Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c Vol. X. WEDNESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 26, 1874. No. 34 7 AElHERALC IS PUBLISILED F,r_!1EY WEDN--ESDAY MOIIG At Niewberry C. HI., TH09 F,GRORKKRt r.ditor and Proprietor. invariably in Advance. .-.he paper is stopped at the expirRtiOlk o tim.e ^c,r .%hich it is paid. r he-- mark denotes expiration Of sub~ Thefr>4 SOONER OR LATER. Sooaer or later the storms shall beat Orz!r my slumbers from bead to feet; Sooner or- later the winds shall rave In th6 long grass above my grave. I shall not heed them:wbere I lie, Nothfa-Ilieir sounds -shall signify, Nothuing the headstone's fret of rain, X00liu- to me the dark day's pain. Soonecr or later the sun shall sbine Withitender warmth on that mound of mine, Sooizer or later in summer air, Cloyer-and -.vid)bbldsso& there. I saail not feel, in that deep laid rest, TMe s.heete'd light fall over my breast, X % per uM iw*Ios4.b'eu hoars Thev %Vinn.o*nbreath 6ftossing flowers. So_!ncr tae fhte stafnless snows Wh,.11add theih-Jmsh to may mute repose; Soon e. or later shafl sl ant and shift, Arsd. heap my bed with da=zling drift WU't through. the frozenpall shall seem, its ieach u*o'colder cau.nmake the dream Tbat reeks Rot the sweet and sacred dread Shronding.the, city of th desd. Sooe;~r~tr te ee~hllcome ADd fill the noon with its golden hnm; Sooner or later, on half-,poised wing, The bluw~bird'* warbleabout the ring -R!an ailA CUU-p ad;Aitie-wih glee; NotWing his music shall seem to me; N ~ b~tfu ~ sall knom Hc j 8e ~s belw. Sooner or later, far out in the nigh4, Tfte stars above me shall wing -their CiCUt Sonn"or later Jw darkKinx dews - &:. ~ eee gory. A-NIGHT OF TERROR --0 "Mrs. Discomb," said I, one eve ning to a middle-aged lady with whom I was spending an hour in pleasant conversation, "you appear to have met with many adventures in your younger days. You relate a story so well, that I never tire of listening to you; so, if there has been any thrilling episode in your life that I have not as yet heard, I should be pleased to have you narrate it, and I can assure you that I shall be a most atenaive listeneri "I am afraid you're a great flat terer, Mr. Williamson," she replied. "However," she added, "I will com ply with your request, for a start ling event recurs to my mind at this moment. "Twenty years ago my husband was a dealer in jewelry, and, also in most articles of great value. He traveled almost incessantly, and stopped but a short time in each city or town. I could not bear to be parted from him for months at a time, so I alwas accompanied him in his wanderings, and endured many hardships and dangers for the sake of always being with him. There were not many railroads in those days; they were 'like angels' visits-few and far between. "Late in the summer of 1852, we, were iu-;New Orleans; he had fin ish0~his'busness there, and was res4y to leave. On making- inqui rie9he foundtht-there woulcOe no vessrCor Savannah, our next stop pi Itill the end of the, fol lowin ndhth, so he decided to take the o4land route. "W we- gOt as fai as Opelaka, Georg toUt meeting with any - very saious4mioyace or danger. Opelaki,~t that period; was. little more than a a by half-breed I ii a iseii-ble, treacherous rascals, and a few whips,- whose general character was equaHly as bad. Ever'y two wha sti.ge-left. Opelaka for Grf fin, the terminus of the railroad from Savannah. We got there in time for the stage, but, through~ ~thestupid obstinacy of myhusband~ we were left behind in that miser able place. He had three trunks filled with valuable goods and the stage driver wanted ten dollars mo,re than my husband had ever paid anybody else-that is, for an equal distance for carrying them to Griffin. "'George, give him what he asks,' I said, 'rather than stay in this wretched village for weeks. . If we remain here, we'll be murdered and robbed by those villainous-looking Indians.' "Annie,' he replied, 'I won't pay such exorbitant charges to that scoundrel; no, not if we have to stop in this place for a month by refusing to do so" "Well, as I said before, the stage left without us, for the driver re fused to take the trunks for less than he demanded. "There was a squalid-looking ho tel-tavern, rather in the village, kept by a dirty, rnfrianly-appearing haf-breed, which my husband and I entered on the departure of the stage "Can we get a team to take our trunks and ourselves to Griffin? asked my husband, of the host. "'The roads are in very bad con dition, and you, couldn't get more than five miles from here this after noon, and you'd have to stop at a house where a man was murdered -last week for two dollars. You'd bet ter stop here to-night. Ill make you as comfortable as I can,' he replied. ." -Well, then, I guess we'll stay here till to-morrow morning,' ob served my husband. "The host went to prepare -- a room for us, and as he left the apartment a white nmrn stepped up to my husband and said: !"Mister, you'd better not stay in this shebang to night, for you'll surely get murdered if you do. There were five men killed and robbed in this ranch within the last two moiths. "I'm a teamster, and I'll take you to Griffin if yon want me "'A pleasant prospect, indeed, said George. 'if we stay here we're likely to have our throats cut, so he tells us: and, if we go on this after noon and stop at the old tavern over night, mine host says that the same delightful fate will await us there. Between two evils choose the least ; but, confound the whole affair ! I don't know which is the least. My friend," he added, turning to the teamster, 'I reckor w'll .remain here to night. Be ready to start early to-morrow ai daylight.'. . "If you and your wife isn't as deai r as a door nail. you mean 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 lile an ob stinate mule,' and then I burst into tears. "'My dear,' he replied, 'be a philosopher and make the best of our felicitous situation. There is one consolation-that is, if our throats are cut we shall have the blessed privilege of Iyn(g in each other's arms. Think of that, my i dear, and be happy.' "'George,'I sobbed, 'how can you be so heartless as to joke when we %re in such great danger of our lives'? If you'd had any considera tion for my comfort and my safety, you'd have given the stage driver what he asked. I shall never for give you for acting so-no, not as long as I live.' "'Well, perhaps that won't be' very long; so you'd better not treasure up any harsh feelings against me, for if you should hap pen to die suddenly, without having pardoned me, your soul wouldn't rest in peace. "I made no reply, for I saw that he was very anxious, ind was try ing to cheer me up by making light of the situation. "About six o'clock the host brought us some supper, which we: partook of sparingly, for we were in no humor for eating. At nine o'clock George ordered two milk punches. When the host had brought them, and deposited the tray on the table, and left the room, my husband cautiously tasted and smelled the contents of one of the glasses. "'This punch contains drugs,' he said; 'we have, indeed, got into a murderer's den.' The windows were both sh'utter less, and our room was not more than ten feet from the 'ground. It was a lovely, clear, moonlight night, and we could see those treacherous half-breeds standing outside, gazing ip into our apartment, and looking as if they but waited till we were asleep, when 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 had them brought up here, but I did not wish to do so, as I thought it might cause the tavern-keeper to think that we suspected he would rob us if he gob the opportunity.' "'Good God !' I cried, 'then we hall have' to stand still, and be killed like sheep when slaughtered by the butchers. What need you to have cared for the man's sus picios as long as we had something to defend ourselves with. Oh, George, you have acted very rashly.' "My dear Annie, we've got into a scrape, and now we must get out of it as best we can. We must put our trust in luck, and hope we shall escape bodily harm.' "Not in luck, George, but in God,' I solemnly replied. "Our conversation had been car i'ed on in whispers, for we were afraid of being overheard. About twelve o'clock the tavern-keeper knocked at our door and asked ! 'Are you asleep, and is there any thing you wish to have brought to you ?' My husband answered in the negative. Three hours elapsed, when the same question was repeat. ed. George made no reply, but, a slender, though heavy log of wood in his up-raised hands, stood near the door, ready to attack the first person who entered. I lay, tremb ling in an agony of fear stretched upon the bed. The suspense was awful, and I was almost crazed with "My eyes were fastened on the door, and my husband, who, statue ike, stood beside it. The door had neither lock nor bolt, so anybody ould enter the room easily. Sud enly I perceived it move slightly; and by degrees it opened wide r 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-kecper, and in his right hand he clutched a larg4 bowie knife. He thrust in his head cautiously, and as he did so, mi: husband struck him a heavy blot with his rude weapon. The wretch without giving vent to a cry or ever a groan, fell to the floor like a deai You've killed him, George,' cried, thoughi hardly above a whis "poer. ny tned u "'No mes tcodlyistnne Jus bi aind Ime thtiornigon rssth a ils una T'll ninion his arms so tha he won't 'o ab to give Us any tronble when he regains his senses.' j I obeyed my husband's orders, and he gnickly bound the villain's t arms and feet, so that it would be I impossible for him to move when C he came to. At the first sign of con- a seiousness that he showed, George gagged him, and then carried him to a largo closet, placed him in it. E and closd the door. t daylight,' said George, 'thE teamster will be here, but few peo 11 will be up and about,and we shal be able to leave quietly. If this fellov had had any accomplices he woulo have bronght them with him ; he has no wiiL, co his people will not ( miss him till long after we are gone. If they knew how I've treated him, C we'd have the whole tribe at our C heels, and they would make short i work of killing us and dividing the spoils. 1 fear. Once out of this de- 2 testable place, and we are safe.' "Daylight at last came, though I the time seemed long before it did, E and never before or since have I 1 hailed the first gleamed of light in a the eastern horizon with greater E joy. The teamster soon made his t appearance, my husband helped him to put the trunks on his cart, and we were quickly driving rapidly toward Griffin, which place we 1 reached in two days, and without meeting with any other adventure. "So you see, Mr. Williamson." she said, in conclusion, "my life thus far has numbered at least one thrilling experience. I can afford to laugh now at -he perils and fears of that t terrible night, but it is not likely that I shall ever forget it or them as long as I live." GENERAL KERSHAW'S PLAN TO REDEEM THE ST ATE. Gencral Kershaw has written the following letter to a friend: CAMDEN. S. C., J nly 27, 1874. M DEAR SIR: Your valued ia vor of the 11th instant is before me for reply. I have arrived at ertain corclIusionls in my own mind in regard to the matter up on which you desire the expres sion of my opinions, and I give them for what they may be worth. The restoration of an honest, econ omical and competent Government to South Carolina, at this junc ture,'I consider the paramount du tv of her citizens. Such means and sneh sacrifices, consistent with honor, must be resorted to as may he found necessary, practica ble and expedient to accomplish that end. With us, it is no longer a question of Republicanism and Democracy. The struggle is for an honest Government, under which we can live and prosper. In comparison with that, party distinctions should go for nothing, Seeking no political triumph, but simply the substitution of an hon est and responsible Govern ment for the horde of plunderers who have robbed and degraded the State and thrown her back at least twenty years in the march of improve ment, we are entitled to the sym pathy and support of every right thinking man, whatever be his po litical opinions. A better feeling pervades the whole country. It is a great pleasure to note the steady growth of more kindly sentiment and feeling towards the South on the part of the North. In act and utterance, we should at all times cordially reciprocate the generous and friendly overtures held out to us so frequently of late by the Northern people and press, with out distinction o~f party, and espec ially by the offieers and soldiers of theTJnion armies, whose magnani mous and soldierly conduct in hon oring the memory of their fallen femcn, on many recent occasions, -i is the best pledge yetoffererd of a re stored,happy and united American ism. I am sure that in our effort to rescue the State, we will have the cordial support of the public opinion and press of the North ; but, more important, because more immediate than these, the aid of the Federal Executive. President Grant can do more for the speedy restoration of the State than all other influences from without; and although I have no political information, L1other thani such as is common to all having access to the papers of the day, still, from the perusal of these, I ebtertain strong hopes he will not withhold his great in fluece from so good a work. Thre is no overt hostility to his I.administrations in any part of the South; certainly none of any sort in - an organized form in this State - On t he contrary, the Conservative lement look to him as their chief, if not only hope of good govern -mnt; Congress has been appealed t tc, an isnowerle to remedy the vils under which we suffer. The udiciary call aflord no relief, for t has no jurisdiction. The exect ive alone can constitutionally and igally assist us. It would be the rowning glory of General Grant's lministration to effect a recon truction,-and restore to the plun ered and ruined States of the )uth the blessings oft good gov rnment, and the opportunity to njoy and to contribute to the fu Lire prosperity of the country. cannot think that he will be in ifferent and I know how grate [lly his aid would be appreciated ,y our suffering South Carolinians. ,ould be be brought face to face ;ith the monstrous evils which egrade and oppress us, iiothing ould prevent him from employ rg every prerogative of his vast ower to crush them out forever. Lfter all; however, odr relief de ends mostly upon our own peo le. Let them organize and con olidate all honest men who can ise above unworthy prejudices ,nd party slavery, to rescue the itate from anarchy, ruin, and, in he end, a bloody despair. Re pectiug the Republican principles f the colored citizens, we should arnestly seek their co-operation n the movement. The State has ieon plunged into. this ruin by he rapacity and dishonesty of heir trusted leaders, who have >rought shame and obloquy upon he party, whose honor and inte 'ests were in their keeping, and rampled upon every right and in crest. of the whole people in their nsatiate greed for plinder. They we the State sDme reparation for he past, and we surely may hope ,hat there are some thousands hav nc sufficient honesty, intelligence Lnd patriotism to join the hue and :ry against the robber band, Not nany would be required, for the Xrue majority of the Radicals Las ilways been exaggerated. The wVhites have never been fully poll Wd since the war, and the ballot as never been free from frauds. Fo secure such co-operation, the bonest colored people, should be invited to a fdill ishare of all pub li office. Powver entrusted to us should be administered without favor or prejudice,sso as to secure the best .interests of the whole people, protect equally in the enjoyment of. his just rights every citizen, however high .or humble, and promote' the welfare of all ahke, so far as may come within the legitimate sphere of govern men t. Upon such principles only can harmony and good govern ment be secured in the present state of society .here. Co-opera tion in this good work would lead to mutual dependence, respect and good will, and tend more to the elevation and development of the colored people than all other pos sible expedients. I consider these viens worth pondering at this time with reference to the tax-pay. ers' movement and the promised reform in the Republican party. Of course, the policy .o.f the peo. pe can only be settled .by -con ventions of their authorized rep resentatives, but it is well to take counsel together and to inter: change views beforehand, in order that the public mind may settle down upon such measures as mnay be approved after due considera tion. I firmly believe the hour of deliverance is at hand, if we but, be true to ourselves. Indeed the crisis does not admit the thought of failure. Success is a necessity ; filure is death and disgrace to the commonwealth. I need not say to you that I d< not presume to dictate a policy and consider my opinions of muel lss imnp2rtance than yon seen to attribute to them ; such as the2 are, they are heartily at your ser vice. V[ery truly, yours, J. B. KERSH AW. "Marm what du you think Sa told Ned Bobbles.last night whe2 he was sparking her ?" "Shut u] child ! what are you talking about? "No but I hearn her, I did. Shi told Ned Bobbles last night sh, kinder felt---' "Hush you litti rascal'!I Hush, or I'll take your ski! off!" and poor Salle looked as re< as a boiled lobster. "Oh, get ou Sal, I will tell! She told Ned Bob bles she kinder felt skeered tu det] and tickled tnu!" "Gentlemen," said an auctioneei who was selling a piece of land "this is the most delightful land. It is the easiest land to cultivate it is so light, so very light. Mr. Pai er will corroborate my statement he owns the next patch, and he wi] tell you how easy it is worked, "Yes, gentlemen," said Parker, "i is very easy to work, but it is a ph gesiheairtga ht1 gueypsgtese ogte hm crops."t ' Love trnth. - - A TROOPER'S PRAYER. HOW ONE OF MORGAN'S MEN TESTED THE PRAYER-GAUGE IN AN ALLEGHANY sNOW-SToRm. Soliers rarclv pray, but some times circumstances combine to wring from them a short, earnest appeal. Old John Fox, of Gen. John Morgan's brigade, was a queer old bachelor, and nothing was more to his taste than a quiet sojourn of I a week or two in some one of the pleasant mountain coves of old Vir ginia, far away from the.humdrum of camp life and the crash and din of battle. He was not a soldier who shirked his duty, but his age which was about 43-and his se rious habits unfitted him for the toils of a soldier's life. In the win ter of 1863, while Morgan's brigade was encamped near Marion, Vir ginia, Fox and a companion named Burton, succeeded in getting fur loughs for sixty days each. Both of them had soldiered for many months in Southwestern Virginia, and had formed many acquaintances, with whom they had spent many happy hours. To visit these friends aud spend two or three days, was the programme thaey mapped out, and the morning of the next day found them on their way. The day was clear and exceedingly cold, and a heavy snow lay upon the ground. The Alleghany mountains loomed up in their front and their intention was to cross them before dark. But the condition of the roads interfer ed with their progress, and it was sundown when they reached the foot of the lofty range that sweeps southwardly from Saltville. To save time they chose a by-path used by the mountaineers of"that'region by Which to cross, instead of following the public road. Their route was perfectly plain for some distance, being up the bed of a little stream that issued from the cave and springs high upon* the mountains. After several hours of hard climbing, which began to tell upon their horses, they emerged upon a bench of land covered by a forest of huge pine trees, among whose branches were sighing the chilling winds of the upper region. It was now dark as pitch, and the snow was falling in huge drifts, blinding both men and beasts. The poor, tired horses staggered on the. winding path, up th.e steep, until all traces of a path had disappeared. Urged on by their freezing riders, they soon emerged upon a bold projection, or peak, at the top of the range. All was dark and cold and cheerless. The howling winds seemed like breaths from the icebergs of Green. land, as they swept by, and the crackling of the trees from the ef fects of the cold sounuded like a skit mish in the distance. The fright ened horses stopped and refused.to advance, and in what direction or how to go any further. was the ques tion. Burton was an active little fellow, and in an instant he was on the ground in snow three feet deep feeling about with a limb he had broken from a tree, to ascertair whether they were near a preci pice. In many places in that lo cality the sides of the Alleghanies are formed of perpendicular walli of stone, some of them three hun. dred feet in height. Leading his horse, Burton began feeling his way cautiously with his stick in the hope of again striking the by-path But that had long been covered u11 by the snow, and death by freezina seemed to be staring them in thi face. Burton called upon Fox tc dismount and assist in finding way out of their predicament. Bui that individual declared that hi was already frozen and could nol dismount if he would. Burton ral -lied him on being frozen stiff, ani told him if he did not get off ani assist him in finding the wa: down the mountain, they wouli bothecertainly perish. This pictur< added to the already over-mastering fear that Fox had been for hour: enduring, and he burst forth in loud, earnest prayer to Lord fol guidance and deliverance from th< death which seemed impending ovar him. Long and earnestly dii he wrestle with the spirit, and man: promises of future works rud sacri fices did he make to the Lord c Sthe storm. Burton in the mean time worked on, awed into silenec by Fox's heartrending appeals fo divine assistance. Even to his in trepid heart, the terrors of the scene the cold blighting blasts of th storm. the noise of the icicles droI ping from the groaning pines, .t shadow and the solitude of th place, brought a feeling of fear an dread. But knowing that the live .. of both depended upon- his ezei e tions, he plunged forwards in th snow that laylin aIrifts here an there to tha~.depth~of~si~ feet~ .F~ and seanrched about, and at last be gan to descend the mountain by a route that he thought practicable. He finally struck a little ravine, and following it down between the rows of laurel that bent above it under their burden of snow, he joyously discovered that his progress down ward was assured. Down the bed of the ravine they traveled on until a fence-a sure harbinger of civiliza tion-lay athwart their way. Cheer ed by the sign of life he gave a yell, such as Morgan's boys alone could give. They both paused to hear the echoes floating far down into the caves below, and as the last faint murmurs died away, their ears 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 questered glen at the western foot of the mountain. They were saved. Food and shelter was theirs, and blissful rest that sleep affords to a tired soldier. Fox claimed that his prayer was answered, and that to the goodness of GOd they owed their deliverance. Burton did not desire to weaken Fox's faith, and did not question his as sertion, but he always entertained the idea that his own untiring ef forts found the way and brought them safely thrbough. 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 never known to pray again. The soldier who needed the shield of prayer in combatiig the ele ments never thought of it w1 en facing bullets.-Kansas City Tin.4 YOUTHFUL MEMORIES. "What peaceful hours I once enjoyed, How sweet their memory still." The great apple tree! My own, dear old tree, whose shading boughs have so oft been so friendly! The sanctum ganctorum of my drealings -with what joy I seek repose upon the green verdure beneath thee! The evening shadows .gather aroulndne. 'The sua is casting her last golden rays over yonder hill tops. The biishu'm"~~of te 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 inilking. The azure sky peers so softly tlirough the blossoming tree top. The ham.o the busy summer 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] see the old school house nestling in the peaceful little valley, skirted at its foot by the murinuring stream let, kissed with the daisy and the violet; its background of great oaks 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 o: plain deal benches, almost covered with their quaint carvings by busy "barlows;" mayhap the names o: sweetheadts too. Alas! where are now the mischievous hiands 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 witi other thoughtless youths, and they iare scattered by the swiftly moving hand of time. Do their fancies like mine, eve2 revert to those old scenes? *Then again there were the boyisl rivalries for favors from the girls. How jekIous were we'of a glance o2 a smile. Where is the fair.and gen t]e Daisy who so filled our youth ful heart ? How oft my eyes wan dered from a perplexing "sum" tc where she was wont to sit! He2 merry blue eyes, her sweet peaceful face, with the little golden curh falling so caressingly, yet so co quettishly around it, as she pores over her task ! How -joyful I feli for but a glance from her ! Whai an image to my boyish imaginatiot and susceptible hear-t that was-ani one, too, 1 have never .yet forgot ten t "Peace, peace, be with her." e Does alhe remember our Frida spelling class, how I strove to b< always next'her,but still below her and if perchance she-could not re member a. "big word," how I tool advantage' of th masteris absen look, to, whisper it se.ss4tly,in'.h ear? Does she remnember it? E u oh; bilittle *ite'k-ektiepai ::het inar smile or sweet -ki quietly stolen after schdol, and when none observed! Do you re member it all, my Daisy, wherever you now are? And then, too, if by any mishe, I would get finger or hand bruised, who bat you were so anxious 0, know whether it pained or-not? or whose fair hands could dress the wound _so well asjyours? Do you remember it, Daisy? And do you remember how, in spite of jests from bigger boys, I was so glad t.o carry home -your books after schbol was over, and help you over the rough, places and through the bars, and in winter timef when the fall of snow shrouded the earth, how my old sled my own "Mazeppa," (a reL lic I still treasure up,) was always at your service, and how.tbo, you were envied by the other girls be-* cause it was the swiftest of them all? Ah, 'me? I remember it all so well, with pleasure and psin too.. thought myself well rewarded then. by a single or stolen kiss from my parting lips. A tiny lock of golden hair is all that I have of my littI6. Daisy now;' but she still pos sesses a cherish spot in mymemory. that time cannot efface. The old school house is a sacred spot to mej- for was it not here my battle of life began? .It was indeed a cradle of hopes and expections. How far, alas, are rea lized! But now the shadows of -the night begin to fal. The golden tree tops have assumed a Asombre shade. The sure sky has' cha gs it3 hnes, and in its bosom the even ing diamonds are faintly twinklidg far above, and -the evening.> breiedi whispering through'thtree?,-And I think -mayhap the ''rn ind'mis sweep (and so gently I trstover the very spot, and very ones xayi memory's musingshasiconjuredy So mote -it be. Ah'! hapyy years, once m6-TJQ would not'be.a boy. DEmEiY -PEHsoNA.-Mr. us kin,ina recentnumber of Flors 0ar' "'It is qmite possible for the sim plest workmian:otlaborerI6r;whom I1 write to - udertad*whabthe feelings of -a gentlemsen are; and share them if he will ;but the crisis and horror of this present time are thiat its desire of money and-the ful ness 'of -luxury dishonst attinn able:by common persons^are tradii ally making churls of all: men;d the nobler passions are not merely disbelieved,&but even the conepg tion-of themseems ludicrdus 'to'the ordinary churl mnina;rsouthat, so take 'on1 so pood an instanice of them as .my own lief-because .I have passed it in-almus-giving, not in fortune hunting? because I have labored always for ~the' bonoiff others, not my own, and hae chosen rather to make men look to Turner. and Luini than to form'2or exhibit the skill of niy own hid ; because I have lowered 'my rent, and assured the comfortable lives of my poor tenants, instead of taking from them all I could force for the roofs they needed; because I love a wood walk better than a Lon don street, and would rather watch a sea gull fly than shoot it, and rather hear a thrush sing than"eat it ; finally, because I never.disobey Ied my mother, b'ecause I have hon ored .all women with solemn wor ship,, and have been kind even to the unthankful and the evil; there fore the backs of English art and literature wag their' heads at.me, and the poor wretch who pawns the dirty linen of his soul daily for a bottle of our wine and a cigar talks of the 'effeminate sentimentality of Men of talent often fail from tur ing their talents in a wrong direc tion. Chief Justice Chase,.~"foi'ex ample, would never have made a successful barber. He lived for a while in his youth with his uncle, Bishop Chase, who prepared him for college. One morning he told the budding Salmon to kill and dress a pig. The incipient states man was not miuch of' a butcher, and, when he came to the delicate operation of scalding the pig, hor ror ! the hair set. But in his ex tremity he bethought himself of his uncle's razor and in due course of time, he had porker shaved from~ tip of snout to tail-end. The bish* op,- -on his return, complimented his nephew on the neatness with~ which 'he bad performed his task. When, however the old gentlemai came to shave himself,his eherishec razor was-found in al sad plight An investigation followed, ani( youjng Salmon received some ver serious, advice. . r An Indianapolis dog goes wa< l,we ehasapaopae,b , thee ae hrears 'iao pled,whou S ther sae thinesfme-wo & a the same thing. Advertisements in-amted at the rit-CM80 per square-one inch-forrs iA: ka,ad 75c. for each subseqsentaserton,.-.PoOb; column adver~tisements tenperc6nion bV Notices ofmneetings,obituaieandtziukeA.; oftespectsihtratespersqimme as -6MBlidU advertisemem.s., I. Advetisements u"Arktd."th t&ei. bro nrtions w1-b kcWIj4Ifl^-orbid and charged Special co : Uisers, W1t Done W tul' UtilizaUincotm ous and aming afe Mnenis CoteenIng, rit, The boneswvteunb larely in Ae~ f buttons kbifeig' ~ a dleane& To., W4lh~r off the adeMgM9 hizi.. bone.-- 16"CI1~ would- addtoiW li There is a stone waIL. To~ his a~L rats from thia' W.,ithtre laei AIzqO tainly far exceedaRy-Amefl**~~