Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. Vol. XI. WEDNESDAY MORNING, APRIL 21, 1875. No. 16. LEILA SUMNER; OR, DEATH AND LIFE. -0 "Homo again; after five long years of absence, to feel myself at home again; and so little change, no one missing. It is almost too good, too much to believe." Thus mused Adrian Vaile, as he strolled through the quiet streets of his native village, the morning after his return from a four years' wandering in Europe. Adrian was a young physician, and he came home, the proud bear er of certain certificates of distinc tion, from one of the -most cele brated medical colleges in Paris. He was an only son, the pride of an aged father and doting mo ther. And well he deserved this affection, both for his talents, of which he was justly proud; of his handsome face, and fine, manly form, of his industry, without which the most gifted must lan guish in obscurity, but most of all for his kind, loving disposition, and tender heart. As he walked along the familiar street, the five years seemed but a day. The long rows of houses, embowered in their lovely groves of green shrubbery; every tree, even the dewy grass beneath his feet, seemed the same he had trod five years before. And were the inmates of these homes changed ? Adrian hardly dared ask himself the question. There was one home, and one inmate of that home, whose image filled all his thoughts, of whom he had dreamed day and night, and towards whose dwellirig he was slowly directing his steps, with mingled feelings of fear, anxiety, and hope. Leila Sumner had been the idol of his youth. Long before he left home,"she had given him her sacred promise that no other man could ever call her wife. As he- walked on toward- the beautiful cottage where she lived, he' wondered in his 'heart if she were changed. He left her a child; she had giv en him her child's heart and pro-. mise. Would she regard him the same ? Had no other image crept. into her heart? S as a wo man now; was i is outward change all that awaited him. Almost before he knew it, he was standing in front of the gate leading into Col. Sumner'sgrounds. He paused and looked up the long avenue, the rows- of gigantic maples on either side, the beauti ful evergreen hedge, the smooth velvety lawn, the fragrant flower garden, the fountain, sparkling and flashing in the mornidg sun, all exactly as he had left it. The mocking-bird and yellow winged canaries, Leita's pet birds, were hopping about in their bright-hued cages filling the air with their gay carolings ; the luxu riant rose and honeystickle vines shaded the wide piazza where he had spent so many happy eve nings with Leila. And would she know him now ? sunbrowned and heavily bearded as he was? - He opened the gate and walked rapidly up the graveled path to wards the house, just as a white robed figure, slender and graceful as a willow, flitted past the low open window. The next instant he stood with in the doorway, and a li.ttle brown silken head lay on his shoulder, a blushing girlish 'face was lifted shyly to his. The lovers met, after years of separation; and each felt that the other's heart was the same; time or absence had no power to change. Adrian was welcomed by Col. Suner, in the same cordial, hearty m.anner as of old; he had long look ed upon him as a son. Time sped on gilded wings to he happy lovers, and each day seemed to reveal some new charm, some as yet undiscovered trait of mind or heart, which served to draw them nearer together, till their very existence seemed blend ed into one. Oh, this rosy-tinted, silver-lined cloud : "Love's young dream," it ehvelopes all around, it hides all that is dark, it reflects its bright ness so vividly on all that sur rounds us, that even the leaden sombre-hued storm-cloud, is bidden for the time. About six months after Adrian's return he received aletter from one of bis classmates, a young man who for a brief time had attended the same course of leetures with him self, and was a graduate of the 8aIJUO colle&e in 2F:anco. THE HERALI 13 PUBLISHED EVnRY WEDNESDAT XOfLNG, At Newberry C. R.9 BY THO&. Ft GRMU"t~R Editor and Proprietor. Tenw3, $2.5~0 per Jnu juvarbably in Advance. Teppr is toed atthe expirationi O time fo =-icit is=id ojp- The >.4 mark denotes expiration of sub 93ription THE FATE OF A FIGHTING DOG. A man he owned a terrier dog A bob-tailed onery cuss And that there purp got that there Man in many an ugly muss; For the man he was on his muscle, Aud the dorg -was on his bite: So to kick the dog-gonled animile Was sure to raise a light. A womanownled a Thomas cat, That ftAt fifteen pound; The other cats got up and slid When that there cat was round. The man and his dog came along one day, Where the woman she did dwell, And the purp he growled ferociously. Then went for the cat I ike---everythinlg. He tochaw the neck of the catk Ba fe cat he wouldn't be chawed, Bol e Tt on"the back bf that there dog, And bit and clawed! and clawed! Oh! thehbak, it flew! and the dog* he youled As the claws went into his hide, And chunks of flesh was peeled from his back; Then he fiamuxed and kicked and died! Thbma h' e ripped, and cussed audsawore. ,Aabe gathered a big brickbat, Th.-t he would be durned essentially If he didn't kill that cat ! But the old woman allowed that she'd be * blessed Ifbe did, swu mtched up an old shot-gun, Wlkba she fired, and peppered his diaphragm With bird-shot number one. Thqote hi hoe o awindot%w bMind, His name was De Vaux, and though Adrian had only known i him about a year, he greatly ad- 1 mired his talent. Socially, there was about him a 4 sort of mystery, a reticent, re- I served manner, though well ac- 4 quainted, caused a feeling of dis trust or suspicion, a something I that seemed to say, "I am ac- I quainted with this man, and yet I know noth:ng of him." He wrote Adrian that he wish. I ed to visit America, and remain a i year, perhaps two years, or perma- i nently if it suited him." I He came and received a hearty welcome. Adrian introduced him I to his friends. To Col. Sumner, t who had traveled extensively, he I proved a very congenial compan- t ion. He was a splendid chemist, and his rare research, and scientific c knowledge of this magnificent branch alone, charmed and almost, a fascinated the stately old gentle- s man. He became -a constant visi- t tor, and a valued friend. il He knew from the first of t Adrian's betrothal to the beautiful Leila, but to all appearances he n never thought of her, hardly no- p ticed her presence, only to observe c the usual forms of politeness. n But a close observer would have noticed the dusky red light that o gleamed from beneath his long f black lashes, when, believing him- t, self unnoticed, he would sometimes c allow his eyes to rest for a moment l on the slender, graceful, well-de- d veloped form, and bright piquant face of the lovely girl. 1< As for Leila, she once remarked s to Adrian that the sight of De Vaux made her feel chilly, she de- u clared she could think of nothing a but a serpent, a hateful crawling S reptile, whenever she saw him, at t which Adrian look horrified, shook n his head, and assured her that she sadly misjudged his friend. . Col. Sumner was an old fashion- I ed gentleman, and adhered strict- u ly-to the rules of hospitality. Thus it was that guests, whether g their visit was of long, or short 2 duration, never left his house 3 without receiving refreshments. li Leila's presence was usually re-p quired, and on these occasions e De Vaux with true French- polite ness, would always .present her a y glass of wine. b For months together IDe Vaux t would drive almost daily with b~ Col. Sumner, to whom his society b seemed almost indispensable, so t agreeable and fascinating could he il render himself when he chose to b~ do so. . a He seemed to maintain his ex- a treme reserve and reticence only so far as concerned his own indi vidual affairs. A few months after Do Vaux's arrival, Adrian proposed to open a an office togqther There was but one physician in the place, an aged man, and an n old friend of the family. He warm-. r ly seconded the wishes of the a young man's family and friends, a that he should remain in his na-a tive town. Adrian consented willingly, for several reasons, the chief of which c was, that by so doing he could be i near the object of his affection. t De Vaux was a valuable partner, y and in a few months the two young practitioners were able to e control considerable practice. Months passed ofunalloyed hap piness to the young lovers. The time was set for the mar- t riage, every preparation was be- e ing made for the wedding, such as befitted the fair and beautiful bride. But as the days wore on, it was noticed that Leila grew pale, ner-E vous, and restless. At first this excited no alarm, but she contin ued to grow worse; she seemed to lose all her sprightliness of man ner, to grow thin and very pale. She complained of great weak ness and lassitude. Col. Sumner at last concluded to seek advice. But the family phy sician shook his head gravely, the attack seemed so sudden, and rapid; and as remedy after remedy failed utterly, ho was almost in despair, and acknowledged that he was com pletely puzzled. Adrian was great ly distressed, as the symptoms continued to grow worse. IDe Vaux prepared a medicine to be taken three times a day, and her father persuaded her to take it, though she complained of feel ing weaker after each dose. What would these kind friends have done-could they have known that this very medicine which she had been taking for months in different ways, sometimes in wine, 1 and in other ways that this dead- 1 ly poison was the whole cause of her illness.1 At last Leila was confined to he om 3 o rti iet har room. and most of the time to her bed. No one was allowed to ee her but her father, Adrain, and ;he two physicians. The family physician, Dr. Adams, -ontinued to visit her though he elt that the case was a hopeless >ne. In agony of mind, almost equal .o death, Adrian watched the pro rress of the strange, unknown dis ase. It baffled all their skill, and she ecame so changed that her inti nate friends would scarcely have ecognized the once fresh, rosy, eautiful girl. It was plain to the distressed Dver that he must give her up; he dark angel Death had eingled ker out, and she could never wear ridal crown on earth. She was utterly unable to sleep rithout the aid of a powerful piate. This Dr. Do Vaux prepared and dministered. Under its influence he would sleep soundly all night, c wake unrefreshed in the morn ig, more wearied and weaker han before. One night her father, who had ever left her bedside all day, pre ared to administer the usual medi ine before leaving her for the ight. He did not see De Vaux, when, n making his usual daily visits a w hours before, adroitly manage ) exchange the little white paper Dntaining the opiate powder and ave another in its place, more eadly and fatal in its effect. Too weak to refuse, Leila swal )wed the potion, and almost in tantly sank into a deep sleep. Leaving her to the care of the urse, a middle.aged woman who lways slept in the room, Col. umner retired to his room. Ex remely fatigued, he fell asleep al iost before his head touched the illow. He was awakened before day ght by the hurrying of feet and nusual noise. Springing from is bed he threw on his dressing own and rushed out into the hall. A the foot of the stairs he met irs. Blair, the nurse, who, with vid face and motionless lips, ointed towards the do'or of Leila's amber. In an instant the alarmed father ras by the bedside. There lay is child, just as he had left her he night before, her lips and eyes alf open; the long silken hair ung down over the snowy pillow, he face colorless as the linen self. He raised the slight form, e shook and tried to rouse her, 11 his efforts were ~useless-she ras dead. Col. Sumner, distracted with rief, refused to see any one. To Adrian the blow was equally reat. Weak and sick in body d mind he wandered about like lost spirit. About three days, or the third ight after Leila's burial, the be eaved lover, worn out with grief nd loss of sleep, .threw himself, 11 dressed, on his bed and fell sleep. He dreamed he was pass ag down the street and that he aw Leila follow Do Vaux into his fice. Ho tried to go after her, but he door was closed and fastened brough which she had passed. ut while he stood looking at the oor the window of the laboratory bore his head was raised and the :ir's white face appeared. With a vid beseeching expression of both ace and motions she reached her hin, white hands toward him and eemed to wave or beckon him to ard her. As she did go, Do Faux, vith a face black and fierce with assion, grasped her by the shoul ter *and drew her back. At the ame instant he awoke and sprang rom the bed. In a moment his ind was clear, he knew he had >een asleep and dreaming. He sat own in a large arm-chair by the pen window and thought of his Iream; it was only a dream after l, but its effect was.-unpleasant; He thought of his lost bride, of s great grief, till overcome by ~motion, he wept as.only a strong nan in the depths of anfrst great orrow can weep. At last he grew calmer, and un Lble to endure the silence of his ~hamber, he rose, put on his hat nd walked out into the silent treet. As he stepped from the loor, the city clock struck two. Involuntarily, he took the road ,owards their office, and in a few noments stood before the door. Looking up he was surprised to ee a light burning dimly in the indows of the laboratory. He stood gazing at the window ad thinking of his dream when ,he shadow of a form passed be ween the window and the light. "De Vaux Eip at this time ?" he hought. "I wender if he is pre. -aigt g u. arig toi u."&o4?9,5 20 Bashed eDen the door. and walked up the thickly carpet( stairs. The door of the receptic room stood open, and he pass( through, expecting to see De Van but he was not there ; he laid h hand on the knob of the laboratoi door, as he did so he was starth by a deep heavy groan; he listen( a moment, what could it meaj Was his friend sick ? Had he visitor or patient ? If so it was strange place for them to be in. He paused a moment, hesitatin whether or not to push open tE door and go in, whea the sanm deep sighing, almost groaninj struck his ear. Instantly his hand grasped tb door handle. It turned, and th door softly opened a few inchei What a sight met his astonishe gaze. Opposite the door, on large table, originally intende for a dissecting table, lay the bod, of a young woman. Over it stoo De Vaux. He was chafing th thin white hands,.and murmurin in a low voice, words of tenderee endearment. Every moment h would stop, and bending over th still form, press the most passioE ate kisses on the pale white lipi He raised the beautiful head t his shoulder, and straining th frail form to his breast, whispere almost fiercely: "My darling I come back lo lif and love. Oh, Leila, y osr my beautiful one, speak to m( look at me." The eyelids quivered, the pal lips moved. Stupefied, Adria stood rooted to the spot. Wha could it mean? Who was tb dead girl? The name Leila! Wha Leila? How came she here? We Dr. Do Vaux a grave robber, we that the body of his Leila ? Dam with horror and astonishment, h stood and gazed through the parl ly opened door. He was aroused by the fait sound of carriage-wheels. L Vaux started; seizing a large heav blanket, he commenced wrappin it around the still form. Pulling the parlor door softl together, Adrian passed out, dow stairs into the street. The avenue was thickly studde with trees, and moving back int the shadow he stood still and wai ed. The next moment a carriag drove up, and stopped before th door. The driver got down, an putting his hand to his mouth, i gave a lou whistle. He then turi ed and opened the carriage doo: Adrian recognized the man. De Vaux appeared, carryingi his arms something wrapped care fully in a large blanket and shaw As he attempted to lift his bu: den into the carriage a part of tb blanket fell back and revealed face-horrors of horrors, it we indeed the pale lifeless, dead fac of his lost Leila. De Vaux laid on the seat, got .in himself an closed the door. The carriage started and rolle almost noiselessly away down ti deserted street. Adrian Vaile stood an<l gaze in bewildered horror after the r treating vehicle. The moment passed out of sight he awoke froi the benumbed stupor which ha for the moment paralyzed h whole being. Like a madman he rushed u the street toward the residence< Colonel Sumner. To arouse tU grief-stricken father and his who: household was his act. A few mi ments sufficed to explain the cani of his great excitement. Colonel Sumner, half afraid th: Adrian had lost his mind, ma< haste to obey his directions. I ordered three horses to be saddle one for himself; a second for Adria and a third for a stout, middl aged man, who had been a lot time in his employ. Together the three went out pursuit of the wretched man wI had done them so great an injur On the road they had time discuss and decide the best cour to pursue. That IDe Vaux won attempt some desperate means defense was no more than thi expected. After about two hours got riding, they came in sight of ti carriage. Luckily. they had n mistaken the road. Colonel Sumner, followed the others, rode up to the side the carriage, and ordered the mi to stop. The man obeyed. Hearing the noise, De Vai opened the window on the si next to them and looked out. I stantly comprehending his sit ation, he sprang to the opposi door, tWisted it open, leaped the ground and darted into thicket of pines which grew ce to the edge of the road. a4i@ad apeared into the thic ~b~w&j~44oa~ a~4 ii k A two pistol shotF. One bullet hit TI m Colonel Sumner's horse, inflicting d a wound near the shoulder, the K, other just grazed Adrian's cheek in is and slightly singed his hair. Tin y Do Vaux was never seen again. of . d In the carriage they found Leila; tha d not dead, but alive, and sufficient- ver ? ly conscious to undeistand what kin a had happened. Though to all ap- reli a pearance dead when placed in the SUc vault, she had- never been entirely the g unconscious. the e De Vaux procured keys and Ons e took her from the vault the night for , after her burial. From that time are he had been continually adminis- fin e tering antidotes to the potion he is t e had given her, and with perfect me, 3. success. orn d The poison she had takea to- rap a ward the last waaot calculated age d to destroy life, but to suppress hav y consciousness. it, d They drove rapidly home, and pat e sent for Dr. Adams, and in a few bor g hours she was able to explain in life3 t some degree the horrors through. pini e which she had passed. ple e But for weeks the spirit of the suit unfortunate girl hovered on the epi i. verge of the grave. Gradually turo i the disease yielded to judicious eda, e treatment, and she regained final- 001 I ly her health, but itf was long be- ties fore she was the same bright, rosy, enti e happy Leila, once the joy and de- is C , light of all who knew her. thi , But time brings all things to tic pass, and a few months after the cesi e supposed death of the expectant 8 O a bride, the young lovers met, and pre ,t in the presence of a large circle of tea. e kind friends, were joined in that riy ,t holy, sacred union, that real death cal a alone can disunite. sur ,s lik b hthe e Zi~ w hol to ] MET A FELLOW. froi -t-to. e There is a being who has caused bro more trouble to womankind than We g any other. It is the "fellow" who can is always being "met," and there- mei by keeps anxious females on the rec watch at windows at all sorts of to a unholy hours. -woi d How many years of her life does exl o a woman spend looking out of the chil - window for men who are overdue! glo' the Ledger says. I have not lived to I e half of my three score and ten lov e years yet, and I am sure 1 have to d wasted time enough in the fruit- tior e less operation to have made my- hoc i- self mistress of all the heirogly- of i e. phics ever discovered. One thing of only have I learned, that men, ha like the peasant woman's "watch- rou 3. ed pot that never boils," never the 1. comes when he is looked for; and tor; r- that hasn't done me any good; oth e for, still, whenever I have occa- not a sion, 1 invite the influenza by sit- stal s ting in a strong draught with my woi e eyes fixed on the furthest point sup it possible, with visions of hospital fon d ambulances and woeful telegrams ate before my eyes. whenever any one wi1 d from my grandfather to my -little be; e nephew doesn't "arrive himself" at in proper time. All women do it, To d and many thanks they got for req - their anxiety. You may cry your sela it eyes weak and your nose red, go hoj n through all the agonies of hope er1 ,d deferred, become angry, get over anc is your anger to plunge into the pie depths of woe, make.sure that you p are bereaved of your best-beloved ' f relative, and wait in calm despair onl ie to know the worst, and when he da) le comes, be he the brother, husband, ma . or son, grandfather, uncle, or ma e cousin, perchance a lover, he bey hasn't the slightest idea of your mi t sufferings, and inquires, "Well, ear le Polly, what's the matter? You of [e look solemn ?" Solemn ! Well, you doa d, know enough not to fling yourself ing D into his arms and cry, "The sea do~ e- has given up its dead," or anything me gof that sort. You say "Ah!I" in sw an offended tone, or an unnatural- its in ly calm one, and perhaps remark WI xo that "dinner was burnt to a crisp mu y. four hours ago;" or that you have str o "sat with your bonnet on ready for the se the concert from seven until nine," it ld and wait for some explanation. It Th of is sometimes vouchsafed, and then lift y generally proves to be-"Met a for fellow." thi yd Yes, meeting "a fellow" is rea- th e son enough for any amnount of Y ot staying out. Who is "a fellow," I at wonder, that he should outweigh nlo y wife, mother, .and sweetheart, W of daughter, neice, and aunt ? Why be an should "a fellow" have such in- of fluence ? No one ever sees "a fel- no low," or hears his whole name. to: ax He is never produced. Ask after I ~ de him, and you hear that he is not pe In- the sort of fellow. to be introduced, sir u- He ist never brought home. A&p- th te parently he is not good enongh; Ct to but he is important enough to up- th a set a household, to keep me(ls ch se waiting, to keep pesple ..up until -midnight ;4o have mettbim.-is am k- pliexnus for- anything foretful AINING OUR CHILDREN. tev. Dr. Bellows, of New York, i recent lecture on "Household 6ining," presented this picture Imerican life: "The truth is, t we are naturally -becoming y impatient of details of every d. We want to do up business, gion and education in a lump. h is the growing tendency of times, that are bringing in dangers of despotism. Gener sentiments are substituted ,areful habits ofdiscipline,which abandoned in favor of certain and general resolutions. It be peril of our business that i substitute show, and pay en kous rents, and expect to make d fortunes, and intrust its man ment to strangers, instead of ing a personal supervision over nd moderate expectations and ent industry and life-long la It is the peril of our domestic and the cause of domestic hap ss being sacrificed, that peo are so ambitious for splendid es of rooms and showy carpets, ndid mirrors and costly furni . And it is the peril of our -ation that it is intrusted to ly teachers to perform the da which none but devoted par can so prnperly perform. - It bvious that in this state of igs, while parental and domes teachings is imperatively ne ary it is also peculiarly difficult. leoply are many parents im sed with the difficulty of -hing their children satisfacto under the moral and~ politi influences by which they 'are rounded, that all sacrifices flee, ioseph, into the interior of country, where there is- some e of seclusion, or they go away urope. It is wise to run away n dangers of the kind referred Bat young people should be ght up where they are to live. cannot avoid our national cir istances or our social and do tic atmosphere. We m us t )gnize it. Do parents expect et bad examples, to hur-y and ry through their business and ibit a want of temper to their dren, to bring anxious and ymy feelings home, and htpe Lave their sons and daughters their society? Do they think ndulge in wholesale denuncia is of their neighbors, to talk at ie of political excitements and urders, of great insurrections, theatrical performances, and e their young children sitting nd their table, and expect that y will cultivate a taste for his , for painting or sculpture or er elevating influences? It can be so. If our natural circum ces have brought our men and nen up impatient of details, erficial in their - knowledge; I of excitement, and intemper of speech, if husbands and 'es are not what they ought to it home, let them not wonder that they see in their children. train them up properly first aires that we should train our res. When we do this we may e to possess wisdom and pow o train our children to good in ways of virtue, peace, and y., HE BEOKEN ToYs.-It is now y a few weeks after the holi s, and yet most of the toys that ie their appearance on Christ s morning have been mutilated ond repair. You find scattered lifferent parts of the house the and eyes and feet and tails horses, and wagons broken vn and demolished. The jump *jack has lost its agility, the its bark, the tool chest its hami r, the acrob~at has taken its last ing, and the doll refuses to shut eyes when it goes to sleep. iat was the use of spending so ch money for toys to be de yed so soon ? We answer: ly fulfilled their mission, and was time for them to cease. ey went into the exuberant of the child, and will break th in the laughter of the next rty years. Anything done for ichild is done for the adult. a can see in the looks of a man forty years of age whether or b he had a playful childhood. a think the little ones will do ter in life for the back ground hobby-horses and kites. Say b, "There is no use in providing rs for entertaining my children. rill give them something more emanent." Dear madams and , forty years after you are dead glee and sportfulness of last ristmas will be blossoming in cheerful disposition of your Lidren and grandchildren. (Chris5tian at Work. bT thrlvig,ggcn os o othe lvngarr n can o se ~ow&~4ab~Q1. ADVERT18ING RATEC. IAdvertisements inserte at the ra* of 61.-00 per square-one Inch-fordirat jnamrtion, and 75c. for each subsequent Insertion. Double colum= adver&Asments temper cent on above. Notices of meetings, obituaries amd tribute of respect, samem awfaweqma ordinary sdvertimementL. Special notices'in local edimia A* Me per line. Mdvertisemeftita b*MA nimm ber of inserdods wM'lb6 kvct AM, forbid and charged omIqly Special e0ftatInade w& evr ~~eralM duows pone W A MALTizukAN CAWMAMVzo. An economic - parnal enom, lato a curious calealation Ms to Lh t"c tual eos, in dollars ant-eats, which a man or womganwol-e to the- world an fcitetrbyth time he or she got . d 'Onow.$ to "pay expenses, or returi bask to the country vibat -thas -far has been expeniled in rearmg &lidreb Population. Every baby,i itrimfair.toauke, when properly brogtvtp,ostits parents at lemAtfiftydo19eir an expense which 1-ceam ALLy as, food, clothing, goe 4haka,44. warnk home, idutd*i. &'ndspa#end. ing money, ;;a-requie *,:tj?ee ap to theyw ie k child inthis ie&Wbi~i-crazl not less thain.a tbousand dollgzw.. At that age -~ 1 b~~p4 w.orth its snbsetemce Not Sl,i reaches the ageof;0kght (nd great many potreven, the'V) doe it,- really begA*t',be pout~ For every-140,Wtf~ite n ntioTe Millions ofd)nug Out ading'.At W -ffi To rearthAt numbdr: to a pro auctiveag a hundred milljom,o*40 V ar , rate, forty cents an hQur." John A NEGRO WEDDING. The bride and groom, answering to the names of Andrew and Susy, were field hands of unimpeachable Guinea blood, and both had pass ed the first half century of life. Their dress, however, showed that they had not entirely eschewed the follies of their youth for, though rude and cheap, as became their condition, it was nevertheless embellished with those bits of gew gaws and glaring finery of bright colored ribbons and ties in which Lhe negro delights. With the most decorous grav ty the preacher began: "Andrew, does you lab dis yer woman ?" "I duz so," was the reply. "Will you promise to stick close kroo time and 'tarnity, renouncing ll oders an' cleabing to her for )ber an' eber, an' amen?" "I will dat." "Will you lab honor and 'bey-" "Hold on dar, Ole Jack!" inter -upted the groom, with no little ;how of indignation, "'taint no use alking to dis nigger 'bout 'beyin le wimmen folks,- enny 'cept qle niss !" "Silence dar, you-owdumptions 2iggeri" roared the w r a ti h fa I preabher; "what far you go far ;pilin de grabity ob de 'casion. Dis yer's only matter ob,form, an' nspensible to de 'casion. Now lon't you go fur 'to open your black mouf until de time fur you to speak. Will you promise to lab, honor aa' 'bey (Andrew still shak ing his head ominously at the ob Doxious word) die yer nigger Susy, rrnishin' her wid all things aeeded for comfort an' happinesa n' protectin' from sufferin' an' makin' smoove de path of all her precedin' days to come ?" "1 suppose I ms' say yes to dat," said Andrew meekly. "Den I pronounce dese yer two couples to be man an' wife, an' whom de Lord hasjoined togedder, let no mvgo fur to pat dem asun Jer." Here an uproar arose among the blacks, betokening a dilemma entirely unforeseen by Ole Jack. For, inasmuch as he had forgotten to require the usual vows of Susy, hey insisted that 'however firmly A.ndrew might be bound by the bonds of matrimony, ,Susy was til single, and the pair were but half married. The matter' was at last adjusted by 'the preacher comn mencing the ceremony over agan, by which means the couple were irmly united to the satisfaction of alL WHY THm YOUNG MEN DoN't GET &LABE.-It certainy is not a good time for marrying, and has not been for several years past. One reason, no doubt is the great cost of living, which, in one respect at least-that of female dress-is fully double what it was fiteen years ago. If a young man has only a moderate salary to de pend on for support he must be very bold indeed to venture into matrimony with agirl accustomed to what is called'comfortable life. Unless she happens to be a partic ularly good and sensible girl it would take most of his salary to pay her dry goods and dressma ker's.bills. Of course there are such girls, and plenty of them, I hope, in some places, but~it is only the simple truth to say they are rather scarce in New York. For this reason, and others too, no doubt, the popularity of matri mony, so to speak, appears to be steadily declining. Young men hold off a great deal more than they used to, and of course the young women have nothing for it but to wait. So recognizing this fact, and not seeing much proba bility of getting husbands when they grow older, a great many of them turn to practical work, be come doctors, writers or artists, and manage to make at least a de. cent living for themselves. if young men were more inclined to marry, the probabilities are that young women would be less inclin ed to gd it alone in the light pro fessio.-Buffalo Courier. it being unlawful to set man traps and guns, a -gentleman once hit upon a happy device. He wa.s a scholar and, being often asked the meaning of mysterious words compounded from the Greek, that appear in every day's newspaper, and finding they always excited wonder by their length and sound, he had painted on a board, and put up on his premises, in very large letters, the following: "Ton dapamnuoomenos set up in these grounds" It was pe*fctl a pat ent safety." A man with large feet should nevr sad anan trinsa.