not a soldier Nho shirked his duty. bul his age Vihich was about 43-and his se ions habits unfitted him for the oils of a Ioldier's life. In the win or of 1863, while M1organ's brigade Vas enlmped n M(-:1 arion, Vir $inift. Fox and a companion named 3m-ion. succeeded in getting fur onglis for sixty days each. Both >f thmi hatl sui iered for many !IMthS in Southwestern Virginia, na had furied imny acqIuaintances, vith whom they had spent many aippy hours. To visit these friends ud spend two or tire days. was hie progranie they mapped out, .nd the moringm of tile nxtx day ound themi on tei w-. The day vaS Clear and exce(din gV Cild, and heavy snow Jay upon the ground. 'he Alleghany mountains loomed tp in their front and their intention kas to cross them before dark. But he condition of the roads interfer 1 with their progress, and it was u11ndown when they reached the oot of the lofty range that sweeps outhwardly from Saltville. To save ime they chose a by-path used by lie mountaineers of that region by vhich to cross, instead of following he public road. Their route was )erfectly plain for some distance, >eing up the bed of a little stream hat issued from the cave and springs igh upon the mountains. After everal hours of hard climbing, vhich began to tell upon their torses, they emerged upon a bench >f land covered by a forest of huge >ine trees, among whose branches vere sighing the chilling winds of he upper region. It was now dark .s pitch. and the snow was falling a huge drifts, blinding both men .nd beasts. The poor, tired horses taggered on the winding path, up he steep, until all traces of a path uad disappeared. Urged on by heir freezing riders, they soon merged upon a bold projection, or >eak, at the top of the range. All ras dark and cold and cheerless. The howling winds seemed like reaths from the icebergs of Green and, as they swept by, and the rackling of the trees from the ef ects of the cold sounded like a skir Ash in the distance. The fright 'ned horses stopped and refused to avance, and in what direction or iow to go any ftu-ther was the ques 1on. Burton was an active little fellow. ,nd in an instant he was on the ~round in snow three feet deep eeling about with a limb he had >roken from a tree. to ascertain i'hether' they werec near a preci ice. In many places in that lo ality the sides of the Alleghanies ro formed of perpendicular walls f stone, some of them three hun [red feet ill height. Leading his orso, Burton began feeling his way autiously with his stick in the tope of again striking the by-pathl. >ut that had long been covered up >y the snow, and death by freezing comned to be staring them in the ace. Burton called upon FOX to [ismount and assist in finding a r-ay out of their predicament. But hat individual declared thant he vas already frozen and could not lismnount if he would. Burton ral ied1 him on being frozen stiff, and old him if he did not get off and .ssist him in finding the way lown the mountain, they would othecertainly perish. This picture dded to the already over-mastering ear that FOX had been for hours nduring, and he burst forth in a Dud, earnest prayer to Lord for 'uidance and deliverance from the eath which seemed impending var him. Long and earnestly did .e wrestle with the spirit, and many romises of future works and sacri .ces did he make to the Lord of' Lie storm. Bur'ton in the mean ime worked on, awed into silence 'y Fox's heartrending appeals for livine assistance. Even to his in repid heart, the terrors of the scene, he cold blighting blasts of the torm. the noise of the icicles drop ing from the groaning pines, the badow and the solitude of the ilace, brought a feeling of fear and [read. But knowing that the lives f both depended upon his exer ions, he plunged forward in the now that lay in drifts . here and here to the depth of six feet. For n interminable time he m-nnprl 'l ad " searhbe at. and at la-;t bc gan1 to. det-n the mIounItain by a ronte tat he tought practicable. H. inav -.str'x ha little ravine. ani t (1wn betwen t!e rows of laur that t'>Lt abo-e it 1nder thcir burden of snow, he joyonUsl diSCovered td a t his progres dowi ward was assured. Down thc be:l of the ravine thov traveled on until a fence-a sire harbiiger of -iviliza tion-layathwart their way. Cher ed by the sign of life he gave a yell, such as Mora' boys alone could gi7e. They both paued to hear the cc h'ocs Iloing far down into the cave.: below, and as the last faint umurnars died away, their cars caught the sound of the bark of a dog away down in the gloom beneath them. Following the fence, they reached in an hour or so a small hut. situated in a little se gaestered glen at the western foot of the mountain. They were saved. rood and shelter was theirs. and lful rest that sleep alfords t l tired so"ler. Fox claimed that his pnayer was answered. and that to the goodness of God they Ved their deliverance. Burton Jil not 0 sire to weaken Fox's faith. and did not qucstioln his as Sortioln. but h1e always ente:tdned the idea that hi:s oWn untirin- Qf forts found the way and brought them safely through. Upon their return to camp. Burton told the tale. and regularly at nightfall the boys called on brother Fox to pray. But Fox had forgotten his vows. and was neverknown to pray again. The soldier who needeI the shield of prayer in combating the ele ments never thought of it when facing bullets.-Kanisas City Times. YOUTHFUL ME.MORIES. "What peaceful hours I once enjoyei, How sweet their memory still." The great apple tree: 'fyI own. dear old tree. whose shading boughs have so oft been so friendly: .ie sanctum sanctorum of my dreanings -with what joy I seek repose upon the green verdure beneath the._: The evening shadows gather! around me. The sun is casting her last golden rays over yonder hill tops. The busy hum of the bee is fast dying away. and no sound is heard, save the murmur of the dis tant brooklet as it splashes on its busy way, never ceasing in its hap py song of industry ; or mayhaps, the merry whistling of the cow boy, or bellow of the cows, as they come to their milking. The azure~ sky peers so softly through the blossoming tree top. The hum of the busy mummer insect in the air. How soft the music and how pleas ant it all is to my ear ! Half formed memories are con jured up and I am unconsciously overpowered by their influence. My memory reverts to the by-gone days of my youth. The music of nature with its mystic influence pervades me and methinks again I sec the old school house nlestling in the peaceful little valley, skirted at its foot by the murmuring stream let, kissed with the daisy and the violet: its background of great oak. and chesnut that we boys were wont to climb so often. The dear. old place, how fondly my memory lingers with thee ! Then within methinks I see the long rows of plain deal benches, almost covered with their quaint carvings by busy "barlows:" mayhap the names of sweethearts too. Alas: where are now the mischievous hands that did it all-the ones that left these silent echoes of days forever gone ?" "All. all are gone, the old family faces. And their places are filled with other thoughtless youths, and they are scattered by the swiftly moving, hand of time. Do their- fancies like mine, ever: revert to those old scenes? Then again there were the boyish rivalries for favors from the girls. How jealous were we of a glance or a smile. Where is the fair and gen tie Daisy who so fiiled our youth ful heart ? How oft my eves wan-i dered from a perplexing "sum" to where she was wont to sit: Her merry blue eyes, her-sweet peaceful face, with the little golden curls falling so caressingly, yet so co quettishly around it, as she pored over her task: How joyful I felt for but a glance from her ! What an image to my boyish imagination and susceptible heart that was-and one, too, 1 have never yet forgot ten ? 'Peace, peace, be with her." Does she remember our Friday spelling class, how I strove to be always next her.but still below her ? and if perchance she could not re member a "big word," how I took~ advantage of the master's absent look, to whisper it so softly in her ear ? Does she remember it ? But, oh,; my little witch-wasn't I repad be the tender smile or sweet kiss uieitly stoLen after school. and wAen none observed: Do vou re im-met it all. my Daisv. %N ht-rever Ad.l t.hel. too. if by n m-p. L would get finger or hand bruO1. wh. bUt Vo were so aSO :us to know whether it pained or not or whose fair hands cotldJ dress the wOun1 so well as vours ? Do Nou rel1-amber i. Daisy? An D,o vN '0 W remneimber how, in spitQ of jests from bigger boys. I was so glad to I carry home your bo.oks after school < was over, and help you over the I rough laces anid through the bars. and in winter time, when the fall o snow shxoud the earth. how mv < old sled my own "Mazeppa." (a re lic I still treasure up.) was always v at your service, and how too. you I were envied by the* other girls be- t cause it was the swiftest of them a all? Ah. me ? I remember it all so ( w(-ll, with p1 asare and pain too. ji thought nys< if well rewarded then by a single or stolen kiss from my a parting lips. A tiny lock of golden I iair is all that I have of my little t Daisy now; but she still pos- I sesses a cherish spot in my memory. I that time cannot efface. The old school house is a sacred spot to me, for was it not here 1 my batle of life began? It was indeed a cradle of hopes and expections. How far. alas, are rea. I lized ! But now the shadows of the night begin to fall. The golden t tree tops have assumed a sombre shade. The azare sky has changed its hues, and in its bosom the even ing diamonds are faintly twinkling far above, and the evening breeze whispering through the trees, and I think mayhap the same wind may sweep (and so gently I trust) over the very spot, and very ones my memory's musings has conjured up. L So mote it be. 1 Al: hapyy years, once more-who would not be a boy. DEcim!DLY PERSoNAL.-Mr. Rus kin.in a recent nunber of Flors Clav eriga, says: "-It is quite possible for the sim-' plest workman or laborer for whom < I write to understand what the I feelings of a gentlemen are, and i share them if he will: but the crisis 1 and horror of this present time are h that its desire of money and the ful ness of luxury dishonestly attain-1 able by common persons are gradu- ) ally making chur-Is of all men ; andi the nobler passions are not meTely 1 disbelieved. but even the concep tion of them seems ludierous to the ordinary churl mind;: so that. to take only so poor an instahce of them as my own lief-because I have passed-it in alms-giving, not in fortune hunting:; because I have labored always for the honor of others, not nay own, and have< chosen rather to make men look to Tunr and Luini than to form or exhibit the skill of my own hand ; because I have lowered any rent, i and assured the comfortable lives i of my p)oor tenants. instead of i' taking from them all I could force< 'or- the a-oofs they needed; because I ( love a wood walk better than a Lon don street, and would rather watch Z a sea gull Ily than shoot it, and< rather hear a thrush sing than eat it:; finally, because I never diasobey ed my mother, because I have hion- 1 ored all women with solemn wor-It ship. and have been k-nd even to t the iunthankful and the evil; there- r fore the hacks of English art and literature wag their heads at me. t and the poor wretch who pawns the t dirty linen of his soul daily for a t bottle of our wine and a cigar talks t of the -effeminate sentimentality of Ia Ruskin. - Men of talent often fail from turn- a ing their talents in a wrong direc Lion. Chief Justice Chase, for ex- a imple, would never have made a a meccessful barber. He lived for a c while in his youth with his uncle, a Bishop Chase, who prepared hima for college. One morning he told e the budding Salmon to kill and t dress a pig. The incipient states-! a rnan was not much of a butcher. and, when he came to the delicate t operation of sealding the pig, hor ror ithe hair set. But in his ex- t tremnity he bethought himself of his uncle's razor and in due course of time. he had porker shaved from tip of snout to tail-ced. The bish op, on his return, compimente his nephew on the neatness w' which he had >e When e t e old gentleman came to shave himself.his cherished razor was found in a sad plight. An investigation followed, and young Salmon received some yery serious advice. An Indianapolis dog goes mad when he hears a piano played. but there are hundreds of men who doj the same thing. ADVERTISINC RATES. AdvCrtisements inserted at the rate cf -I.C00 p'r square-one inch-for first insertior.:t:d 75,. for eacli subsequent insertion. Doub:e columa :dVerCemetS s teu per cent on oc. Notices of meetings, obituaries and tribute a of respect, same rates pcr square as ordinn y advretisements. Special notices in local co!umn 20 cents per ilie. Advertisements not marked with the nLIm hr or -'irrions wiT be kept in tin forLid and charged accordingly. Spil contracts made with large adver tisers, w:th liberal deductious on a'ove rates. D.,ue with Neatness and Dispatch. Terms Cash. W11 4T HATS ARE GOOD FOR. A TO:UrOT r TmIzD. w,>rk recently published in iI. on "Waste Products- and m!!lzation Contains some curi a::a using matters. The state news concerning rats, living and lead. :re especMily remarkable. chec bones of defunct animals are argely in demand everywhere for )uttons, knife handles, and various ther purposes. But, to make these >cnes marketable, they must be leaned. To boil them or apply lecomposing substances to take if 4he adhering fiesh injures the >one. To clean them by hand ;ould add too much to their cbst. here is a "pound" in Paris, about en acres in extent. surrounded by stone wall. To this receptacle all the carcases f dead animals from the city are rought, and here the problem of >one-cleaning is solved. The city uthorities colonized the place with ats from the catacombs. They do he work of bone-cleaning artistical y, polishing the bones gratuitious y as no human cleaner could do, vithout great trouble and expense. Vith the rodents it is a work of Dve, imparted by voracity; and a arcase, dumpeLl in the inclosure ne day, is found on the morrow "a eat and polished skeleton." The >ones are all ready to be sawed up tat the frames of ladies' fans. and o touch beautiful noses, all uncon cious of the odors which the ele ~antly carved toy exhaled but a ew weeks or days before. But the four-legged operators -grow by what thaey feed on," sleek ndividually but collectively "too mmnerous to mention." There is uch an increase of laborers over he demand, that the rats employed o keep dawn waste become "waste" hemselves. They in their turn are -utilized," and human ingenuity is ,oo much for animal sagacity. All ound the inside base of the wall tf the enclosure are perforated ylindrical holes, in diameter the ize of rat's body, and in depth qual to his length. At break of lay once a mnth a "calathumpian >and," armed with drums, tin ket ies and w~hatever else will make a orrible noise, rushes in among the ats. Thus "charivaried" into mortal error. the poor rats poke their teads into the first holes they find, at-eatchers. each equipped with a )ag over the left shoulder, rush round and seize the rats by their >rotruding tails and whip them into he bags with wonderful and dexter mns celerity. The privilege of catch ng the rats is paid for, and the atchers make a good thing out of he sale of the fur, the skin and the lesh. The fur is used, among >ther purposes, for hats. The kins furnish thumbs for kid ~loves. Fur and skin are some imes used together. Bat-the [esh ? After such a revelation he customers at a cheap Paris res aurant might say: In that savory. [ish what rats may come, "must -ive us pause ! "Rats, it will be seen, have thus cached the dignity of articles of ommnerce in Europe. In China, there rat soup is a delicacy, this mall game has perhaps for centu ies been quoted at 82 a dozen.* In he East Indian province of Scinde he commissioners, to abate the rat nisance. issued a p)roclamation iving three pence a dozen for rats' tils. Thc catchers were permitted a keep the carcase. no small addi ion to their prof:s. The emigra ion of rats and their multiplication re among the curiosities of natur I historv. In France they arc computed to mnount in number, with other ro ents, to over t wo thousand millions, nad their depredations, if estimated t only one fifth of an American 3nt a year to each rat, would muount to nearly four millions of* ollars annually. The proprietor f a slaughter-house near Paris has :apped and killed over six thous nad rats in one month. In one ight he destroyed nearly three Lousand. These rat .figures are omething appalling. They cer iinly far exceed any American expe ience, and it is to be earnestly Loped they always' may. A Preacher took up a collection and found, when his hat ~that there wasn't a lhngs loed thank my God," eat ed. His t upaide jown.; oons a n ofit vith his hands, "that I've a - aat back from this congregation. "Why is it," asks the Boston Posyt 'that nine out of ten judges are